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ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA.
Cncwlopaclna Bntanmca:
OR, A
DICTIONARY
OF
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND MISCELLANEOUS
LITERATURE;
ENLARGED AND IMPROVED.
THE SIXTH EDITION.
Stflustrateti toitf) nearly ftunlirelr a5ngrabmg6t
VOL. xv.
INDOCTI DISCANT; AMENT MEMINISSE PERITI.
EDINBURGH:
PRINTED FOR ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE AND COMPANY;
AND HURST, ROBINSON, AND COMPANY, 90, CHEAPSIDE,
LONDON.
1823.
Encyclopaedia Britannica.
N I C
Nicaader ’T^T’ICANDEIt of Colophon, a celebrated gramma-
t11 X rian, poet, and physician, who lived about the
, ^lce‘ , 160th Olympiad, 140 years before Christ, in the reign
of Attains king of Pergamus, who overcame the Gallo-
Greeks. He lived many years in Etolia, of which
country he wrote a history. He wrote also many other
works, of which only two are now remaining. The
one is entitled Theriaca, describing in verse the acci¬
dents attending wounds made by venomous beasts, with
the proper remedies •, the other bearing the title of
Alexipharmaca, wherein he treats poetically of poisons
and their antidotes. This Nicander is not to be con¬
founded with Nicander of Tbyatira.
NICANDRA, a genus of plants belonging to the
decandria class 5 and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 30th order, Contortce. See Botany index.
NICARAGUA, a large river of South America,
in a province of the same name, whose western extremi¬
ty lies within five miles of the South sea. It is full of
dreadful cataracts, and falls at length into the North
sea.
Nicaragua, a maritime province of South Ameri¬
ca, in Mexico, bounded on the north by Honduras, on
the east by the North sea, on the south-east by Costa
Rica, and on the south-west by the South sea j being
400 miles in length from east to tvest, and 120 in
breadth from north to south. It is one of the most fruit¬
ful and agreeable provinces in Mexico, and is wrell wa¬
tered with lakes and rivers. The air is Avholesome and
temperate 5 and the country produces plenty of sugar,
cochineal, and fine chocolate. One of the lakes is 200
miles in circumference, has an island in the middle, and,
as some say, has a tide. Leon de Nicaragua is the ca¬
pital town.
NICARIA, an island of the Archipelago, between
Samos and Tine, about 50 miles in circumference. A
chain of high mountains runs through the middle, co¬
vered Avith Avood, and supplies the country with springs.
The inhabitants are very poor, and of the Greek com¬
munion. The productions of the island are Avheat, a
good deal of barley, tigs, honey, and Avax.
NICASTRO, an episcopal toivn of Italy, in the
kingdom of Naples, and in the Farther Calabria ; 16
miles south of Cosenza. E. Long. 16. 21. N. Lat.
39- 15-
NIC i'j, an ancient, handsome, and considerable town
on the confines of France and Italy, and capital of a
county of the same name, Avith a strong citadel, a bi-
Vol. XV. Part I. 4
N I C
shop’s see. It had formerly a senate, and Avas a kind Nice,
of a democracy. It was united to France during the —y—^
late rev'olution, but was disjoined from it in 1814, and
is now included in the dominions of Sardinia. It is
very agreeably situated, four miles from the mouth of
the river Var, 83 miles S. by W. of Turin. E. Long.
6. 22. N. Lat. 43. 42.
Nice, a province formerly belonging to the duke of
Savoy, but now annexed to France. The inhabitants
supply Genoa Avith timber for building ships) and car¬
ry on a trade in linen cloth, paper, oil, wine, and honey.
—“ Although the county of Nice be on this side of the it,- . •
mountains, geographers have always considered it as -a and Pietu-
province of Italy, since they have given to this beautiful resque De¬
part of Italy the river Var for a western limit, which is scriptwn of
also the boundary of the county, and Aoavs into the seat,ljS?unt^
at a league distance from the capital. This province is °T lCC‘
partly covered by the maritime Alps ; and is bordered
on the east by Piedmont, and the states of Genoa j on
the south by the Mediterranean ; on the Avest by the
Var and on the north by Dauphiny. Its length is
about 20 leagues of the country, Avhich make about 36
English miles; its breadth is 10 leagues; and its popu¬
lation is about 120,000 souls.
“ The city of Nice is the capital, and the seat of
the bishopric, and government. It has become, Avith-
in these few years, a delightful abode, by the number
of strangers Avho assemble there in the winter, either
to re-establish their health, or to enjoy the mildness of
the climate, and the beauty of the country, Avhere an
unceasing verdure presents eternal spring.
“ The toAvn is situated on the sea shore, and is back¬
ed by a rock entirely insulated, on which was formerly
a castle, much esteemed for its position ; but it tvas de¬
stroyed in the year 1706 by Marechal Berwick, the
garrison being too thin to defend the extent of the
Avorks. There is a distinction between the old and the
neAV toAvn ; this last is regular, the houses are well built,
and the streets are Avide. Its position is by the side of
the sea, and it is terminated, on one side, by a charming
terrace, which serves for a promenade.
“ Any person may live peaceably in this province,
Avithout fear of being troubled on points of faith, pro¬
vided he conducts himself Avith decorum. The town has
three suburbs. 1st, That of St John, which conducts
to Cimier, about tlwee leagues north from Nice, &c.
The promenades this AAay are very delightful, and may
be enjoyed in a carriage. 2d, That of the Poudriere.
A 3d,
NIC [2
,T. oti That of the Croix de Marbre, or Marble Cross.
Nkepho- This suburb is new j and the English almost all lodge
ru*- in it being very near the town. The houses are com-
v—' Hus, Icin/o,, one side the great road wh.ch leads
to France, and on the other a fine garden, with a pro¬
spect of the sea. All the houses are separate from each
other: the company hire them for the season, i. e. from
October till May. Apartments may be had from 15
to 2 qo louis. The proprietors commonly furnish linen,
plate, &c. There are also in the town very large and
commodious houses •, as well as the new road, ^nch is
opened from the town to the port by cutting that part
of the rock which inclined toward the sea. The situa¬
tion is delightful, and warmest in winter, being entire¬
ly covered from the north wind, and quite open to the
SOl“ The company is brilliant at Nice, and the amuse¬
ments of the Carnival are, in proportion to the size ot
the town, as lively as in any of the great ones in
France. There is always an Italian opera, a concert
and masked ball, alternately j and the company play
rather high. . -vr
“ It is impossible to find a happier climate than Mice,
both for summer and winter. Reaumur’s thermometer,
in 1781, never fell more than three degrees below the
freezing point, and that only for two days 5 whilst at
Geneva it fell ten j and in the course of the winter ot
1*78 C it fell only two degrees ; while at Geneva it tell
3 r. The month of May is rarely so fine in I ranee as
February at Nice. The summer is not so hot as might
be expected. The thermometer never rises more than
24 degrees (86°Fahren.) above temperate in the shade •,
and there is always an agreeable sea breeze from ten in
the morning till sunset, when the land breeze comes
on. There are three chains of graduated mountains,
the last of which confound their summits with the Alps ;
and to this triple rampart is owing the mild tempera¬
ture so sensibly different from that of the neighbouring
^ “ The cultivation of the ground is as rich as can be
desired. There are alternately rovys of corn and beans,
separated by vines attached to different fruit-trees, the
almond and the fig 5 so that the earth being incessantly
cultivated, and covered with trees, olive, orange, ce¬
dar, pomegranate, laurel, and myrtle, causes the con¬
stant appearance of spring, and forms a fine contrast
with the summits of the Alps, in the back ground, co¬
vered with snow.” . .. .
Nice, an ancient town of Asia, in Natolia, now cal¬
led Isnic, with a Greek archbishop’s see. It is famous
for the general council assembled here in 325, which
endeavoured to suppress the doctrines of Arius. It was
fotmerly a large, populous, and well built place, and
even now is not inconsiderable. See Isnic.
Nicene Creed, was composed and established, as a
proper summary ol the Christian faith, by the council at
Nice in 325, against the Arians.—It is also called the
Constantinopolitan creed, because it was confirmed with
some few alterations, by the council of Constantinople
in 381. See Creed.
NICEPHORUS, Gregoras, a Greek historian,
was born about the close of the 13th century, and flou¬
rished in the 14th, under the emperors Andronicus,
John Palteologus, and John Cantacuzenus. He was a
great favourite of the elder Andronicus, who made him
] v NIC
librarian of the church of Constantinople, and sent him Niceplio*
ambassador to the prince of Servia. He accompanied
this emperor in his misfortunes, and assisted at his , ir_^ j
death ; after which he repaired to the court ol the
younger Andronicus, where he seems to have been well
received ) and it is certain that, by his influence over
the Greeks, that church was prevailed on to refuse en¬
tering into any conference with the legates of l ope
John XXII. But in the dispute which arose between
Barlaam and Palamos, taking the'part of the former,
he maintained it zealously in the council that was held-
at Constantinople in 1351, for which he was cast into
prison, and continued there till the return of John Fa-
IcEologus, who released him j after which he held a dis-
putation with Palamos, in the presence of that emperor.
He compiled a history, which in ix books contains all
that passed from 1204, when Constantinople was taken
by the French, to the death of Andronicus Palseologus
the younger, in 1341.—The best edition of this work
is that of the Louvre, in Greek and Latin, in 1702.
Nicephorus, Calistus, a Greek historian, who flou¬
rished in the 14th century under the emperor Androni¬
cus Palseologus the elder, wrote an ecclesiastical history
in 23 books $ 18 of which are still extant, containing
the transactions of the church from the birth of Christ
to the death of the emperor Phocas in 610. Me have
nothing else but the arguments of the other five books,
from the commencement of the reign ol the emperor
Heraclius, to the end of that of Leo the Philosopher,
who died in the year 911. Nicephorus dedicated his
history to Andronicus Palseologus the elder. It was
translated into Latin by John Langiusand has gone
through several editions, the best ol which is that 01
Paris, in 1630.
NICERON, John Francis, a French philosopher,
was born at Paris in 1613. Haying finished his acade¬
mical studies, with a success which raised the greatest
hopes of him, he entered into the order of the Minims,
and took the habit in 1632 j and, as is usual, he chan¬
ged the names given him at his baptism lor that ot
Francis, the name of his paternal uncle, who was also
a Minim, or Franciscan. The inclination and taste
which he had for mathematics appeared early. He be¬
gan to apply himself to that science in his philosophical
studies, and devoted to it all the time he could spare
from his other employments, after he had completed his
studies in theology. All the branches of the mathema¬
tics, however, did not equally engage his attention ; he
confined himself particularly to optics, and only learned
of the rest as much as was necessary for rendering him
perfect in this. There remain still, in several houses
wherein he dwelt, especially at Paris, some excellent
performances, which discover his skill in this way, and
which make us regret that a longer life did not sutler
him to carry it to that perfection which he desired;
since one cannot help being surprised that he proceeded
so far as he did, in the midst of those occupations and
travels by which he was forced from it during the
short space of time which he lived. He hath himselt
observed in the preface to his Thmtmaturgm Opticus,
that he went twice to Rome ; and that, on his return
home, he was appointed teacher of theology. He was
afterwards chosen to accompany Father Francis de la
Noue, vicar general of the order, in his visitation ol
the convents throughout all France. But the eagerness
01
NIC [
of las passion for study put him upon making the best
of all the moments he had to spare for books: aud that
wise economy furnished him with as much as satisfied
him. Being taken sick at Aix in Provence, he died
there Sept. 22. 1646, aged 33. He was an intimate
acquaintance of Des Cartes. The following are his
principal works: L?Interpretation des chiff'res, ou regies
pour bein entendre et expliquer facilernent toutes sorles
dcs chiffres simples, &c. 2. La perspective curieuse, ou
magie artijicielle des effets merveilleux de Poptique, cat-
optrique, et dioptrique. This is only an essay to the
following work : 3. Thaumaturgus opticus, sive, Admi-
t'anda optices, catoptrices, et dioptrices, pars prima, &c.
Two other parts were intended to complete the latter
work, but were unfinished at his death.
Niceron, John Peter, so much celebrated on ac¬
count of his Memoirs of Men illustrious in the Republic
of letters, was born at Paris March 11. 1685. He was
of an ancient and noble family, who were in very high
repute about 1540. He studied with success in the
Mazarine college at Paris, and afterwards at the col¬
lege Du Plessis. In a short time, resolving to forsake
the world, he consulted one of his uncles who belonged
to the order of Barnahite Jesuits. This uncle examined
him j and not diffident of his election, introduced him
as a probationer to that society at Paris.—He was re¬
ceived there in 1702, took the habit in 1703, and made
his vows in 1704, at the age of 19.
After he had professed himself, he was sent to Mont¬
arges, to go through a course of philosophy and theo¬
logy •, thence he went to Loches in Touraine to teach
those sciences. He received the priesthood at Poitiers
in 1708. As he was not arrived at the age to assume
this order, a dispensation, which his uncommon piety
had merited, was obtained in his favour. The college
of Montarges having recalled him, he was their pro¬
fessor of rhetoric two years, and of philosophy four In
spite of all these avocations, he was humanely attentive
to every call and work of charity, and to the instruc¬
tion of his fellow creatures, many of whom heard him
deliver out fit rules of conduct for them, not only from
the pulpits of most of the churches within the province,
but even from those of Paris. In 1716, his superiors
invited him to that city, that he might have an oppor¬
tunity of following, with the more convenience, those
studies for which he always had expressed the greatest
inclination. He not only understood the ancient but
the modern languages; a circumstance of infinite ad¬
vantage in the composition of those works which he has
given to the public, and which he carried on with great
assiduity to the time of his death, which happened, after
a short illness, July 8. 1738, at the age of 53. His
works are, 1. Le grand Febrifuge; or, a Dissertation to
prove that common water is the best remedy in fevers,
and even in the plague ; translated from the English of
John Hancock minister of St Margaret’s, London ; in
J 2mo. This little treatise made its appearance, amongst
other pieces relating to this subject, in 1720; and was
attended with a success which carried it through three
editions ; the last came out in 1730, in 2 vols. i2mo,
entitled, A Treatise on Common Water; Paris, print¬
ed by Cavelier. 2. The Voyages of John Ouvington to
Surat, and divers parts of Asia and Africa, containing
the history of the revolution in the kingdom of Gol-
zConda, and some observations upon silk worms; Paris,
} ] NIC
1723, 2 yds. l2mo. 3. The Conversion of England Niceron
to Christianity, compared with its pretended Reforma- ||
tion, a work translated from the English ; Paris 1729, | Nicholls.
8vo. 4. The Natural History of the Earth, translated
from the English of Mr Woodward, by M. Nogues,
doctor in physic ; with an answer to the objections of
Dr Camerarius ; containing also several letters written
on the same subject, and a methodical distribution of
fossils, translated from the English by Niceron; Paris,
1735, 4to* 5- Memoirs of Men illustrious in the Re¬
public of Letters, with a critical account of their works ;
Paris, i2mo. The first volume of this great work ap¬
peared in 1727 ; the others were given to the public in
succession, as far as the 39th, which appeared in 1738.
The 40th volume was published after the death of the
author, in 1739.
NICETAS, David, a Greek historian, a native, as
some relate, of Paphlagonia, who lived about the end
of the 9th century. He wrote The Life of St Ignatius,
patriarch of Constantinople, which was translated into
Latin by Frederic Mutius bishop of Termoli: he com¬
posed also several panegyrics in honour of the apostles
and other saints, which are inserted in the last con¬
tinuation of the Bibliotheca Patrum by Combesis.
Nicetas, surnamed Serron, deacon of the church
of Constantinople, cotemporary with Theophylact in the
nth century, and afterwards bishop of Heraclea, wrote
a Catena upon the book of Job, compiled from passages
of several of the fathers, which was printed at London
in folio, 1637. We have also, by the same writer,
several catcnce upon the Psalms and Canticles, Basil,
1552; together with a Commentary on the poems of
Gregory Nazianzen.
Nicetas, Arhominates, a Greek historian of the
13th century, called Coniates, as being born at Chone,
or Colossus, in Phrygia. He was employed in several
considerable affairs at the court of Constantinople ; and
when that city was taken by the French in 1204,
withdrew, with a young girl taken from the enemy, to
Nice in Bithynia, where he married his captive, and
died in 1206. He wrote a History, or Annals, from
the death of Alexius Comnenus in the year 1118, to
that of Badouin in I 205 ; of which work we have a
Latin translation by Jerome Wolfius, printed at Basil in
1557 ; and it has been inserted in the body of the By¬
zantine Historians, printed in France at the Louvre.
NICHE, in Architecture, a hollow sunk into a wall,
for the commodious and agreeable placing of a statue.
The word comes from the Italian nechia, “ sea-shell;”
in regard the statue is here enclosed in a shell, or per¬
haps on account of the shell wherewith the tops of some
of them are adorned.
NICHOLLS, Dr Frank, physician and anatomist,
was born in London in the year 1699. His father was
a barrister at law ; and both his parents were of good
families in Cornwall. After receiving the first rudi¬
ments of bis education at a private school in the coun¬
try, where his docility and sweetness of temper endeared
him equally to his master and his school fellows, Frank
was in a few years removed to Westminster, and from
thence to Oxford, where he was admitted a commoner
(or sojourner) of Exeter college, under the tuition ot
Mr John Haviland, on March 4. There he ap¬
plied himself diligently to all the usual academical stu¬
dies, but particularly to natural philosophy and polite
A 2 . literature,
NIC . t . 4
Nicliolls. literature, of which the fruits were most conspicuous in
»—y—J his subsequent lectures on physiology. After reading a
few books on anatomy, in order to perfect hitnsell in the
nomenclature of the animal parts then adopted, he en¬
gaged in dissections, and then devoted himself to the
study of nature, perfectly free and unbiassed by the opi¬
nions of others.
On his being chosen reader of anatomy in that uni¬
versity, he employed his utmost attention to elevate and
illustrate a science which had there been long depressed
and neglected ; and by quitting the beaten tiack of
former lecturers, and minutely investigating the texture
of every bowel, the nature and order of every vessel,
&c. he gained a high and just reputation. He did not
then reside at Oxford j but when he had finished his
lectures, used to repair to London, the place of his
abode, where he had determined to settle. He had
once an intention of fixing in Cornwall, and for a shoit
time practised there with great reputation ; but being
soon tired of the fatigues attendant on that profession in
the country, he returned to London, bringing back with
him a great insight, acquired by diligent observation,
into the nature of the miliary fever, which was attend¬
ed with the most salutary effects in his subsequent prac¬
tice at London.
About this time he resolved to visit the continent,
partly with a view of acquiring the knowledge of men,
manners, and languages ; but chiefly to acquaint him¬
self with the opinions of foreign naturalists on his favou¬
rite study. At Paris, by conversing freely with the
learned, he soon recommended himself to their notice
and esteem. Winslow’s was the only good system of
physiology at that time known in France, and Morgag¬
ni’s and Santorini’s of Venice in Italy, which Hr Ni-
cholls likewise soon after visited. On his return to
England, he repeated his physiological lectures in Lon¬
don, which were much frequented, not only by stu¬
dents from both the universities, but also by many sur¬
geons, apothecaries, and others. Soon after, bis new
and successful treatment of the miliary fever, then very
prevalent in the southern parts of England, added much
to his reputation. In 1725, at a meeting of the Royal
Society, he gave his opinion on the nature of aneurisms,
in which he dissented from Dr Ereindinhis History of
Physic.
At the beginning of the year 1728, he was chosen a
fellow of the Royal Society, to which he afterwards
communicated the description of an uncommon disorder
(published in the Transactions), viz. a polypus, resem¬
bling a branch of the pulmonary vein (for which Tul-
pius has strangely mistaken it), coughed up by an asth¬
matic person. He also made observations (in the same
volume of the Transactions) on a treatise, by M. Helve-
tius of Paris, on the lungs. Towards the end of the
year 1729, he took the degree of doctor of physic at
Oxford. At his return to London, he underwent an
examination by the president and censors of the College
of Physicians, previous to his being admitted a candi¬
date, which every practitioner must be a year before he
can apply to be chosen a fellow. Dr Nicholls was cho¬
sen into the college on June 26. 1732*, and two years
after, being chosen Gulstonian reader of Pathology, he
made the structure of the heart, and the circulation of
the blood, the subject of his lectures. In 1736, at the
request of the president, he again read the Gulstonian
] NIC
lecture *, taking for his subject those parts of the human Nicbolfs.
body which serve for the secretion and discharge of the
urine } and the causes, symptoms, and cure ol the dis¬
eases occasioned by the stone. In 1739’ ^ie delivered
the anniversary Harveian oration. In i743» ir,ai’_
ried Elizabeth, youngest daughter of the celebrated Di
Mead, by whom he had five children, two ol whom
died young. Two sons and a daughter survived him.
In 1748, Dr Nicholls undertook the office of chirurgi-
cal lecturer, beginning with a learned and elegant dis¬
sertation on the Amnia Medico. About this time, on
the death of Dr John Cuningham, one of the elects oi
the college, Dr Abraham Hall was chosen to succeed
him in preference to our author, who was his senior,
without any apparent reason. With a just resentment, he
immediately resigned the office ol chirurgical lecturer,
and never after attended the meetings ol the fellows,
except when business ol the utmost importance was in
agitation.
In 1751, he took some revenge in an anonymotrs
pamphlet, entitled “ The petition of the Unborn Babes
to the Censors of the Roval College of Physicians of
London) 5” in which Dr'Nesbit (Pocvs), Dr Maule
(Mat/lus), Dr Barrowby (Barcbonc), principally, and
Sir William Brown, Sir Edward Hulse, and the Scots
incidentally, are the objects ol his satire.
In 1753, on the death of Sir Hans Sloane, Bart, in
his 94th year, Dr Nicholls was appointed to succeed
him as one of the king’s physicians, and held that office
till the death of his royal master in 1760 ; when this
most skilful physician was superseded with something
like the offer of a pension, which he rejected with dis¬
dain.
The causes, &c. of the uncommon disorder of which
the late king died, viz. a rupture of the right ventricle
of the heart, our author explained in a letter to the
earl ol Macclesfield, president of the Royal Society,
which was published in the Philosophical Iransactions,
vol. 1.
In 1772, to a second edition of his treatise De Am¬
mo Medico, he added a- dissertation De motu cordis i t
sanguinis in homine nato et non nato, inscribed to his
learned friend and coadjutor the late Dr Lawrence.
Tired at length of London, and also derious of su¬
perintending the education of his son, he removed to
Oxford, where he had spent most agreeably some years
in his youth. But when the study of the law recalled
Mr Nicholls to London, he took a house at Epsom,
where he passed the remainder of his life in a literaly
retirement, not inattentive to natural philosophy, espe¬
cially the cultivation of grain, and the improvement of
barren soils, and contemplating also with admiration the
internal nature of plants, as taught by Linnaeus.
His constitution never was robust. In his youth,
at Oxford, he was with difficulty recovered from a
dangerous fever by the skill of Doctors Frampton and
Frewen ; and afterwards at London he had frequently
been afflicted with a catarrh, and an inveterate asth¬
matic cough, which, returning with great violence at
the beginning of the year 1778, deprived the world of
this valuable man on January 7^b m the 80th year of
his age.
Dr Lawrence, formerly president of the college or
physicians, who gratefully ascribed all his physiological
and medical knowledge to his precepts, and who, while
he
NIC [ ,
Nicholls he lived, loved him as a brother, and revered him as a
11 parent, two years after printed, and gave to his friends,
Nicobar. a few copies of an elegant Latin Life of Dr Nicholls
* (with his head prefixed, a striking likeness, engraved
by Hall from a model of Gosset, 1779; from which,
through the medium of the Gentleman’s Magazine, the
above particulars are chiefly extracted.
NIC LIS, a celebrated painter of Athens, flourished
about 322 yeax-s before the Christian ex-a } and was uni¬
versally extolled for the great variety and noble choice of
his subjects, the force and relievo of his figures, his skill
in the distribution of the lights and shades, and his dex¬
terity in representing all sorts of four-footed animals, be¬
yond any master of his time. His most celebrated piece
was that of Tartarus or Hell, as it is described by Ho¬
mer, for which King Ptolemy the son of Lagus offered
him 60 talents, or 11,250!. which he refused, and ge¬
nerously presented it to his own country. He was much
esteemed likewise by all his cotemporaries for his excel¬
lent talent in sculptux-e.
NICKEL, a metallic substance 5 for the nature of
which, see Chemistry Index; and for an account of
its ores, see Mineralogy Index.
NICOBAR ISLANDS, the name of several islands in
Asia, lying at the entrance of the gulf of Bengal. The
largest of these islands is about 40 miles long and 15
broad, and the inhabitants ai-e said to be a harmless sort
of people, xeady to supply the ships that stop there with
provisions. The south end of the great Nicobar is pla¬
ced in east longitude 940 23' 30" ■, and we collect from
Mr Rennel’s Memoir, that it is within the 1 2th degree
of north latitude.
Of the northernmost island, which is called Carnicc-
bar, we have, in the second volume of the Asiatic Re¬
searches, some interesting information respecting both
the produce and natural history of the country, and the
manners of its inhabitants. The author of the memoir
is Mr G. Hamilton, who, in his account of this island,
says, “ It is low, of a round figure, about 40 miles in
circumference, and appears at a distance as if entirely
covered with trees : however, there are several well
cleared and delightful spots upon it. The soil is a black
kind of clay, and marshy. It produces in great abun¬
dance, and with little cai'e, most of the tropical fruits,
such as pine apples, plantains, papayes, cocoa-nuts, and
areca-nuts*, also excellent yams, a id a root called cachu.
The only four-footed animals upon the island are, hogs,
dogs, lai'ge rats, and an animal of the lizard kind, but
large, called by the natives tolonqui; these frequently
cari-y off fowls and chickens. The only kind of poul¬
try are hens, and those not in great plenty. Thei’e are
abundance of snakes of many different kinds, and the
inhabitants frequently die of their bites. The timber
upon the island is of many sorts, in great plenty, and
some of it remarkably large, affording excellent mate¬
rials for building or repairing ships.
“ The natives ai’e low in stature, but very well made,
and surprisingly active and strong; they are copper-co¬
loured, and their features have a cast of the Malay,
quite the reverse of elegant. The women in particular
are extremely ugly. The men cut their hair short, and
the women have their heads shaved quite bare, and wear
no covering but a short petticoat, made of a sort of rush
or dxy grass, which reaches half way down the thigh.
'1 his grass is not interwoven, but hangs round the per-
] NIC
son something like the thatching of a house. Such of Nicobar,
them as have received presents of cloth petticoats from y—
the ships, commonly tie them round immediately under
the arms. The men wear nothing but a narrow strip of
cloth about the middle, in which they wrap up their pri-
A'ities so tight that thei'e hardly is any appearance of
them. The ears of both sexes ai'e pierced when young 5
and by squeezing into the holes large plugs of wood, or
hanging heavy weights of shells, they contrive to ren¬
der them wide, and disagreeable to look at. They are
naturally disposed to be good humoux-ed and gay, and
ax-e very fond of sitting at table with Europeans, where
they eat every thing that is set before them ; and they
eat most enormously. They do not cai’e much for wine,
but will drink bumpers of (track as long as they can see.
A great part of their time is spent in feasting and dan¬
cing. When a feast is held at any village, evei'y one
that chooses goes uninvited, for they are utter strangers
to ceremony. At those feasts they eat immense quanti¬
ties of pork, which is their favourite food. Their hogs
are remarkably fat, being fed upon the cocoa-nut ker¬
nel and sea water; indeed all their domestic animals,
fowls, dogs, &.c. ai-e fed upon the same. They have
likewise plenty of small sea fish, which they stxike very
dexterously with lances, wading into the sea about knee
deep. They are sure of killing a very small fish at 10
or 1 2 yards distance. They eat the pork almost raw,
giving it only a hasty grill over a quick fire. They
roast a fowl, by running a piece of wood through it, by
•way of spit, and holding it over a brisk fire until the
feathers are burnt off, when it is ready for eating, in
their taste. They never drink water; only cocoa-nut
milk, and a liquor called soura which oozes from the
cocoa-nut tree after cutting off the young sprouts or
flower's. This they suffer to ferment before it be used,
and then it is intoxicating; to which quality they add
much by their method of drinking it, by sucking it
slowly through a small straw. After eating, the young
men and women, who ax-e fancifully dressed with leaves,
go to dancing, and the old people suiTound them smok¬
ing tobacco and drinking soura. The dancers, while
performing, sing some of their tunes, which are far
from wanting harmony, and to which they keep exact
time. Of musical instruments they have only one kind,
and that the simplest. It is a hollow bamboo about two
feet and a half long and three inches in diameter, along
the outside of which thei’e is stretched from end to end
a single string made of the threads of a split cane, and
the place under the string is hollowed a little to prevent
it from touching. This instrument is played upon in
the same manner as a guitar. It is capable ot produ¬
cing but few notes; the performer, however, makes it
speak harmoniously, and genei'ally accompanies it with
the voice.
“ Their houses ai’e generally built upon the beach,
in villages of 1501- 20 houses each; and each house
contains a family of 20 persons and upwards. These
habitations are raised upon wooden pillars about 10 feet
from the gi-ound ; they are round, and, having no win¬
dows, are like bee-hives, covered with thatch. The
entry is through a trap door below, where the family
mount by a ladder, which is drawn up at night. This
manner of building is intended to secure the houses from
being infested with snakes and rats ; and for that pur"
pose the pillars are bound round with a smooth kind ot
N I C
[ 6 ]
N I C
-Nicobar, leaf, which prevents animals from being able to mount:
—~v—— J besides which, each pillar has a broad round at piece
of wood near the top of it, the projecting ot which el-
fectually prevents the further progress ot such vermine
as may have passed the leaf. The flooring is made
with thin strips of bamboos, laid at such distances from
one another as to leave free admission tor light and air j
and the inside is neatly finished and decorated with hsh-
ing lances, nets, &c. • . , .
“ The art of making cloth of any kind is quite un¬
known to the inhabitants of this island j what they
have is got from the ships that come to trade in cocoa-
«They purchase a much larger quantity of cloth
than is consumed upon their own island, ihis is in¬
tended for the Ghoury market. Choury is a small island
to the southward of theirs, to which a large fleet ot
their boats sails every year about the month of JN ovem-
her, to exchange cloth for canoes j for they cannot
make these themselves. This voyage they perform by
the help of the sun and stars, for they know nothing of
the compass.
“ In their disposition there are two remarkable qua¬
lities. One is their entire neglect of compliment and
ceremony j and the other, their aversion to dishonesty.
A Carnicobarian travelling to a distant village, upon
business or amusement, passes through many towns in
his way without speaking to any one j if he is hungry
or tired, he goes into the nearest house, and helps him¬
self to what he wants, and sits till he is rested, without
taking the smallest notice of any of the family unless
he has business or news to communicate. I belt or
robbery is so very rare amongst them, that a man going
out of his house never takes away his ladder or shuts
his door, but leaves it open for any body to enter that
pleases without the least apprehension ot having any
thing stolen from him. .
“ Their intercourse with strangers is so frequent, that
(they have acquired in general the barbarous Portuguese
so common over India*, their own language has a sound
.quite different from most others, their words being pro¬
nounced with a kind of stop, or catch in the throat, at
every syllable. .
“ They have no notion of a God, but they believe
•firmly in the devil, and worship him from fear. In
every village there is a high pole erected with ong
strings of ground rattans hanging from it, which, it
is said, has the virtue to keep him at a distance. V\ hen
they see any signs of an approaching storm, they ima¬
gine that the devil intends them a visit, upon which
many superstitious ceremonies are performed. Ihe
people of every village march round their own boun¬
daries, and fix up at different distances small sticks
split at the top, into which split they put a piece of
.cocoa nut, a whisp of tobacco, and the leaf ot a cer¬
tain plant*, whether this is meant as a peace offering
to the devil or a scarecrow to frighten him away, does
not appear. . . , . ,
“ When a man dies, all his live stock, cloth, hatchets,
fishing lances, and in short every moveable thing he
possessed, is buried with him, and bis death is mourn¬
ed by the whole village. In one view this is an excel¬
lent custom, seeing it prevents all disputes about the
property of the deceased amongst his relations. H is wife
must conform to custom by having a joint cut off Irom
i
one of her fingers; and if she refuses this, she must Nicobar,
submit to have a deep noteb cut in one oi the pillars *
of her bouse.
“ I was once present at the funeral of an old woman.
When we went into the bouse which had belonged
to the deceased, we found it full of her female rela¬
tions j some of them were employed in wrapping up
the corpse in leaves and cloth, and others tearing to
pieces all the cloth which had belonged to her. In
another house hard by, the men of the village, with
a great many others from the neighbouring towns,
were sitting drinking .soMra and smoking tobacco. In
the mean time two stout young fellows were busy
digging a grave in the sand near the house. hen
the women had done with the corpse, they set up a
most hideous howl, upon which the people began to
assemble round the grave, and four men went up into
the bouse to bring down the bodyin doing this
they were much interrupted by a young man, son to
the deceased, who endeavoured with all his might to
prevent them but finding it in vain, be clung round
the body, and was carried to the grave along with
it: there, after a violent struggle, be was turned
away and conducted back to the house. The corpse
being now put into the grave, and the lashings which
bound the legs and arms cut, all the live stock winch
had been the property of the deceased, consisting ot
about half a dozen bogs, and as many fowls, was
killed and flung in above itj a man then approached
with a bunch of leaves stuck upon the end oi a pole,
which he swept two or three times gently along the
corpse, and then the grave was filled up. During
the ceremony, the women continued to make the
most horrible vocal concert imaginable: the men said
nothing. A few days afterwards, a kind of monu¬
ment was erected over the grave, with a pole upon it,
to which long strips of cloth oi diflerent coloms were
“ Polygamy is not known among them*, and their
punishment of adultery is not less severe than effectual.
They cut, from the man’s offending member, a piece
of the foreskin proportioned to the frequent commis¬
sion or enormity of the crime.
“ There seems to subsist among them a perlect equa¬
lity. A few persons, from their age, have a little
more respect paid to them *, but there is no appear¬
ance of authority one over another. Iheir society
seems bound rather by mutual obligations continually
conferred and received j the simplest and best ot all
ties.” •
It is our wish to take all opportunities of laying
before our readers every authentic iact which can
throw light upon the philosophy of the human mind.
In this narrative of Mr Hamilton’s respecting the na¬
tives of Carnicobar, there is however one circumstance
at which we stumble. It is known to the learned,
that the philosophers of Greece and Pome, as well as
the magi of Persia, admitted two self-existent beings, a
good and an evil (see Polytheism) j but we never
before read of any people who had no notion ot a
God, and yet firmly believed in the devil. We cou d
o-ive instances of men worshipping the evil principle
from fear, and neglecting the worship of the benevo¬
lent principle from a persuasion that he would do them
all the good in his power without being bribed J^sa-
N I C
Nicobar, crifices and oblations j but this is the only instance of
v—which we have ever heard, of a people, under the in¬
fluence of religion, who had no notion of a God! As
good is at least as apparent in the world as evil, it ap¬
pears to us so very unnatural to admit an evil and de¬
ny a good principle, that we cannot help thinking that
Mr Hamilton, from his ignorance of the language of
Carnicobar, (which he acknowledges to be different
from most others), has not a perfect acquaintance with
the religious creed of the natives : and that they be¬
lieve in a good as well as in an evil principle, though
they worship only the latter, from a persuasion, that to
adore the former could be of no advantage either to him
or to themselves.
Nancowry or Soury, and Gomerty, two other of the
Nicobar islands, are said to be the best peopled, con¬
taining not less than 800 inhabitants. Between these
islands there is a safe and spacious harbour. On the
north point of Nancowry, within the harbour, the
Hanes have long retained a small settlement, protected
by a sergeant and a few soldiers and slaves.
" NICOHEMUS, a disciple of Jesus Christ, a Jew
by nation, and by sect a Pharisee (John iii. 1. &c.)
The Scripture calls him a ruler of the Jews, and our
Saviour gives him the name of a master of Israel.
When our Saviour began to manifest himself by his
miracles at Jerusalem, at the first passover that he ce¬
lebrated there after his baptism, Nicodemus made no
doubt but that he was the Messiah, and came to him
by night, that he might learn of him the way of sal¬
vation. Jesus told him, that no one could see the
kingdom of heaven except he should be born again.
Nicodemus taking this in the literal sense, made an¬
swer, “ How can a man that is old be born again ? Gan
he enter the second time into his mother’s womb ?” To
which Jesus replied, “ If a man be not born of water
and of the spirit, he cannot enter into the kingdom of
God. That which is born of the flesh is flesh, and
* that which is box-n of the spirit is spirit.” Nicodemus
asks him, “ How can these things be ?” Jesus an¬
swered, “ Are you a master of Israel, and are you ig¬
norant of these things ? We tell you what we know;
and you receive not our testimony. If you believe
not common things, and which may be called earthly,
how will you believe me if I speak to you of heavenly
things ? Nobody has ascended into heaven but the Son
of God, who came down from thence. And just as
Moses lifted up the brazen serpent in the wilderness, so
must the Son of Man be lifted up on high. For God
so loved the world that he has given his only Son, so
that no man who believes in him shall perish, but shall
have eternal life.”
After this conversation Nicodemus became a disci¬
ple of Jesus Christ; and there is no doubt to be made,
but he came to hear him as often as our Saviour came
to Jerusalem. It happened on a time, that the priests
and Pharisees had sent officers to seiza Jesus (John vii.
45, &c.), who returning to them, made their report,
that never m in spoke as he did ; to which the Pharisees
replied, “ Are you also of his disciples ? Is there any'
one of the elders or Pharisees that have believed in
him ?” Then Nicodemus thought himself obliged to
make answer, saying, “ Hoes the law permit us to con¬
demn any one before he is heard ?” To which they
replied, “ Are you also a Galilean ? Read the Scrip-
[ 7 ] NIC
tures, and you will find that never any prophet came Nicodcmu-j
out of Galilee.” After this the council was dismissed. 11
At last Nicodemus declared himself openly a disciple of ^‘coniC(^,<;,‘
Jesus Christ (Id. xix. 39, 40.), when he came with Jo¬
seph of Arimathea to pay the last duties to the body of
Christ, which they took down from the cross, embalmed,
and laid in a sepulchre.
w e are told, that Niccdemus received baptism from
the disciples of Christ; but it is not mentioned whe-
tlver before or after the passion of our Lord. It is
added, that the Jews being informed of this, deposed
him from his dignity of senator, excommunicated him,
and drove him from Jerusalem : but that Gamaliel,
who was his cousin-german, took him to his country
house, and maintained him there till his death, when
he had him buried honourably near St Stephen. There
is still extant an apocryphal gospel under the name of
Nicodemus, which in some manuscripts bears the title
of the Acts of Pilate.
NICOLAITANS; in church history, Christian he¬
retics, who assumed this name from Nicholas of An¬
tioch ; who, being a Gentile by birth, first embraced
Judaism and then Christianity ; when his zeal and de¬
votion recommended him to the church of Jerusalem,
by whom he was chosen one of the first'deacons. Many
of the primitive writers believe that Nicholas was ra¬
ther the occasion than the author of the infamous prac¬
tices of those who assumed his name, who were express¬
ly condemned by the Spirit of God himself, Rev. ii. 6.
And indeed their opinions and actions were highly ex¬
travagant and criminal. They allowed a community
of wives, and made no distinction between ordinary
meats and those offered to idols. According to Euse¬
bius, they subsisted but a short time ; but Tertullian
says that they only changed their name, and that their
heresies passed into the sect of the Cainites.
NICOLAS, St, an island of the Atlantic ocean, and
one of the most considerable of those of Cape Verd, ly¬
ing between Santa Lucia and St Jago. It is of a trian¬
gular figure, and about 75 miles in length. The land
is stony, mountainous, and barren ; there are a great
many goats in a valley inhabited by the Portuguese.
W. Long. 33. 35. N. Lat. 17. O.
NICOLO, St, the most considerable, strongest, and
best peopled of the isles of Tremeti in the gulf of Ve¬
nice, to the east of St Homino, and to the south of Cap-
parata. It has a harbour defended by several towers ;
and a fortress, in which is an abbey, with a very hand¬
some church. E. Long. 15. 37* N. Lat. 42. 10.
NICOMEHES, the name of several kings of the
ancient Bithynia. See BlTHYNlA.
Nicodemes I. had no sooner taken possession of his
father’s throne, before Christ 270, than, according to
the custom which has in all ages been too prevalent,
among the despots of the east, he caused two of his
brothers to be put to death. The youngest, Ziboeas,
having saved himself by timely flight, seized on the
coast of Bithynia, which W'as then known by the names
of Thracia Thyniccia, and Thracia Asiatica, and there
maintained a long war with his brother. Nicomedes
being informed that Antiochus Soter, king of Syria,
was making great preparations to attack him at the
same time, called in the Gauls to his assistance ; and
on this occasion that people first passed into Asia.-
Nicomedes having with their assistance repulsed Antio¬
chus,
«
NIC [8
Nicomedes. clius, overcome his brother, and acquired the posses-
—v—sion of all his father’s dominions, bestowed upon them
that part of Asia Minor which from them was called
Gallo-Grcecia, and Gallatia. Having now no enemies
to contend with, he applied himself to the enlarging
and adorning cf the city of Astacus, which he called
after his own name Nicomedia. He had two wives,
and by one of them he was persuaded to leave his
kingdom to her son, in preference to his elder bro¬
thers } but when or how he died is not certainly
known. . , „ ,
Nicomedes II. the grandson of the former, began
his reign like him, by sacrificing his brothers to his
jealousy, after having waded to the throne in the blood
of Prusias his father^ He assumed the name of Epi-
phancs, or “ the Illustrious,” though he performed no¬
thing worthy of this title, or even of notice, during the
whole time of his long reign. He was succeeded by his
Nicomedes III. surnamed, by antipbrasis, 1 mlopa-
ter, because he had murdered his father to get posses¬
sion of his crown. This monarch having entered into
alliance with Mithridates the Great king of Pontus,
• invaded Paphlagonia •, and having seized on that coun¬
try, he attempted likewise to make himself master of
Cappadocia. This country, however, was at that time
subject to his powerful ally ; who thereupon marching
into Bithynia at the head of an army, drove Nico¬
medes from the throne, and raised his brother Socrates
to it in his room. The dethroned prince had recourse
to the Romans, who expelled the usurper, and restor¬
ed him to his hereditary dominions. 1’or this favour
they pressed him, and'at length prevailed upon him,
contrary to his own inclination, and the opinion of his
friends, to make inroads into the territories of Mithri¬
dates, with whom Rome wanted a subject of dispute.
The king of Pontus bore for some time the devasta¬
tions committed by Nicomedes with great patience,
that he might not seem to be the aggressor 5 but at
last he routed his army on the banks of the Ani¬
mus, drove him a second time from his dominions,
and obliged him to seek for shelter in Paphlagonia,
where he led a private life till the time of Sylla, who
replaced him on the throne. He was succeeded by his
son 
Nicomedes IV. who performed nothing which the
many writers who flourished in his time have thought
worth transmitting to posterity. As he died without
issue male, he left his kingdom by his last will to the
Romans, who reduced it to the form of a province.
Sallust, disagreeing with the ancients, tells us, that Ni¬
comedes left a son named Musa or Mysa ; and introdu¬
ces Mithridates as complaining of the Romans to Ar-
saces king of Parthia, for seizing on the kingdom of
Bithynia,1" and excluding the son of a prince who had
on all occasions shown himself a steady friend to their
republic. But this Musa was the daughter and not the
son of Nicomedes, as we are told in express terms by
Suetonius, Velleius Paterculus, and Appian. All we
know of her is, that upon the death of her father she
claimed the kingdom of Bithynia for her son, as the
next male heir to the crown, but without success $ no
motives of justice being of such weighty with the
ambitious Romans as to make them pait with a king-
v dom.
] NIC
NICOMEDIA, in Ancient Geography, a metropolis Nieomedia
of Bithynia, built by Nicomedes the grandfather of Pru- 11^
sias. It is situated on a point of the Sinus Astacenus,, ^ 1
(Pliny) ; surnamed the Beautiful, (Athenaeus) : the
largest city of Bithynia, (Pausanias), who says it was
formerly called Astaetis; though Pliny distinguishes
Astacum and Nicomedia as different cities. Nicome¬
dia was very famous, not only under its own kings, but
under the Romans : it wras the royal residence of D10-
clesian, and of Constantine while Constantinople was
building, if we may credit Nicephorus. It is still called
Nicomedia, at the bottom of a bay of the Propontis in
the Hither Asia. E. Long. 30. o. N. Lat. 41. 20. _ It
is a place of consequence } carries on a trade in silk,
cotton, glass, and earthen ware, and is the see of a
Greek archbishop.
NICOMEDUS, a geometrician, famous on ac¬
count of the invention of the curve called conchoid.
which is equally useful in resolving the two problems
of doubling the cube and trisecting the angle. It
appears that he lived soon after Eratosthenes, ioi he
rallied that philosopher on the mechanism of his meso-
labe. Geminus, who lived in the second century be¬
fore Jesus Christ, has written on the conchoid, though
Nicomedus was always esteemed the inventor of it.
Those who place him four or five centuries after Jesus
Christ must be ignorant of these facts, by which we are
enabled to ascertain pretty nearly the time in which he
lived.
NICON, a native and patriarch of Russia, was born
in 1613, in a village of the government of Nishnei No-
vogorod, of such obscure parents, that their names and
station are not transmitted to posterity. He received
at the baptismal font the name of Nikita, which after-
w'ards, when he became monk, he changed to IS non,
the appellation by which he is more generally known.
He was educated in the convent of St Macarius, under
the care of a monk. From the course of his studies,
which were almost solely directed to the Holy Scrip¬
tures, and the exhortations of Ins preceptor, he im¬
bibed at a very early period the strongest attachment
to a monastic life ; and was only prevented from fol¬
lowing the bent of his mind by the persuasions and
authority of his father. In conformity, however, to
the wishes of his family, though contrary to his own
inclination, he entered into matrimony j and, as that
state precluded him from being admitted into a con¬
vent, he was ordained a secular priest. With his wife
he continued ten years, partly in the country, and
partly at Moscow, officiating as a parish priest. I he
loss of three children, however, gave him a toial dis¬
gust to the world : in consequence of which, his wile
was persuaded to take the veil, and he became a monk ;
his retreat was in an island of the Wiiite sea, and a
kind of ecclesiastical establishment was formed, as re¬
markable for the austerities of its rules as the situation
was for its solitude. There were about 1 2 monks, but
they all lived in different cells. Such a system, com¬
bined with the most gloomy ideas, occasioned so much
cloistered pride as tarnished his character, when he
was afterwards called up to fulfil the duties of a pub¬
lic and exalted station. Our limits do not permit us
to be minute in our account of his life, we must there¬
fore be contented with barely reciting general facts.
Within less than the space of five years, Nieen was
successively
NIC [
Isieou successively created archimandrite, or abbot of the No¬
ll vospatskoi convent, archbishop of Novogorod, and pa-
triarch of Russia. That he was worthy of these rapid
’""’v promotions, few will doubt who are acquainted with
his character ; for he was possessed of very extraordi¬
nary qualities, such as even his enemies allow and ad¬
mire. His courage was undaunted, his morals irre¬
proachable, his charity extensive and exalted, his learn¬
ing deep and comprehensive, and his eloquence com¬
manding. When archbishop, he obtained the respect
of the inhabitants by his unwearied assiduity in the dis¬
charge of his trust j and conciliated their affections by
acts of unbounded charity: Nor was he less conspicuous
in the discharge of the office of patriarch, to which
dignity he was appointed in 1652, in the 39th year of
bis age.
Nor was he only distinguished in his own profession,
for he shone even as a statesman. At length, however,
he fell a victim to popular discontents; which misfor¬
tune, though he was far from deserving it, was certainly
the effect of imprudence. He abdicated the office of
patriarch, which would otherwise have been taken from
him, in July 1658, and bore his reverse of fortune
with heroic magnanimity : he returned to a cell, and
commenced his former austerities. His innocence,
however, could not protect him from further malice: his
enemies obtained him to be formally deposed in 1666.
This degradation was followed by imprisonment, which
was for some time very rigorous, because he, conscious
of his own innocence, refused to accept pardon for
crimes of which he was not guilty. In 1676, how¬
ever, he was removed to the convent of St Cyril, and
enjoyed perfect liberty.
Nicon survived his deposition 15 years. In 168r,
he requested and obtained permission to return to the
convent of Jerusalem, that he might end his days in
that favourite spot 5 but he expired upon the road
near Yaroslaf, in the 66th year of his age. His re¬
mains were transported to that convent, and buried
with all the ceremonies used at the interment of pa¬
triarchs.
NICOPOLI, a town of Turkey in Europe, and in
Bulgaria, famous for being the place where the first
battle was fought between the Turks and Christians
in 1396 *, and where the latter were defeated with
the loss of 20,000 men. E. Long. 25. 33. N. Lat.
43. 46. ^
NICOSIA, the capital of the island of Cyprus,
where a Turkish bashaw resides. It is delightfully
situated between the mountains of Olympus and a
chain of others, and was formerly well fortified by the
Venetians $ but the works are now in ruins. It was
once nine miles in circumference, but was reduced to
three by the Venetians. There are plantations of olives,
almonds, lemons, oranges, mulberries, and cypress trees,
interspersed among the houses, which give the town a
delightful appearance. The church of Sancta Sophia is
an old Gothic structure, which the Turks have turned
into a mosque, and destroyed the ornaments. It is 100
miles west of Tripoli, and 160 south-west of Aleppo.
E. Long. 34. 45. N. Lat. 34. 54.
NICOT, John, lord of Villemain, and master of
request of the French king’s household, was born at
Nismes, and was sent ambassador to Portugal in 1559 5
whence he brought the plant which, from his name,
Vol. XV. Part I.
9 ] NIC
was called Nicotiana, but is now more generally known Nicot,
by the name of Tobacco. He died at Paris in 1603. Nicotian.w
lie wrote a French and Latin dictionary in folio j a' v 
treatise on navigation ; and other works.
NICOTIANA, Tobacco, a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the pentandria class, and in the natural method
ranking under the 28th order, Luridce. See Botany
Index-.—There are seven species, of which the most re¬
markable is the tabacum, or common tobacco plant.
This was first discovered in America by the Spaniards
about the year 1560, and by them imported into Eu¬
rope. It had been used by the inhabitants of America
long before; and was called by those of the islands yoli,
and pcctun by the inhabitants of the continent. It was
sent into Spain from Tab&co, a province of Yucatan,
where it was first discovered, and from whence it takes
its common name. Sir Walter Raleigh, it is generalh'
said, first introduced it into England about the year
1585, and taught his countrymen how to use it. Hr
Cotton Mather, however, (in his Christian Philoso¬
pher) says, that in the above year one Mr Lane car¬
ried over some of it from Virginia, which was the first
time it had ever been seen in Europe. Tobacco is com¬
monly used among the oriental nations, though it is un¬
certain by whom it was introduced among them. Con¬
siderable quantities of it are cultivated in the Levant,
on the coasts of Greece and the Archipelago, in Italy,
and in the island of Malta.
There are twro varieties of that species of nicotiana
which is cultivated for common use, and which are
distinguished by the names of Oronokoe, and sweet-
scented tobacco. They differ from each other only in
the figure of their leaves j those of the former being
longer and narrower than the latter. They are tall
herbaceous plants, growing erect with fine foliage,
and rising with a strong stem from six to nine feet high.
The stalk near the root is upward of an inch dia¬
meter, and surrounded with a kind of hairy or velvet
clammy substance, of a yellowish green colour. The
leaves are rather of a deeper green, and grow alternately
at the distance of two or three inches from each other.
They are oblong, of a spear-shaped oval, and simple ;
the largest about 20 inches long, but decreasing in
size as they ascend, till they come to be only 10 inches
long, and about half as broad. The face of the leaves
is much corrugated, like those of spinage when full
ripe. Before they come to maturity, when they are
about five or six inches long, the leaves are generally
of a full green, and rather smooth ; but as they in¬
crease in size, they become rougher, and acquire a
yellowish cast. The stem and branches are terminated
by large bunches of flowers collected into clusters, of
a delicate red; the edges, when full blown, inclining
to a pale purple. They continue in succession till the
end of the summer ; when they are succeeded by seeds
of a brown colour, and kidney-shaped. These are very
small, each capsule containing about 10005 and the
whole produce of a single plant is reckoned at about
350,000. The seeds ripen in the month of September.
Mr Carver informs us, that the Oronokoe, or, as
it is called, the long Virginian tobacco, is the kind best
suited for bearing the rigour of a northern climate, the
strength as well as the scent of the leaves being greater
than that of the other. The sweet-scented sort flou¬
rishes most in a sandy soil, and in a warm climate,
f B where
NIC [ io ] NIC
v. „„ where it ftreatly exceeds the former in the celerity of time exquisitely tender. If the weather proves dry NicoL,».a.
t^!LHs ormvth i and is likewise, as its name intimates, much after they are thus transplanted, they must he watered  
more mild and pleasant. trill, *e same manner as ,s usua ly done
Culture.—Tobacco thrives best in a warm, kindly,
rich soil, that is not subject to be overrun by weeds. In
Virginia, the soil in which it thrives best is warm, light,
and inclining to be sandy } and therefore, if the plant
is to be cultivated in Britain, it ought to be planted
in a soil as nearly of the same kind as possible. Other
kinds of soil might probably be brought to suit it, by a
mixture of proper manure •, but we must remember, that
whatever manure is made use of, must be thoroughly
incorporated with the soil, f he best situation loi. a
tobacco plantation is the southern declivity of a hill,
rather gradual than abrupt, or a spot that is sheltered
from the north winds : but at the same time it is neces¬
sary that the plants enjoy a free air ; for without that
they will net prosper.
As tobacco is an annual plant, those who intend to
cultivate it ought to be as careful as possible in the
choice of the seeds j in which, however, with all their
care, they may be sometimes deceived. The seeds
are to be sown about the middle of April, or rather
sooner in a forward season, in a bed prepared for ibis
purpose of such soil as has been already described,
mixed with .some warm rich manure. In a cold spring,
hot beds are most eligible for this purpose, and gar-
Trartise on deners imagine that they are always necessary: but
tu Cidtm-e Mr Carver tells us, that he is convinced, when the
«/To&acco Weather is not very severe, the tobacco seeds maybe
raised without doors 5 and for this purpose gives us the
following directions.
“ Having sown the seed in the manner above di¬
rected, on the least apprehension of a frost after the
plants appear, it will he necessary to spread mats over
the beds, a little elevated from the ground by poles
laid across, that they may not be crushed. These,
however, must he removed in the morning, soon after
the sun appears, that they may receive as much benefit
as possible from its warmth and from the air. In this
manner proceed till the leaves have attained about
twm inches in length and one in breadth } which they
will do in about a month after they are sown, or near
the middle of May, when the frosts are usually at an
end. One invariable rule for their being able to bear
removal is, when the fourth leaf is sprouted, and the
fifth just appears. Then take the opportunity of the
first rains or gentle showers to transplant them into
such a soil and situation as before described •, which
must be done in the following manner.—The land
must be ploughed, or dug up with spades, and made as
mellow and light as possible. When the plants are to
he placed, raise with the hoe small hillocks at the dis¬
tance of two feet or a little more from each other, ta¬
king care that no hard sods or lumps are in it y and
then just indent the middle of each, without drilling
holes, as for some other plants.
“ When your ground is thus prepared, dig in a
gentle manner from their native bed such plants as
have attained the proper growth for transplanting
above mentioned, v and drop, as you pass, one on every
hillock. Insert a plant gently into each centre, pres¬
sing the soil around gently with your fingers ; and tak¬
ing the greatest care, during the operation, that you
dp not break oft any of the leaves, which are at this
to coleworts, or plants of a similar kind. But though
you now seem to have a sufficient quantity of plants
for the space you intend to cultivate, it is yet necessary
that you continue to attend to your bed of seedlings,
that you may have enough to supply any deficiencies
which through accident may arise. From this, time
great care must be taken to keep the ground soft and
free from weeds, by often stirring with your hoe the
mould round the roots j and to prune off the dead
leaves that sometimes are found near the bottom of the
stcillc*
“ The difference of this climate from that in which
I have been accustomed to observe the progress of this
plant, will not permit me to direct with certainty the
time which is most proper to take oft the top of it, to
prevent it from running to seed. I his knowledge can
only he acquired by experience. When it has risen
to the height of more than two feet, it commonly be¬
gins to put forth the branches on which the flowers
and seeds are produced y but as this expansion,, il suf¬
fered to take place, would drain the nutriment from the
leaves, which are the most valuable part, and there¬
by lessen their size and efficacy, it becomes needlul at
this stage to nip oft' the extremity of the stalk to pre¬
vent its growing higher. In some other climates,
the top is commonly cut off when the plant has 15
leaves •, but if the tobacco is intended to be a little
stronger than usual, this is done ivhcn it has only 13 ?
and sometimes, when it is designed to be remarkably
powerful, 11 or 1 2 are only allowed to expand. On
the contrary, if the planter is desirous oi having his
crop very mild, he suffers it to put forth 1 8 01 20 . but
in this calculation, the three or four lower leaves next
the ground, which do not grow so large and fine as the
others, are not to be reckoned.
“ This operation, denominated topping the tobacco,
is much better performed by the finger and thumb than
with any instrument y because the grasp of the fingers
closes the pores of the plant j whereas, when it is done
by instruments, the juices are in some degree exhaust¬
ed. Care must also be taken to nip off the sprouts that
will be continually springing up at the junction of the
leaves with the stalks. This is termed succouring, or
suckering, the tobacco y and ought to be repeated as
often as occasion requires^
“ As it is impossible to ascertain the due time for
topping the plant, so it is equally impossible, without
experiment, to ascertain the time.it will take to ripea
in this country. The apparent signs of its maturity
are these : The leaves, as they approach a state of ripe¬
ness, become more corrugated or rough y and when fully
ripe, appear mottled with yellowish spots on the raised
pasts-, whilst the cavities retain their usual green colour.
They are at this time also thicker than they have been
before y and are covered with a downy velvet, like
that formerly mentioned, on the stalks. If heavy rains
happen at this critical period, they will wash oft this
excrescent substance, and thereby damage the plants.
In this case, if the frosty nights are not begun, it is
proper to let them stand a few days longer when, if
the weather be moderate, they will recover this sub¬
stance again. But if a frost unexpectedly happens du?
ring.
N I C [
Nicotlana. ring the night, they must be carefully examined in the
'■* v ^ morning, before the sun has any influence upon them ■,
and those which arc found to be covered with frosty
particles, whether thoroughly ripe or not, must be cut
up 5 for though they may not all appear to be arrived
at a state of maturity, yet they cannot be far from it,
and will differ but little in goodness from those that
are perfectly so.”
Tobacco is subject to be destroyed by a worm ; and
without proper care to exterminate this enemy, a
whole field of plants may soon be lost. This animal
is of the horned species, and appears to be peculiar to
the tobacco plant; so that in many parts of America
it is distinguished by the name of the tobacco worm. In
what manner it is first produced, or how propagated,
is unknown; but it is not discernible till the plants
have attained about half their height ; and then ap¬
pears to be nearly as large as a gnat. Soon after this
it lengthens into a worm ) and by degrees increases in
magnitude to the bigness of a man’s finger. In shape
it is regular from its head to its tail, without any di¬
minution at either extremity. It is indented or ribbed
found at equal distances, nearly a quarter of an inch
from each other ; and having at every one of these di*
visions a pair of feet or claws, by which it fastens itself
to the plant. Its mouth, like that of the caterpillar,
is placed under the fore part of the head. On the top
of the head, between the eyes, grows a horn about half
an inch long, and greatly resembling a thorn 5 the ex¬
treme part of which is of a brown colour, a firm tex¬
ture, and the extremity sharp pointed. It is easily
crushed j being only, to appearance, a collection of
green juice enclosed in a membranaceous covering,
without the internal parts of an animated being. The
colour of its skin is in general green, interspei’sed with
several spots of a yellowish white; and the whole co¬
vered with a short hair scarcely to be discerned. These
worms are found the most predominant during the lat¬
ter end of July and the beginning of August; at which
time the plants must be particularly attended to, and
every leaf carefully seai'ched. As soon as a wound is
discovered, and it will not be long before it is percep¬
tible, care must he taken to destroy the cause of it,
which will be found near it, and from its unsubstantial
texture may easily be crushed : but the best method is
to pull it away by the horn, and then crush it.
When the tobacco is fit for being gathered, as will
appear from an attention to the foregoing directions,
on the first morning that promises a fair day, before
the sun is risen, take an axe or a long knife, and holding
the stalk near the top with one hand, sever it from its
root with the other, as low as possible. Lay it
gently on the ground, taking care not to break off the
leaves, and there let it remain exposed to the rays of
the sun throughout the day, or until the leaves, accord¬
ing to the American expression, are entirely wilted:
that is, till they become limber, and will bend any
way without breaking. But if the weather should
prove rainy without any intervals of sunshine, and the
plants appear to he fully ripe, they must be housed
immediately. Jhis must be done, however, with great
care, that the leaves, which are in this state very
brittle, may not be broken. They are next to be placed
under proper shelter, either in a barn or covered hovel,
where they cannot be affected by rain or too much air,
: I ] NIC
thinly scattered on the floor; and if the sun does not Kicot
appear for several days, they must be left to wilt in ti at—v
manner ; but in this case 'the quality of the tobacco
will not he quite so good.
When the leaves have acquired the above-mentioned
flexibility, the plants must be laid in heaps, or rather
in one heap if the quantity is not too great, and in
about 24 hours they will be found to sweat. But
during this time, when they have lain for a little while,
and begin to ferment, it will be necessary to turn
them ; bringing those which are in the middle to the
surface, and placing those which are at the surface in
the middle. The longer they lie in this situation, the
darker coloured is the tobacco; and this is termed
sweating the tobacco. After they have lain in this
manner fox’ thi’ee or four days, (for a longex- con¬
tinuance might make the plants turn mouldy), they"
may be fastened together in pairs with cords or wood -
cn pegs, near the bottom of the stalk, and hung across
a pole, with the leaves suspended i(j the same covered
place, a proper interval being left between each
pair. In about a month the leaves will be thorough
ly dried, and of a proper temperature to he taken
down. This state may be ascertained by their appear¬
ing of the same colour with those imported from Ame¬
rica. But this can be done only in wet weather. The
tobacco is exceedingly apt to attract the humidity of
the atmosphere, which gives it a pliability that is ab¬
solutely necessary for its preservation ; for if the plants
are removed in a very dry season, the external parts of
the leaves will crumble into dust, and a considerable
Waste will ensue.
Cure.—As soon as the plants are taken down, they
must again be laid in a heap, and pressed with heavy logs
of wood for about a week; but this climate may
possibly require a longer time. While they remain iix
this state, it xvill be necessary to introduce your hand
frequently into the heap, to discover whether ihe heat
be not too intense; for in large quantities this will
sometimes be the case, and considerable damage will
be occasioned by it. When they are found to heat
too much, that is, when the heat exceeds a moderate
glowing warmth, part of the weight by which the?
are pressed must be taken away; and the cause being
removed, the effect will cease. This is called the se¬
cond or last sweating ; and, when completed, which it
generally will be about the time just mentioned, the
leaves must be stripped from the stalks for use. Many
omit this last sweating ; but Mr Carver thinks that it
takes away any remaining harshness, and renders the to¬
bacco more mellow. The strength of the stalk also is
diffused by it through the leaves, and the whole mass be¬
comes equally meliorated.—When the leaves are strip¬
ped from the stalks, they are to be tied up in bunches
or hands, and kept in a cellar or ether damp place ;
though if not handled in dry weather but only during
a rainy season, it is of little Consequence in what paxt
of the house or barn they are laid up. At this period
the tobacco is thoroughly cured, and as proper for
manufacturing as that imported from the colonies.
Our author advises the tobacco planter, in his first
trials, not to be too avaricious, but to top his plants
before they have gained their xitmost height: leaving
only about the middle quantity of leaves directed before
to give it a tolerable degree of strength. For though
B 2 this,
•NIC [ t
t.iotiium tins, if excessive, might he abated during the cure by an
jytcouau _    , i ir npvt season by
tins, II excessive, uuguv   o -
increase of sweating, or be remedied the next season by
suffering more leaves to grow, it can never he added 5
and, without a certain degree of strength, the tobacco
will always be tasteless and of little value. On the
contrary, though it be ever so much weakened by
sweating, and thereby rendered mild, yet it will never
lose the aromatic flavour winch accompanied that
strength, and which greatly adds to its value. A square
yard of land, he tells us, will rear about 500 plants,
and allow proper space for their nurture till they are fit
for transplanting. . . . „
The following extract, which is copied from a ma¬
nuscript of Dr Barham (a), for directing the raising,
cultivating, and curing tobacco in Jamaica, is perhaps
worthy of the attention of those who wish to be further
acquainted with this subject. # . ,
“ Let the ground or woodland wherein you intend
planting tobacco be well burned, as the greater the
quantity of wood ashes the better. The spot y ou in¬
tend raising your plants on must he well strewed with
ashes, laid smooth and light : then blow the seed from
tin? palm of your hand gently on the bed, and cover it
over with palm or plantain leaves.
“ When your plants are about four inches high,
draw them and plant them out about three feet asun¬
der ; and when they become as high as your knee, cut
or pluck off the top*, and if there are more than 12
leaves on the plant, take off the overplus, and leave the
rest entire. , . ,
“ The plant should noAV be daily attended to, in order
to destroy the caterpillars that are liable to infest it 5 as
also to take off every sprout or sucker that puts out at
the joints, in order to throw the whole vegetable nourish¬
ment into the large leaves. _ , • .
“ When the edges and points of the leaves begin to
turn a little yellow, cut down the stalks about ten
o’clock in the morning, taking the opportunity ol a
fine day, and he careful the dew is fully off the plant,
and do not continue this work after two in the after¬
noon. As fast as it is cut let it be earned into your
tobacco house, which must he so close as to shut out all
air, (on this much depends), and hung up on lines tied
across, for the purpose of drying. . . . „
“ When the stalks begin to turn brownish, take
them off the lines, and put them in a large bmn, and
fay on them heavy weights for 12 days y then take
them out, and strip off the leaves, and put them again
into the binn,. and let them he well pressed, and so as
no air gains admission for a month. Take them on ,
tie them in bundles about 60 leaves in each, which are
t ailed monocoes ; and are ready for sale. But obser ve
to let them always be kept close till you have occasion
to dispose of them. ,
“ £et your curing house be well built, and very
close and warm j if a hoarded building, it av.11 not he
amiss, in a wet situation, to cover the Avhole outside
with thatch and plantain trash, to keep off the damps ,
for by this care you preserve the fine volatile oil in the
] NIC
leaves. Observe, no smoke is to he made use of or ad- Nkodana,
mitted into your curing house.” membrnne8
For an account of the medical effects of tobacco, see  j
Materia Medica Index. _ .
The most common uses of this plant, are either as a
sternutatory when taken by way of snuff as a mastica¬
tory by cheAving it in the mouth, or as effluvia by smok-
ing it ; and Avhen taken in moderation, it is not an un¬
healthful amusement. Before pipes were invented, it
was usually smoked in segars, and they are still in use
amomr some of the southern nations. I he method of
preparing these is at once simple and expeditious. A
leaf of tobacco being formed into a small twisted roll,
somewhat larger than the stem of a pipe, and about
eight inches long, the smoke is conveyed through the
winding folds which prevent it from expanding, as
through a tube 5 so that one end ol it being lighted,
and the other applied to the mouth, it is in tins forni
used without much inconvenience. But, in process ot
time, pipes being invented, they Avere found more com¬
modious vehicles for the smoke, and are now in general
US Amoncr all the productions of foreign climes intro¬
duced into these kingdoms, scarce any has been held
in higher estimation by persons of every rank than to¬
bacco. In the countries of Avhich it is a native, it is
considered by the Indians as the most valuable offer¬
ing that can he made to the beings they Avorslnp. Ihey
use it in all their civil and religious ceremonies. V\ hen
once the spiral wreaths of its smoke ascend from the
feathered pipe of peace, the compact that has been
just made is considered as sacred and inviolable. Bike-
wise, when they address their great F ather, or his guar¬
dian spirits, residing, as they believe m every extraor¬
dinary production ol nature, they make liberal ofltnngs
to them of this valuable plant, not doubting hut that
they are thus secured of protection,
Tobacco is made up into rolls by the inhabitants of
the interior parts of America, by means of a machine
called a tobacco wheel. With this machine they spin
the leaves after they are cured, into a twist of any size
they think fit: and having folded it into rolls of about
20 pounds each, they lay it by for use. In this state
it Avill keep for several years, and be continually im¬
proving, as it always grows milder. The Illinois usual¬
ly form it into carrots ; which is done by laying a num¬
ber of leaves, when cured, on each other after the ribs
have been taken out, and rolling them round with pack¬
thread, till they become cemented together. These rolls
commonly measure about 18 or 20 inches in length,
and nine round in the middle part. .
Tobacco forms a very considerable article in com¬
merce *, for an account of which, see the articles Glas-
gow and Virginia. . ,
NICTITATING membrane, a thin membrane
chiefly found in the bird and fish kind, which covers the
eyes of these animals, sheltering them from the dust or
too much light; yet is so thin and pellucid, that they
can see pretty well through it. ^
to’Dr Sloane, and made several communications to the Royal Society.
N I E [i
Niddtri NIDDUI, in the Jewish customs, is used to signify
|| “ separated or excommunicated.” This, according to
Niester. s0nit?? ^vas to be understood of the lesser sort of excom-
v munication in use among the Hebrews. He that had
incurred it was to withdraw himself from his relations,
at least to the distance of four cubits : it commonly
continued a month. If it was not taken off in that
time, it might be prolonged for 60 or even 90 days :
but if, within this term, the excommunicated person
did not give satisfaction, he fell into \\\z cherem, which
Avas a second sort of excommunication ; and thence
into the third sort, called shammata or shematta, the
most terrible of all. But Selden has proved that there
were only two kinds of excommunication, viz. the
greater and less 5 and that these three terms were used
indifferently.
NIDUS, among naturalists, signifies a nest or pro¬
per repository for the eggs of birds, insects, &c. where
the young of these animals are hatched and nursed.
NFDIFICATION, a term generally applied to the
formation of a birdTs nest, and its hatching or bringing
forth its young. See Ornithology.
NIECE, a brother’s or sister’s daughter, which in
the civil law is reckoned the third degree of consan¬
guinity.
NIEMEN, a large river of Poland, which rises in
Lithuania, where it passes by Bielica, Grodno, and
Konno : it afterwards runs through part of Samogitia
and Ducal Prussia, Avhere it falls into the lake called
the Curisch-haff, by several mouths, of which the most
northern is called the Russ. This lake communicates
with the Baltic.
NIENBURGH, a rich and strong town of Ger¬
many, in the duchy of Brunswick-Lunenburg, tvith a
strong castle. It carries on a considerable trade in
corn and avooI, and is seated in a fertile soil on the
river Weser. E. Long. 9. 26. N. Lat. 52. 44.
NIEPER, or Dnieper, a large river of Europe,
and one of the most considerable of the north, formerly
called the Boristhenes. Its source is in the middle of
Muscovy, running Avest by Smolensko, as far as Orsa ;
and then turns south, passing by Mohilow, Bohaczo,
KIoav, Czyrkassy, the fortress of Kudak, Dessau, and
Oczakow, falling into the Black sea j as also in its
course it divides Little Tartary from Budziac Tartary.
NIESS, a mountain in the environs of Berne in
Switzerland, It is the last mountain in a high chain
of calcareous hills, of which the Stockhorn, the Neu-
neren, and the Ganterish, have been illustrated by
the botanical labours of the celebrated Haller. Niess
stands on the borders of the lake Thun, and separates
the valley of Frutingen from that of Simme. It is
very interesting to the curious traveller, on account of
the fine view from its top •, and to naturalists, because
it joins the Alps. Towards its foot, beds of slate
have been discovered : it is of calcareous stone higher
up -r and near its top is found a species of pudding-
stone, filled with small fragments of broken petrifac¬
tions.
NIESTER, a large river of Poland, Avhich has its
source in the lake Niester, in the palatinate of Lem-
burg, where it passes by Halicz. Then it separates
Podolia and OczakoAv Tartary from Moldavia and
Budziac Tartary 5 and falls into the Blaclc sea at
3 3 NIG
Belgorod, between the mouths of the Nieper and the ^jester
Danube. ||
NIGELLA, Fennel-flower, or Devil in a Bush, NiSht-
a genus of plants, belonging to the pentandria class. '■“■’’V—"
See Botany Index.
NIGER, C.Pescennius Justus, a celebrated gover¬
nor in Syria, well known by his valour in the Roman
armies Avhiie in a private station. At the death of Per-
tinax he Avas declared emperor of Rome 5 and his claims
to that elevated station were supported by a sound
understanding, prudence of mind, moderation, courage,
and virtue. He proposed to imitate the actions of the
venerable Antoninus, of Trajan, of Titus, and M. Au¬
relius. He Avas remarkable for his fondness of ancient
discipline. He never suffered his soldiers to drink wine,
but obliged them Avhen thirsty to use water and vinegar.
He forbade the use of silver or gold utensils in his camp.
All the bakers and cooks Avere driven away, and the
soldiers Avere ordered to live during the expedition they
undertook merely upon biscuits. In his punishments
Niger was inexorable : he condemned ten of his soldiers
to be beheaded in the presence of the army because thev
had stolen and eaten a fowl. The sentence Avas heard
with groans. The army interfered ; and Avhen Niger
consented to diminish the punishment, for fear of
kindling rebellion, he yet ordered the criminals to make
each a restoration of ten forvls to the person Avhose pro¬
perty they had stolen. They were besides ordered not
to light a fire the rest of the campaign, but to live upon
cold aliments and to drink nothing but Avater. Such
great qualifications in a general seemed to promise the
restoration of ancient discipline in the Roman armies ;
but the death of Niger frustrated every hope of reform.
Se\rerus, who had also been invested Avith the imperial
purple, marched against him : some battles Avere
fought, and Niger Avas at last defeated, A. D. 195.
His head Avas cut off and fixed to a long spear, and
carried in triumph through the streets of Rome. He
reigned about a year.
Niger, a large river of Africa, of Avhich many er¬
roneous opinions have been entertained. According to
Herodotus, Pliny, Ptolemy, and many of the ancients,
this river runs from west to east, an opinion which Avas
long forgotten, and in more modern times it Avas be¬
lieved to flow from east to west; but from the recent
discoveries of the indefatigable Mr Park, who himself
saw this majestic river, the opinion of the ancients is
now fully established, that its course is from ivest to
east. The source of the Niger is supposed to be in
that mountainous region in western Africa, which gives
origin to the rivers Gambia and Senegal, which dis¬
charge their Avaters into the Western ocean, Avhiie the
Niger rising from the opposite side of the mountains,
takes an easterly direction. See Africa, p. 264. and
272. See also Africa, Supplement, p. 101.
NIGHT, that part of the natural day during which
the sun is underneath the horizon) or that space where¬
in it is dusky.
Night Avas originally divided by the Hebrews and
other eastern nations into three parts or watches.
The Romans, and after them the Jews, divided the
night into four parts or Avatches 5 the first of which be¬
gan at sunset, and lasted till nine at night, according
to our Avay of reckoning y the second lasted till mid¬
night ;
N I G
r u
Niclit
II
Watching.
night j the third till three in the morning; and the
fourth ended at sunrise. The ancient Gauls and Ger¬
mans divided their time not by days but by nights j and
, the people of Iceland and the Arabs do the same at this
day. The like is observed of the Anglo-Saxons.—The
length and shortness of night or of darkness is according
to the season of the year and position of the place 5 and
the causes of this variety are now well known. See
Astrokomy, &c.
Night, in scripture language, is used for the times
of heathenish ignorance and prolaneness (Rom. xiii.
^2.) 5 lor adversity and affliction (Is. xxi. I2.)j and
lastly, for death (John ix. 4.).
Night Angling, a method of catching large and shy
fish in the night-time. Trout, and many other of the
better sorts of fish, are naturally shy and learful; they
therefore prey in the night as the securest time.—The
method of taking them on this plan is as follows :
The tackle must he strong, and need not he so line as
for day fishing, when every thing is seen 5 the hook
must he baited with a large earth worm, or a black
snail, and thrown out into the river j there must be no
lead to the line, so that the bait may not sink, but be
kept drawling along, upon or near the surface. What¬
ever trout is near the place will he brought thither by
the motion of the water, and will seize the worm or
snail. The angler will be alarmed by the noise which
the fish makes in rising, and must give him line, and
time to swallow the hook; then a slight touch secures
him. The best and largest trouts are found to bite thus
in the night; and they rise mostly in the still and clear
deeps, not in the swift and shallow currents. Some¬
times, though there are fish about the place, they will
not rise at the bait: in this case the angler must put on
some lead to his line, and sink it to the bottom.
Night-Mare, or Incubus. See Medicine, N° 329.
NiGHT-JFalkers. See Medicine, N° 329, and
Noctambuei.
Night- Walkers, in Law, are such persons as sleep by
day and walk by night, being oftentimes pilferers or
disturbers of the public peace. Constables are authori¬
zed by the common law to arrest night-walkers and su¬
spicious persons, &c. Watchmen may also arrest night-
walkers, and hold them until the morning; and it is
said, that a private person may arrest any suspicious
ni<dit-walker, and detain him till he give a good ac¬
count of himself. One may be bound to the good be-
'haviour for being a night-walker ; and common night-
walkers, or haunters of bawdy-houses, are to be indict¬
ed before justices of peace, &c. But it is not held law¬
ful for a constable, &c. to take up any woman as a
night-walker on bare suspicion only of being of ill-fame,
unless she be guilty of a breach of the peace, or some
unlawful act, and ought to be found misdoing.
NIGHTINGALE, a species of motacilla. See Or¬
nithology Index.
NIGHTSHADE. See Solanum, Botany Index.
Deadly Nightshade. See Atrofa, Botany In¬
dex.—The berries of this plant are of a malignant poi¬
sonous nature; and, being of a sweet taste, have fre¬
quently proved destructive to children. It is said, that
a large glass of warm vinegar, taken as soon as possi¬
ble after eating the berries, will prevent their bad ef¬
fects.
NiGHT-JFatching, a practice of very remote antiquity,
] NIG
which belongs to the oldest regulations of police. So Night-
early as the time of Solomon we find mention made of Watching
it, and likewise in the Psalms of David *. Sentinels # ny
were stationed in different places in Athens and othci g0iomon^
cities of Greece, and they were kept to their duty by chap iii.
the visitations of the Thesmothetce. There were also ver.y Pml
triumviri nocturni in the city of Rome, as appears from vxxvi.. 1.
the commentaries of Heubach on the police of the Ro¬
mans. It appears, however, that the design of these
institutions was rather the prevention of fires, than the
guarding against alarms or dangers by night, although
attention was likewise paid to these in process of time.
The apprehension of fires was the pretext of Augustus,
when he wished to strengthen the night-watch for sup¬
pressing nocturnal commotions.
It does not appear that calling out the hours became
an established practice before the erection of city gates,
and probably had its rise in Germany ; yet it would
have been attended with advantages in ancient Rome,
where there were no public clocks, nor any thing in
private houses to indicate the hours. The periods for
soldiers to mount guard were determined by water-
clocks ; at the end of each hour they blew a horn, and
by means of this signal each individual might ascertain
the hour of the night. It seems evident, however, that
these regulations were only attended to in time of
W'ar.
In the city of Paris, night-w'atclnng was established,
as at Rome, in the very commencement of its monarchy ;
and De la Mare quotes the ordinances of Clotbaire II.
upon this subject, in the year 595. The citizens at first
kept watch in rotation ; but this practice W7as after¬
wards set aside, and, by the payment of a certain sum
of money, a permanent watch was established. In the
opinion of the learned and indefatigable Beckmann, the
establishment of single watchmen, to call out the hours
through the streets, is peculiar to Germany, and only
copied by surrounding nations in more modern times.
The elector, John George, in 1588, appointed watch¬
men at Berlin ; and Mabillon describes it as a practice
peculiar to that country. Horns are made use of by
watchmen in some places, and rattles in others, the for¬
mer being most proper for villages, and the latter for
C1 The Chinese, so early as the ninth century, had
watchmen posted on their towers, W'fio announced the
hours both by day and night, by striking forcibly on a
suspended board, which in that country is said to be m
use to the present period ; and at Petersburg!), in Rus¬
sia, the watchmen employ a suspended plate of non for
a similar purpose. In this manner also Christians are
assembled together in the Levant, for the purpose of at¬
tending divine service ; and monks were thus awakened
in monasteries at the most early periods, to attend to
the proper hours of prayer.
We find mention made of steeple-watchmen m Ger¬
many in the 14th century. In the year 1563, a church-
steeple was erected in Leisnig, and an apartment built
in it for a permanent watchman, who was obliged^ to
proclaim the hours every time the clock struck. 1 er-
manent watchmen were kept in many of the steeples at
Ulm in the 15th century. The same thing was prac¬
tised at Frankfort on the Mayne, at Oettingen, and
many other places; and Montaigne was astonished at
finding a man on the steeple of Constance, who kept
D watch
NIL [i
Nig’at- watch upon it continually, and who on no pretext what-
Watclung ever was permitted to come down. Beckman's Hist, of
vjje Inventions, iii. 425.
v——y—NIGIDIUS Figulus, Publius, one of the most
learned men of ancient Rome, flourished at the same
time with Cicero. He wrote on various subjects j but
his pieces appeared so refined and difficult that they
were not regarded. He assisted Cicero, with great
prudence, in defeating Catiline’s conspiracy, and did
him many services in the time of his adversity. He
adhered to Pompey in opposition to Caesar ; which oc¬
casioned his exile, he dying in banishment. Cicero,
who had always entertained the highest esteem for him,
wrote a beautiful consolatory letter to him (the 13th of
lib. iv. ad Famillares).
N1GRINA, a genus of plants belonging to the pent-
andria class. See Botany Index.
NIGRINE, an ore of titanium. See Mineralogy
Index.
NIGRITIA. See Negroland.
NIGUA. See Chegoe.
NILE, a large and celebrated river of Africa, to
which the country of Egypt owes its fertility 5 and the
exploring the sources of which, has from the remotest
ages, been accounted an impracticable undertaking.
This problem has been solved by James Bruce, Esq. of
Kinnaird, in Scotland ; who spent several years at the
court of Abyssinia, and by the favour of the emperor
and great people of the country was enabled to accom¬
plish the arduous task.
In the account of his travels, this gentleman has been
at particular pains to show, that none of those who under¬
took this task ever succeeded in it but himself. The in¬
quiry concerning its springs, he says, began either be¬
fore history or tradition, and is by some supposed to be
the origin of hieroglyphics. Though Egypt was the
country which received the greatest benefit from this
river, it was not there that the inquiries concerning its
inundation began : it being probable that every thing
relative to the extent and periodical time of that inum
dation would be accurately settled (which could not be
done but by a long series of observations) before any
person would venture to build houses within its reach.
The philosophers of Meroe, in our author’s opinion,
were the first who undertook to make a number of ob¬
servations sufficient to determine these points their
country being so situated, that they could perceive every
thing relative to the increase or decrease of the river
without any danger from its overflowing. Being much
addicted to astronomy, it could not long escape them,
that the heliacal rising of the dog-star, was a signal
for Egypt to prepare for the inundation; without which
it was vain to expect any crop. The connection of this
celestial sign with the annual rising of the river would
undoubtedly soon become a. matter of curiosity ; and as
this could not easily be discovered, it was natural for an
ignorant and superstitious people to ascribe the whole
to the action of the dog-star as a deity. Still, however,
by those who were more enlightened, the phenomenon
would be ascribed to natural causes ; and a great step
towards the discovery of these, undoubtedly was that of
the sources of the river itself. In the early ages, when
travelling into foreign countries was impracticable by
private persons, the inquiry into the source? of the Nile
5 ] NIL
became an object to the greatest monarchs. Sesostris is Nile,
said to have preferred the honour of discovering them v-
almost to all the victories he obtained. Alexander the
Great is well known to have had a great curiosity to
discover these fountains. On his arrival at the temple
of Jupiter Ammon, he is said to have made inquiry con¬
cerning the fountains of the Nile, even before he asked
about his own descent from Jupiter. The priests are
said to have given him proper directions for finding
them: and Alexander took the most ready means of
accomplishing his purpose, by employing natives of
Ethiopia to make the search. These discoverers, in tha
opinion of Mr Bruce, missed their aim, by reason of
the turn which the Nile takes to the east in the latitude
of 90 where it begins to surround the kingdom of Go-
jam ; but which they might imagine to be only a wind¬
ing of the river soon to be compensated by an equal
turn to the west. “ They therefore (says he) continue^
their journey south till near the line, and never saw it
more ; as they could have no possible notion it had
turned back behind them, and that they had left it as
far north as latitude 90. They reported then to Alex¬
ander, what was truth, that they had ascended the Nile,
as far south as latitude 90; where it unexpectedly took
its course to the east, and was seen no more. The river
was not known, nor to be heard of near the line, or
farther southward, nor was it diminished in size, nor
had it given any symptom that they were near its
source; they had found the Nile calentem (warm),
while they expected its rise among melting snows.
Mr Bruce is of opinion that this turn of the Nile
to the eastward was the occasion of Alexander’s ex¬
travagant mistake, in supposing that he had discovered
the fountains of the Nile when ho was near the source
of the Indus ; and which he wrote to his mother,
though he afterwards caused it to be erased from his
books.
Ptolemy Pbiladelphus succeeded Alexander in his
attempts to discover the source of the Nile ; but he like¬
wise proving unsuccessful, the task was next undertaken
by Ptolemy Euergetes, the most powerful of the Greek
princes who sat on the throne of Egypt. “ In this
(says Mr Bruce) he had probably succeeded, had he
not mistaken the river itself. He supposed the Siris,
now the Tacazze, to be the Nile ; and ascending in the
direction of its stream, lie came to Axum, the capital
of Sire and of Ethiopia. But the story he tells of the
snow which he found knee-deep on the mountains of
Samen, makes me question whether he ever crossed the
Siris, or was himself an ocular witness of what he says
he observed there.”
Caesar had the same curiosity with other conquerors
to visit the springs of the Nile, though his situation did
not allow him to make any attempt lor that purpose.
Nero, however, was more active. He sent two centu¬
rions into Ethiopia, with orders to explore the unknown
fountains of this river; but they returned without ha¬
ving accomplished their errand. They reported, that,
after having gone a long way, they came to a king of
Ethiopia, ivho furnished them with necessaries^ and re¬
commendations to some other kingdoms adjacent; pas¬
sing which, they came to immense lakes, of which no¬
body knew the end, nor could they ever hope to find it.
Their story, however, is by Mr Bruce supposed to be a
fiction
NIL [ 16
fiction ; as the Nile forms no lakes throughout its course,
excepting that e-f Tzana or Dembea, the limits of which
are easily perceived.
No other attempt was made by the ancients to disco¬
ver the sources ol this celebrated river j and the matter
was looked upon to be an impossibility, insomuch that
caput Ni/i qvccrere became a proverb, denoting the im¬
possibility of any undertaking. The first who, in more
modern ages, made any attempt of this kind, w as a monk
sent into Abyssinia in the year 522, by Nonnosus, am¬
bassador from the emperor Justin. flhis monk is called
Cosmos the Hermit, and likewise Indoplaustes, from his
supposed travels into India. He proceeded as far as the
city of Axum, but did not visit that part of the coun¬
try where the head of the Nile lies *, nor, in Mr Bruce’s
opinion, would it have been practicable for him to do
so. The discovery, however, is said to have been made
at last by Peter Pacz the missionary. But the truth ot
this account is denied by Mr Bruce, for the following
reasons: 1. “ No relation of this kind (says he) was
to be found in three copies of Peter 1 aez s histoiy,
to which I had access when in Italy, on my return
home. One of these copies I saw at Milan ; and, by
the interest of friends, had an opportunity of perusing
it at my leisure. The other two were at Bologna and
Rome. I ran through them rapidly ; attending only to
the place where the description ought to have been, and
where I did not find it: but haying copied the first and
last page of the Milan manuscript, and comparing them
with the two last mentioned, I found that all the three
were word for word the same, and none of them con¬
tained one syllable of the discovery of the souice. 2.
Alphonso Mendez came into Abyssinia about a year af¬
ter Paez’s death. New and desirable as that discovery
must have been to himself, to the pope, king of Spain,
and all his great patrons in Portugal and Italy •, though
he wrote the history of the country, and of the parti¬
culars concerning the mission in great detail and with
.rood judgment, yet he never mentions this journey ot
Peter Paez, though it probably must have been convey¬
ed to Rome and Portugal after his inspection and under
his authority. 3. Balthazar Tellez, a learned Jesuit,
has wrote two volumes in folio, with great candour and
impartiality, considering the spirit of those times ; and
he declares his work to be compiled from those ot Al¬
phonso Mendez the patriarch, from the two volumes of
Peter Paez, as well as from the regular reports made by
the individuals of the company in some places, and by
the provincial letters in others*, to all which he had
complete access, as also to the annual reports ot I eter
Paez, among the rest from 1598 to 1622; yet Tellez
makes no mention of such a discovery, though he is
very particular as to the merit of each missionary during
the long reign of Pacilidas, which occupies more than
half the two volumes.”
The first, and indeed the only account ot the toun-
tains of the Nile, published before that of Mr Bruce,
was Kircher’s *, who says that he took it from tne writ¬
ings of Peter Paez. The time when the discovery is
said to have been made was the 2ist of April 1618 *, at
which season the rains are begun, and therefore very
unwholesome ; so that the Abyssinian armies are not
without extreme necessity in the field *, between Sep¬
tember and February at farthest is the time they are
abroad from the capital and in action.
4
N
] NIL
“ The river (says Kircher) at this day, by the Ethio-  
pians is called Abavy ; it rises in the kingdom of Go-'
jam, in a territory called Sctbala, whose inhabitants are
called Agows. The source of the Nile is situated in
the west part of Gojam, in the highest part of a valley,
which resembles a great plain on every side surrounded
by high mountains. On the 21st o| April 1618, being
here, together with the king and his army, 1 ascended
the place, and observed every thing with great atten¬
tion : I discovered first two round fountains each about
four palms in diameter, and saw, with the greatest de¬
light, what neither Cyrus the Persian, nor Cambyses,
nor Alexander the Great, nor the famous Julius Caesar,
could ever discover. The two openings of these foun¬
tains have no issue in the plain on the top of the moun¬
tain, but flow from the root of it. The second fountain
lies about a stone-cast west from the former : the inhabi¬
tants say that this whole mountain is full of water *, and
add, that the whole plain about the fountain is floating
and unsteady, a certain mark that there is water con¬
cealed under it; for which reason the water does not
overflow at the fountain, but forces itself with great
violence out at the foot of the mountain. The inhabi¬
tants, together with the emperor, who was then present
with his army, maintain that that year it trembled very
little on account of the drought; but in other years,
that it trembled and overflowed so that it could scarce
be approached without danger. The breadth ot the
circumference may be about the cast of a sling . be¬
low the top of this mountain the people live about a
league distant from the fountain to the west *, and this
place is called Geesh ; and the fountain seems to be
about a cannon-shot distant from Geesh •, moreover the
field where the fountain is, is on all sides difficult ot ac¬
cess, except on the north side, where it may be ascend¬
ed with ease.” , , .
On this relation Mr Bruce observes, that there is no
such place as Sabala ; it ought to have been named Sa-
cala, signifying the highest ridge of land, where the wa¬
ter falls equally down on both sides, from east and west,
or from north and south. So the sharp roofs of mu-
houses, where the water runs down equally on the op¬
posite sides, are called by the same name. Other objec¬
tions are drawn from the situation of places, and from
the number and situation of the fountains themselves,
every one of which Mr Bruce found-by actual mensu¬
ration to be different from Kircher’s account. 1 he fol¬
lowing, however, he looks upon to be decisive that 1 aez
never -was on the spot. He says “ the held in which
the fountains of the Nile are, is of very difficult access ,
the ascent to it being very steep, excepting on the mnRi,
where it is plain and easy. Now, if we look at the e-
ginning of this description, we should think it would be
the descent, not the ascent, that would be troublesome *, -
for the fountains were placed in a valley, and people
rather descend into valleys than ascend into them j but
supposing it was a valley in which there was a field up-
onwhich there was a mountain, and on the mountain
these fountains *, still, I say, that these mountains are
nearly inaccessible on the three sides ; but that the most
difficult of them all is the north, the way we ascend
from the plain of Goutto. From the east, by Sacala
the ascent is made from the valley 0 Litchambara, and
from the plain of Assoa to the south you have the al¬
most perpendicular craggy cliff of Geesh, covered ^
N I L
Nile, thorny hushes, trees, and bamboos, which cover the
"-v—mouths of the caverns 5 and on the north yon have the
mountains of Aformaska, thick set with all sorts of
thorny trees and shrubs, especially with the kantuffa :
these thickets are, moreover, filled with wild beasts, es¬
pecially huge, long-haired baboons, which we frequent¬
ly met walking upright. Through these high and dif¬
ficult mountains we have only narrow paths, like those
of sheep, made by the goats, or the wild beasts we arc
speaking of, which, after we had wralked on them for a
long space, landed us frequently at the edge of some
valley or precipice, and forced us to go back again to
seek a new road. From towards Zeegam to the west¬
ward, and from the plain where the river winds so much,
is the only easy access to the fountains of the Nile : and
they that ascend to them by this way will not even
think that approach too easy.”
Peter Heiling, a Protestant of Lubec, resided several
years in the country of Gojam, and rvas even governor
of it, but he never made any attempt to discover the
source of the Nile j dedicating himself entirely to a stu¬
dious and solitary life. The most extraordinary at¬
tempt, however, that ever was made to discover the
source of this or any other river, was that of a German
nobleman named Peter Joseph da Roux, comte de Bes-
reval. He had been in the Banish navy from the year
1721 j and, in 1739’ was made rear-admiral. That
same year he resigned his commission, and began his at¬
tempt to discover the source of the Nile in Egypt. To
this country he took his wife along with him} and had
no sooner reached Cairo, than he quarrelled with a Tur¬
kish mob on a point of etiquette 5 which instantly
brought upon them the janizaries and guards of police,
to take them into custody. The countess exerted her¬
self in an extraordinary manner ; and armed only with
a pair of scissars, put all the janizaries to flight, and
oven wounded several of them ; so that her husband was
left at liberty to pursue his plan of discovery. To ac¬
complish this, he provided a barge with small cannon,
and furnished with all necessaiy provisions for himself
and his wife, who was still to accompany him. Before
he set out, however, it was suggested to him, that, sup¬
posing government might protect him so far as to allow
his barge to pass the confines of Egypt safely, and to
the first cataract j supposing also that she was arrived at
Ibrim, or Beir, the last garrisons depending on Cairo $
yet still some days journey above the garrisons of Beir
and Ibrim began the dreadful deserts of Nubia ; and
farther south, at the great cataract of Jan Adel, the
Nile falls 20 feet down a perpendicular rock—so that
here his voyage must undoubtedly end. The count,
however, flattered himselfwith being able to obtain such
assistance from the garrisons of Ibrim and Beir as would
enable him to take the vessel to pieces, and to carry it
above the cataract, where it could be again launched in¬
to the river. To facilitate this scheme he had even en¬
tered into a treaty with some of the barbarians named
Kennouss, who reside near the cataract, and employ
themselves in gathering sena, which abounds in their
country. Uiese promised to assist him in this ex¬
traordinary adventure j but, luckily for the count, he
suffered himself at last to be persuaded by some Vene¬
tian merchants at Cairo not to proceed in person on such
a dangerous and unheard of navigation, but rather to
depute Mr Norden, his lieutenant, who was likewise to
Vol. XV. Part I. -t
N I L
serve as his draughtsman, to reconnoitre the forts of
Ibrim and Beir, as well as the cataract of Jan Adel,
and renew his treaty with the Kennouss. This gentle¬
man accordingly embarked upon one of the vessels com¬
mon on the Nile, but met with a great many difficulties
and disasters before he could reach Sycne and the first
cataract j after which having with still greater difficul¬
ty reached Ibrim, instead of meeting with any encou-
ragement for the count to proceed on his voyage, he was
robbed of all he had by the governor of the fort, and
narrowly escaped with his life ; it having been for some
time determined by him and his soldiers that Mr Nor-
den should be put to death. By these difficulties the
count was so much disheartened, that he determined to
make no more attempts on the Nubian side. He now
resolved to enter Abyssinia by the island of Masuah.
M ith this view he undertook a voyage round the Cape
of Good Hope, in order to reach the Red sea by the
straits of Babelmandel: but having begun to use his
Spanish commission, and taken two English ships, lie
was met by Commodore Barnet, who made prizes of all
the vessels he had with him, and sent home the count
himself passenger in a Portuguese ship to Lisbon.
rl bus Mr Bruce considers himself as the first Euro¬
pean who reached the sources of this river. He in¬
forms us that they are in the country of the Agows, as
Kircher had said ; so that the latter must either have
visited them himself, or have had very good information
concerning them. The name of the place through
which is the passage to the territory of the Agows, is
Abala ; a plain, or rather valley, generally about half a
mile, and never exceeding a whole mile, in breadth.
The mountains which surround it are at first of an in¬
considerable height, covered to the very top with herb¬
age and acacia trees ; but as they proceed to the south-
ward they become more rugged and woody.—On the
top of these mountains are delightful plains producing
excellent pasture. Those to the west join a mountain
called Aformaska, where, from a direction nearly south¬
east, they turn south and enclose the villages and terri¬
tory of Sacala, which lie at the foot of them j and still
lower, that is, more to the westward, is the small village
of Geesh, where the fountains of the Nile are situated.
Here the mountains are in the form of a crescent ; and
along these the river takes its course. Those which en¬
close the east side of the plain run parallel to the former
in their whole course, making part of the mountains of
Lechtambara, or at least joining with them, and these
two, when behind Aformaska, turn to the south, and
then to the south-west, taking the same form as they do $
only making a gieater curve, and enclosing them like¬
wise in the form of a crescent, the extremity of which
terminates immediately above a small lake named Goo-
det'oo in the plain of Assoa, below Geesh, and directly
at the fountains of the Nile.
Having passed several considerable streams, all of
which empty themselves into the Nile, our traveller
found himself at last obliged to ascend a very steep and
rugged mountain, where no other path was to be found
but a very narrow one made by the sheep or goats, and
which in some places was broken, and full of holes ; in
others, he was obstructed with large stones, which seem¬
ed to have remained there since the creation. The
whole was covered with thick wood $ and he was every¬
where stopped bythe kantuffa, aswell as byseveral other
C thorny
[ 17 J
NIL [ i
thorny plants almost as troublesome as that Having
at last, however, reached the top, he had a sight ot the
Nile immediately below him; but so diminished in size,
that it now appeared only a brook scarcely sufficient to
turn a mill. The village of Geesh is not within sight
of the fountains of the river, though not more than 600
yards distant from them. The country about that p ace
terminates in a cliff of about 300 yards high, winch
reaches down to the plain of Assoa, continuing in the
same degree of elevation till it meets the Nile again
about 17 miles to the southward, alter having made the
circuit of the provinces of Gojam and Damot. In the
middle of this cliff is a vast cave running straight north¬
ward, with many bye paths forming a natural labyrinth
of sufficient bigness to contain the^inhabitants ol the
whole village with their cattle. Into this Mr Bruce
advanced about 100 yards ; but he did not choose 0 go
farther, as the candle he carried with him seemed ready
to go out; and the people assured him that there was
nothing remarkable to be seen at the end. T he lace ot
this cliff, fronting the south, affords a very picturesque
view from the plain of Assoa below ; parts ol the houses
appearing at every stage through the bushes and thic -
ets of trees. The mouths of the cavern above mention¬
ed, as well as of several others which Mr Bruce did not
see, are hid by almost impenetrable fences of the worst
kind of thorn ; nor is there any other communication
betwixt the upper part and the houses but by narrow
winding sheep paths, very difficult to be discovered ; al
of them being allowed to be overgrown, as a part ol the
natural defence of the people. The edge of the cbft is
covered with lofty and high trees, which seem to form a
natural fence to prevent people from la ling down , amt
the beauty of the flowers which the Abyssinian thorn
bear, seems to make some amends for their bad qualities.
From the edge of the cliff of Geesh, above where the
village is situated, the ground slopes with a descent due
north, till we come to a triangular marsh upwards ot 86
yards broad, and 286 from the edge of the cliff, and
from a priest’s house where Bruce resided. On the east,
the ground descends with a very gentle slope from the
large village of Sacala, which gives its name to the
territory, and is about six miles distant from the
source, though to appearance not above two. A“out
the middle of this marsh, and not quite 40 yards horn
the foot of the mountain of Geesh, rises a circular hi -
lock about three feet from the surface ol the marsh it¬
self, though founded apparently much deeper m it. Hie
diameter of this hillock is not quite 12 feet, and it is
surrounded by a shallow trench which collects the watei,
and sends it'off to the eastward. This is firmly built
of sod brought from the sides, and kept constantly in
repair by the Agows, who worship the river, and per¬
form their religious ceremonies upon this as an altar. In
the midst of it is a circular hole, in the formation or
enlargement of which the work of art is evidently dis¬
cernible. It is always kept clear of grass and aquatic
plants, and the water in it is perfectly pure and lim¬
pid, but without any ebullition or motion discernible on
its surface. The mouth is some parts of an inch less
than three feet diameter, and at the time our author
first visited it (Nov. 5. 1770), the water stood about two
inches from the brim, nor did it either increase or di¬
minish during all the time of his residence at Geesh.
On putting down the shaft of a lance, he found a very
feeble resistance af six feet four inches, as if iromweak
8 J NIL
rushes and grass ; and, about six inches deeper, he found k
his lance had entered into soft earth, but met with no '  
obstruction from stones or gravel; and the same was con¬
firmed by using a heavy plummet, with a line besmear¬
ed with soap.—This is the first fountain of the Nile.
The second fountain is situated at about ten feet di¬
stant from the former, a little to the west of south ; and
is only 11 inches in diameter, but eight feet three inches
deep. The third is about 20 feet SSW from the first;
the mouth being somewhat more than two feet in dia¬
meter, and five feet eight inches in depth. These foun-
tains are made use of as altars, and from the foot of each
issues a brisk running rill, which, uniting with the wa¬
ter of the first trench, goes off at the east side in a stream
which, our author conjectures, would fill a pipe about
two inches diameter. The water of these fountains i>
extremely light and good, and intensely cold, though
exposed to the scorching heat of the sun, without any
shelter; there being no trees nearer than the cliff ot
Geesh. The longitude of the principal fountain was
found by Mr Bruce to be 36° 55' 3°" E* fr«m Gre<:n~
wich. The elevation of the ground, according to his
account, must be very great, as the barometer stood on¬
ly at 22 English inches. “ Neither (says he) did it
vary sensibly from that height any of the following days
I staid at Geesh ; and thence I inferred, that at the
sources of the Nile I was then more than two miles
above the level of the sea ; a prodigious height, to enjoy
a sky perpetually clear, as also a hot sun never overcast
for a moment with clouds from rising to setting. In
the morning of Nov. 6. the thermometer stood at 44 ,
at noon 96°, and at sunset 46°. It was sensibly cold at
night, and still more so about an hour before sunrise.
The Nile thus formed by the union of streams from
these three fountains, runs eastward through the marsh
for about 30 yards, with very little increase of its water,
but still distinctly visible, till it is met by the grassy
brink of the land descending from Sacala. By this it
is turned gradually NE, and then due north; and in the
two miles in which it flows in that direction it receives
many small stieams from springs on each side; so that
about this distance from the fountains it becomes a
stream capable of turning a common mill. Our travel¬
ler was much taken with the beauty of this spot. Hie
small rising hills about us (says he) were al thick co¬
vered with verdure, especially with clover the largest
and finest I ever saw; the tops of the heights covered
with trees of a prodigious size : the stream, at the banxs
of which we were sitting, was limpid, and pure as the
finest crystal ; the sod covered thick with a kind of
bushy tree, that seemed to affect to grow to no height,
but thick with foliage and young branches, rather to
assist the surface of the water; whilst it bore, in prodi¬
gious quantities, a beautiful yellow flower, not unlike a
single rose of that colour, but without thorns ; and in¬
deed, upon examination, we found that it was not a spe¬
cies of the rose, but of the hypericum.”
Here Mr Bruce exults greatly in his success ; as hav¬
ing not only seen the fountains of the Nile, but the ri¬
ver itself running in a small stream ; so that the ancient
saying of the poet,
Ncc licuit popuhs parvnm te JSile virfcre,
could not be applied to him. Here he stepped over it,
he says, more than 50 times, though he had told us, in
the preceding page, that it was three yards over. I rom
this ford, however, the Nile turns to the westward; and,
NIL [
after running over loose stones occasionally in that di¬
rection about four miles farther, there is a small cata¬
ract of about six feet in height; after which it leaves
the mountainous country, and takes its course through
the plains of Goutto. Here it flows so gently that its
motion is scarcely to be perceived, but turns and winds
in its direction more than any river he ever saw j form¬
ing more than 20 sharp angular peninsulas in the space
of five miles. Here the soil is composed of a marshy
clay, quite destitute of trees, and very difficult to travel
through $ and where its stream receives no considerable
addition. Issuing out from thence, however, it is joined
by several rivulets which fall from the mountains on
each side, so that it becomes a considerable stream, with
high and broken banks covered with old timber trees
for three miles. In its course it inclines to the north¬
east, and winds very much, till it receives first a small
river named Diwa, and then another named Dce-obha,
or the river Dee. Turning then sharply to the east, it
falls down another cataract, and about three miles be¬
low receives the Jemma, a pure and limpid stream, not
inferior in size to itself. Proceeding still to the north¬
ward, it receives a number of other streams, and at last
crosses the southern part of the lake Tzana or Dembea,
preserving the colour of its stream during its passage,
and issuing out at the west side of it in the territory of
Dara.
There is a ford, though very deep and dangerous, at
the place where the Nile first assumes the name of a
river, after emerging from the lake Dembea ; but the
stream in other places is exceedingly rapid : the banks
in the course of a few miles become very high, and are
covered with the most beautiful and variegated verdure
that can be conceived. It is now confined by the
mountains of Begemder, till it reaches Alata, where is
the third cataract. This, we are informed by Mr
Bruce, is the most magnificent sight he ever beheld ;
but he thinks that the height has rather been exagger¬
ated by the missionaries, who make it 50 feet *, and after
many attempts to measure it, he is of opinion that it is
nearly 40 feet high. At the time he visited it, the ri¬
ver had been pretty much swelled by rains, and fell in
one sheet of water, without any interval, for the space
of half an English mile in breadth, with such a noise
as stunned and made him giddy for some time. The ri¬
ver, for some space both above and below the fall, was
covered with a thick mist, OAving to the small particles
of the water dashed up into the air by the violence of
the shock. The river, though swelled beyond its usual
size, retained its clearness, and fell into a natural bason
of rock ; the stream appearing to run back against the
foot of the precipice over which it falls with great vio¬
lence ; forming innumerable eddies, wa\'es, and being in
excessive commotion, as may easily be imagined. Je¬
rome Lobo pretends that he Avas able to reach the foot
of the rock, and sit under the prodigious arch of Avater
spouting over it; but Mr Bruce does not hesitate to
pronounce this to be an absolute falsehood. The noise
of the cataract, which, he says, is like the loudest thun¬
der, could not but confound and destroy his sense of
hearing ; Avhile the rapid motion of the Avater before his
eyes Avould dazzle the sight, make him giddy, and ut¬
terly deprive him of all his intellectual powers. “ It
was a most magnificent sight, (says Mr Bruce), that
ages, added to the greatest length of human life, would
19 ] NIL
not deface or eradicate from my memory : it struck me
with a kind of stupor, and a total oblivion of where I
Avas, and of eArery other sublunary concern.”
About half a mile below the cataract, the Nile is
confined between two rocks, Avhere it runs in a narroAV
channel with impetuous velocity and a great noise. At
the village of Alata there is a bridge OA'er it, consisting
of one arch, and that no more than 25 feet Avide.
This bridge is strongly fixed into the solid rock on both
sides, and some part of the parapet still remains. No
crocodiles ever come to Alata, nor are any ever seen be»
yond the cataract.
Below this tremendous water-fall the Nile takes a
south-east direction, along the western side of Begem¬
der and Amhara on the right, enclosing the province of
Gojam. It receives a great number of streams from
both sides, and after several turns takes at last a direc¬
tion almost due north, and approaches within 62 miles
of its source. NotAvithstanding the vast increase of its
waters, hoAvever, it is still fordable at some seasons of
the year ; and the Galla cross it at all times Avithout
any difficulty, either by swimming, or on goats skins
blown up like bladders. It is likeAvise crossed on small
rafts, placed on tAvo skins filled with wind : or by twist¬
ing their hands round the tails of the horses who swim
owr ; a method always used by the Avomen avIio follow
the Abyssinian armies, and are obliged to cross unford-
able rivers. In this part of the river crocodiles are met
with in great numbers : but the superstitious people pre¬
tend they have charms sufficiently poAverful to defend
themselves against their voracity.—The Nile now seems
to have forced its passage through a gap in some very
high mountains Avhich bound the country of the Gongas,
and falls down a cataract of 280 feet high; and im¬
mediately beloAV this are two others, both of very con¬
siderable height. These mountains run a great Avay to
the westward, where they are called Dyre or Tegla, the
eastern end of them joining the mountains of Kuara,
where they have the name of Fa%uclo. These moun¬
tains, our author informs us, are all inhabited by Pagan
nations ; but the country is less known than any other
on the African continent. There is plenty of gold
washed down from the mountains by the torrents in the
rainy season ; Avhich is the fine gold x>f Sennaar named
Tibbar.
The Nile, iioav running close by Sennaar in a direc¬
tion nearly north and south, makes aftemards a sharp
turn to the east; affording a pleasant view in the fair
season, Avhen it is brim-full, and indeed the only orna¬
ment of that bare and inhospitable country. Leaving
Senaar, it passes by many large towns inhabited by
Arabs, all of them of a white complexion ; then passing
Gerri, and turning to the north-east, it joins the Ta-
cazze, passing, during its course through this country, a
large and populous 'town named Chendi, probably the
Candace of the ancients. Here Mr Bruce supposes the
ancient island or peninsula of Meroe to havre been situ¬
ated. Having at length received the great river Atba-
ra, the Astaboras of the ancients, it turns directly north
for about tAA'o degrees ; then making a very unexpected
turn Avest by south for more than tAvo degrees in longi¬
tude, and Avinding very little, it arrives at Korti, tliefirst
town in Barabra, or kingdom of Dongola. From Kor¬
ti it runs almost south-Avest till it passes Dongola, called
also the capital of Barabra ; after which it comes
C 2 to
Nile.
NIL [20
to Moscho, a considerable town and place of refreshment
to the caravans when they were allowed to pass from
£>ypt to Ethiopia. From thence turning to the
north-east it meets with a chain of mountains m about
22° ic'ofN. latitude, where is the seventh cataract
named Jan Adel. This is likewise very tremendous,
though not above half as high as that of Alata. 1ms
course is now continued till it falls into the Mediterra¬
nean ; there being only one other cataract in the whole
space, which is much inferior to any ol those already
described. . , , ^ r .i
This very particular and elaborate account ot tlie
sources of the Nile and of the course of the river given
by Mr Bruce, hath not escaped criticism. We hnd him
accused by the reviewers, not only of having brought
nothing to light that was not previously known to the
learned, but even of having revealed nothing which was
not previously published in Guthrie’s Geographical
Grammar. This, however, seems by no means a lair
and candid criticism. If the sources of the Ni e, as
described by Mr Bruce, were known to the author ot
Guthrie’s Grammar, they must likewise have been so
to every retailer of geography since the tune ot the
missionaries} which, as the reviewers have particu¬
larized that book, would not seem to have been the
ca«e If any thing new was published there previous
to die appearance of Mr Bruce’s work, it must pro¬
bably have been derived indirectly from lumselt $ o
which clandestine method of proceeding that gentleman
has had frequent occasion to complain m other cases.
It is alleged, however, that he has given the name of
Nile to a stream which does not deserve it. Ihis, like
all other large rivers, is composed of innumerable
branches ; to visit the top of every one ol which would
be indeed an Herculean task. The source of the largest
branch, therefore, and that which has the longest
course, is undoubtedly to be accounted the source of
the river j but here it is denied that Mr Bruce had
sufficient information. “ Of the innumerable streams
fsay they) that feed the lake of Tzana, there is one
that ends in a bog, to which Mr Bruce was conducted
by Woldo, a lying guide, who told him it was the
source of the Nile. Mr Bruce m a matter ol iar
less importance, would not have taken W oldo s word j
but he is persuaded, that in this case he spoke truth j
because the credulous barbarians of the neighbouring
district paid something like worship to this brook,
which, at the distance of 14 miles from its source, is
not 20 feet broad, and nowhere one foot deep. JNow
it is almost unnecessary to observe, that the natives ol
that country being, according to Mr Bruce’s report,
pagans, might be expected to worship the pure and sa¬
lutary stream, to which, with other extraordinary qua 1-
ties their superstition ascribed the power ol curing the
bite’ of a mad dog. Had he traced to its source any
of the other rivulets which run into the lake Izana,
it is not unlikely that he might have met with similar
instances of credulity among the ignorant inhabitants
of its banks. Yet this would not prove any one ol
them in particular to be the head ol the .Nile. It
would be trifling with the patience of our readers to
say one word more on the question, whether the For-
tuguese Jesuits or Mr Bruce discovered what they er¬
roneously call the head of the Nile. Before either
they or he had indulged themselves in a vam triumph
Kile.
] NIL
over the labours of antiquity, they ought to have been
sure that they had effected what antiquity was unable — »
to accomplish. Now the river described by the Jesuit
Kircher, who collected the information of his brethren,
as well as by Mr Bruce, is not the Nile of which the
ancients were in quest. This is amply proved by the
prince of modern geographers, the incomparable D’An- ^ ^
ville (at least till our own Rennel appeared), ™*ncVsMa'p
copious memoir published in the 26th volume ol the
Memoirs of the Academy of Belles Lettres, p. 45- fws, p.441.
To this learned dissertation we refer our readers ; add-
dino- only what seems probable Irom the wntings of
Diodorus Siculus and Herodotus, that the ancients
had two meanings when they spoke of the head or
source ol the Nile : 1 irst, Eitcraliy, the head 01 souiee
of that great western stream now called the White
River', which contains a much greater weight ol
ivaters, and has a much longer course than the river
described by the Jesuits and by Mr Bruce : and, 2dly,
Metaphorically, the cause of the Nile s inundation.
This cause they had discovered to be the tropical rains,_
which fall in the extent of 16 degrees on each side ol
the line ; which made the sacristan of Minerva’s temple
of Sais in Egypt tell that inquisitive traveller Hero¬
dotus, that the waters of the Nile run in two opposite
directions from its source } the one north into Egypt,
the other south into Ethiopia ; and the reports ot all
travellers into Africa serve to explain and confirm this
observation. The tropical rains, they acknowledge,
give rise to the Nile and all its tributary streams which
flow northward into the kingdom of Sennaar, as well as
to the Zebee, and so many large rivers which flow
south into Ethiopia •, and then, according to the incli¬
nation of the ground, fall into the Indian or Atlantic
ocean. Such then, according to the Egyptian priests,
is the true and philosophical source ol the Nile j a
source discovered above 3000 years ago, and not, as
Mr Bruce and the Jesuits have supposed, the head of a
paltry rivulet, one of the innumerable streams that feed
the lake Tzana.”
On this severe criticism, however, it is obvious to re¬
mark, that if the source of the Nile has been disco¬
vered so many years ago, there is not the least proba¬
bility that the finding of it should have been deemed
an impossible undertaking, which it most certainly was,
by the ancients.—That the finding out the fountains
of the river itself was an object of their inquiry, can¬
not be doubted ; and from the accounts given by Mr
Bruce, it appears very evident that none ot the an¬
cients had equal success with himself; though indeed
the Jesuits, as has already been observed, seem to have
a right to dispute it with him. From the corre¬
spondence of bis accounts with that ol the Jesuits, it
appears certain that the most considerable stream which
flows into the lake Tzana takes its rise from the foun¬
tains at Geesh already described 5 and that it;is the most
considerable plainly appears from its stream being visible
through the whole breadth ol the lake, which is not the
case with any of the rest. The preference given to this
stream by the Agows, who worship it, seems also an in¬
contestable proof that they look upon it to be the great
river which passes through Ethiopia and Egypt $ nor
will the argument of the reviewers hold good in supposing
that other streams are worshipped, unless they could prove
that they are so. As little can it be any objection or
disparagement
NIL [
Nile, disparagement to Mr Bruce’s labours, that ho did not
—V"1 discover the sources of the western branch of the Nile
called the While Rivet'. Had he done so, it might
next have been objected that he did not visit the springs
of the Tacazze, or any other branch. That the ori¬
gin of the White river was unknown to the ancients
may readily be allowed j but so were the fountains of
Geesh, as evidently appears from the erroneous position
of the sources of the eastern branch of the Nile laid
down by Ptolemy. Our traveller, therefore, certainly
has the merit, if not of discovering the sources, at least
of confirming the accounts which the Jesuits have given
of the sources, of the river called the Nile; and of
which the White river, whether greater or smaller,
seems to be accounted only a branch. The superior ve¬
neration paid to the eastern branch of this celebrated
river will also appear from the variety of names given
to it, as well as from the import of these names j of
which Mr Bruce gives the following account.
By the Agows it is named Gzeir, Geesu, or Seir;
the first of which terms signifies a god. It is like¬
wise named Ah, father ; and has many other names,
all of them implying the most profound veneration.
Having descended into Gojam it is named Ahcnj;
which, according to Mr Bruce, signifies the river that
suddenly swells and overflows periodically with rain.
By the Gongas on the south side of the mountains
Dyre and Tegla, it is called Dahli, and by those on
the north side Koivass ; both of which names signify a
watching dog, the latrator anuhis, or dog-star. In the
plain country between Fazuclo and Sennaar it is called
Nile, which signifies blue; and the Arabs interpret
this name by the word A-zergue; which name it retains
till it reaches Halfaia, where it receives the White
river.
Formerly the Nile had the name of Sir is, both be¬
fore and after it enters Beja, which the Greeks ima¬
gined was given to it on account of its black colour
during the inundation j but Mr Bruce assures us that
the river has no such colour. He affirms, with great
probability, that this name in the country of Beja
imports the river of the dog-star, on whose vertical ap¬
pearance this river overflows ; “ and this idolatrous
worship (says he) was probably part of the reason of
the question the prophet Jeremiah asks : And what
hast thou to do in Egypt to drink the water of Seir,
or the water profaned by idolatrous rites ?” As for the
first, it is only the translation of the word bahar applied
to the Nile. The inhabitants of the Barabra to this
day call it Bahar el Nil, or the sea of the Nile, in con¬
tradistinction to the Red sea, for which they have no
other name than Bahar el Molech, or the Salt sea. The
junction of the three great rivers, the Nile flowing on
the west side of Meroe ; the Tacazze, which washes
the east side, and joins the Nile at Maggiran in N.
Lat. i'y0; and the Mareb, which falls into this last
something above the junction, gives the name of Triton
to the Nile.
The name JEgijptus, which it has in Homer, and
vvhich our author supposes to have been a very an¬
cient name even in Ethiopia, is more difficult to ac¬
count for. This has been almost universally suppos¬
ed to be derived from the black colour of the inun¬
dation 5 but Mr Bruce, for the reasons already given,
will not admit of this. “ Egypt (says he) in the
si 1 NIL
Ethiopic is called y Gipt, Agar •, and an inhabitant of Nile,
the country, Gypt, for precisely so it is pronounced *,
which means the country of ditches or canals, drawn
from the Nile on both sides at right angles with the
river: nothing surely is more obvious than to write
y Gipt, so pronounced, Egypt; and, with its termina¬
tion us or os, Egyptus. The Nile is also called Kro-
mdes, Jupiter; and has had several other appellations
bestowed upon it by the poets ; though these are ra¬
ther of a transitory nature than to be ranked among
the ancient names of the river. By some of the an¬
cient fathers it has been named Gcon; and by a
strange train of miracles they would have it to be one
of the rivers of the terrestrial paradise ; the same which
is said to have encompassed the whole land of Cush or
Ethiopia. To tfleet this, they are obliged to bring the
river a great number of miles, not only under the earth,
but under the sea also ; but such reveries need no refu¬
tation.
Under the article Egypt we have so fully explained
the cause of the annual inundation of the Nile, that,
with regard to the phenomenon itself, nothing farther
seems necessary to be added. We shall therefore only
extract from Mr Bruce’s work what he has said con¬
cerning the mode of natural operation by which the
tropical rains are produced ; which are now universally
allowed to be the cause of the annual overflowing of this
and other rivers.
According to this gentleman, the air is so much ra¬
refied by the sun during the time that he remains al¬
most stationary over the tropic of Capricorn, that the
other winds loaded with vapours rush in upon the land
from the Atlantic ocean on the wrest, the Indian ocean
on the east, and the cold Southern ocean beyond the
Cape. Thus a great quantity of vapour is gathered,
as it were, into a locus ; and as the same causes con¬
tinue to operate during the progress of the sun north-
ward, a vast train of clouds proceed from south to
north, which, Mr Bruce informs us, are sometimes ex¬
tended much farther than at other times. Thus he tells
us, that for two years some white dappled clouds were
seen at Gondar, on the 7th of January ; the sun being
then 340 distant from the zenith, and not the least
cloudy speck having been seen for several months be¬
fore. About the first of March, however, it begins to
rain at Gondar, but only for a few minutes at a time,
in large drops ; the sun being then about 50 distant
from the zenith. The rainy season commences with
violence at every place when the sun comes directly
over it; and before it commences at Gondar, green
boughs and leaves appear floating in the Bahar el Abiad,
or White river, which, according to the accounts given
by the Galla, our author supposes to take its rise in about
50 north latitude.
The rains therefore precede the sun only about 50 ^
but they continue and increase after he has passed it.
In April all the rivers in the southern parts of Abys¬
sinia begin to swell, and greatly augment the Nile,
which is now also farther augmented by the vast quan¬
tity of water poured into the lake Tzana. On the
first days of May, the sun passes the village of Gerri,
which is the limit of the tropical rains ; and it is very
remarkable, that, though the sun still continues to
operate with unabated vigour, all his influence cannot
bring the clouds farther northward than this village ;
the
N I L
[ 22
the reason of winch Mr Bruce, with great reason, sup¬
poses, to be the want of mountains to the northward.
In confirmation of this opinion, he observes, that the
tropical rains stop at the latitude of 140 instead 01 16
in the western part of the continent. All this time,
however, they continue violent in Abyssinia •, and in
the beginning of June the rivers are all full, and con¬
tinue so while the sun remains stationary in the tropic
of Cancer. _ . , ,
This excessive rain, which would sweep ott the whole
soil of Egypt into the sea were it to continue with¬
out intermission, begins to abate as the sun turns south¬
ward ; and on his arrival at the zenith of each place*
on his passage towards that quarter, they cease entire¬
ly : the reason of which is no less difficult to be dis¬
covered than that of their coming on when he arrives
at the zenith in his passage northward. Be the rea¬
son what it will, however, the fact is certain 5 and not
only so, but the time of the rains Ceasing is exact to a
single day 5 insomuch, that on the 25th ol September
the Nile is generally found to be at its highest at Cairo,
and begins to diminish every day after. Immediately
after the sun has passed the line, he begins the rainy
season to the southward-, the rains constantly coming on
with violence as he approaches the zenith of each place j
but the inundation is now promoted in a different man¬
ner, according to the difference of circumstances in the
situation of the places. From about 6° S. Lat. a chain
of high mountains runs all the way along the middle ot
the continent towards the Cape of Good Hope, and in¬
tersects the southern part of the peninsula nearly in the
same manner that the Nile does the northern. A strong
wind from the south, stopping the progress of the con¬
densed vapours, dashes them against the cold summits ol
this ridge of mountains, and forms many rivers, which
escape in the direction either of east or west as the level
presents itself. If this is towards the west, they fall
down the sides of the mountains into the Atlantic, and
if on the east into the Indian ocean.—“ The clouds
(says Mr Bruce), drawn by the violent action of the
sun are condensed, then broken, and fall as rain on the
top of this high ridge, and swell every river ; while a
wind from the ocean on the east blows like a monsoon,
up each of these streams, in a direction contrary to their
current during the whole time of the inundation ; and
this enables boats to ascend into the western parts of So-
fala, and the interior country, to the mountains where
lies the gold. The same effect, from the same cause, is
produced on the western side towards the Atlantic 5 the
high ridge of mountains being placed between the dif¬
ferent countries west and east, is at once the source of
their riches, and of those rivers which conduct to the
treasures, which would be otherwise inaccessible, in the
eastern parts of the kingdoms of Benin, Congo, and
Angola. ,.
“ There are three remarkable appearances attending
the inundation of the Nile. Every morning in Abyssi¬
nia is clear, and the sun shines. About nine, a small
cloud not above four feet broad, appears in the east,
whirling violently round as if upon an axis } but arn-
] NIL
ved near the zenith, it first abates its motion, then loses,
its form, and extends itself greatly, and seems to call
up vapours from all the opposite quarters. These clouds
having attained nearly the same height, rush against each
other with great violence, and put me always in mind
of Elisha foretelling rain on Mount Carmel. The air,
impelled before the heaviest mass, or swiftest mover,
makes an impression of its form on the collection of
clouds opposite and the moment it has taken possession,
of the space made to receive it, the most violent thun¬
der possible to be conceived instantly follows, with rain,
after some hours the sky again clears, with a wind at
north : and it is always disagreeably cold when the ther¬
mometer is below 63°. _ . .
“ The second thing remarkable is the variation ol the
thermometer. When the sun is in the southern tropic,
36° distant from the zenith of Gondar, it is seldom low¬
er than 72°J but it falls to 6o°, and 63°, when the
sun is immediately verticalso happily does the ap¬
proach of rain compensate the heat of a too scorching
sun. . . p.
“ The third is that remarkable stop in the extent ot
the rain northward, when the sun that has conducted
the vapours from the line, and should seem now more
than ever te be in the possession of them, is here over¬
ruled suddenly; till, on his return to Gerri, again it re¬
sumes the absolute command over the rain, and recon¬
ducts it to the line, to furnish distant deluges to the
southward.” , . • 1 ..
With regard to the Nile itself, it has been said that
the quantity of earth brought down by it from Abyssi¬
nia is so great, that the whole land of Egypt is produ¬
ced from it. This question, however, is discussed under
the article Egypt, where it is shown that this cannot
possibly be the case.—Among other authorities there
quoted was that of Mr Yolney, who strenuously argues
against the opinion of Mr Savary and others, who have
maintained that Egypt is the gift of the Nile. Not¬
withstanding this, however, we find them asserting that
the soil of Egypt has undoubtedly been augmented by
the Nile, in which case it is not unreasonable to sup¬
pose that it has been produced by it altogether.—“ The
reader (says he) will conclude, doubtless, from what I
have said, that writers have flattered themselves too
much in supposing they could fix the precise limits of
the enlargement and rise of the Delta. But, though I
would reject all illusory circumstances, I am far from
denying the fact to be well founded ; it is plain from
reason, and an examination of the country. The rise
of the ground appears to he demonstrated by an obser-
vation on which little stress has been laid. In going
from Rosetta and Cairo, when the waters are low, as in
the month of March, we may remark, as we go up the
river that the shore rises gradually above the water 5 so
that if overflowed two feet at Rosetta, it overflows from
three to four at Faona, and upwards of twelve at Cairo
(a). Now by reasoning from this fact, we may deduce
the proof of an increase by sediment j for the layer of
mud being in proportion to the thickness of the sheets
of water by which it is deposited, must be more or less
considerable
(a) “ It would be curious to ascertain in what proportion it continues up to Asouan. 1
have interrogated on the subject, assured me that it was much higher through all the Said than at Cano.
NIL [ 23 ] NIL
Nile. considerable as these are of a greater or less depth j and
we have seen that the like gradation is observable from
Asouan to the sea.
“ On the other hand, the increase of the Delta ma¬
nifests itself in a striking manner, by the form of Egypt
along the Mediterranean. When we consider its figure
on the map, we perceive that the country which is in
the line of the river, and evidently formed of foreign
materials, has assumed a semicircular shape, and that
the shores of Arabia and Africa, on each side, have a
direction towards the bottom of the Delta j which mani¬
festly discovers that this country was formerly a gulf,
that in time has been filled up.
“ This accumulation is common to all rivers, and is
accounted for in the same manner in all: the rain wa¬
ter and the snow descending from the mountains into
the valleys, hurry incessantly along with them the
earth they wash away in their descent. Tire heavier
parts, such as pebbles and sands, soon stop, unless for¬
ced along by a rapid current. But when the waters
meet only with a line and light earth, they carry away
large quantities with the greatest facility. The Nile,
meeting with such a kind of earth in Abyssinia and
the interior parts of Africa, its waters are loaded and
its bed filled with it nay, it is frequently so embar¬
rassed with this sediment as to be straitened in its
course. But when the inundation restores to it its
natural energy, it drives the mud that has accumu¬
lated towards the sea, at the same time that it brings
down more for the ensuing season j and this, arrived
at its mouth, heaps up, and forms shoals, rvhere the
declivity does not allow sufficient action to the cur¬
rent, and where the sea produces an equilibrium of
resistance. The stagnation which follows occasions
the grosser particles, which till then had floated, to
sink ; and this takes place more particularly in those
places where there is least motion, as towards the
shores, till the sides become gradually enriched by the
spoils of the upper country and of the Delta itself $
for if the Nile takes from Abyssinia to give to the
Thebais, it likewise takes from the Thebais to give
to the Delta, and from the Delta to carry to the sea.
Wherever its waters have a current, it despoils the
same territory that it enriches. As we ascend towards
Cairo, when the river is low, we may observe the banks
worn steep on each side and crumbling in large flakes.
The Nile, which undermines them, depriving their
light earth of support, it falls into the bed of the ri¬
ver ; for when the water is high, the earth imbibes it •,
and when the sun and drought return, it cracks and
moulders away in great flakes, which are hurried along
by the Nile.”
Th is does Mr Volney argue for the increase of the
Delta in the very same manner that others have ar¬
gued for the production of the whole country of
Egypt j an opinion which he is at great pains to refute.
Under the article Egypt, however, it is shown that the
Nile does not bring down any quantity of mud sufficient
for the purposes assigned 5 and with regard to the argu¬
ment drawn from the shallowness of the inundation
when near the sea, this does not prove any rise of the
land; but as Mr Rennel has judiciously observed in his
remarks on the inundation of the Ganges, arises from the
• nature of the fluid itself. The reason, in short, is
this: The surface of the sea is the lowest point to which
the waters of every inundation have a tendency j and Nile,
when they arrive there, they spread themselves over it —v"~
with more ease than any where else, because they meet
with less resistance. Their motion, however, by reason
of the small declivity, is less swift than that of the
waters farther up the river, where the declivity is greater j
and consequently the latter being somewhat impeded
in their motion, are in some degree accumulated. The
surface of the inundation, therefore, does not form a
perfectly level plain, but one gradually sloping from the
interior parts of the country towards the sea; so that
at the greatest distance from the ocean the water will
always be deepest, even if we should suppose the whole
country to be perfectly smooth, and composed of the
most solid materials.—-This theory is easily understood
from observing a quantity of water running along a
wooden spout, which is always more shallow at the
end of the spout where it runs off than at the others 
With regard to Mr Volney’s other arguments, they
are without doubt contradictory; for if, as he says,
the river takes from Abyssinia to give to the Thebais,
from Thebais to give to the Delta, and from Delta to
the sea, it undoubtedly follows, that it gives nothing to
any part of the land whatever, but that altogether
is swept into the Mediterranean sea, which, indeed,
some very trifling quantities excepted, is most probably
the case.
It has been remarked by Mr Pococke, a very judi¬
cious traveller, that in the beginning of the inunda¬
tion, the waters of the Nile run red, and sometimes
green; and while they remain of that colour, they are
unwholesome. He explains this phenomenon by sup¬
posing, that the inundation at first brings away that red
or green filth which may be about the lakes where it
takes its rise; or about the sources of the small rivers
which flow into it, near its principal source; “for, says
he, although there is so little water in the Nile when at
lowest, that there is hardly any current in many parts
of it, yet it cannot be supposed that the water should
stagnate in the bed of the Nile so as to become green.
Afterwards the water begins to be red and still more
turbid, and then it begins to be wholesome.” This cir¬
cumstance is explained by Mr Bruce in the following
manner: the country about Narea and Cafl'a, where
the river Abiad takes its rise, is full of immense marshes,
where, during the dry season, the water stagnates, and
becomes impregnated with every kind of corrupted mat¬
ter. These on the commencement of the rains, over¬
flow into the river Abiad, which takes its rise there.
The overflowing of these vast marshes first carries the
discoloured water into Egypt; after which follows that
of the great lake Tzana, through which the Nile passes ;
which having been stagnated, and without rain, under a
scorching sun for six months, joins its putrid waters to
the former. In Abyssinia also, there are very few ri¬
vers that run after November, but all of them stand in
prodigious pools, which, by the heat of the sun, likewise
turn putrid, and on the commencement of the rains
throw off’ their stagnant water into the Nile; but at
last, the rains becoming constant, all this putrid matter
is carried off’, and the sources of the inundation become
sweet and wholesome. The river then passing through
the kingdom of Sennaar, the soil of which is this red
bole, becomes coloured with that earth ; and a mixture,
along with the moving sands of the deserts, of which it
receives.
N I L
[ H I
N I L
receives a great quantity when raised by the wind, pre¬
cipitates all the viscous and putrid matters which float
in the waters j whence Mr Pococke judiciously observes,
that the Nile is not wholesome when the water is clear
and green, but when so red and turbid that it stains the
water of the Mediterranean.
The rains in Abyssinia, which cease about the Slh
of September, generally leave a sickly season in the low
country; but the diseases produced by these rains are re¬
moved by others which come on about the end ot Oc¬
tober, and cease about the 8th of November. On these
rains depend the latter crops of the Abyss!nians; and lor
these the Agows pray to the river, or the genius or
spirit residing in it. In Egypt, however, the etiect
of them is seldom perceived j but in some years they
prove excessive j and it has been observed that the Nile,
after it has fallen, has again risen in such a manner as
to alarm the whole country. This is said to have hap¬
pened in the time of Cleopatra, when it was supposed to
presage the extinction of the government of the Ptole¬
mies *, and in 1737 it was likewise imagined to portend
some dreadful calamity. . • j •
The quantity of rain, by which all this inundation
is occasioned, varies considerably in dilferent years,
at least at Gondar, where Mr Bruce had an opportu¬
nity of measuring it. In 1770 it amounted to 354-
inches-, hut in 1771 it amounted to no less than
4G355 inches frora the vernal equinox to the oth ot
September. What our author adds concerning the
variation of the rainy months seems totally irrecon¬
cilable with what he had before advanced concerning
the extreme regularity of the natural causes by which
the tropical rains are produced. “ In I77° (says he)
August was the rainy month; in 1771, July. When
July is the rainy month, the rains generally cease tor
some days in the beginning of August, and then a
prodigious deal falls in the latter end of that month
and first week of September. In other years July and
August are the violent rainy months, while June is
fair. And lastly, in others, May, June, July, August,
and the first week of September.” If this is the case,
what becomes of the regular attraction of the clouds
by the sun as he advances northwards; oi the coming
on of the rains when he arrives at the zenith ol any
place, in his passage to the tropic ol Cancer ; and of
their ceasing when he comes to the same point in his
return southward ? . „
Under Abyssinia we have mentioned a threat ot
one of the Abyssinian monarchs, that he would direct
the course of the Nile, and prevent it from fertilizing
the land of Egypt; and it has likewise been related,
that considerable progress was made in this under¬
taking by another emperor. Mr Bruce has bestowed
an entire chapter on the subject; and is ol opinion,
that u there seems to be no doubt that it is possible
to diminish or divert the course of the Nile, that it
should be insufficient to fertilize the country of Egypt;
because the Nile, and all the rivers that run into it,
and all the rains that swell these rivers, fall in a coun¬
try two miles above the level ol the sea; therefore it
cannot be denied, that there is level enough to divert
manv of the rivers into the lied sea, or perhaps still
easier by turning the course of the river Abiad till
it meets the level of the Niger, or pass through the
desert into the Mediterranean.” Alphonso Albuquerque
is said to have written frequently to the king of Por¬
tugal to send him pioneers Irom Madeira, with people
accustomed to level grounds, and prepare them lor su¬
gar canes; by whose assistance he meant to turn the
Nile into the Bed sea. This undertaking, howevei,
if it really had been projected, was never accomplished;
nor indeed is there any probability that ever such a mad
attempt was proposed. Indeed, though we cannot deny
that there is a possibility in nature ol accomplishing it,
yet the vast difficulty of turning the course of so many
large rivers may justly stigmatize it as impracticable;
not to mention the obstacles which must naturally be
suggested from the apparent inutility of the undertak¬
ing, and those which would arise from the opposition ol
the Egyptians.
It has already been observed, in a quotation from
the reviewers, that Herodotus was iniormed by the
sacristan or secretary of the treasury of Minerva, that
one half of the waters of the Nile run north and the
other south. This is also taken notice of by Mr
Bruce; who gives the following explanation ot it.
“ The secretary was probably of that country himself,
and seems by his observation to have known more ol it
than all the ancients together. In fact we have seen,
Kile.
that between 130 and 140 north latitude, the Nile,
with all its tributary streams, which have their rise
and course within the tropical rains, falls down into
the flat country (the kingdom of Sennaar), which is
more than a mile lower than the high country in Abys¬
sinia ; and thence, with a little inclination, it runs into
Egypt. Again, In latitude 90, in the kingdom of Gin-
gho, the Zebee runs south or south-east, into the Inner
Ethiopia, as do also many other rivers, and, as I have
heard from the natives of that country, empty themselves
into a lake, as those on the north side of the line do into
the lake Tzana, thence distributing their waters to the
east and west. These become the heads of great rivers,
that run through the interior countries of Ethiopia (cor¬
responding to the sea coast of Melinda and IVlombaza)
into the Indian ocean; whilst, on the westward, they
are the origin of the vast streams that fall into the At¬
lantic, passing through Benin and Congo, southward of
the river Gambia and the Sierra Leona. In short, the
periodical rains from the tropic of Capricorn to the
line, being in equal quantity with those that fall be¬
tween the line and the tropic ol Cancer, it is plain,
that if the land of Ethiopia sloped equally from the
line southward and northward, the rains that fall would
go the one half north and the other half south ; but as
the ground from 50 north declines all southward, it fol¬
lows, that the rivers which run to the southward must
be equal to those that run northward, phis the rain that
falls in the 50 north latitude, where the ground begins
to slope to the southward; and there can be little
doubt that is at least one of the reasons why there are
in the southern continent so many rivers larger than
the Nile, that run both into the Indian and Atlantic
oceans.”
From this account given to Herodotus, it has been
supposed, by some writers on geography, that the
Nile divides itself into two branches, one of which
runs northward into Egypt, and one through the
country of the Negroes westward into the Atlantic
ocean. This opinion was first broached by Uliny.—
It has been adopted by the Nubian geographer, who
urttes
NIL [
urges In support of it, that if the Nile carried down
all the rains which fall into it from Abyssinia, the
people of Egypt would not be safe in their houses.
But to this Mr Bruce answers, that the waste of wa¬
ter in the burning deserts through which the Nile
passes is so great, that unless it was supplied by an¬
other stream, the White River, equal in magnitude
to itself, and which, rising in a country of perpetual
rains, is thus always kept full, it never could reach
Egypt at all, but would be lost in the sands, as is the
case with many other very considerable rivers in A-
frica. “ The rains (says he) are collected by the four
great rivers in Abyssinia j the March, the Bowiha,
the Tacazze, and the Nile. All these principal, and
their tributary streams, Avould, however, be absorbed,
nor be able to pass the burning deserts, or find their
way into Egypt, were it not for the White River,
which having its source in a country of almost perpe¬
tual rains, joins to it a never-failing stream equal to
the Nile itself.”
We shall conclude this article with some account
of the Agows who inhabit the country about the
sources of the Nile. These, according to Mr Bruce,
are one of the most considerable nations in Abyssinia,
and can bring into the field about 4000 horse ami
a great number of foot j but were once much more
powerful than they are now, having been greatly re¬
duced by the invasions of the Galla. Their province
is nowhere more than 60 miles in length, or than 30
in breadth ; notwithstanding which they supply the
capital and all the neighbouring country with cattle,
honey, butter, wax, hides, and a number of other ne¬
cessary articles; whence it has been customary for the
Abyssinian princes to exact a tribute rather than mili¬
tary service from them. The butter is kept from pu¬
trefaction during the long carriage, by mixing it with
a small quantity of root somewhat like a carrot, which
they call mormoco. It is of a yellow colour, and an¬
swers the purpose perfectly well *, which in that climate
it is very doubtful if salt could do. The latter is be¬
sides used as money; being circulated instead of silver
coin, and used as change for gold. Brides paint their
feet, hands, and nails, with this root. A large quan¬
tity of the seed of the plant was brought into Europe
by Mr Bruce.
The Agows carry on a considerable trade with the
Shangalla and other black savages in the neighbour¬
hood ; exchanging the produce of their country for
gold, ivory, horns of the rhinoceros, and some fine
cotton. The barbarity and thievish disposition of both
nations, however, render this trade much inferior to
what it might be.
In their religion the Agows are gross idolaters, pay¬
ing divine honours to the Nile, as has already been ob¬
served. Mr Bruce, who lodged in the house of the
priest of the river, had an opportunity of becoming ac¬
quainted with many particulars of their devotion. He
heard him address a prayer to the Nile, in which he
styled it the “ Most High God, the Saviour of the
world.” In this prayer he petitioned for seasonable
rain, plenty of grass, and the preservation of a kind of
serpents ; deprecating thunder very pathetically. The
most sublime and lofty titles are given by them to the
spirit Avhich they suppose to reside in the river Nile ;
Calling it everlasting God, Light of the World, Eye of
Vcj. XV. Parti. f
Nile,
I\ uomcL'r,
25 1 NIL
the World, God of Peace, their Saviour, and Father
of the Universe.
The Agows are all clothed in hides, which they ma¬
nufacture in a manner peculiar to themselves. These
hides are made in the form of a shirt, reaching down to
their feet, and tied about the middle with a kind of
sash or girdle. The lower part of it resembles a large
double petticoat, one fold of which they turn back
over their shoulders, fastening it with a broach or skew¬
er across their breast before, and the married women
carry their children in it behind. The younger soil
generally go naked. The women are marriageable at
nine years of age, though they commonly do not mar¬
ry till eleven ; and they continue to bear children till
30, and sometimes longer. They are generally thin
and below, the middle size, as well as the men. ’ Bar
renness is quite unknown among them.
. Tlie country of the Agows has a very elevated situa¬
tion, and is of course so temperate that the heat may
easily be borne, though little more than io° from the
equator. The people, hoivever, are but short lived;
which may in part be owdng to the oppression they la¬
bour under. “ Though their country (says Mr Bruce)
abound Avith all the necessaries of life, their taxes,
tributes, and services, especially at present, are so
multiplied upon them, Avhilst their distresses of late
have been so great and frequent, that they are on¬
ly the manufacturers of the commodities they sell, to
satisfy these constant exorbitant demands, and cannot
enjoy any part of their OAvn produce themselves, but
live in penury and misery scarcely to be conceived.
We savv a number of Avomen Avrinkled and sun-burnt so
as scarcely to appear human, wandering about under a
burning sun, Avith one and sometimes tAvo children upon
their backs ; gathering the seeds of bent grass to make
a kind of bread.” As to the opinions respecting the
identity of the Nile and the Niger, see Africa, Sup*.
PLEMENT, p. 106.
NILOMETER, ofNiloscope, an instrument used
among the ancients to measure the height of the water
of the river Nile in its overfloAvings. The Avord comes
from NeiA«f, Nile (and that from ,Xvs, “ new mud,”
or as some others would have it, from “ I flow’”
and tXvg, “ mud,”) and (ttsrgev, “ measure.” The Greeks
more ordinarily call it, NuXorKovuv.
The nilometer is said, by several Arabian writers, to
have been first set up, for this purpose, by Joseph du¬
ring his regency in Egypt: the measure of it was 16
cubits, this being the height of the increase of the Nile,
which Avas necessary to the fruitfulness of Egypt.
From the measure of this column, Dr Cumberland ** Scripture
deduces an argument, in order to prove that the Jewish Weights
and Egyptian cubits were of the same length. and Mea'
In the I rench king’s library is an Arabic treatiselS
on udometers, entitled Neil ji alnal al Nil; Avherein
are described all the overfloAvings of the Nile, from the
first year of the Hegira to the 875th.
Herodotus mentions a column erected in a point of
the island Delta, to serve as a nilometer; and there is
still one of the same kind in a mosque of the same place.
As all the riches of Egypt arise from the inundations
of the Nile, the inhabitants used to supplicate them at
the hands of their Serapis; and committed the most
execrable crimes, as actions, forsooth, of religion, to ob¬
tain the favour.' This occasioned Constantine expressly
D to
•f Bruce's
Travels,
vol. iii.
N 1 M [ 26
Niiometer t° prolnbit these sacrifices, &c, and to order the nilo-
[j meter to be removed into the church ^ whereas, till
Nnneguen. t}iat t;mej it had been in the temple of Serapis, Julian
v the Apostate had it replaced in the temple, where it
continued till the time of I heodosius the Great.
The following is Mr Bruce’s account of the niiome¬
ter. “ On the point f of the island Rhode, between
Geeza and Cairo, near the middle ol the river, is^ a
round tower enclosing a neat -well or cistern lined with
marble. The bottom of this well is on the same level
with the bottom of the Nile, which has free access to it
through a large opening like an embrasure. In the
middle of the well rises a thin column of eight faces of
blue and white marble j ol which the foot is on the samc
plane with the bottom of the river. I his pillar is di¬
vided into 20 peeks, of 22 inches each. Of these peeks
the two lowermost are left, without any division, to stand
for the quantity of sludge which the water deposits
there. Two peeks are then divided, on the right hand,
into 24 digits each ; then on the left, four peeks are
divided into 24 digits ; then on the right, four: and on
the left another four : again, four on the right, which
completes the number of 18 peeks from the first divi¬
sion marked on the pillar, each peck being 22 inches.
Thus the whole marked and unmarked amounts to some¬
thing more than 36 feet English.”
On the night of St John, when, by the falling of the
dew, they perceive the rain water from Ethiopia mixed
with the Nile at Cairo, they begin to announce the ele¬
vation of the river, having then five peeks of water
marked on the niiometer, and two unmarked for the
sludge, of which they take no notice. Iheir fiist pio-
clamation, supposing the Nile to have risen 12 digits, is
12 from 6, or it wants 12 digits to be 6 peeks. \Y hen
it has risen three more, it is nine from six and so on,
till the whole 18 he filled, when all the land of Egypt
is fit for cultivation. Several canals are then opened,
which convey the water into the desert, ami hinder any
f urther stagnation on the fields. J here is indeed a
oreat deal of more water to come from Ethiopia j but
were the inundation suffered to go on, it would not dram
soon enough to fit the land for tillage: and to guaid
against this mischief is tire principal use of the niiome¬
ter, though the Turkish government makes it an engine
of taxation. From time immemorial the Egyptians
paid, as tribute to the king, a certain proportion of the
fruit of the ground j and this was anciently ascertained
by the elevation of the water on the niiometer, and by
the mens*ration of the land actually overflowed. But
the Saracen government, and afterwards the Turkish,
has taxed the people by the elevation alone of the wa¬
ter, without attending to its course over the country, or
the extent of the land actually overflowed j and this
tax is sometimes cruelly oppressive.
NIMBUS, in antiquity, a circle observed on certain
medals, or round the heads of some emperors j answering
to the circles of light drawn round the images of saints.
NIMEGUEN, a large, handsome, and strong town
of the Netherlands, and capital of Dutch Guelderland,
with a citadel, an ancient palace, and several forts. It
is noted for a congress of most of the powers of Europe,
who concluded a peace here in 1678. It has a magni¬
ficent townhouse, and the inhabitants are greatly given
to trade. It is seated on the Vabal or Wahal, between
the Rhine and the Maese. It contains two Dutch
] N I M
churches, a French Calvinist and a Lutheran church, Nimc
five Popish, and several hospitals. It was once a Hans 1
town and an imperial city. It was once the seat of, Isim
government, has a canal to Arnheim, and considerable
trade to some parts of Germany : it trades also in fine
beer brewing, fattening of cattle, and exporting of its
butter, which is extremely good, into all the other pro¬
vinces. It -was taken by the French in 1794. It is
in E. Long. 5. 45. N. Lat. 51. 55.
NIMETULAHITES, a kind of Turkish monks,
so called from their founder Nimetulahi, famous for his
doctrines and the austerity of his life.
NIMPO, a city and seaport town of China, in the
province of Chekiang. It is seated on the eastern sea
of China, over against Japan. It is a city of the first
rank, and stands at the confluence of two small rivers,
which, after their union, form a channel that reaches to
the sea, and is deep enough to bear vessels of 200 tons
burden. The walls of Nimpo are 5000 paces in circum¬
ference, and are built with freestone. Ihere are Ine
gates, besides two water gates for the passage of barks
into the city •, a tower several stories high, built of bricks j
and a long bridge of boats, fastened together with iron
chains, over a very broad canal. The city is command¬
ed by a citadel built on a very high rock, by the foot
of which all vessels must necessarily pass. J he Chinese
merchants of Siam and Batavia go to this place yeaily-
to buy silks, which are the finest in the empire. They
have also a great trade with Japan, it being but two
days sail from hence: thither they carry silks, stufls, su¬
gar, drugs, and wine j and bring back copper, gold,
and silver. E. Long. 122. o. N. Lat. 30. o.
NIMROD, the sixth son of Cush, and in all appear¬
ance much younger than any of his brothers : for Moses
mentions the sons of Raamah, his fourth brother, before
he speaks of him. What the sacred historian says of
him is short j and yet he says more of him than of any.
other of the posterity of Noah, till he comes to Abra¬
ham. He tells us, that “ Nimrod began to be a mighty
one in the earth that he was “ a mighty hunter be¬
fore the Lord,” even to a proverb *, and that “ the be¬
ginning of his kingdom was Babel, and Erech, and Ac-
cad, and Calneh, in the land of Shinar.”
From this account he is supposed to have been a man
of extraordinary strength and valour. Some represent
him as a giant-, all consider him as a great warrior. It
is generally thought that by the words o mighty hunter,
is to be understood, that he was a great tyrant; but
some of the rabbins interpret those words favourably,
saying that Nimrod was qualified by a peculiar dex¬
terity and strength for the chase, and that he offered to
God the game which he took ; and several of the mo¬
derns are of opinion, that this passage is not to be un¬
derstood of his tyrannical oppressions, or of hunting of
men, but of beasts. It must be owned that the phrase
before the Lord may be taken in a favourable sense, and
as a commendation’of a person’s good qualities ; but in
this place the generality of expositors understand it
otherwise.
Hunting must have been one of the most uselul em¬
ployments in the times just after the dispersion, when *
all countries were overrun with wild beasts, of which it
was necessary they should be cleared, in order to make
them habitable j and therefore nothing seemed more
proper to procure a man esteem and honour in those
N I M f
‘Nimrod, ages than his being an expert hunter. By that exercise,
——we are t»ld, the ancient Persians fitted their kings for
war and government; and hunting is still, in many
countries, considered as one part of a royal education.
There is nothing in the short history of Nimrod which
carries the least air of reproach, except his name, which
signifies a rebel; and that is the circumstance which
seems to have occasioned the injurious opinions which
have been entertained of him in all ages. Commenta¬
tors, being prepossessed in general that the curse of Noah
fell upon the posterity of Ham, and finding this prince
stigm&tiied by his name, have interpreted every passage
relating to him to his disadvantage. They represent
him as a rebel against God, in persuading the descendants
of Noah to disobey the divine command to disperse, and
in setting them to build the tower of Babel, with an
impious design of scaling heaven. They brand him as
an ambitious usurper, and an insolent oppressor j and make
him tl»e author of the adoration of fire, of idolatrous
Worship given to men, and the first persecutor on the
score of religion. On the other hand, some account
him a virtuous prince, who, far from advising the build¬
ing of Babel, left the country, and went into Assyria^
because he would not give his consent to that project.
Nimrod is generally thought to have been the first
king after the flood ; though some authors, supposing a
plantation or dispersion prior to that of Babel, have
tnade kings in several countries before his time. Mit-
raim is thought, by many who contend for the antiquity
of the Egyptian monarchy, to have begun his reign
much earlier than Nimrod J and others, from the uni¬
formity of the languages spoken in Assyria, Babylonia,
Syria, and Canaan, affirm those countries to have been
peopled before the confusion of tongues.
The four cities Moses gives to Nimrod constituted a
large kingdom in those early times, when few kings had
more than one ) only it must be observed, that posses¬
sions might at first have been large, and afterwards di\i-
ded into several parcels *, and Nimrod being the leader
of a nation, we may suppose his subjects settled within
those limits : whether he became possessed of those cities
by conquest or otherwise, does not appear ; it is most
probable he did not build Babel, all the posterity of
Noah seeming to have been equally concerned in that
affair; nor does it appear that he built the other three,
though the founding of them, and many more, with
other works, are attributed to him by some authors. It
may seem also a little strange, that Nimrod should be
preferred to the regal dignity, and enjoy the most culti¬
vated part of the earth then known, rather than any
other of the elder chiefs or heads of nations, even of the
branch of Ham. Perhaps it was conferred on him for
his dexterity in hunting ; or, it may be, he did not as¬
sume the title of king till after his father Cush’s death,
who might have been settled there before him, and left
him the sovereignty ; but we incline to think, that he
seized Shinar from the descendants of Shem, driving out
Ashur, who from thence went and founded Nineveh,
and other cities in Assyria.
The Scripture does not inform us when Nimrod be¬
gan his reign : Some date it before the dispersion ; but:
such a conjecture does not seem to suit with the Mosai-
cal history ; for before the dispersion we read of no city
but Babel; nor could there well be more, while all
mankind were yet in a body together; but when Nim-
27 1
N 1 N
rod assumed the ‘cgal title, there seem to have been Mn.i-Qd
other cities ; a circumstance which shows it was a good |j
while after the dispersion. The learned writers of the Nineveh.
Universal History place the beginning of his reign 30 v
years from that event, and in all likelihood it Should be
placed rather later than earlier.
Authors have taken a great deal of pains to find
Nimrod in profane history : some have imagined him to
be the same with Belus, the founder of the Babylonish
empire ; others take him to be Ninus, the first Assyrian
monarch. Some believe him to have been Evechous,
the first Chaldean king after the deluge ; and others
perceive a great resemblance between him and Bacchus,
both in actions and name. Some of the Mohammedan
tvriters suppose Nimrod to have befcn Zohak, a Persian
king of the first dynasty : others contend for his being
Cay Caus, the second king of the second race ; and
some of the Jews say he is the same with Amraphel the
king of Shinar, mentioned by Moses. But there is no
certainty in these conjectures, nor have we any know¬
ledge of his immediate successors.
The Scripture mentions nothing as to the death of
Nimrod ; but authors have taken care that such an es¬
sential circumstance in his history should not be want¬
ing. Some of the rabbins pretend he was slain by
Esau, whom they make his contemporary. There is a
tradition that he was killed by the fall of the tower of
Babel, which was overthrown by tempestuous winds.
Others say, that as he led an army against Abraham,
God sent a squadron of gnats, which destroyed most of
them, and particularly Nimrod, whose brain was pier¬
ced by one of those insects.
NINE, the last of the radical numbers or characters ;
from the combination of which any definite number,
however large, may be produced. “ It is observed by
arithmeticians (says Hume), that the products of y
compose always either 9 or some lesser products of 9, if
you add together all the characters ,of which any of the
former products is composed : thus of 18, 27, 36, which
are products of 9, you make 9, by adding 1 to 8, 2 to
7, 3 to 6. Thus 369 is a product also of 9 ; and if
you add 3, 6, and 9, you make t8, a lesser product of
9.” See Hume's dialogues on Nat. Relig. p. 167, 168,
&c. 2d. edit.
NINEVEH, in Ancient Geogt'aphy, the capital city
of Assyria, founded by Ashur the son of Shem (Gen-
x. 11.); or, as others read the text, by Nimrod the
son of Cush.
However this be, yet it must be owned, that Nineveh
was one of the most ancient, the most famous, the most
potent, and largest cities of the world. It is very dif¬
ficult exactly to assign the time of its foundation ; but
it cannot be long after the building of Babel. It was
situated upon the banks of the Tigris ; and in the time
of the prophet Jonas, who was sent thither under Jero¬
boam II. king of Israel, and, as Calmet thinks, under
the reign of Pul, father of Sardanapalus, king of Assy¬
ria, Nineveh was a very great city, its circuit being three
days journey (Jonah iii. 3.). Diodorus Siculus, who has
given us the dimensions of it, says it was 480 stadia in
circumference, or 47 miles ; and that it was surrounded
with lofty walls and towers ; the former being 200 feet
in height, and so very broad that three ichariots might
drive on them abreast; and the latter 200 feet in height,
and 1500 in number; and Strabo allows it to have been
D 2 muefe
Nineveh
Ninia.
N I N [
much greater than Babylon. Diodorus Siculus was,
however, certainly mistaken, or rather his transcribers,
1 as the authors of the Universal History think, in placing
Nineveh on the Euphrates, since all historians as well
as geographers who speak of that city, tell us in express
terms that it stood on the Tigris. At the time of Jo¬
nah’s mission thither, it was so populous, that it was
reckoned to contain more than six score thousand per¬
sons, who could not distinguish their right hand from
their left (Jonah iv. n.), which is generally explained
of young children that had not yet attained to the use
of reason } so that upon this principle it is computed
that the inhabitants of Nineveh were then above 600,oco
persons.
Nineveh was taken by Arbaces and Belesis, in the
year of the world 3257, under the reign of Sardanapa-
lus, in the time of Ahaz king of Judah, and about the
time of the foundation of Home. It was taken a second
time by Astyages and Nabopolassar from Cbynaladanus
king of Assyria in the year 337^‘ After this time,
Nineveh no more recovered its former splendour. It
was so entirely ruined in the time of Lucianus oamosa-
tensis, who lived under the emperor Adrian, that no
footsteps of it could be found, nor so much as the place
where it stood. However, it was rebuilt under the Per¬
sians, and destroyed again by the Saracens about the
seventh age.
Modern travellers say (a), that the ruins of ancient
Nineveh may still be seen on the eastern banks of the
Tigris, opposite to the city of Mosul or Mousul: (See
Mousul). Profane historians tell us, that Ninus first
founded Nineveh *, but the Scripture assures us, that it
was Ashur or Nimrod. #
The sacred authors make frequent mention of this
city } and Nahum and Zephaniah foretold its ruin in a
very particular and pathetic manner.
NINIA, or Ninian, commonly called St Ninian, a
holy man among the ancient Britons. He resided at
or near a place called by Ptolemy Leucopibici, and by
Bede Candida Casa : but the English and Scotch call¬
ed it Whithorne. We mention him, because he is said
to have been the first who converted the Scots and Piets
to the Christian faith 5 which he did during the reign
of Theodosius the Younger. Bede informs us, that
he built a church dedicated to St Martin, in a style
unknown to the Britons of that time 5 and adds, that
during his time the Saxons held this province (Gallo-
vidia, now Galloway), and that, as in consequence of
the labours of this saint the converts to Christianity
increased, an episcopal see was established there. Dr
Henry, considering that “ few or none of the writings
28 ] N I N
of the most ancient fathers of the British church are
now extant, and since little being said of them by
Ninia
since
their cotemporaries, we can know little of their per¬
sonal history and of the extent of their erudition,”
gives a short account of some of them. Of St Ninian
he says, “ he was a Briton of noble birth and excel¬
lent genius. After he had received as good an edu¬
cation at home as his own country could afford, he
travelled for his further improvement, and spent seve¬
ral years at Home, which was then the chief seat of
learning as well as of empire. From thence he return¬
ed into'Britain, and spent his life in preaching the gos¬
pel in the most uncultivated parts of it, with equal zeal
and success.”
There is a smalltown called St iSnnan, about a mile
south of Stirling. Its church had been occupied by the
rebels in 1745 as a powder magazine ; who on their re¬
turn blew it up in such haste, as to destroy some of their
own people and about fifteen spectators.
NING-FO-FOU, called by the Europeans Liampo, is
an excellent port, on the eastern coast of China, oppo¬
site to Japan. Eighteen or twenty leagues from this
place is an island called Jdchcou-cnan, whcie the En¬
glish first landed on their arrival at China,
The silks manufactured at Ning-po are much esteem¬
ed in foreign countries, especially in Japan, where the
Chinese exchange them for copper, gold, and silver.
This city has four others under its jurisdiction, besides
a great number of fortresses.
NINON L’Emclos, a celebrated lady in the court
of France, was of a noble family, and born at Paris in
the year 1615; but rendered herself famous by her
wit and gallantries. Her mother was a lady of exem- .
pi ary piety 5 but her father early inspired her with
the love of pleasure. Having lost her parents at 14
years of age, and finding herself mistress of her own
actions, she resolved never to marry : she had an in¬
come of 10,000 livres a-year j and, according to the
lessons she had received from her father, drevy up a
plan of life and gallantry, which she pursued till hex*
death. Never delicate with respect to the number,
but always in the choice, of her pleasures, she sacrificed
nothing to interest ', but loved only while her taste for
it continued j and had among her admirers the greatest
lords of the court. But notwithstanding the levity of
her conduct, she had many virtues.—She was constant
in her friendship, faithful to what are called the laws of
honour, of strict veracity, disinterested, and more P^rti-
cularly remarkable for perfect probity* Women of the
most respectable characters were proud of the honour
of bavin0' her for their friend 5 at her house was an as¬
semblage
Ninon.
(a) This assertion, however, is far from seeming probable y for every trace of it seems to have so t^jly dis-
aoneared even so early as A. D. 627, that the vacant space afforded a spacious field for the celebrated battle
between the emperor Heraclius and the Persians. There are few things in ancient history which have more
These different opinions, however, seem perfectly reconciteaDie , tor u appeal» at ’
Nineveh took in the whole of the ground which lies between these two ruined places. Mr Ives adds, that
confirm this conjecture is, that much of this ground is now hilly, owing no doubt to the rubbish of the ancient
Sidings There is one mount of 200 or 300 yards square, which stands some yards north-east Jonah’s tomb
whereon it is likely a fortification once stood. It seems to hays been made by nature, or perhaps both by nature
and art, for such an use.”
Ninon
.11
Niobe.
N I O [29
semblage of every thing most agreeable in the city and
the court; and mothers were extremely desirous of
sending their sons to that school of politeness and good
taste, that they might learn sentiments of honour and
probity , and those other virtues, that render men ami¬
able in society. But the illustrious Madame do Sevig-
ne with great justice remarks in her letters, that this
school was dangerous to religion and the Christian vir¬
tues ; because Ninon L’Enclos made use of seducing
maxims, capable of depriving the mind of those invalu¬
able treasures. Ninon was esteemed beautiful even in
old age *, and is said to have inspired violent passions at
80. She died at Paris in 1705. This lady had several
children •, one of whom, named Chevalier dc Villiers,
excited much attention by the tragical manner in which
he ended his life. He became in love with Ninon,
without knowing that she was his mother 5 and when
he discovered the secret of his birth, stabbed himself
in a fit of despair. There have been published the pre¬
tended letters of Ninon L’Enclos to the Marquis de
Sevigne.
NINTH, in Music. See Interval.
NINUS, the first king of the Assyrians, was, it is
said, the son of Belus. It is added, that he enlarged
Nineveh and Babylon •, conquered Zoroaster king of
the Bactrians •, married Semiramis of Ascalon j sub¬
dued almost all Asia ; and died after a glorious reign
of 52 years, about 1150 B. C.; but all these facts are
uncertain. See Semiramis.
NIO, an island of the Archipelago, between Naxi
to the north, Armago to the east, Santerino to the
south, and Sikino to the west, and is about 35 miles
in circumference. It is remarkable for nothing but
Homer’s tomb, which they pretend is in this island ;
for they affirm that he died here in his passage from
Samos to Athens. The island is well cultivated, and
not so steep as the other islands, and the wheat which
it produces is excellent; but oil and wood are scarce.
It is subject to the Turks. E. Long. 25. 35. N» Lat.
36’ 43- .
NIOBE, in fabulous history, according to the fictions
of the poets, was the daughter of Tantalus, and wife of
Amphion king of Thebes j by whom she had seven sons
and as many daughters. Having become so proud of
her fertility and high birth, as to prefer herself before
Latona, and to slight the sacrifices offered up by the
Theban matrons to that goddess, Apollo and Diana,
the children of Latona, resented this contempt. The
former slew the male children and the latter the fe¬
male j upon which Niobe was struck dumb with grief,
and remained without sensation. Cicero is of opinion,
that on this account the poets feigned her to be turned
into stone.
The story of Niobe is beautifully related in the sixth
hook of the Metamorphoses of Ovid. That poet thus
describes her transformation into stone.
] NIO
Her cheek still redd’ning, but its colour dead, Niobe.
Fadded her eyes, and set within her head. c—y—,
No more her pliant tongue its motion keeps,
But stands congeal’d within her frozen lips.
Stagnate and dull, within her purple veins.
Its current stopp’d, the lifeless blood remains*
Her feet the usual offices refuse,
Her arms and neck their graceful gestures lose r
Action and life from ev’ry part are gone,
And ev’n her entrails turn to solid stone.
Yet still she weeps ; and whirl’d by stormy winds,,.
Borne thro’ the air, her native country finds j
There fixed, she stands upon a bleaky hill 5
There yet her marble cheeks eternal tears distil.
Niobe in this statue is represented as in an ecstacy
of grief for the loss of her offspring, and about to be
converted into stone herself. She appears as if de¬
prived of all sensation by the excess of her sorrow, and
incapable cither of shedding tears or of uttering any
lamentations, as has been remarked by Cicero in the
third book of his Tusculan Questions. With her right
hand she clasps one of her little daughters, who throws
herself into her bosom; which attitude equally shows
the ardent affection of the mother, and expresses that
natural confidence which children have in the pro¬
tection of a parent. The whole is executed in such
a wonderful manner, that this with the other statues-
of her children, is reckoned by Pliny among the most
beautiful works of antiquity: but he doubts to whom
of the Grecian artists he ought to ascribe the honour
of them (a). We have no certain information at what
period this celebrated work was transported from Greece
to Rome, nor do we know where it was first erected.
Flaminius Vacca only says, that all these statues were
found in his time not far from the gate of St John,
and that they were afterwards placed by the grand
duke Ferdinand in the gardens of the Villa de Medici
near Rome.—An ingenious and entertaining traveller
(Dr Moore), speaking of the statue of Niobe, says,
“ The author of Niobe has had the judgment not to
exhibit all the distress which he might have placed in
her countenance. This consumate artist wras afraid of
disturbing her features too much, knowing full well that
the point where he was to expect most sympathy was
there, where distress co-operated with beauty, and where
our pity met our love. Had he sought it one step far¬
ther in expression, he had lost it.”
In the following epigram this statue is ascribed to.s
Praxiteles :
Ex Car,'; p.i Qioi 6iv o-ctvXtQov. Ex Je Xiieio
Zainif ip.7rxtev u^yxecxTo.
While for my children’s fate I vainly mourn’d,
The angry gods to massy stone me turn’d ;
Praxiteles a nobler feat has done,
He made me live again from being stone.
Widow’d and childless, lamentable state!,
A doleful sight, among the dead she sat;
Harden’d with woes, a statue of despair,
To ev’ry breath of wind unmoy’d her hair;
The author of this epigram, which is to be found in the
4th book of the Anthologyi is unknown. Scaliger the
father, in his Farrago Epigrammatum, p. 172. ascribes
it to Callimachws, but this appears to be only conjecture.
Crelius
(a) Par haesitatio in templo Apollinis Sosiani, Niobem cum liberis morientem, Scopas an Praxiteles feceiit>-
1
N I S [ 30
Cselius Calcagninus has made a happy translation ot it
into Latin.
Vivam olim in lapidem vertcvunt numina; sccl me
Praxiteles vivam reddidit ex lapidc.
And perhaps the following French version of it will ap¬
pear no less happy :
T)c vive epicj'etois, les Dieux
AVont changec en pierre massive :
• - Praxitele a fait beuucoup niieux^
De pierre il rid a scu rendre vive.
NIPHON, the largest of the Japan islands, being
80© miles long and 100 broad. See Japan..
NIPPERS, in the manege, are four teeth in the lore
part of a horse’s mouth, two in the upper, and two in
the lower jaw. A horse puts them forth between the
second and third year.
NIPPLES, in Anatomy. See Mammae, Anatomy
Index •
NIPPLE-wort. See Lapsana, Botany Index.
NISAN, a month of the Hebrews, answering to our
March, and which sometimes takes from Icbruary or
April, ’according to the course of the moon. It was
the first month of the sacred year, at the coming out of
Egypt (Exod. xii. 2), and it was the seventh month
ot the civil year. By Moses it is called Abib. I he
name Nisan is only since the time ot Ezra, and the re¬
turn'from the captivity of Babylon. ^ f .
On the first day of this month the Jews tasted tor
the death of the children of Aaron (Lev. x. 1, 2, 3.).
Oh the tenth day was celebrated a fast tor the death
of Miriam the sister of Moses j and every one pro¬
vided himself with a lamb for the passover. On this
day the Israelites passed over Jordan under the conduct
of Joshua (iv. 19.). On the fourteenth day m the
evening they sacrificed the pascal lamb $ and the day
following, being the fifteenth, was held the solemn pass-
over (Exod. xii. 18. &c.). The sixteenth they offer¬
ed the sheaf of the ears of barley as the first fruits ot
the harvest of that year (Levit. xxm. 9. &c.). Ihe
twenty-first was the octave of the passover, which was
solemnized with particular ceremonies. The twenty-
sixth the Jews fasted in memory of the death ot Joshua.
On this day they began their prayers to obtain the rains
of the spring. On the twenty-ninth they called to mind
the fall of the walls of Jericho.. .
NISI prius, in Law, a judicial writ which lies in
cases where the jury being impannelled and returned
before the justices of the bank, one of the parties re¬
quests to have such a writ for the ease of the country,
in order that the trial may come before the justices in
the same county on their coming thither. The pur¬
port of a writ of nisi prius is, that the sheriff is thereby
commanded to bring to Westminster the men impan¬
nelled, at a certain day, before the justices, “ nisi prius
justiciarii dominiregis ad assisas capiendas venennt.
' NISIBIS, in-Ancient Geography, a city both very an¬
cient, very noble, and of very considerable strength, si¬
tuated in a district called Mygdoma, in the north ot
Mesopotamia, towards the Tigris, from which it is di¬
stant two days journey. Some ascribe its origin to
Nimrod, Rnd suppose it to be the Achad of Moses. The
Macedonians call it AntiochiaofMygdoma (Plutarch) 5
situated at the foot of Mount Masius (Strabo). It was
2
] N I S
the Roman bulwark against the Parthians and Persians,
It sustained three memorable sieges against the power , 1^'u '
of Sapor, A. D. 338, 346, and 350 *, but the emperor
Jovianus, by an ignominious peace, delivered it up to
the Persians, A. D. 363. A colony called Septimia
Nisibitana. Another Nisibis, of Aria, (Ptolemy)
near the lake Arias.
Mr Ives, who passed through this place in 1758,
tells us, that “ it looked pretty at a distance, being
seated on a considerable eminence, at the toot of which
runs a river, formerly called the Mygdonius, with a stone
bridge of eleven arches built over it. Just by the ri¬
ver, at the foot of the hill, or hills (for the town is
seated on two), begin the ruins of a once more flourish¬
ing place, which reach quite up to the present town.
From every part of this place the most delightful pro¬
spects would appear, were the soil but properly culti¬
vated and planted j but instead of those extensive woods
of fruit trees, which Rawolf speaks ot as growing near
the town, not above thirty or forty straggling trees of
any kind can be perceived and instead ol that great
extent of arable land on which he dwells so much, a
very inconsiderable number ot acres are now remaining.
The town itself is despicable, and streets extremely
narrow, and the houses, even those which are of stone,
are mean. It suffered grievously by the famine ot 1757*
losing almost all its inhabitants either by death or de¬
sertion. The streets presented many miserable objects,
who greedily devoured rinds of cucumbers, and every
other refuse Efrticle of food thrown out into the highway.
Here the price of bread had risen near 4000 per cent,
within-the last 14 years.
N1SMES, an ancient, large, and flourishing town of
France, in the department of Garde, with a bishop’s see,
and an academy. The manufactures of cloth both of gold
and silk, and of stuffs formerly known by the name ot
serge of Nismes, exceed that of all the rest of the pro ¬
vince. There are several monuments of antiquity, ot
which the amphitheatre is the principal built by the Ro¬
mans. The maison quarree, or the square house, is a
piece of architecture of the Corinthian order, and one ot
the finest in the world. Hie temple ot Diana is inpait
gone to ruin. It was taken by the English in 1417.
The inhabitants W’ere chiefly Calvinists •, but Louis XIV.
demolished their church in 1685, and built a castle to
keep them in awe. It is seated in^a delightful plain,
abounding in wine, oil, game and cattle. It contains a
great number of venerable relicks of Roman antiquity and
grandeur, which it is not our business to describe, though
it is chiefly remarkable for these and its delightful situ¬
ation. Its population in 1800 was 39,300, of whom
about 10,000 are Protestants. After the second return
of Louis XVIII. in 1815, Nismes was the scene of some
disgraceful outrages. The Protestants had been friend¬
ly to the Revolution, though they took no part in its
atrocities j but the Catholics made this a pretext for treat¬
ing them as rebels. In the city alone nearly 300 of the
Protestants were murdered, and in the neighbouring
districts as many more as made a total of 2000 : a great
number were obliged to fly ; 2000 ransomed their lives
by sums of money, and 150 houses were pillaged or
burnt within the town. Money was collected for the
relief of the sufferers in London, Edinburgh, and
other towns in Britain. E. Long. 4. 26. N. Lat»
43*5I’ NISROCH,
NIT [ 3i ] N I V
Msroch NISROCII, a god of the Assyrians. Sennaclie-
|| rib was killed by two of his sons while he was pay-
Nitocns. ^ jng 1,JS adoration to his god Nisroch in lus temple
v (2 King xix. 37.). It is net known who this god Nis¬
roch was. The Septuagint calls him Mesrach, Jose¬
phus calls him Araskes. The Hebrew of Tobit pub¬
lished by Munster calls him Dagon. The Jews have
a strange notion concerning this deity, and fancy him
to have been a plank of Noah’s ark. Some think the
word signifies a dove ; and others understand by it an
eagle, which has given occasion to an opinion, that
Jupiter Belus, from whom the Assyrian kings pretend¬
ed to be derived, was worshipped by them under the
form of an eagle, and called Nisroch. Our poet Mil-
ton gives this name to one of the rebel angels.
 In the assembly next up stood
Nisroch, of principalities the prince.
Par. Lost, book vi. 447.
NJSSOLIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
diadelphia class, and in the natural method ranking
under the 32d order, Papilionacece. See Botany In¬
dex.
NITHSDALE, NithisdalE, or Niddisdale, a dis¬
trict ol Dumfriesshire in Scotland, lying to the west¬
ward of Annandale. It is a large and mountainous tract,
deriving its name from the river Nid, or Nith, which
rises on the boi'ders of Ayrshire, and running by Sanquhar
and Dumfries, discharges itself into the Solway frith.
Ibis country was formerly shaded with noble forests,
which are now almost destroyed j so that at present, no¬
thing can be more naked, wild, and savage. Yet the
bowels of the earth yield lead, and, as is said, silver and
gold : the mountains are covered with sheep and black
cattle j and here are still some considerable remains of
the ancient woods, particularly that of Holywood, three
miles from Dumfries, noted for a handsome church,
built out of the ruins of an ancient abbey; and also
for being the birthplace of the famous astrologer, hence
called Joannes de Sacro Bosco. Mr Pennant calls it
a beautiful vale, improved in appearance by the bold
curvatures of the meandering stream, and for some
space, he says, it is adorned with groves and gentlemen’s ■
seats. '
NITOCRIS, the mother of Belshazzar (whose fa¬
ther wras Evil Merodach and his grandfather Nebu¬
chadnezzar), was a woman of extraordinary abilities j
she took the burden of all public aflairs upon herself j
and, while her son followed his pleasures, did all that
could be done by human prudence to sustain the tot¬
tering empire. She perfected the works which Ne¬
buchadnezzar had begun for the defence of Babylon 5
raised strong fortifications on the side of the river,
and caused a wonderful vault to be made under it, lead¬
ing from the old palace to the new, 12 feet high and
15 wide. She likewise built a bridge across the Eu¬
phrates, and accomplished several other works, which
were afterwards ascribed to Nebuchadnezzar. Philo-
strates, in describing this bridge, tells us, that it was •
built by a queen, who was a native of Media ; whence
we may conclude this illustrious queen to have been
by birth a Mede. Nitocris is said to have placed her
tomb over one of the most remarkable gates of the city,
with an inscription to the following effect:
JJ any king of Babylon after me shall be in distress
for money, he may open this sepulchre, and take out as ^itocris
much as may serve him ; but if he be in no real neces- ||
sity, let him forbear, or he shall have cause to repent o/'Nivernois.^
his presumption. " ' ' v
This monument and inscription are said to have re¬
mained untouched till the reign of Darius, who, con-
sidering the gate was useless, no man caring to pass
under a dead body, and being invited by the hopes
of an immense treasure, broke it open 5 but, instead
of what he sought, is said to have found nothing but-
a corpse } and another inscription, to the following
effect : &
Hadst thou not been most insatiably avaricious and
greedy oj the most sordid gain, thou wouldst never have
violated the abode of the dead.
NIIHRARIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
dodecandria class, and in the natural method ranking
with those of which the order is doubtful. See Botany
Index.
NITRE, Saltpetre, or Nitrate of Potash. See
Chemistry, N° 938, et scy.
Calcareous Nithe. See Lime, Nitrate of, Chemis¬
try Index.
Nil ROUS, any thing impregnated with nitrous
air.
Nitrous Air. See Azote, Chemistry Index.
NIVELLE, a town in the Netherlands, in the pro¬
vince of Brabant, remarkable for its abbey of canon- :
esses. Here is a manufacture of cambrics, and the
town enjoys great privileges. The abbey just men¬
tioned is inhabited by young ladies of the first quality, *
who are not confined therein as in nunneries, but may »
go out and marry whenever they see convenient, or a .
proper match offers. It contained 6537 inhabitants in
1800. E. Long. 4. 36. N. Lat. 50. 35.
Nivelle de la Chaussee (Peter Claude), a comic
poet, born in Paris 5 acquired great reputation by in-
venting a new kind of entertainment, which was call¬
ed the Weeping Comedy. Instend of - imitating Aristo- *
phanes, Terence, Moliere, and the other celebrated
comic poets who had preceded him } and instead of t
exciting laughter by painting the different ridiculous •
characters^ giving strokes of humour and absurdities in
conduct 5 lie applied himself to represent the weak¬
nesses of the heart, and to touch and soften it. In
this manner he wrote five comedies : 1. La fausse An- i
tipathie. 2. Leprejuge a la Mode ; this piece met with
great success. 3. Melanide. 4. Amour pour Amour ;
and, 5. L'Peole des Meres. He was received into the
French academy in 1736 j and died at Paris in 1754,
at 63 years of age. He also wrote a tragedy, entitled,. .
Maximianus ; and an epistle to Clio, an ingenious di- ;
dactic poem.
NIVERNOIS, an inland province of France, with
the title of a duchy, lying on the west side of Burgundy,
and between it, Bourbonnois, and Barri. It is pretty
fertile in wine, fruit, and corn ; except the part called ■
Morvant, which is a mountainous country, and bar¬
ren. There is a great deal of wood, and several iron
mines j as also mines of pit coal, which serves to work
their forges. This province is watered by a great
number of rivers ; of which the Allier, the Loire,
and the Yonne, are navigable^ It now forms the de- -
partment of Nevers, which is also the name of the capi-.
tal city.
NIWEGAK
N 0 A
[ 32 ]
N O A
NIWEGAL, a village lying on tlie coast in Pem¬
brokeshire, South Wales, remarkably only for tbe dis¬
covery of an immense quantity of tbe stumps of trees
appearing below low water mark, after and during a
storm in'the year 1590, notwithstanding tbe country
all round is now entirely barren of wood. _
NIXAPA, a rich and considerable town in New
Spain, with a rich convent of Dominicans. The coun¬
try about it abounds in cochineal, indigo, and sugar.
E. Long. 97. 15. N. Lat. 16. 42.
NIZAM (says Gibbon, one of the most illustrious
ministers of the east, was honoured by the caliph as an
oracle of religion and science-, he was trusted by the
sultan as the faithful vicegerent of his power and jus¬
tice. After an administration of 30 years, the tame ot
the vizier, his wealth, and even his services, were trans¬
formed into crimes. He was overthrown by the in¬
sidious arts of a woman and a rival $ and his fall was
hastened by a rash declaration, that his cap and ink
horn, the 'badges of his office, were connected by the
divine decree with the throne and diadem ot the sultan.
At the age of 93 years, the venerable statesman was
dismissed by bis master, accused by his enemies, and
murdered by a fanatic: the last words of Nizam at¬
tested his innocence, and the remainder of Malek s life
was short and inglorious. . T 1 v
NO, (Jeremiah, Ezekiel), No-Ammon, (Nahum) j
a considerable city of Egypt, thought to be the name
of an idol which agrees with Jupiter Ammon. Ihe
Septuagint translate the name in Ezekiel, Diospo/is,
“ the city of Jupiter.” Bochart takes it to be Thebes
of Egypt; which, according to Strabo and Ptolemy, was
cMDiospolis. Jerome, after the Chaldee paraphrast
Jonathan, supposes it to be Alexandria, named by way
of anticipation j or an ancient city ot that name is sup¬
posed to have stood on the spot where Alexandria was
^No-Man's-Land, a space between the after part of
the belfrey and the fore part of a ship’s boat, when the
said boat is stowed upon the booms, as in a deep waist-
ed vessel. These booms are laid from the forecastle
nearly to the quarter-deck, where their after ends are
usually sustained by a frame called the gal/oivs, which
consists of two strong posts, about six feet high, with
a cross piece reaching from one to the other, athwart
ships, and serving to support the ends of those booms,
masts, and yards, which lie in reserve to supply the
place of others carried away, &c. The space called
No-Man1 s-Land is used to contain any blocks, ropes,
tackles, &c. which may be necessary on the fore¬
castle. It probably derives this name from its situa¬
tion, as being neither on the starboard nor larboard side
of the ship, nor on the waste or forecastle j but, being
situated in the middle, partakes equally of .all those
places. .
NOAH, or Noe, the son of Lamech, was born in
the year of the world 1056. Amidst the general cor¬
ruption into which all mankind were fallen at this
time, Noah alone was found to be just and perfect in
his generation, walking with God (Gen. vi. 9.).
This extraordinary person having therefore found fa¬
vour in the eyes of the Lord, and God seeing that all
flesh had corrupted their ways, told Noah, that he was
resolved to destroy mankind from the face of the earth
by a flood of waters j and not them alone, but alUhe
beasts of tbe earth, and every creeping thing, as well
as tbe fowls of the air (Id. ib. >].). Tbe Lord there-  
fore directed Noah, as a means of preserving him and
his family (for he bad three sons, Shem, Ham, and
Japheth, who were all married before the flood), to
build an ark or vessel of a certain form and size fitted
to that end, and which might besides accommodate
such numbers of animals of all sorts, that were liable
to perish in tbe flood, as would be sufficient to preserve
the several species, and again replenish the earth ; to¬
gether with all necessary provisions for them -, all which
Noah performed, as may be seen more particularly un¬
der the article Ark.
In the year of the world 1636, and the 6ootb year
of his age, Noah, by God’s appointment, entered the
ark, together with his wife, his three sons, their wives,
and all the animals which God caused to come to
Noah and being all entered, and the door of the ark
being shut upon "the outside, the waters of the deluge
began to fall upon the earth, and increased in such a
manner, that they were fifteen cubits above the tops
of the highest mountains, and continued thus upon the
earth for°l days ; so that whatever had life upon
the earth, or in the air, was destroyed, except such as
were with Noah in the ark. But the Lord remember¬
ing Noah, sent a wind upon the earth, which caused
the waters to subside ; so that upon the seventeenth day
of the seventh month the ark rested on the mountains
of Ararat and Noah having uncovered the roof of the
ark, and observing the earth was dry, he received or¬
ders from the Lord to come out of it, with all the ani¬
mals that were therein } and this he did in the six hun¬
dred and first year of his age, on the 27th day of the
second month.' But the history of the deluge is more
circumstantially related already under the article De-
LUGE- . _ 1 T 1
Then he offered as a burnt sacrifice to the Lord one
of all the pure animals that were in the ark } and the
Lord accepted his sacrifice, and said to him that he
would no more pour out his curse upon the whole
earth, nor any more destroy all the animals as he had
now done. He gave Noah power over all the brute
creation, and permitted him to eat of them, as of the
herbs and fruits of the earth : except only the blood,
the use of which God did not allow them. He bid him
increase and multiply, made a covenant with him, and
God engaged himself to send no more an universal de¬
luge upon the earth and as a memorial of his promise,
he set his bow in the clouds, to be as a pledge of the
covenant he made with Noah (Gen. ix.). _
Noah, being an husbandman, began now to cultivate
the vine ; and having made wine and drank thereof, he
unwarily made himself drunk, and fell asleep in his tent,
-and happened to uncover himself in an indecent posture.
Ham, the father of Canaan, having observed him in
this condition, made himself sport with him, and ac¬
quainted his two brothers with it, who were without.
But they, instead of making it a matter of spoit, fuin~
ed away from it, and going backwards they covered
their father’s nakedness, by throwing a mantle over
him. Noah awaking, and knowing what Ham had
done, said, that Canaan the son of Ham should be
accursed, that he should be a slave of slaves in respect
of his brethren. It is thought he had a mind to spare
the person of his son Ham, for fear the curse might light
1 upon
N O A [ 33 ] O B
Noali.
upon tlie other children of Sam, who had no part in
this action. He cursed Canaan by a spirit of px-ophe-
cy, because the Canaanites his descendants were after
this to be rooted out by the Israelites. Noah added,
Let the Lord, the God of Shem, be blessed, and let
Canaan be the servant of Shem. And he was so in
effect, in the person of the Canaanites subdued by the
Hebrews. Lastly, Noah said, Let God extend the
possession of Japheth •, let Japheth dwell in the tents
of Shem, and let Canaan be his servant. This pro¬
phecy had its accomplishment, wdxen the Grecians, and
afterwards the Romans, being descended from Japheth,
made a conquest of Asia, which was the portion of
Shem.
Rut Noah lived yet after the deluge three hundred
and fifty years ; and the whole time of his life having
been nine hundred and fifty years, he died in the year
of the world 2006. He left three sons, Shem, Ham,
and Japheth, of whom mention is made under their
several names ; and, according to the common opinion,
he divided the whole world amongst them, in oi'der to
repeopie it. To Shem he gave Asia, to Ham Africa,
and Europe to Japheth. Some will have it, that be¬
sides these three sons he had several others. The
spurious Berosus gives him thirty, called Titans, from
^ ihe name of their mother Titsea. They pretend that
the Teutons or Germans are derived from a son of
Noah called Thuiscon. The false Methodius also
makes mention of Jonithus or Jonicus, a pretended son
of Noah.
St Peter calls Noah a preacher of righteousness
(2 Peter ii. 5.), because before the deluge he was in¬
cessantly preaching and declaring to men, not only by
his discourses, but by his unblameable life, and by the
building of the ark, in which he was employed six
score years, that the wrath of God was ready to pour
upon them. But his preaching had no effect, since
when the deluge came, it found mankind plunged in
their former enormities (Matt. xxiv. 37.).
Several learned men have observed, that the Hea¬
thens confounded Saturn, Deucalion, Ogyges, the god
Coelus or Uranns, Janus, Proteus, Prometheus, &c.
with Noah. I he wife of Noah is called Noriah by
the Gnostics; and the fable of Deucalion and his
wife Pyrrha is manifestly invented from the history of
Noah.
The Rabbins pretend, that God gave Noah and his
sons (all who are not of the chosen race of Abra¬
ham they call Noachidse) certain general precepts,
which contain, according to them, the natural right
which is common to all men indifferently, and the
observation of which alone will be suificient to save
them. After the law of Moses, the Hebrews would
not suffer any stranger to dwell in their country, un¬
less he would conform to the precepts of the Noachidse.
In war they put to death, without quarter, all that
Were ignorant of them. I hese precepts are seven in
number.
i he first directs, that obedience be paid to judges,
magistrates, and princes.
By the second, the worship of false gods, superstition,-
and sacrilege, are absolutely forbidden.
'I he third forbids cursing the name of God, blasphe¬
mies, and false oaths.
W\cfiourth forbids all incestuous and unlawful con-
^'OL. XV. Part I. -f
junctions, as sodomy, bestiality, and crimes against na¬
ture.
fihzfijth forbids the effusion of blood of all sorts of
animals, murder, wounds, and mutilations.
The sixth forbids thefts, cheats, lying, &c.
The seventh forbids to eat the parts of an animal
still alive, as was practised by some Pagans.
1 o these the Rabbins have added some others ; but
what inclines us to doubt the antiquity of these precepts
is, that no mention is made of them in Scripture, or in
the writings of Josephus or Philo; and that none of
the ancient fathers knew any thing of them.
NOB, a sacerdotal city of the tribe of Benjamin or
Ephraim. St Jerome says, that in his time it was en¬
tirely destroyed, and that the ruins of it might be seen
not far from Diospolis. When David was driven away
by Saul, he went to Nob, and asking the high priest
Ahimelech for some provisions and arms, the priest
gave him the shew bread which had been lately taken
oil the holy table, and the sword of Goliath. Saul be¬
ing informed of this by Doeg, caused all the priests of
Nob to be slain, and the city to be destroyed, 1 Sam.
xxi. xxii.
NOBAH, a city beyond Jordan It took the i ar •:
of Nobah from an Israelite of this name who had made
a conquest of it, (Numb, xxxii. 42.). Gideon pursued
the Midianites as far as this city, (Judg. viij. 2.) Eu¬
sebius says, that there is a desolate place of this name
about eight miles from Heshbon towards the south.
But this could not be the Nobah now mentioned, be¬
cause it was much farther to the north.
NOBILIARY, in literary history, a book con¬
taining the history of the noble families of a nation
or province : such are Choriere’s Nobiliary of Dau-
phine, and Cauraartin’s Nobiliary of Provence. The
Germans are said to be particularly careful of their
Nobiliaries, in order to keep up the dignity of their
families.
NOBILITY, in genera], signifies dignity, gran¬
deur, or greatness ; more particularly, it signifies anti¬
quity of family, joined with riches : in the common ac¬
ceptation of the word, it means that quality or dignity
which raises a man above the rank of a peasant or a
commoner.
At a time when the public mind is so much agita¬
ted on this subject, or subjects nearly allied to it, per¬
haps the less that is said on it the better. We should
therefore (as far as concerns the question about its ex¬
pediency in civil life, or the contrary) most cheerfully
pass it over in silence, did we not esteem it our duty
to give our readers at least some idea of it, and were it
not our business to lay before them a few of those argu¬
ments which of late have been so copiously retailed-both
for and against this illustrious order of civil society :
leaving them, however, that liberty which every mam
unquestionably ought to be allowed, of judging for them¬
selves as they shall see most proper.
Whether that equality of rank and condition which
has of late been so loudly contended for would be more
agreeable to the order of nature, or more conducive
to the happiness and prosperity of mankind, may in¬
deed be made a question 5 but it is a question, we ap¬
prehend, which cannot receive difl’erent answers from
men capable ot reflecting without prejudice and par¬
tiality. A state of perfect equality can subsist only
E amon,r
Yoali
Nobilitv.
1
NOB
[ 34 ]
NOB
Nobility, among beings possessing equal talents and equal vir-
v—J tues } but such beings are not men. Were all man¬
kind under the constant influence of the laws ol vir¬
tue, a distinction of ranks would be unnecessary j but
in that case civil government itsell would likewise be
unnecessary, because men would have attained all that
perfection to which it is the object ol civil government
as well as of religion to guide them: every man
then Avould be a law unto himself. But whilst, in so
many breasts, the selfish passions predominate over
those which are social, violence must be restrained by
authority } and there can be no authority without a
distinction of ranks, such as may influence the public
opinion.
It is well observed by Hume, that government is
founded only on opinion } and that this opinion is ol
two kinds, opinion of interest, and opinion of right.
When a people are persuaded that it is their interest
to support the government under which they live, that
government must be very stable. But among the
worthless and unthinking part of the community, this
persuasion has seldom place. All men, however, have
a notion of rights—of a right to property and a right
tp power: and when the majority of a nation consi¬
ders a certain order of men as having a right to that
eminence in which they are placed, this opinion, call
it prejudice or what we will, contributes much to the
peace and happiness of civil society. Ihere are many,
however, who think otherwise, and imagine that “ the
society in which the greatest equality prevails must al¬
ways be the most secure. TUiese men conceive it to he
the business of a good government to distribute as equal¬
ly as possible those blessings which bounteous nature of¬
fers to all.” It may readily be allowed that this rea¬
soning is conclusive ; but the great question returns,
“ How fen- can equality prevail in a society which is
secure ? and what is possible to be done in the equal
distribution of the blessings of nature ?” Till these
questions be answered, we gain nothing by declaim¬
ing on the rights and equality of men ; and the an¬
swers which have sometimes been given to them sup-
Dos«, a degree of perfection in human nature, which,
if it. were real, would make all civil institutions useless,
as well as the reveries of those reformers. The conduct
of the democratic states ol Pagan antiquity, together
with the oppressive anarchy and shameful violences which
we have seen and still see in a neighbouring kingdom,
will he considered by many as a full and satisfactory an ¬
swer, deduced from experience, to all the schemes of
the visionary theorist: such facts at least render the abo¬
lition of the order of nobility a matter of more impor¬
tance, and of infinitely greater difficulty, than those who
plead for it are disposed to allow.
It is an opinion not uncommon, and at least plausi¬
ble, that the nobility of a well regulated state is the
best security against monarchical despotism or lawless
usurpation on the one hand, and the confusion of de¬
mocratic insolence on the other. Self interest is the
most powerful principle in the human breast} and it
is obviously the interest of such men to preserve that
balance of power in society upon which the very ex¬
istence of their order depends. Corrupted as the pre¬
sent age confessedly is, a very recent instance could be
gjven,6in wiiich the British House of Peers rescued at
once the sovereign and the people from the threatened Nobility,
tyranny of a factious junto. As it is our business, how- —v
ever, to exhibit all opinions of any celebrity, we shall
lay before our readers a short extract from Hulaure’s
Critical History of the French Nobility, which contains,
in few but forcible words, some of the common argu¬
ments against this distinction of ranks.
“ Nobility (says he), a distinction equally impo¬
litic and immoral, and worthy of the times of igno¬
rance and of rapine, which gave it birth, is a violation
of the rights of that part of the nation that is depriv¬
ed of it} and as equality becomes a stimulus towards
distinction, so on the other hand this is the radical
vice of a government-and the source of a variety of,
evils. It is almost impossible that there should be any
uncommon instances ol virtue in a state, when lecom-
penses belong exclusively to a certain class of society,
and when it costs them no more to obtain these than
the trouble of being born. Amongst this list ol privi¬
leged persons, virtues, talents, and genius, must of
course he much less frequent than in the othei classes^
since, without the possession of any of these qualities,
they who belong to it are still honoured and rewarded.
Those who profit by this absurd subversion of principles,
and those who lose by this unjust distribution ot fa\ouis,
which seem to have grown into a right, cannot have
any other than false, immoral, and pernicious ideas con¬
cerning merit.'''1 _ .
A perfect equality, however, in rank and fortune
has seldom been contended for, except by the most,
ignorant enthusiasts. It is indeed doubtful whether
it could possibly exist. The more moderate and ra¬
tional reformers have acknowledged, that as these difier-
ences have always existed in some way or other, so,
from the infinite variety of talents and attainments in
the world, we have reason to expect they will exist
in every form of government and among every people.
The question, therefore, is reduced to this : Whether
the present mode of distinction, or any other which
could be instituted in its stead, be upon the whole the
best ? That the present is not perfect, or wholly with¬
out faults, few will be sanguine enough to contradict:
and a wise man in the sober hour of philosophical
reflection will scarce presume to assert, that any other
scheme which human ingenuity can plan would he
wholly without imperfection, or altogether free from
error. The case is, the errors of our own system are
present, and on this account we see and feel them with
peculiar force : the other plan we look forward to
perhaps in too sanguine a manner, and we probably
forget, in the delusive heat of imagination, that if di¬
stinction depended entirely on merit, we should scarce
fmd a society of men so honest, or so able, as always
to reward it according to its deserts ; or if this were
possible, as perhaps in the nature of things it is not,
such is the self-partiality of the generality of men,
that few would think he were dealt justly by if he
were not promoted as well as his neighbour ; and it
is clearly impossible to promote every one. F or such
reasons then, and many more which our limits oblige
us to omit, many think (and we are inclined to think
with them), that it is safer to remain as we are, as
we know the evils that attend our situation, and are
still able to bear them, rather than to hazard a change,,
which,
NOB
Jilackst.
Comment.
Nobility, which, with some benefits, might also perhaps increase
——the troubles, and destroy many of the pleasures of so¬
cial life.
Perhaps it may not be amiss to lay before our readers
the following observations from that most judicious com¬
mentator on the laws of England, Mr Justice Black-
stone, on this important subject.
“ The distinction of rank and honours (says he) is
necessary in every well-governed state, in order to
reward such as are eminent for their services to the
public, in a manner the most desirable to individuals,
and yet without burden to the community; exciting
thereby an ambitious, yet laudable ardour, and gene¬
rous emulation, in others. And emulation, or vir¬
tuous ambition, is a spring of action which, however
dangerous or invidious in a mere republic or under a
despotic sway, will certainly be attended with good
effects under a free monarchy j where, without destroy¬
ing its existence, its excesses may be continually re¬
strained by that superior power from which all ho¬
nour is derived. Such a spirit, when nationally dif¬
fused, gives life and vigour to the community $ it seta
all the wheels of government in motion, which, under
a wise regulator, may be directed to any beneficial
purpose ; and thereby every individual may be made
subservient to the public good, while he principally
means to promote his own particular views. A body
ot nobility is also more peculiarly necessary in our
mixed and compounded constitution, in order to sup¬
port the rights of both the crown and the people, by
forming a barrier to withstand the encroachments of
both. It creates and preserves that gradual scale of
dignity, which proceeds from the peasant to the prince;
rising like a pyramid from a broad foundation, and
diminishing to a point as it rises. It is this ascending
and contracting proportion that adds stability to any
government; for when the departure is sudden from
one extreme to another, we may pronounce that state
to be precarious. The nobility, therefore, are the pil¬
lars, which are reared from among the people, more
immediately to support the throne ; and, if that falls,
they must also be buried under its ruins. Accordingly^
when in the 17th century the commons had determined
to extirpate monarchy, they also voted the house of lords
to be useless and dangerous. And since titles of nobili¬
ty aie thus expedient in the state, it is also expedient
that their owners should form an independent and se¬
parate branch ot the legislature. It they were confound¬
ed with the mass of the people, and like them had only
a vote in electing representatives, their privileges would
soon lie borne down and overwhelmed by the popular
torrent, which would effectually level all distinctions. It
is therefore highly necessary’ that the body of nobles
should have a distinct assembly, distinct deliberations,
and distinct powders from the commons.”—These re¬
marks, at a time like the present, deserve our serious
attention ; nor do we suppose our readers will be dis¬
pleased, it we add the following observations on the sub¬
ject fiom a periodical publication of long standing and
very considerable merit.
1 55 ]
NOB
Gent. ]\fag.
vol. xii.
ting out of the tribes, the heads of families had their
particular escutcheons, and their genealogies recorded
'with the utmost exactness: Even the Ancient of Days
confirmed this, ; he often put his people in mind of the
glory and virtues of their forefathers; and hath set a
precedent for attainders, by visiting the third and fourth
generation.
“ if a vulgar error to suppose, that his blessed Son
cbose his followers out of the meanest of the people,
because mechanics ; for this was part of the educa¬
tion of every Jewish nobleman : Two of the number,
being his kinsmen, were of the royal house of David ;
one was a Roman gentleman, and another of the
royal family of Syria; and for the rest, he had the same
right of cieation as Ins Eather and his vicegerents, of
advancing the poor to honour, and of exalting the lowly
and meek. /
The ancient Greeks and Romans paid great regard
to nobility ; but when the levelling principle obtained,
and the people shared power and honour, those states
soon dwindled and came to ruin. And in present
Rome, great respect is paid to the renowned fami-
hes ot Colonna and Cassarini. In Venice, the notion
of nobility is carried so high as to become inconsistent
with a republican scheme. The Spaniards pay more
regard to their old nobles than to their old Christians •
and the French are but little behind them. What
was said of the duke of Montmorency by Henry IV.
“ Tllat lle was a better gentleman than himself,” was
perhaps, the reason why the last heir of so illustrious a
family was cut off, to make the house of Bourbon the
first in France.—The Welsh, Irish, and Polanders,
are remarkable for their attachment to blood and pe¬
digree.
“ If 1S f°r the sake of the meanest of our people, that
the high value and regard for quality should be kept
up ; for they are best governed by those who seem form¬
ed for power : the robe of authority sits easy upon them,
and submission is as much our choice as our duty • but
upstarts prove the worst of tyrants.
J he ancient legislators, who studied human nature,
thought it adviseable, for the better government of
states, that the people should be divided into the noble
and the common. J'liey judged it for the universal good
ot mankind, that the valiant and the wise should be se¬
parated from the rest, and appointed for council and
command.
“ I o this I take it that the institution of nobility
is owing in all countries; even those nations which
we are pleased to call savage, distinguish the wise and
the valiant, obey them as counsellors and commanders,
which is placing them in the rank of nobles.
, Some, I know, look upon the institution of nobi¬
lity to be one of the grossest impositions upon the com¬
mon sense of mankind; they confine it indeed to he¬
reditary nobility; they allow, that those who have
done the commonwealth any signal service should be
distinguished with honours, but it seems an absurdity
to them that a man should be born a legislator, as if
wisdom or a knowledge of government ran in the’blood.
« T>- ,1 , .... , . .V.3UUI1I ur H Miowieuge or government ran in the hood
Bnth and nobility are a stronger obl.gation to vir- But if they would consider how strong the love of no
tue than is laid upon meaner persons. A vicious or sterity is planted in human nature, thcV must allow
dishonouiable nobleman is in effect perjured; for bis ^ ‘ 1 .
honour is his oath.
L nder the patriarchal scheme, and at the first set-
that nothing can be a stronger motive to great and
worthy actions, than the notion that a man’s poste-
reap the honour and profit of his labours.
I- 2 Besides
Nobility.
rity will
NOB [ o
Besides, we are to suppose that men born to honours
and a high fortune may be bred up in generous senti¬
ments, and formed for the station they are to fill j
that they must be strangers to those vicious falsehoods
and corruptions which necessity first, and then habit,
puts men upon practising, whose lives are spent in
pursuit of their fortunes. I will own, notwithstand¬
ing all these advantages, that many of them are like
rocks whose heads are in the clouds, but are so barren
that they are quite incapable of producing any thing ;
hut in general, were their minds only upon a level
with those of other men, we should expect better fruit
from them.
“ As authority is founded m opinion, all wise com¬
monwealths have been extremely jealous in keeping
up the honour of their nobility. Wherever they be¬
come base, effeminate, cowardly, or servile, their au¬
thority sinks, they fall into contempt j then the people
begin to consider them as useless to government, and
look upon their privileges as a grievance to society,
and perhaps they think how to get rid of them, as
happened in the commonwealth of Florence, where,
after the expulsion of the duke of Athens, a petty
tyrant of that city, many of the nobility having behaved
servilely to him, and insolently to the people, were
degraded from the senate and the magistracy, and len-
deied incapable ot holding any employment in the com¬
monwealth.
“ Father Paul, the Venetian, says, that you must
either keep your nobility free from taint, or have no
nobility at all : That the high employments of the
commonwealth should be bestowed amongst the most
ancient families, unless where a person should distin¬
guish himself by some signal service to the state. Such
a man would think himself sufficiently rewarded by
the honour of being out upon a footing with the ancient
nobility j and the nobility would be pleased to find that
no commoner, except some of great reputation and merit,
was to hold any of the employments usually possessed
by their body. If the person so preferred should not
be rich enough to support the dignity of the office, the
state may give him a pension, but by no means should
employments lie made lucrative y which not only ex¬
haust and weaken the commonwealth, but wherever
the high employments are sought for profit, the nobility
lose their generous sentiments, and it is a means of in-
troducintr corruption amongst them.”
The origin of nobility in Europe is by some referred
to the Goths ; who, after they had seized a part of
Europe, rewarded their captains with titles of honour,
to distinguish them from the common people. We
shall only in this place further consider the manner in
which in our own country they may be created, and the
incidents attending them ; referring for a fuller ac¬
count of their origin in Europe to the articles IvEYOLU-
tion, and Cml Society. . .
i. The right of peerage seems to have been origi¬
nally territorial y that is, annexed to lands, honours,
castles, manors, and the like y the proprietors and
possessors of which were (m right of those estates)
allowed to be peers of the realm, and were summoned
to parliament to do suit and service to their sovereign :
and when the land was alienated, the dignity passed
with it as appendant. Thus in England the bishops
still sit in the house of lords in right ol succession to
Nobility.
6 j NOB
certain ancient baronies annexed, or supposed to he
annexed, to their episcopal lands y and thus in n v
Henry VI. the possession of the castle of Arundel was
adjudged to confer an earldom on its possessor. But
afterwards, when Alienations grew to be frequent,
the dignity of peerage was confined to the lineage of
the party ennobled, and instead of territorial became
personal. Actual proof of a tenure by barony became
no longer necessary to constitute a lord of parliament y
but the record of the writ of summons to him or his
ancestors was admitted as a sufficient evidence of the
tenure.
Peers of Great Britain are now created either by Blackst
writ or by patent y lor those who claim by prescrip¬
tion must suppose either a writ or patent made to their
ancestors y though by length of time it is lost. "I he
creation by writ or the king’s letter is a summons to
attend the house of peers, by the style and title ol that
barony which the king is pleased to confer : that by
patent is a royal grant to a subject ot any dignity and
degree of peerage. rllie creation by writ is the more
ancient way y but a man is not ennobled thereby, unless
he actually take his seat in the house of lords y and
some are of opinion that there must be at least two
writs of summons, and a sitting in two distinct parlia¬
ments, to evidence a hereditary barony y and theie-
fore the most usual, because the surest way, is to grant
the dignity by patent, which endures to a man and his
heirs according to the limitation thereof, though he
never himself makes use of it. Aet it is frequent to
call up the eldest son of a peer to the house of lords
by writ of summons, in the name of his father’s baro.
ny, because in that case there is no danger of his chil¬
dren’s losing the nobility in case he never takes his
seaty for they will succeed to their grandfather. Crea¬
tion by writ has also one advantage over that by pa¬
tent ; for a person created by writ holds the dignity to
him and his heirs, without any words to that purport
in the writ y but in letters patent there must he words
to direct the inheritance, else the dignity endures only
to the grantee for life. I or a man or woman may he
created noble for their own lives, and the dignity not
descend to their heirs at all, or descend only to some
particular heirs : as where a peerage is limited to a
man and the heirs male of his body by Elizabeth his
present lady, and not to such heirs by-any former or fu¬
ture wife. . . t
2. Let us next take a view of a few of the principal
incidents attending the nobility,—exclusive of their
capacity as members of parliament, and as heredi¬
tary counsellors of the crown
for both which we
refer to the articles Lords and Parliament. And
first we must observe, that in criminal cases a noble¬
man shall be tried by his peers. The great are al¬
ways obnoxious to popular envy: were they to be
judged by the people, they might be m danger from
the prejudices of their judges y and would moreover be
deprived of the privilege of the meanest subjects, that
of being tried by their equals, which, is secured to all
the realm by magna charta, c. 29. It is said, that
this does not extend to bishops, who, though they
are lords of parliament, and sit there by virtue of their
baronies which they hold jure ecclesice, yet are not en¬
nobled in blood, and consequently not peers with the
nobility. As to peeresses, no provision was made for
their
NOB [ 37 ] NOB
Nobility, tiieir trial when accused of treason or felony, till after
 \r—' Eleanor duchess of Gloucester, wife to the lord pro¬
tector, had been accused of treason, and found guilty
of witchcraft, in an ecclesiastical synod, through the
intrigues of Cardinal Beaufort. This very extraordi¬
nary trial gave occasion to a special statute, 20 Hen. II.
c. 9. which enacts, that peeresses, either in their own
right or by marriage, shall be tried before the same
judicators as peers of the realm. If a woman, noble
in her own right, marries a commoner, she still re¬
mains noble, and shall be tried by her peers 5 but if
she be only noble by marriage, then by a second mar¬
riage with a commoner she loses her dignity; for as by
marriage it is gained, by marriage it is also lost. Yet
if a duchess dowager marries a baron, she continues
a duchess still : for all the nobility are pares, and there¬
fore it is no degradation. A peer or peeress (either in
her own right or by marriage) cannot be arrested in
civil cases: and they have also many peculiar privileges
annexed to their peerage in the course of judicial pro¬
ceedings. A peer sitting in judgment, gives not his
vei’dict upon oath, like au ordinary juryman, but upon
his honour •> he answers also to bills in chancery upon
his honour, and not upon his oath : but when he is
examined as a witness either in civil or ci’iminal cases,
he must be sworn j for the respect which the law shows
to the honour of a peer does not extend so far as to
overturn a settled maxim, that injudicio non, creditin'
nisijuratus. The honour of peers is however so high¬
ly tendered by the law, that it is much more penal to
spread false reports of them, and certain other great of¬
ficers of the realm, than of other men : scandal against
them being called by the peculiar name of scandalum
magnatum, and subjected to peculiar punishment by
divers ancient statutes.
A peer cannot lose his nobility but by death or at¬
tainder ; though there was an instance, in the reign of
Edward IV. of the degradation of George Neville duke
of Bedford by act of parliament, on account of his
poverty, which rendered him unable to support his
dignity. But this is a singular instance, which serves
at the same time, by having happened, to show the
power ot parliament $ and, by having happened but
once, to show how tender the parliament hath been
in exerting so high a power. It hath been said in¬
deed, that if a bai'on wastes his estate, so that he is not
able to support the degi'ee, the king may degrade him :
but it is expi'essly held by later authorities,"that a peer
cannot be degraded but by act of parliament.
Anton. Matthaeus observes, that nobility, among
the Romans, was a quite different thing from what it
is among us. The nobles, among the Romans, were
either those raised to the magistrature, or descended
from magistrates : there was no such thing as nobility
by patent.
Bartoli says, that doctors, after they have held a pro¬
fessor’s chair in an university for 20 years, become
noble 5 and ai’e entitled to all the rights of counts.
But this claim is not admitted at court, &c. though
Bartoli’s sentiments be backed with those of sevei-al
other authors, particularly Cbassameus in bis Consuetii-
din. Burgundiee; Boyer sur la Coutume de Berry; Faber
C. de Dig. Def. 9. &c. which last, however, restrains
Bartoli’s rule to doctors in law, and princes physicians.
By an edict of the French king in 1669, it is de¬
clared, that trade shall not derogate from nobility, pro- Nobihtv,
vided the person do not sell by retail. Noble.
In Bretagne, by ancient custom, a nobleman loses—'v——
nothing by trading even in retail j but he reassumes all
his rights as soon as he ceases traffic, his nobility having-
slept all the time.
In Germany, a woman, not noble by birth, doth not
become, v. gr. a countess or baroness by marrying a
count or baron: a lady of the higher degx-ee indeed be¬
comes a princess by max-rying a prince $ but this does
not hold of a lady of the lower nobility.
On the coast of Malabar, children are only capable
of being noble by the mother’s side ; it being allowed
them to take as many husbands as they please, and to
quit them whenever they think proper.
NOBLE, Nobilis, a person who has a privilege
which raises him above a commoner or peasant, either
by birth, by office, or by patent from his prince. The
word comes from the Latin nobilis; formed from the
ancient nasr.ibilis, “ distinguishable, remarkable.”
In England, the word noble is of a narrower import
than in other countides, being confined to persons
above the degree of knights j whereas, abroad, it com¬
prehends not only knights, but what we simply call
gentlemen. The nobles of England are also caWeApares
regni, as being nobilitatis pares, though gradu impares.
The Venetian noblesse is famous : it is in this that
the sovereignty of the state resides. It is divided into
three classes. The first only comprehends 24 families.
The second includes the descendants of all those who
were entered into the Golden Book, in 1289, and destined
to govern the state, which then began to be aristocratic.
The third consists of such as have bought the dignity
of noble Venetians. This last class is onlv admitted
to the inferior employs 5 the two former to all indiffer¬
ently. The title of noble Venetians is sometimes also
given to foreign kings, princes, &c.
Noblks, among the Romans, were such as had the
jus imaginum, or the right of using the pictures or
statues of their ancestors ; a right which was allowed
only to those whose ancestors had borne some curule
office, that is, had been curule ccdile, censor, preetor or
consul. For a long time, none but the patricii were
the nobiles, because no person but of that superior rank
could bear any curule office j hence in Livy, Sallust,
&c. nobilitas is used to signify the patrician order, and
so opposed to plebs. To make the true meaning of
nobiles still more clear, let it be observed, that the Ro¬
man people were divided into nobiles, novi, and ignobiles.
Nobiles were they who had the pictures, &c. of their
ancestors $ novi were such as had only their own 5 igno¬
biles were such as had neither. See Jus Imaginis.
The Roman nobility, by way of distinction, wore
a half moon upon their shoes, especially those of pa¬
trician rank.
The Grecian nobility were called Evirctlgidctt, as being
descended from those old heroic ancestors so famous in
history. Such were the Praxiergida, Etrobutidce, Alc-
mceonidce, &c. all which had many privileges annexed
to their quality 5 amongst which was this, that they
wore grashoppers in their hair as a badge of nobility.
Noble, a money of account containing six shillings
and eight pence.
The noble was anciently a real coin struck in the
reign of Edward IH. and then called ihe penny of gold;
but* ;
N O C [ 3* ] N O C
Noble but it was afterwards called a rose-noble, from its being
(1 stamped with a rose : it was current at 6s. 8d.
Noctam- NOCEIIA, a town in Italy, in the dominions of
bu}l' . the king of Naples and Sicily, or, as he is more com¬
monly called, the king of the Two Sicilies. It is an
episcopal city, but might with greater propriety be
styled a cluster of villages ; its several parts being ex¬
tended along the foot of the mountains, from the
Citta Sotana, or low town *, and the bishop’s palace,
together with some convents embowered in cypress
groves, cover the peak of a single hill in a very pic¬
turesque manner, and compose the Citta Soprana.
Nocera (a), it is reported, contains near 30,000 in¬
habitants •, they are dispersed in forty patches of habi¬
tation. Their houses are constructed of two kinds of
stone : the common walls are built with yellow tufa
dug out of the hills that lie about a mile to the east
of the town 5 which stone seems unquestionably to have
been formed by a consolidation of substances thrown
out of Vesuvius, because, on opening these quarries,
the workmen have frequently discovered tombs, vases,
and coins locked up in the body of the stony stratum.
The cases of their doors and windows are made oi a
black stone drawn from the hill of T iano, two miles
to the north : it lies eight feet below the surface, in
a bed or vein 140 feet thick, resting upon a base of
sand. This seems evidently to be a stream of lava
congealed.
Nocera is a place of very considerable antiquity : in
the 13th century it was called dePagani, to distinguish
it from a city in Umbria of a similar name j this addi¬
tion was in allusion to a colony of Saracens which Fre¬
derick of Suabia brought from Sicily, and settled here,
that they might be out of the way of their dangerous
connexions with Africa : hence Nocera has often been
confounded with Lucera by the negligent or ignorant
chroniclers of the succeeding ages. The most remark¬
able event that occurs in its history is the siege of its
castle, A. D. 1384. E. Long. 12. 49. N. Lat. 43. I.
Terra Noceriana, Earth of Nocera, in the Materia
Medica, a species of bole, remarkably heavy, of a gray¬
ish-white colour, of an insipid taste, and generally with
some particles in it which grit between the teeth. It
is much esteemed by the Italians as a remedy for venom¬
ous bites, and in fevers •, but, excepting as an absorbent
and astringent, no dependence is to be had on it.
NOCTAMBULI, Noctambulones, or Night-
walkers; a term of equal import with sornnambuli,
applied to persons who have a habit of rising and
walking about in their sleep. The word is a com¬
pound of the Latin nox, “ night,” and ambulo, “ I
walk.”
Schenkius, Horstius, Clauderus, and Hildanus, who
have written of sleep, give us divers unhappy histories
of such noctambuli. When the disease is moderate,
the persons affected with it only repeat the actions of
the day on getting out of bed, and go quietly to the
places they frequented at other times; but those who
have it in the most violent degree, go up to dangerous
places, and do things which would terrify them to Noctam-
think of when they are awake. These are by some bull
called lunatic night-walkers, because fits are observed Noc,Nrna]
to return with the most frequency and violence at the t
changes of the moon.—For the cure some recommend
purging and a cooling regimen : others are of opinion
that the best method is to place a vessel of water at
the patient’s bedside, in such a manner that he rvill na¬
turally step into it when he gets out of bed or if that
should fail, a person should sit up to watch and beat him
every time it happens. See Sleep-walkers, or Som-
NATWBULI.
NOCTILUCA, a species of phosphorus, so called
because it shines in the dark without any light being
thrown upon it.
NOCTURNAL, something relating to the night,
in contradistinction to diurnal.
Nocturnal, Nocturlabium, an instrument chiefly-
used at sea, to take the altitude or depression of some
stars about the pole, in order to find the latitude and
hour of the night.
Some nocturnals are hemispheres, or planispheres, on
the plane of the equinoctial. Those commonly in use
among seamen are two ; the one adapted to the polar
star, and the first of the guards of the Little Bear j
the other to the pole star, and the pointers of the Great
Bear.
This instrument consists of two circular plates, ap¬
plied to each other. The greater, which has a handle .
to hold the instrument, is about 2^ inches diameter,
and is divided into twelve parts, agreeing to the twelve
menths j and each month subdivided into every fifth
day ; and so as that the middle of the handle corre¬
sponds to that day of the year, wherein the star here re¬
garded has the same right ascension with the sun. If
the instrument be fitted for two stars, the handle is made
moveable. The upper left circle is divided into twen¬
ty-four equal parts for the twenty-four hours of the day,
and each hour subdivided into quarters. These twenty-
four hours are noted by twenty-four teeth to be told in
the night. Those at the hour 12 are distinguished by plate
their length. In the centre of the two circular plates CCCLXX,
is adjusted a long index, moveable upon the upper plate 5
and the three pieces, viz. the two circles and index, are
joined by a rivet which is pierced through the centre
with a hole, through which the star is to be observed.
To use the nocturnal, turn the upper plate till the
long tooth-, marked 1 2, be against the day of the month
on the under plate ; then, bringing the instrument near
the eye, suspend it by the handle with the plane nearly
parallel to the equinoctial, and viewing the pole star
through the hole of the centre, turn the index about,
till, by the edge coming from the centre, you see the
bright star or guard of the Little Bear, (il the in¬
strument be fitted to that star) : then that tooth of the
upper circle, under the edge ol the index, is at the hour
of the night on the edge of the hour circle, which may
be known without a light, by counting the teeth from
the lemrest, which is for the hour 12.
& NOD,
(a) Anciently, Nuceria Alphaterna, a word of unknown etymology. It was a Roman colony, and had its mint
Num. Nucerin.
1. Caput virile imberbe. Equus stans capite reflexo inter crura. A . . IN . .
OLIVE PRESS.
PLATE CCCLXX.
NOCTURNAL
NODE S
Fig. 1.
RRAMIX’S OBSERVATORY
NOD [ 39 ] N O L
Nod NOD, or the Land of Nod. It was to this country
|| that Cain withdrew after his fratricide, (Gen. iv. 16.).
, Nodes' t The Septuagint, as well as Josephus, read Naidinstead
' of Nod, and have taken it for the name of a place. It
is not easily known what country this was, unless per¬
haps it was the country of Nyse or Nysea, towards
Hyrcania. St Jerome and the Chaldee interpreters
have taken the word Nod in the sense of an appella¬
tive, for vagabond or fugitive; “ He dwelt a fugitive
in the land.” But the Hebrew reads, “ He dwelt in
the land of Nod,” (Gen. iv. 16.)
NODAB, a country bordering upon Iturea and
Idumaea, but now unknown. We read in the Chro¬
nicles, that the tribe of Reuben, assisted bv those of Gad
and Manasseh, had a war against the Hagarites, the
Jeturites, and the people of Nephish, and of Nodab, in
which the Israelites had the advantage (i Chr. v. 19.).
But the time and the other particulars of this war are
unknown.
NODATED hyperbola, a name given by Sir
Isaac Newton to a kind ol hyperbola, which, by turn¬
ing round, decussates or crosses itself.
NODDY. See Sterna, Ornithology Index.
NODE, a tumor arising on the bones, and usually
proceeding from some venereal cause; being much the
same with what is otherwise called exostosis.
NODES, in Astronomy, the two points where the
pjate orbit of a planet intersects the ecliptic.
CCCLXX. &uch are the two points C and D, fig. 1. of whiclr
fig. r. tlm node C, where the planet ascends northward above
the plane of the ecliptic, is called the ascending node, or
the dragon's head, and is marked thus <"L. The other
node D, where the planet descends to the south, is
called the descending node, or the dragoji's tail, marked
thus by.
The line CD, wherein the two circles CEDE and
CGDH intersect, is called the line of 7iodes. It ap¬
pears from observation, that the line of the nodes of
all the planets constantly changes its place, and shifts
its situation from east to west, contrary to the order
of the signs5 and that the line of the moon’s nodes,
by a retrograde motion, finishes its circulation in the
compass of 19 years ; after which time, either of the
nodes having receded from any point of the ecliptic,
returns to the same again j and when the moon is in
the node, she is also seen in the ecliptic. If the line
of nodes were immoveable, that is, if it had no other
motion than that whereby it is carried round the sun,
it would always look to the'same point of the ecliptic,
or would keep parallel to itself, as the axis of the earth
does.
From what hath been said, it is evident,, that the
moon can never be observed precisely in the ecliptic,
but twice in every period ; that is, when she enters
the nodes. When she is at her greatest distance from
the nodes, viz. in the points E, F, she is said to be
in her limits.
I he moon must be in or near one of the nodes, when
there is an eclipse of the sun or moon.
To make the foregoing account of the motion of the
moon’s nodes still clearer, let the plane of fig. 2. re¬
present that of the ecliptic, S the sun, T the centre of
the earth, L the moon in her orbit DN dn. N n is
the line of the nodes passing between the quadrature
9 and the moon’s place E, in her last quarter. Eet
4
now LP, or any part LS, represent the excess of the- Nodes
sun s action at I j and this being resolved into the [1
force LR, perpendicular to the plane of the moon’s Nollet.
orbit, and PR parallel to it, it is the former only that v
has any effect to alter the position of the orbit, and in
tins it is wholly exerted. Its effect is twofold: 1. It
diminishes its inclination by a motion which we mayr
conceive as performed round the diameter D d, to
which LI is perpendicular. 2. Being compounded
with the moon’s tangential motion at L, it gives it an
intermediate direction It, through which and the centre
a plane being drawn, must meet the ecliptic nearer the
con junction C than before.
NODUS, or Node, in Dialling, a certain point or
pole in the gnomon of a dial, by the shadow or light
whereof either the hour of the day in dials without fur¬
niture, or the parallels of the sun’s declination, and his
place in the ecliptic, &c. in dials with furniture are
shown. See Dialling.
NOEOMAGUS lexuviorum, (Ptol.); thought
to be the Civitas Lexoviorum of the lower age. Now
Lisieux, a city in Normandy.—Another of the Trica-
siini; a town of Gallia Narbonensis 5 thought to be>
S. Pol. de Trois Chateaux, six miles to the west of.
Nvons in Dauphine.
NOE I IANS, in church history, Christian heretics
in the third century, followers of Noetius, a philosopher
of Ephesus, who pretended that he was another Moses
sent by God, and that his brother was a new Aaron.
His heresy consisted in affirming that there was but one:
person in the Godhead j and that the Word and the
Holy Spirit were but external denominations given to
God in consequence of different operations : that, as
Creator, he is called Father; as Incarnate, Son; and
as descending on the apostles, FLoly Ghost.
NOLA, a very ancient city, formerly populous and
strong, situated in a plain to the north-east of Vesuvius,
in Campania, said to be built by the Chalcidians ^ N
(Justin, Silius ftalicus) 5 according to others by tbe
rI uscans. At this place Hannibal met with the first
check by Marcellus. Vespasian added the appellation ■
Augusta Colonia, (Frontinus). At this place, or in its.
neighbourhood, Augustus is said to have expired. It-
is also said that bells were first invented there in the be¬
ginning of the 5th century ,j hence their Latin names ■
Nohe or Campance. It retains its old name to this day,
but has greatly declined from its ancient splendour.
A town of the kingdom of Naples. E. Long. 15.
N. Lat. 41. 5.
NOLANA, a genus of plants belonging to the pent-
andria class ; and in the natural method ranking under *
the 41st order, Asperifolice. See Botany Index.
NOLLE prosequi, is where a plaintiff in an ac¬
tion does not declare in a reasonable time j in which
case it is usual for the defendant’s attorney to enter a
rule for the plaintiff to declare, after which a nonpros.
may be entered. A nolle prosequi is esteemed a volun¬
tary confession, that the plaintiff has no cause of action y
and therefore if a plaintiff enters his nolle prosequi, he
shall be amerced j and if an informer cause the same to
be entered, the defendant shall have costs.
NOLLET, Jean Antoine, a deacon, licentiate in
theology, preceptor to the Enfans dc France for phy¬
sics and natural history, regius professor of physics in
the. college of Navarre, member of the Academy of;
Sciences
N O L
r 4° ]
N O M
Nollet. Sciences at Paris, of the Royal Society of London, of
 v —the Institution of Bologna, and of the Academy of
Sciences of Erfort •, was born at Pimbre, in the diocese
of Noyon, on the 17th of November 1700, of respect¬
able but not wealthy parents. To make up the want
of riches, they determined to give their son a good edu¬
cation. They sent him to the college of Clermont in
Beauvoisis, and afterwards to Beauvais, there to finish
his introductory studies. The progress which he made
in the different classes, determined them to send him to
study philosophy at Paris. Thenceforward they intend¬
ed him for the clerical order 5 and they considered the
strictness and purity of his morals, together with his un¬
wearied application to study, as sufficient proofs of his
vocation. The young Nollet yielded without reluct¬
ance to the wishes of his parents. As soon as he was
capable of showing an inclination for any thing, he had
discovered a taste for physics •, but this was not become
his ruling passion 5 he therefore sacrificed it to the study
of scholastic divinity, to which he wholly dedicated
himself during his time of probation in 1728. No
sooner had he been invested with the deaconship, than
lie solicited and obtained a licence to preach. This new
occupation, however, did not make him entirely lose
sight of those studies which had first engaged his atten¬
tion. They insensibly began to occupy a greater por¬
tion of his time, which was now more equally divided
between theology and the sciences. T-he latter, how¬
ever, prevailed 5 and thenceforth he entered into the
study of physics with an ardour which was only increas¬
ed by that kind of privation to which he had been long
subject. He was received into the Society of Arts,
established at Paris under the patronage of the late
count de Clermont. In 1730, the abbe Nollet was en¬
gaged in a work conjunctly with Reaumur and du lay
of the Academy of Sciences. In 1734, he went to
London in company with M. M. du I ay, du Hamel,
and de Jussieu. His merit procured him a place in the
Royal Society without any solicitation. Two years af¬
ter, he went to Holland, where he formed an intimate
connection with Desaguliers, Gravesande, and Musch-
enbroeck. On his return to Paris, he resumed the
course of experimental physics which he had begun in
1735, and which he continued till 1760. Ihese
courses of physics first suggested the idea of particular
courses in other branches of science, such as in che¬
mistry, anatomy, natural history, &c. In 1738, the
count de Maurepas prevailed on the cardinal Fleury
to establish a public class for experimental physics ; and
the abbe Nollet was appointed the first professor. In
the beginning of the year 1739, he was admitted a
member of the Royal Academy of Sciences *, and in the
month of April following, the king of Sardinia intend¬
ing to establish a professorship of physics at Turin, in¬
vited the abbe Nollet into his dominions. From thence
he travelled into Italy. In 1744, he was honoured
with an invitation to Versailles, to instruct the dauphin
in experimental philosophy ; the king and royal family
were often present at his lectures. The qualities as
well of his understanding as of his heart gained him the
esteem and confidence of his pupil. Going one day in
state to Paris, he caused intimation to be made that he
was to dine at the Thuilleries. M. Nollet having gone
thither to pay his court, the dauphin no sooner perceiv¬
ed him, than he had the goodness to say, “ Binet has
3
the advantage of me, he has been at your house.*’ Till Nollet,
the period of his death, this prince showed marks of the Nomades.
strongest attachment and favour for this ingenious phi--v—
losopher. He would have wished that he had been a
little more attentive to the improvement of his fortune*
He prevailed upon him to go and pay court to a man
in power, whose patronage might have been of service
to him. The abbe Nollet accordingly waited upon the
placeman, and made him a present ot his works. “I
never read any works of that kind,” said the patron
coldly, and casting a look at the volumes before him.
“ y,r (replied the abbe), will you allow them to remain
in youi antichamber? I here perhaps there may be
found men of genius who will read them with pleasure.
In the month of April 1749, he made a grand tour in¬
to Italy, being sent thither for the purpose of making
observations. At lurin, \ enice, and Boiogua, the
abbe Nclltt appeared as a deputy from the philosophers
of the rest of Europe. During Ins siiorl s ay in Italy,^
the wonders of electricity were not the only object of
his researches ; every part of physics, the arts, agricul¬
ture, &c. came equally under his notice. Upon his
return through Turin, the king of Sardinia, always
truly sensible of his merit, offered him the order of
Saint Maurice, which he did not think proper to ac¬
cept without his sovereign’s permission. In 1753
king instituted a class of experimental philosophy in
the royal college of Navarre, and appointed the abbe
Nollet professor. In 1757, he received from the king
a brevet appointing him preceptor in physics and natu¬
ral history to the Enfans de France, lu the month of
August, the same year, he was appointed professor of
experimental philosophy in the school of artillery, ^at
that time established at la Fere. In the month ot No¬
vember following, he was admitted as a pensionary of
the Royal Academy pf Sciences. M. de Cremiho, di¬
rector general of artillery and fortification, having
founded a class of experimental philosophy at Mexieres
in 1761, the abbe Nollet was appointed professor. This
celebrated and laborious philosopher, who has rendered
the most important services to physics by the discoveries
with which he has enriched every branch of this science,
but particularly electricity, died at Paris on the 2Jth
of April 1770, aged 70; much regretted by the lite¬
rary world, and by his friends, of whom his gentle cha¬
racter and beneficent heart had procured him a great
number. He often retired from the gay and splendid
societies of Paris, to give assistance to his relations, who
were by no means in affluent circumstances. Hiswoiks
are 1. Several papers inserted in the memoirs of the A-
cademy of Sciences *, among which one on the Hearing
of Fishes is particularly valuable. 2. Lcpons de 1 hy-
sique Experiment ale, 6 vols x 2mo ; a book well com¬
posed, and uniting pleasure with instruction^ 3. Rccueil
de Lcttres sur VElectricity 3 vols i2mo, 1753. 4. Ez-
saisur PElectricitedes corps, 1 vol. i2mo. 5. Recherches
sur les causesparticuheres des Phenomenes Electnques,
1 vol. 12mo. 6. VAndes experiences, 3 vols i2mo,
with figures, 1770. ,
NOMADES, a name given in antiquity, to several
nations, whose whole occupation was to feed and tend
their flocks j and who had no fixed place of abode, but
were constantly shifting, according to the conveniences
of pasturage.—The word comes from the Greek np*>,
pasco, “ I feed.”
N O M [
Nomades The most celebrated among the Noniadcs were those
[| of Africa, who inhabited between Africa properly so
Nominal^ called, to the east, and Mauritania to the west. They
are also called t^umida; or Numidiuns.—Sallust says,
they were a colony of Persians brought into Africa
with Hercules.
The Nomades of Asia inhabited the coasts of the
Caspian sea. The Nomades of Scythia were the in¬
habitants of Little Tartary j who still retain the an¬
cient manner of living.
NOMARCHA, in antiquity, the governor or com¬
mander of a nome or nomos.-—Egypt was anciently di¬
vided into several regions or quarters, called nomes,
from the Greek viysos, taken in the sense of a division }
and the officer who had the administration of each 7wme
or nomos^ from the king, was called nomarcha, from
ye^oj and “ command.”
NOMBRE-DE-mos, a town of Mexico, in the pro¬
vince of Darien, a little to the eastward of Porto-Bello.
It was formerly a famous place \ but it is now abandon¬
ed, on account of its unhealthy situation. W. Long.
78. 35. N. Lat. 9. 43.
NOMBRIL point, in Heraldry, is the next below
the fess point, or the very centre of the escutcheon.
Supposing the escutcheon divided into two equal
parts below the fess, the first of these divisions is the
sombril, and the lower the base.
NOME, or name, in Algebra, denotes any quan¬
tity with a sign prefixed or added to it, whereby it is
connected with some other quantity, upon which the
whole becomes a binomial, trinomial, or the like. See
Algebra.
NOMENCLATOR, in Roman antiquity, was usual¬
ly a slave who attended upon persons that stood candi¬
dates for offices, and prompted or suggested to them the
names of all the citizens they met, that they might
court them and call them by their names, which among
that people was the highest piece of civility.
Nomenclators, among botanical authors, are those
who have employed their labours about settling and ad¬
justing the right names, synonymes, and etymologies of
names, in regard to the whole vegetable world.
NOMENCLATURE, Nomenclatura, a cata¬
logue of several of the more usual words in any lan¬
guage, with their significations, compiled in order to
facilitate the use of such words to those who are to
learn the tongue : such are our Latin, Greek, French,
&c. nomenclatures : Or a system of technical language
by which the objects of any science are denoted, as,
for instance, the present language of chemical science,
usually called the new chemical nomenclature, from its
recent construction.
NOMENEY, a town in France, in the department
of Meurthe, situated on the river Seille, 15 miles north
of Nancy.
NOMINALS, or Nominalists, a sect of school
philosophers, the disciples and followers of Occam, or
Ocham, an English Cordelier, in the 14th century.
They were great dealers in words, whence they were
vulgarly denominated Word-sellers ; but had the deno¬
mination of Nominalists, because, in opposition to the
Realists, they maintained, that words, and not things,
were the object of dialectics.
This sect had its first rise towards the end of the 1 ith
century, and pretended to follow Porphyry and Ari-
Vol. XV. Part I. t
4r ] Nf O M
stotle ; but it was not till Ocham’s time that they bore
the name. The chief of this sect, in the nth century,
was a person called John, who, on account of bis logi¬
cal subtility, was called the sophist; and his principal
disciples were Robert of Paris, Roscelin of Compiegne,
and Arnoul ot Laon. At the beginning, the Nominals
had the upper hand : but the Realists, though greatly
divided among themselves, were supported by men of
great abilities j such as Albertus Magnus, T. Aquinas,
and Duns Scotus. The Nominal sect came hereby in¬
to disrepute ; till William Occam, in the 14th century,
again revived it, and filled France and Germany with
the flame oi disputation. Having joined the party of
the Iranciscan monks, who strenuously opposed John
XXII. that pope himself, and his successors after him,
left no means untried to extirpate the philosophy of the
Nominalists, which was deemed highly prejudicial to
the interests of the church : and hence it was, that in
the year 1339, the university of Paris, by a public
edict, solemnly condemned and prohibited the philoso¬
phy oi Occam, which was that of the Nominalists.
The consequence was, that the Nominalists flourished
more than ever. In the 15th century, the controversy
was continued with more vigour and animosity than
before; and the disputants were not content with
using merely the force of eloquence, but had frequent¬
ly recourse to more hostile and dangerous weapons j
and battles were the consequence of a philosophical que¬
stion, which neither side understood. In most places,
however, the Realists maintained a manifest superiori¬
ty over the Nominalists. While the famous Gerson
and the most eminent of his disciples were living, the
Nominalists were in high esteem and credit in the
university of Paris. But upon the death of these
patrons, the face of things was much changed to their
disadvantage. In the year 1473, E°uis XI. by the
instigation of his confessor, the bishop of Avranches,
issued out a severe edict against the doctrines of the
Nominalists, and ordered all their writings to be seiz¬
ed and secured, that they might not be read by the
people but the same monarch mitigated this edict the
year following, and permitted some of the books of
that sect to be delivered from their confinement. In
the year 1481, he not only granted a full liberty to the
Nominalists and their writings, but also restored that
philosophical sect to its former authority and lustre in
the university.
The Nominalists were the founders of the university
of Leipsic : and there are many yet abroad who pique
themselves on being Nominals.
The Nominals, with the Stoics, admit the formal
conceptions or ideas of things, as the subject and foun¬
dation of universality : but to this they add names,
which represent and signify, after the same univocal
manner, and without any distinction, a great variety
of single things alike in genus and species.
Whence it is that they are called Nominals; as pre¬
tending, that to become learned, it is not enough to
have just ideas of things, but it is likewise required to
know the proper names of the genera and species of
things, and to be able to express them clearly and pre¬
cisely, without confusion or ambiguity.
NOMINATIVE, in Grammar, the first case of
NOUNS which are declinable.
The simple position, or laying down of a noun, or
F name,
Nomina¬
tive
NON [42
name, is called the nominative case; yet it is not so pro¬
perly a case, as the matter or ground whence the other
11 cases are to be formed, by the several changes and in-
Nonagon., g',ven to this first termination. Its chief use is
to be placed in discourse before all verbs, as the subject
of the proposition or affirmation.
NONA, a city of Dalmatia, remarkable at present
only for its ruins, which might furnish abundant mate¬
rials to gratify tiie curiosity of antiquaries j but indeed
they are so buried by repeated devastations, to which
that unhappy city has been exposed, that rarely any\es-
tige of them appears above ground. “ I went thither
(says Fortis in his Travels), in hopes of finding sorne-
thing worthy of notice, but was disappointed. Nothing
is to be seen that indicates the grandeur of the Homan
times •, neither are there any remains of barbarous mag¬
nificence, to put one in mind ot the ages in which the
kings of the Croat Slavi had their residence there. It
lies on a small island, surrounded by a harbour, which
in former times was capable of receiving large ships j
but is now become a fetid pool, by means of a little
muddy river that falls into it, after a course of about
six miles through the rich abandoned fields of that di¬
strict. The ancient inhabitants turned this water into
another channel, and made it run through the valley of
Drasnich into the sea ; and the remains of the bank
raised by them for that purpose are still to be seen.
Notwithstanding, however, the depopulation of this di¬
strict, and the dreary situation of Nona in particular,
the new inhabitants have not lost courage ; and animat¬
ed by the privileges granted to them by the most serene
republic, are endeavouring to bring the population and
agriculture once more into a flourishing state. Fioper
drains for the water would not only render that rich
territory habitable, but moreover very fertile ; and the
brackish marsh that surrounds the walls of Nona is well
calculated to supply a considerable quantity of fish, espe-
oially eels. The government generously granted the
investiture to private persons, who already draw no in¬
considerable advantage from the fishing j and did they
but adopt better methods, they might every year salt
many thousands of eels, which would greatly answ'er
our internal commerce, and save at least a part of the
money that goes out of the country for foreign salt fish.
To the left of the city of Nona, the walls of some an¬
cient ruinous buildings appear j which probably in an¬
cient times were situated on the main land, though now
surrounded by water. The sea forms a narrow channel
in this place, which is easily fordable, and, at low wa¬
ter, the smallest boat can scarcely pass.”
NONAGE, in Law, generally signifies all the time
a person continues under the age of 21 j but in a spe¬
cial sense, it is all the time that a person is under the
age of 14.
NONAGESIMAL, or Noxagesimal Degree, call¬
ed also the Mid Heaven, is the highest point, or 90th
degree of the ecliptic, reckoned from its intersection
with the horizon at any time ; and its altitude is
equal to the angle which the ecliptic makes with the
horizon at their intersection, or equal to the distance of
the zenith from the pole of the ecliptic. It is much
used in the calculation of solar eclipses..
NONAGON, a figure having nine sides and angles.
In a regular nonagon, or that whose angles and sides
]
N O
equal, if each side be
N
Nonagon
are all equal, if each side be 1, its area will be
6.1818242=:^ of the tangent of 70°, to the radius 1.
NON, Cape, a promontory on the west coast of A-
frica, opposite to the Canary islands. W. Long. 12. O.
N. Lat. 44. 28. , r • •
NONCONFORMISTS, those who refuse to join
the established worship.
Nonconformists, in England, are of two sorts, t irst,
Such as absent themselves from divine worship in the
established church through total irreligion, and attend
the service of no other persuasion. These, by tne sta¬
tute 1 Eliz. c. 2. 23 Eliz. c. I. and 3 Jac. I. c. 4. for¬
feit one shilling to the poor every Lord’s day they so
absent themselves, and 20I. to the king if they continue
such default for a month together. And it they keep
any inmate thus irreligiously disposed in their houses,
they forfeit 10I. per month.
The second species of nonconformists arc those who
offend through a mistaken or perverse zeal.. Such
were esteemed, by the English laws, enacted since the
time of the Reformation, to be Papists and Protestant
dissenters : both of which were supposed to be equally
schismatics, in not communicating with the national
church ; with this difference, that the Papists divided
from it upon mkterial, though erroneous, reasons ; but
many of the dissenters upon matters of indifference, or,
in other words, for no reason at all. “ Act certainly £iacfcst,
(says Sir William Blackstone) our ancestors were mis- Comment.
taken in their plans of compulsion and intolerance. Ti e
sin of schism, as such, is by no means the object of tem¬
poral coercion and punishment. If, through weakness
of intellect, through misdirected piety, through per¬
verseness and acerbity of temper, or (which is often the
case) through a prospect of secular advantage in herding
with a party, men quarrel with the ecclesiastical esta"
blishment, the civil magistrate has nothing to do with
it; unless their tenets and practice are such as threaten
ruin or disturbance to the state. He is. bound indeed
to protect the established church : and if this can be
better effected by admitting none but its genuine mem¬
bers to offices of trust and emolument, he is certainly
at liberty so to do •, the disposal of offices being matter
of favour and discretion. But this point being once
secured, all persecution for diversity of opinions, how¬
ever ridiculous or absurd they may be, is contrary to
every principle of sound policy and civil freedom. I he
names and subordination of the clergy, the posture ot
devotion, the materials and colour of the minister s
garment, the joining in a known or unknown form of
prayer, and other matters of the same kind, must be leit
to the option of every man’s private judgment.
“ With regard therefore to Protestant dissenters, al¬
though the experience of their turbulent disposition in
former times occasioned several disabilities and restric¬
tions (which I shall not undertake to justify) to be laid
upon them by abundance of statutes 3 yet at length the
legislature, with a true spirit of magnanimity, extended
that indulgence to these sectaries, which they them¬
selves, when in power, had held to be countenancing
schism, and denied to the church of England. Ihe
penalties are conditionally suspended by the statute
1 W. & M. st. 1. c. 18. “ for exempting their majesties-
Protestant subjects, dissenting from the church of Eng¬
land, from the penalties of certain laws,” commonly
5 called
NON L 43 ] NON
!Nohcoh- called the toleration act ; which declares, that neither
fonnists. the laws above mentioned, nor the statutes i Eliz. c. 2.
§ I4- 3 Jac* c- 4* an^ 5- nor any otlier penal laws
Comment ma^e against Popish recusants (except the test acts),
shall extend to any dissenters, other than Papists and
such as deny the Trinity : provided, I. That they take
the oaths of allegiance and supremacy, (or make a simi¬
lar affirmation, being Quakers), and subscribe the de¬
claration against Popery. 2. That they repair to some
congregation certified to and registered in the court of
the bishop or archdeacon, or at the county sessions.
3. That the doors of such meeting-house shall be unlock¬
ed, unbarred, and unbolted ; in default of which, the
persons meeting there are still liable to all the penalties
of the former acts. Dissenting teachers, in order to be
exempted from the penalties of the statutes 13 and
14 Car. II. c. 4. 17 Car. II. c. 2. and 22 Car. II. c. 1.
are also to subscribe the articles of religion mentioned in
the statute 13 Eliz. c. 12. (viz. those which only con¬
cern the confession of the true Christain faith, and the
doctrine of the sacraments), with an express exception
of those relating to the government and powers of the
church, and to infant baptism. And by stat. 10 Ann.
c. 2. this toleration is ratified and confirmed j and it is
declared, that the said act shall at all times be inviola¬
bly observed for the exempting such Protestant dissent¬
ers as are thereby intended from the pains and penalties
therein mentioned. Thus, though the offence of non¬
conformity is by no means universally abrogated, it is
suspended, and ceases to exist with regard to these Pro¬
testant dissenters, during their compliance with the con¬
ditions imposed by the act of toleration : and, under
these conditions, all persons, who will approve them¬
selves no Papists or oppugners of the Trinity, are left
at full liberty to act as their consciences shall direct
them in the matter of religious worship. And if any
person shall wilfully, maliciously, or contemptuously di¬
sturb any congregation, assembled in any church or per¬
mitted meeting-house, or shall misuse any preacher or
teacher there, he shall (by virtue of the same statute)
be bound over to the sessions of the peace, and for¬
feit 20I. But by statute 5 Geo. I. c. 4. no mayor or
principal magistrate must appear at any dissenting meet¬
ing with the ensigns of his office, on pain of disability
to hold that or any other office: the legislature judging
it a matter of propriety, that a mode of worship, set up
in opposition to the nation, when allowed to be exer¬
cised in peace, should be exercised also with decency,
gratitude, and humility. Neither doth the act of tole¬
ration extend to enervate those clauses of the statutes
13 & 14 Car. II. c. 4. and 17 Car. II. c. 2. which pro¬
hibit (upon pain of fine and imprisonment) all persons
from teaching school, unless they be licensed by the
ordinary, and subscribe a declaration of conformity to
the liturgy of the church, and reverently frequent di¬
vine service established by the laws of this kingdom.
“ As to Papists what has been said of the Protestant
dissenters would hold equally strong for a general tole¬
ration of them j provided their separation was founded
only upon difference of opinion in religion, and their
principles did not also extend to a subversion of the
civil government. If once they could be brought to
renounce the supremacy of the Pope, they might
quietly enjoy their seven sacraments •, their purgatory
and auricular confession j their worship of relicks and
images 5 nay, even their transubstantiation. But while Noncon-
they acknowledge a foreign power, superior to the so- iorniists.
vereignty of the kingdom, they cannot complain, if the
laws of that kingdom will not treat them upon the foot¬
ing of good subjects.
“ The following are the laws that have been enacted
against the Papists ; who may be divided into three
classes, persons professing Popery, Popish recusants
convict, and Popish priests. 1. Persons professing the
Popish religion, besides the former penalties for not fre¬
quenting their parish church, are disabled from taking
any lands either by descent or purchase, after l8 years
of age, until they renounce their errors ; they must at
the age of 21 register their estates before acquired, and
all future conveyances and wills relating to them ; they
are incapable of presenting to any advowson, or grant¬
ing to any other person any avoidance of the same ;
they may not keep or teach any school, under pain of
perpetual imprisonment} and, if they willingly say or
hear mass, they forfeit the one 200, the other 100
merks, and each shall suffer a year's imprisonment. Thus
much for persons, who, from the misfortune of family
prejudices, or otherwise, have conceived an unhappy at¬
tachment to the Romish church from they infancy, and
publicly profess its errors. But if any evil industry is
used to rivet these errors upon them; if any person
sends another abi’oad to be educated in the Popish re¬
ligion, or to reside in any religious house abroad for
that purpose, or contributes to their maintenance when
thei’e j both the sender, the sent, and the contributor,
are disabled to sue in law or equity, to be executor or
administrator to any person, to take any legacy or deed
of gift, and to bear any office in the realm ; and shall
forfeit all their goods and chattels, and likewise all their
real estate for life. And where these errors are also ag¬
gravated by apostasy or perversion ; where a person is
reconciled to the see of Rome, or procures others to be
reconciled, the olTence amounts to high treason. 2. Po¬
pish recusants, convicted in a court of law of not at¬
tending the service of the church of England, are sub¬
ject to the following disabilities, penalties, and for-
feitures, over and above those before mentioned. They
ai’e considei’ed as persons excommunicated 5 they can
hold no office or employment : they must not keep arms
in their houses, but the same may be seized by the jus¬
tices of the peace } they may not come within 10 miles
of London, on pain of tool, j they can bring no ac¬
tion at law or suit in equity j they ai'e not permitted
to tx-avel above five miles fi-om home, unless by li¬
cense, upon pain of foideiting all their goods ; and
they may not come to court, under pain of look No
marriage or burial of such i^ecusant, or baptism of his
child, shall be had otherwise than by the ministei*s of
the church of England, under other severe penalties.
A married woman, when recusant, shall forfeit two-
thirds of her dower or jointure, may not be executrix
or administratrix to her husband, or have any part of
his goods j and during the coverture may be kept in
prison, unless her husband redeems her, at the rate of
10I. a month, or the third part of all his lands. And
lastly, as a feme-covert recusant may be imprisoned, so
all others must, within three months after conviction,
either submit and renounce their errors, or if requi¬
red so to do by four justices, must abjure and renounce
the realm: and if they do not depart, or if they re-
F 2 turn
NON F 44 1 NON
Nonqen- turn without the king’s licence, they shall be guilty of
iormists. felony, and suffer death as felons, without benefit ot
—v-   clergy. There is also an inferior species of recusancy,
Jllacktf. (■ refUsing to make the declaration against Popery en-
Comment. statute 30 Car. II. st. 2. when tendered by
the proper magistrate) ; which, if the party resides
within ten miles of London, makes him an absolute
recusant convict 5 Or, if at a greater distance, suspends
him from having any seat in parliament, keeping arms
in bis house, or any horse above the value of 5I. 3. Po¬
pish priests are still in a more dangerous condition. By-
statute 11 & 12 W. III. c. 4. Popish priests, or bi¬
shops, celebrating mass or exercising any part of their
functions in England, except in the houses of ambas¬
sadors, are liable to perpetual imprisonment. And by
the statute 27 Eliz. c. 2. any Popish priest, born in
the dominions of the crown of England, who shall
come over hither from beyond sea (unless driven by
stress of weather and tarrying only a reasonable time),
or shall be in England three days without conforming
and taking the oaths, is guilty of high treason: and all
persons harbouring him are guilty of felony without the
henefit of clergy.
“ This is a short summary of the laws against the
Papists ; of which the president Montesquieu observes,
that they are so rigorous, though not professedly of
the sanguinary kind, that they do all the hurt that
can possibly be done in cold blood. But in answer to
this, it may be observed (what foreigners who only
judge from our statute book are not fully apprized of )*,
that these laws are seldom exerted to their utmost ri¬
gour : and indeed, if they were, it would be very dif¬
ficult to excuse them. For they are rather to be ac¬
counted for from their history, and the urgency ot
the times which produced them, than to be approved
(upon a cool review) as a standing system of law. The
restless machinations of the Jesuits during the reign of
Elizabeth, the turbulence and uneasiness of the Pa¬
pists under the new religious establishment, and the
boldness of their hopes and wishes for the succession of
the queen of Scots, obliged the parliament to coun¬
teract so dangerous a spirit by laws of a great, and
then perhaps necessary, severity. The powder-treason,
in the succeeding reign, struck a panic into James I.
which operated in different ways: it occasioned the
enacting of new law-s against the Papists j but deter¬
red him from putting them in execution. The in¬
trigues of Queen Henrietta in the reign of Charles I.
the prospect of a Popish successor in that of Charles II.
the assassination-plot in the reign of King William, and
the avowed claim of a Popish pretender to the crown
in subsequent reigns, will account for the extension ot
these penalties at those several periods of our history.”
But now that all just fears of a pretender may be said
to have vanished, and the power and influence of the
* See their pope has become feeble, ridiculous, and despicable,
loyal Ad- not only in Britain, but in almost every kingdom of
dress to the jrur0pe ; and as in fact the British Catholics solemnly
throne, disclaim the dangerous principles ascribed to them * ;
^78 as in-the British legislature, giving way to that liberality of
serted in sentiment becoming Protestants, have lately repealed
the Maga- ^]ie niost rigorous of the above edicts, viz. I he pu-
zincs or An- njs]iment of Popish priests or Jesuits who should be
teTfofthat found to teach or officiate in the services of that church;
year * which acts were felony in foreigners, and high treason
in the natives of this kingdom:—The forfeitures of Noncoa-
Popish heirs, who had received their education abroad, formists.
and whose estates went to the next Protestant heir :— v
The power given to the son, or other relation, being
a Protestant, to take possession of the father’s or other
relation’s estate, during the life of the real proprietor :
—And the debarring Papists from the power of ac¬
quiring any legal property by purchase.—In propo¬
sing the repeal of these penalties, it was observed, 1 hat,
besides that some of them had now ceased to be neces¬
sary, others were at all times a disgrace to humanity.
The imprisonment of a Popish priest for life, only for
officiating in the services of his religion, was horrible
in its nature: And although the mildness of govern¬
ment had hitherto softened the rigour of the law in the
practice, it was to be remembered that the Koman Ca¬
tholic priests constantly lay at the mercy of the basest
and most abandoned of mankind—of common informers;
for on the evidence of any of these wretches, the ma¬
gisterial and judicial powers were of necessity bound to
enforce all the shameful penalties of the act. Others ot
these penalties held out the most powerful temptations
for the commission of acts of depravity, at the very
thought of which our nature recoils with horror : They
seemed calculated to loosen all the bands of society ; to
dissolve all civil, moral, and religious obligations and
duties, to poison the sources of domestic felicity, and
to annihilate every principle of honour. The encou¬
ragement given to children to lay their hands upon the
estates of their parents, and the restriction which de¬
bars any man from the honest acquisition of property,
need only to be mentioned to excite indignation in an
enlightened age.
In order the better to secure the English established
church against perils from nonconformists of all deno¬
minations, Infidels, Turks, Jews, Heretics, Papists, and
Sectaries, there are, however, two bulwarks erected;
called the corporation and test acts: By the former ot
which, no person can be legally elected to any office
relating to the government of any city or corporation,
unless, within a twelvemonth before, he has received
the sacrament of the Lord’s supper according to the
rites of the church of England ; and he is also en¬
joined to take the oaths of allegiance and supremacy
at the same time that he takes the oath of office : or,
in default of either of these requisites, such election
shall be void. The other, called the test act, directs
all officers civil and military to take the oaths and
make the declaration against transubstantiation, in any
of the king’s courts at Westminster, or at the quarter
sessions, within six calendar months after their admis¬
sion ; and also within the same time to receive the sa¬
crament of the Lord’s supper, according to the usage
of the church of England, in some public church im¬
mediately after divine service and sermon, and to deli¬
ver into court a certificate thereof signed by the mi¬
nister and church warden, and also to prove the same
by two credible witnesses; upon forfeiture of 500I. and
disability to hold the said office. And of much the
same nature with these is the statute 7 Jnc. I. c. 2.
which permits no persons to be naturalized or restored
in blood, but such as undergo a like test; which test
having been removed in 1753, in favour of the Jews,
Avas the next session of parliament restored again with
some precipitation.
No x-
NON [ 45 J N Q O
SToa-na- NoN-&afurols, in Medicine, so called, because by their
turals abuse they become the causes of diseases.
11. Physicians have divided the non-naturals into six
^onius‘ , classes, viz. the air, meats and drinks, sleep and watch¬
ing, motion and rest, the passions of the mind, the re¬
tentions and excretions. See Medicine, passim.
Non-Obstante (notwithstanding) a clause frequent
n statutes and letters patent, importing a license from
the king to do a thing, which at common law might be
lawfully done, but being restrained by act of parlia¬
ment cannot be done without such license.
NoN-Pros. See Nolle Prosequi.
NoN-Suit, signifies the dropping of a suit or action,
or a renouncing thereof by the plaintiff or defendant ;
Vjdiich happens most commonly upon the discovery of
some error in the plaintiff’s proceedings w hen the cause
is so far proceeded in, that the jury is ready at the bar
to deliver in their verdict.
NONES, (non^e), in the Roman kalendar, the fifth
day of the months January, February, April, June, Au¬
gust, September, November, and December 5 and the
seventh of March, May, July, and October. March,
May, July, and October, had six days in their nones ;
because these alone, in the ancient constitution of the
year by Numa, had 31 days a-piece, the rest having
only 29, and February 30 : but when Ctesar reformed
the year, and made other months contain 31 days, he
did not allot them six days of nones.
NONJURORS, those who refused to take the oaths
to government, and who were in consequence under
certain incapacities, and liable to certain severe penal¬
ties. It can scarcely be said that there are any non¬
jurors now in the kingdom ; and it is well known that
all penalties have been removed both from Papists and
Protestants, formerly of that denomination, as well in
Scotland as in England. The members of the Epis¬
copal church of Scotland have long been denominated
Nonjurors j but perhaps they are now called so impro¬
perly, as the ground of their difference from the esta¬
blishment is more on account of ecclesiastical than poli¬
tical principles.
NONIUS, Peter, in Spanish Nunez, a learned
Portuguese, and one of the ablest mathematicians of the
16th century, was born at Alcacer. He was preceptor
to Don Henry, King Emmanuel’s son, and taught ma¬
thematics in the university of Coimbra. He published
the following works, by which be gained great reputa¬
tion : 1. Z)e arte Navigandi. 2. Annotationes in thco-
rias planet arum Purbachii; which are greatly esteem¬
ed. 3. A treatise De Crepusculis. 4. A treatise on
Algebra. It is observed in Furetiere’s dictionary,
that Peter Nonius in 1530, first invented the angles of
45 degrees made in every meridian, and that he called
them rhumbs in his language, and calculated them by
spherical triangles. Nonius died in 1577, aged 80.
Nonius, the name which was not many years ago
given to the common device for subdividing the arcs of
quadrants and other astronomical instruments, from
the persuasion that it wras invented by Nonius or Nu¬
nez, of whom some account has been given in the pre¬
ceding article. The generality of astronomers of the
present age, transferring the honour of the invention
from Nunez to Peter Vernier, a native of Franche
Comte, have called this method of division by his
name. (See Vernier). Mr Adams, however, in his
Geometrical and Geographical Essays, has lately shown N0„iu3
that Clevius the Jesuit may dispute the invention with ||
them both. The truth seems to be, that Nunez start- Nootka
ed the idea, C levius improved it, and Vernier carried
it to its present state of perfection. The method of Nu- y
nez, described in his treatise Dc Crepusculis, printed at
Lisbon 1542, consists in describing within the same
quadrant 45 concentric circles, dividing the outermost
into 90 equal parts, the next within into 89, the
next into 88, &.c. till the innermost was divided into
46 only. On a quadrant thus divided the plumb line
or index must cross one or other of the circles very
near a point of division 5 whence, by computation, the
degrees and minutes of the arch might be easily ascer¬
tained. J his method is also described by Nunez in
his treatise £)e arte atque ratione Navigandi, where he
would fain persuade himself, that it was not unknown
to Ptolemy. But as the degrees are thus divided very
unequally, and as it is very difficult to attain exactness
in the division, especially when the numbers into which
the arches are to be divided are incomposite (of which
there are no less than nine), the method of diagonals,
first published by Thomas Digges, Esq. in a treatise
entitled dice seu scaler mathcmaticce, printed at Lon¬
don in 1573, and said to be invented by one Richard
Chenseler, was substituted in its room. Nonius’s me¬
thod was, however, improved at different times and by
different persons j and it must be acknowledged, that if
Vernier saw either the original or any of the improve¬
ments (and there can be little doubt of his having seen
them all), his merit is only that of having applied to an
useful practical purpose the speculative invention of
another person.
NONNUS, a Greek poet of the 5th century, and
native of Panopilis in Egypt, was the author of an he¬
roic poem in 48 books, entitled Dionysiacorum, and a
paraphrase in verse of St John’s Gospel, which may
serve as a commentary upon it.
NONUPLA, in the Italian music, denotes a quick
time, peculiar to jigs. This species of time is other¬
wise called the measure of nine times, which requires
two falls of the hand, and one rise. There are three sorts
of nonupla. 1. Nonupla di semi minime, or dupla sesqui-
quarta, thus marked f, where nine crotchets are to be
m the bar, of which four make a semibreve in com¬
mon time, i. e. in the down stroke six, and but three
up : it is usually beat adagio. 2. Nonupla di crome, or
sesqui ottava, marked thus wherein nine quavers
make a bar instead of eight in common time, i. e.
six down and three up: it is beat presto. 3. No¬
nupla di semicrome or super setti partiente nona, thus
distinguished T^-, in which nine semiquavers are contain¬
ed in a bar, whereof sixteen are required in common
time, six down, and three up : it is ordinarily beat pre¬
stissimo. Besides these, there are two other species of
nonupla, for which see Triple.
NOOTKA sound, or, as it wTas called by Captain
Cook, King George's Sound, lies in N. Lat. 49. 33.
W. Long. 127. 12. It is an entrance or strait to a
vast inland sea on the west coast of North America,
and is said to resemble the Baltic or Mediterranean in
Europe. Upon the sea-coast the land is tolerably high
and level 5 but within the sound it rises into steep lulls,
which have an uniform appearance. The trees of which
the woods are composed, are the Canadian pine, white
cypress,
N O O
[ 46 j
N O O
Noolka
Sound.
cypress, and two or three other sorts of pine. In ge¬
neral, the trees grow here with great vigour, and aie
1 of a large si*e.' About the rocks and borders of the
woods were seen some strawberry plants, and raspbeiiy,
currant, and gooseberry bushes, all in a flourishing
state. The principal animals seen here were racoons,
martens, and squirrels. Birds are far from bt'ing
numerous, and those that are to be seen are remarkably
shy, owino- perhaps to their being continually harassed
by the natives, either to eat them, or to become possessed
of their feathers to be worn as ornaments. The que-
brantahuessos, shags, and gulls, were seen off the coast *,
and the two last were also frequent m the sound.
Though the variety of fish is not very great, yet they
are in greater quantities than birds. The principal
sorts are the common herring, a silver coloured bream,
and another of a brown colour. Captain Cook and
Mr King, who visited this place, consider it as an
excellent° shelter for ships t and in the account of A
Voyage to the Pacific Ocean, they give some directions
for sailing into it. These and other matters ol that kind
we shall not trouble our readers with •, and perhaps the
generality of them will be better pleased with the fol¬
lowing extract from Meares’s Voyages to the North-
West Coast of America.
“ The people of the Nootka nation are, m general,
robust and well-proportioned :—their faces are large
and full, their cheeks high- and prominent, with small
black eves : their noses are broad and flat, their lips
thick, and they have generally very fine teeth, and Oi
the most brilliant whiteness. _ P tvt 1
“ The manner in which the children oflNootka are
treated, when young, is not more extraordinary from
its strange, and, as it should appear, total inutility, than
from its agreement with the customs of the Chinese
and Tartars, to whom this practice gives these people
a considerable resemblance. The head of the infant
is bound by the mother with a kind of fillet of several
folds, as low down as the eyes, in order to give it a
certain form, which, at this tender age, it is capable
of receiving. It might he supposed, that such a tight
drawn ligature must cause considerable pain to the
child •, hut we never observed that any of the infants,
in such a state of preparation for sugar-loaf heads, suf¬
fered any visible pain or inconvenience.
“ Though the custom of compressing the head in
this manner gives them an unpleasant appearance, by
drawing up "the eyebrows, and sometimes producing
the disagreeable effect of squinting, as well as of flatten¬
ing the nose and distending the nostrils, they aie by
no means an ill-looking race of people. They have
also the custom, which is known to prevail in so many
‘ Indian nations, of plucking out the beard by the roots,
on its first appearance j and, as it continues to sprout,
to keep it down by the same practice. It is one of
the domestic employments assigned to their wives, to
watch this appearance of manhood, and to eradicate
the hairs as they come forth 5 which they do in a very
dexterous manner with their fingers, and without giving
the least pain in the operation.—Soon of them, however,
though we saw but very few of this disposition, when
they advance in years and become infirm, suffer their
beards to grow without interruption. But, notwith¬
standing they have so great an aversion to the hair of
^ their chin, that of the head is an object of their atten¬
tive vanity : it 5s strong, black, and glossy ; grows to a
considerable length •, and is either tied in a kind of knot ^
on the top of their heads, or suffered to hang down
their hacks in flowing negligence.
“ In their exterior form they have not the symme¬
try or elegance which is found in many other Indian
nations.—Their limbs, though stout and athletic, are
crooked and ill-shaped 5 their skin, when cleansed of
filth and ochre, is white j and we have seen some of the
women, when in a state of cleanliness (which, however,
was by no means a common sight, and obtained with
difficulty), who not only possessed the fair complexion
of Europe, but features that would have attracted no¬
tice for their delicacy and beauty, in those parts of
the world where the qualities of the human form are
best understood. But these examples of beauty are
by no means numerous among the women of Nootka,
who are calculated rather to disgust than to charm an
European beholder. Their hair, like that ol the men,
is black ; their eyes are of the same colour ; and, in
exterior appearance, they are not to be immediately
distinguished from the men. In their characters they
are reserved and chaste j and examples of loose and
immodest conduct were very rare among them. I here
were women in St George’s Sound, whom no offers
could tempt to meretricious submissions.”
All reports concerning Nootka Sound agree in cha¬
racterizing the inhabitants as “ a very inoffensive race
of people.”—Inoffensive, however, as they are, a cu¬
stom of a very unnatural, and we should imagine cruel,
kind prevails among them •, for, together with many
other articles which they exposed to sale to Cap¬
tain Cook’s ships, they brought human skulls and
hands (part of the flesh still remaining on them),
which they acknowledged they had been feeding on j
and some of them, we are told, had evident marks ai
the fire. , , , .,
From lienee it is too apparent, that the horrid prac¬
tice of devouring their enemies exists here as well as at
New Zealand and other South sea islands : and hence,
too, appears what men of even the best natural disposi¬
tions will be, if left entirely to the freedom of their own
will, without law to controul or religion to instruct
them. As there are but two villages of the Sound in¬
habited, the number of people cannot be many j per¬
haps they are about 2000 in all. Our limits prevent
us from'being so minute as we could wish to be, re¬
specting the form of their houses and their manner of
building them ; of their furniture, decorations, and
other things of that kind : we can therefore only refer
those who wish for further information on this subject
to Cook, and other voyagers and travellers, &c.
, C i.E „ ,0 tf»ni£»Ti v tiQlnn
Nootka,
Sound.
The^mployment oY the men is chiefly fishing, &c.
whilst the women manufacture their garments. I hen-
ingenuity in this and in the mechanic arts is far from
being inconsiderable; and in the imitative arts then-
skill is very great. On these subjects, however, we
cannot enlarge : we have in general made it our bu¬
siness, and it certainly is our duty, to dwell, where it
can he done, on the manners or religion of the inha¬
bitants of the several places which come under our
notice : and they who know the utility of this in deve¬
loping the philosophy of the human mind, the most
important of all sciences, will not blame our intentions,
even if they should not approve of the execution.^ in
N O O [
Nootka Cook’s Voyages before referred to, we find the follow-
Sound ing observations on the religion and language of the in-
—v habitants of Nootka Sound.
“ Little knowledge we can be supposed to have ac¬
quired of the political and religious institutions esta¬
blished among these people. We discovered, however,
that there were such men as chiefs, distinguished by
the title of Acwcek, to whom the others are, in some
degree, subordinate. But the authority of each of
these great men seems to extend no farther than to
his own family, who acknowledge him as their head.
As they were not all elderly men, it is possible this title
may be hereditary.
“ Nothing that we saw could give us any insight
into their notions of religion, except the figures alrea¬
dy mentioned, called Klumma. These, perhaps, were
idols; but as the word aciveek was frequently men¬
tioned when they spoke of them, wre may suppose
them to be the images of some of their ancestors,
whose memories they venerate. This, however, is all
conjecture ; for we could receive no information con¬
cerning them ; knowing little more of their language
than to enable us to ask the names of things, and
being incapable of holding any conversation with
the natives relative to their traditions or their insti¬
tutions.
“ Their language is neither harsh nor disagreeable,
farther than proceeds from their pronouncing the k
and h with less softness than we do. As to the com¬
position of their language, we are enabled to say but
little. It may, however, be inferred from their slow
and distinct method of speaking, that it has few pre¬
positions or conjunctions, and is destitute of even a
single interjection to express surprise or admiration.
The affinity it may bear to other languages, we have
not been able sufficiently to trace, not having proper
specimens to compare it with ; but from the few Mexi¬
can words we have procured, there is an obvious agree¬
ment throughout the language, in the frequent termi¬
nations of the words in /, tl or ss.
“ The word wakash was frequently in the mouths
of the people of Nootka. It seemed to express appro¬
bation, applause, and friendship. Whenever they ap¬
peared to be pleased or satisfied at any sight or oc¬
currence, they would call out wakash! wakash !—It is
worthy of remark, that as these people do essentially
differ from the natives of the islands in the Pacific
ocean, in their persons, customs, and language, we can¬
not suppose their respective progenitors to have belong¬
ed to the same tribe, when they emigrated into those
places where we now find their descendants.”
W e cannot finish this article without taking notice
of a circumstance, which at the time made a great noise
in Europe, and which it is probable will find a place
in the future histories of the contending countries.
A small association of British merchants resident
in the East Indies had, early in the year 1786, form¬
ed the project of opening a trade to this part of the
world, foi the purpose of supplying the Chinese mar¬
ket with furs. The principal point towards which
these expeditions were directed, was Port Nootka, or
King George’s Sound ; and the adventurers, being in
some degree satisfied with their traffic, took measures,
in the year 1788, to seciwe to themselves a permanent
settlement; at the same time that the shipping em¬
ployed in this expedition was generally two, and never
47 ] NOR
exceeded the amount of four, small vessels. The Spa- Nootka
n bards conceived some jealousy of the intrusion of the Sound
English into a part of the world which they had long J] .
been desirous to regard as their exclusive property 5 - 01 ^lclrn*
and accordingly a Spanish frigate of 26 guns was de¬
spatched from the province of Mexico, for the purpose
of putting an end to this commerce. The Spanish
frigate arrived in May 1789, and captured two Eng¬
lish vessels in the following July, at the same time tak¬
ing possession of the little settlement which had been
formed upon the coast. Such, in short, is the circum¬
stance which was likely to involve us in an expen¬
sive war. Happily, however, for both countries, and
perhaps for Europe, the matter was at length, after
great altercation, amicably settled ; and it must still be
so fresh in the memories of our readers,, that we trust
they will excuse us from enlarging further upon it—
the whole article having extended perhaps to more than
a sufficient length.
NOPAL, Raquette, or Indian Jig; plants so
named by the Indians, on which the cochineal insect
breeds in Mexico. See Cochineal, Dyeing Index.
NOPALXOCHQUETZALLI, or Nopalcoch-
quetzallt, the prickly pear of Mexico, which is com¬
mon over all the West Indies. See Cactus, Botany
Index.
NOPH. See Memphis.
NORBURY, a town of Staffordshire, in England, on
the south-west side of Eccleshall. Here is a surprising
echo, which, taken 440 yards north-east from the ma¬
nor house, near a little bank under a wood side, repeats
in a still day 10 or 11 syllables very distinctly, or 12
or 13, if spoke very quick. It is remarked that the
banks of the Black Meer, in this parish, grow forward
every year over the surface of the water at the rate of
three or four yards every seven years.
NORDEN, Frederic Lewis, an ingenious travel¬
ler and naval officer in the Danish service, was born
at Gluckstadt in Holstein in the year 1708. He was
well skilled in mathematics, ship-building, and espe¬
cially in architecture ; and in 1732 obtained a pension
to enable him to travel for the purpose of studying
the construction of ships, particularly the galleys and
other rowing vessels used in the Mediterranean. He
spent near three years in Italy: and Christian VI. being
desirous of obtaining a circumstantial account of Egypt,
Mr Norden wdiile at Florence received an order to ex¬
tend his travels to that country. How he acquitted
himself in this commission, appears from his Travels
into Egypt and Nubia, printed at Copenhagen in folio,
1756; and which were soon after translated into English
by Dr Peter Templeman. In the w'ar between Eng¬
land and Spain, Mr Norden, then a captain in the Da¬
nish navy, attended Count Ulric Adolphus, a sea cap¬
tain, to England ; and they went out volunteers under
Sir John Norris, and afterwards under Sir Chaloner
Ogle. During his stay in London, Mr Norden was
made a fellow of the Royal Scoiety, and gave the public
drawings of some ruins and colossal statues at Thebes
in Egypt, with an account of the same in a letter to
the Royal Society, 1741. His health at this time was
declining ; and taking a tour to France, he died at
Paris in 1742.
NORDHEIM, a town in Germany, in the Hano¬
ver quarter. Of the four larger towns of this princi¬
pality, it is the third in order. It is situated on the
Ruhme^
NOR l 48 ]
Kordhcim Huhme, which runs into the Leine. It contains 500
houses, ami, besides a secularized Lutheran abbey, has
     k Ki-<cm'rw> r'liant^Ulp iouutliitions* <1HU cilSO
N O It
Norfolk
nouses, ami, ucsiuon <1. 1 1,
one parish church, some charitable foundations, ami also
some manufactures. E. Long. 9. 58. N. Lat. 51. 40.
NORES, Jason DE, a scholar, poet, amt philoso¬
pher, was born at Nicosia in Cyprus. He lost his for¬
tune when the Turks made themselves masters of that
island in 1570. He retired to Padua; where he ac¬
quired great reputation by teaching moral philosophy.
His character had that cast of severity winch is otten
the consequence of scholastic habits.. He was one 0
those men who discuss every thing without being ca¬
pable of feeling any thing. The Pastor Fido of Gua-
rini made its appearance •, and pastorals became a fa¬
shionable species of reading throughout all Italy. JNo-
res who did not relish works of this kind, attacked
the production of Guarini 5 who entirely confuted him
in a little piece printed at Ferrara m 1588. Nores
made a reply two years after ; and the poet was pre¬
paring an answer still more severe than the former,
when his antagonist died of grief, occasioned by the
■banishment of his only son for having killed a v ene-
tian in a duel. He left behind him a great many woivs,
some in Italian, and others m Latin. The chief 0
his Italian works, are, 1. The Poeticks, Padua, 1588,
4to ; this edition is rare. 2. A Treatise on Republics,
1 c78, 4to ; which he forms on the model of that of
the Venetians, his masters. 3. A Treatise on the
World and its Parts, Venice, I571’ 8v0\ 4- Xntro-
duction to three books of Aristotle’s Rhetoric, Venice,
1 caS, Ato, valuable. 5- A Treatise on what Comedy,
Tragedy, and Epic Poetry, may receive from Moral
Philosophy. His Latin works are 1. Inshtutio m
Philosophiam Ciceronis, Padua, 1576, 8vo. 2. Brevis
et distinct a summa pr acceptor uni de arte discendi,ex libns
Ciceronis collecta, Venice, 1553, 8vo ; a good work.
q De Constitutione partium humarue et civihs ptnlo-
sophia? 4to. 4. Interpretatio in artem poeticam Ho-
ratii &c. In all his works we remark great perspi-
city’ ami accuracy, profound erudition, happy expres¬
sions, an elevated and sometimes forcible style. His
son Peter Nores, successively secretaiy to several car¬
dinals, at once a man of letters and a man of business,
left behind him different manuscripts ; among others,
the life of Paul IV. in Italian.
NORFOLK, a county of England, so called from
its northern situation in respect of Suffolk, is bounded
on the east and north by the German ocean j on the
south by Suffolk, from which it is parted by the
rivers Waveney and the Lesser Ouse -, and on the
west it is separated from Cambridgeshire by the Greater
Ouse, and from a small part of Lincolnshire by the
Washes. According to Templeman, it extends in
length 57 miles, in breadth 35, and 140 in circumfe¬
rence. It contains an area of 1426 square miles, one
city, 32 market towns, 711 villages. In l8tl it con¬
tained 52,807 houses, and 291,999 Inhabitants, of
whom 100,410 were in towns, and 191,589 in the
country. It is divided into 3 1 hundreds, 164 vicarages,
and 660 parishes. r xi *
The air differs in different parts of the county ac¬
cording to the soil, which in some places is marshy,
especially on the sea coast, and there the air is foggy
and unwholesome in others it is clayey and chalky,
poor, lean, and sandy, and there the air is good. Ihe
county is almost all champaign, except in some places,
where rise gentle hills. The marsh lands yield rich
pasture for cattle the clay grounds pease, rye, and
barley and the sandy heaths feed vast flocks of large
sheep, of which some villages are said to keep 4000
or cooo. These heaths abound also in rabbits ol a
silver gray colour. Walsingham is noted for produ¬
cing the best saffron. Great quantities of mackare!
amf herring are caught upon the coasts of tins county,
the former in the spring, and the latter in September j
especially at Yarmouth, where they are cured in a
particular manner, and to great perfection. Wood
and honey are also very plentiful in this county j and
on the coasts jet and ambergrease are sometimes found.
The inhabitants are generally strong and active, sagaci¬
ous and acute. That they are so robust, is the more
to be wondered at, because the common people live
much on puddings, Norfolk dumplings. They are for
the most part in easy circumstances, and were formerly
very quarrelsome and litigious. In consequence of tins
disposition, lawyers swarmed among them to such a oe-
tfree, that a statute was made so early as the reign oi
Henry VI. to restrain their number. The manufactures
of the county, which is exceedingly populous, are chief¬
ly woollen and worsted stuffs and stockings, tor which
they are well supplied with wool from the vast flocks of
sheep bred in it. It gives title of duke to the elder
branch of the family of Howard, lies 111 the diocese
of Norwich, and sends twelve members to parliament,
viz. two knights for the shire, two citizens for Nor¬
wich, and two burgesses for each of the boroughs of
Lynn Regis, Great Yarmouth, fhetford, and Gastle-
'^The county is well watered, and supplied with fish
by the rivers Yare, Thyrn, Waveney, the Greater and
Lesser Ouse, and the Bure, besides rivulets. Hie
Bure abounds in excellent perch, and the Yare has
a fish peculiar to it called the ruffe. Hie latter rises
about the middle of the county and after being joined
by the Waveney and Bure, falls into the sea at Y ar-
niouth. At the equinoxes, especially the autumnal, the
Ouse is subject to great inundations, being forced back
by the sea, that enters it with great fury. See Nor¬
folk, Supplement. .
Norfolk, the most considerable seaport in the state
of Virginia in North America. It is situated on the
east side of Elizabeth river, which flows into the Che¬
sapeake, and has an excellent harbour. It is well built,
with wide paved streets, running in right lines, and
contained in 1817 about 10,000 inhabitants of whom
one third were slaves. W. Long. 76. IO- N • Lat. 3 . 5.
Norfolk Island, a small island of the South sea,
Ivins in 290 12' 30" south latitude, and 168 16 east
longitude. A colony was lately settled on it J and the
following account of it is given in Governor Philips s
Voyage to Botany Bay, &c.
'L Norfolk island is about seven leagues in circum¬
ference ; and if not originally formed, like many other
small islands, by the eruption of volcanic matter trom
the bed of the sea, must doubtless have contained a
volcano. This conclusion is formed irom the vast
Norfolk,
Norfolk
Island.
volcano. j. m» cuuinuoiu . , . .
miantity of pumice stone winch is scattered m all parts
of it, and mixed with the soil. The crater, or at
least some traces of its former existence, will probably
be found at the summit of a small mountain, winch
NOR t 49 ] NOR
Norfolk
Island.
rises near the middle of the island. To this mountain
the commandant has given the name of Mount Pitt.
The island is exceedingly well watered. At or near
Mount Pitt rises a strong and copious stream, which
flowing through a very fine valley, divides itself into
several branches, each of which retains sufficient force
to he used in turning mills ; and in various parts of the
island springs have been discovered.
“ The climate is pure, salubrious, and delightful j
preserved from oppressive heats by constant breezes from
the sea, and of so mild a temperature throughout the
winter, that vegetation continues there without interrup¬
tion, one crop succeeding another. Refreshing showers
from time to time maintain perpetual verdure : not in¬
deed of grass, for none has yet been seen upon the island j
hut of the trees, shrubs, and other vegetables, which in
all parts grow abundantly. On the leaves of these, and
of some kinds in particular, the sheep, hogs, and goats,
not only live, but thrive and fatten very much. To
the salubrity of the air every individual in this little
colony can bear ample testimony, from the uninter¬
rupted state of good health which has been in general
enjoyed.
“ When our settlers landed, there was not a single
acre clear of wrood in the island, and the trees were so
bound together by that kind, of creeping shrub called
supple jack, interwoven in all directions, as to render it
very difficult to penetrate far among them. The
commandant, small as his numbers were at first, by
indefatigable activity, soon caused a space to be cleared
sufficient for the i-equisite accommodations, and for
the production of esculent vegetables of all kinds in
the greatest abundance. When the last accounts ar¬
rived, three acres of barley were in a very thriving
state, and ground was prepared to receive rice and In¬
dian corn. In the wheat there had been a disappoint¬
ment, the grain that was sown having been so much
injured by the weevil as to be unfit for vegetation.
But the people were all at that time in commodious
houses ; and, according to the declarations of Mr King
himself, in his letters to Governor Philip, there was
not a doubt that this colony would be in a situation
to support itself entirely without assistance in less than
four years ; and with very little in the intermediate
time. Even two years would be more than sufficient
for this purpose, could a proper supply of black cattle
be sent.
“ Fish are caught in great plenty, and in the pro¬
per season very fine turtle. The woods are inhabited
by innumerable tribes of birds, many of them very
gay in plumage. The most useful are pigeons, which
are very numerous ; and a bird not unlike the Guinea
fowl, except in colour (being chiefly white), both of
which were at first so tame as to sufler themselves to
be taken by hand. Of plants that afford vegetables
for the table, the chief are cabbage palm, the wild
plantain, the fern tree, a kind of wild spinage, and a
tree which produces a diminutive fruit, bearing some
resemblance to a currant. This, it is hoped, by trans¬
planting and care, will be much improved in size and
flavour.
“ But the productions which give the greatest im¬
portance to Norfolk Island are the pines and the flax
plant; the former rising to a size and perfection un¬
known in other places, and promising the most valuable
Vol. XV. Part I.
supply of masts and spars for our navy in the East In- Norfolk
dies ; the latter not less estimable for the purposes of Island
making sailcloth, cordage, and even the finest manu- II.
factures, growing in great plenty, and with such luxu-, ■Nonn-
riance as to attain the height of eight feet. The pines
measure frequently 160, or even 180 feet in height, and
are sometimes 9 or ic feet in diameter at the bottom of
the trunk. They rise to about 80 feet without a
branch ; the wood is said to be of the best quality, al¬
most as light as that of the best Norway masts j and the
turpentine obtained from it is remarkable for purity and
whiteness. The fern tree is found also of a great height
for its species, measuring from 70 to So feet, and affords
excellent food for the sheep and other small cattle. A
plant producing pepper, and supposed to be the true ori¬
ental pepper, has been discovered lately in the island,
growing in great plenty } and specimens have been
sent to England in order to ascertain this important
point.”
Norfolk Soutul, according to the account of Cap¬
tain George Dixon, is situated in 570 3' north latitude,
and 1350 36' west longitude. It is a very extensive
place, but how far it stretches to the northward is not
known. There may possibly be a passage through to
the Bay of Islands, but neither is this certain. The
shore, in common with the rest of the coast, abounds
with pines ; there are also great quantities of the witch
hazel. There are various kinds of flowering trees and
shrubs, wild goosberries, currants, and raspberries j and
parsley is found here in great plenty, and it eats excel¬
lently either as a salad or boiled amongst soup. The
saranne, or wild lily root, grows also in great plenty and
perfection. There are a very few wild geese or ducks
seen here, but they are shy and difficult of approach.
NORHAM, a town in England, in the county of
Northumberland, on the river Tweed, near the mouth
of the Till, under the castle, which was anciently erect¬
ed on a steep rock moated round, for the better securi¬
ty against the incursions of the Scotch moss troopers. It
is of great antiquity ; and its old church has lately re¬
ceived repairs, and been made a decent place of wor¬
ship. Antiquities have been discovered here. The
church had the privilege of a sanctuary. The castle
has been frequently honoured with the presence of sove¬
reigns, particularly Edward I. here received the oath of
treaty from John Baliol of Scotland. It has been a
formidable structure, a great part of which is in ruins y
the site of which, with its demesnes, consisted of 1030
acres.
NORIA, a hydraulic machine much used in Spain.
It consists of a vertical wheel of 20 feet diameter, on
the circumference of which are fixed a number of little
boxes or square buckets, for the purpose of raising the
water out of the well, communicating with the canal
below, and to empty it into a reservoir above, placed by
the side of the wheel. The buckets have a lateral ori¬
fice to receive and to discharge the water. The axis.
of this wheel is embraced by four small beams, crossing
each other at right angles tapering at the extremities,
and forming eight little arms. This wheel is near the
centre of the horse walk contiguous to the vertical axis,
into the top of which the horse beam is fixed : but near
the bottom it is embraced by four little beanas, forming
eight arms similar to those above described, on the axis
of the water wheel. As the mule which they use goes
-{• G round,
N O R [ S£
Noria round, these horizontal arms, supplying the place ot
Noricum. cogs, take hold, each in succession, ol those arms which
^—v—^ are fixed on the axis of the water wheel, and keep it in
rotation.
This machine, than which nothing can he cheaper,
throws up a great quantity of water •, yet undoubtedly
it has two defects : the first is, that part of the water
runs out of the buckets and falls back into the well
after it has been raised nearly to the level ol the reser¬
voir : the second is, that a considerable proportion of
the water to be discharged is raised higher than the re¬
servoir, and falls into it only at the moment when the
bucket is at the highest point of the circle, and ready
to descend.
Both these defects might be remedied with ease, by
leaving these square buckets open at one end, making
them swing on a pivot fixed a little above their centre
of gravity, and placing the trough of the reservoir in
such a position as to stop their progress whilst perpen¬
dicular ; make them turn upon their pivot, and so dis¬
charge their contents.
From the reservoir the water is conveyed by channels
to every part of the garden •, these have divisions and
subdivisions on beds, lome large, others very small, sepa¬
rated from each other by little channels, into which a
boy with his shovel or his hoe directs the water, first
into the most distant trenches, and successively to all
the rest, till all the beds and trenches have been either
covered or filled with water.
Mr Townsend, from whom we have taken the above
account, thinks, that on account of the extreme simpli¬
city of this machine, it is an invention of the most
remote antiquity. By means of it the inhabitants every
morning draw as much water from the well as will serve
through the day, and in the evening distribute it to
every quarter according to the nature of their crops.
The reservoirs into which they raise the water are about
20, 30, or even 40 feet square, and three feet high above
the surface of the ground, with a stone cope on the wall,
declining to the water, for the women to wash and beat
their clothes upon.
Our limits preclude us from following Mr Townsend
farther in the description of a particular noria used at
Barcelona •, which he conceives to be the original chain
pump, or at least its parent. He compares it with si¬
milar instruments, and shows its advantages and disad¬
vantages.
NORICUM (Ptolemy,Tacitus)-, a Roman province,
situated between the Danube on the north, and thus se¬
parated from ancient Germany the Alpes Noricae on
the south ; the river iEnus on the west, which separates
it from Vindelicia } and Mons Cetius on the east, which
divides it from Pannonia. Now containing a great part
of Austria, all Saltzburg, Stiria, and Carinthia. It was
anciently a kingdom under its own kings (Caesar, Vel¬
leius, Suetonius). Noi'ici the people, subdued by Tibe¬
rius under Augustus, as allies of the Pannonii (Dio,
Velleius). Tacitus reckons Noricum among those pro¬
vinces which were governed by procurators, officers sent
by the emperors to receive and dispose of the public re¬
venue according to order. It was divided into two pro¬
vinces, but at what time uncertain } supposed as low
down as Dioclesian and Constantine : vix. the Noricum
Ripcnse, running along the south side of the Danube j
] NOR
and the ISoriciwi Mediterrancum, extending towards Noricum
the Alps. How far each of these extended in breadth |l
does not appear : all the account we have of the matter ^^oris.
being from Sextus Rufus, and the Notitia Imperii Oc-' *
cidentalis. Anciently a country famous lor its iron and
steel (Horace) j as is Stiria at this day, a part of
Noricum. A climate cold and more sparingly fruitful
(Solinus).
N0R1N, a river which rises in a corner of the Ve¬
netian confines, that runs between the rugged marble
hills, and is left entirely to itself from its very source ;
hence a vast tract of land is overflowed by it, and en¬
cumbered with reeds, willows, and wild alders. A
small space of ground only remains dry between the roots
of the hills and the marsh at a place called Find, and
that is all covered with pieces of ancient hewn stones,
fragments of inscriptions, columns, and capitals, and bass
reliefs of the best age, worn and deformed by time, and
the barbarism of the northern people, who begun on that
side to destroy Narona. The inhabitants, who go often
to cut reeds in the marsh, assert, that the vestiges of
that large city may still be seen under water. It appears
to have been extended over the plain a great way, and
undoubtedly it was three miles in length at the foot of
the hills. The ancient road is now under water ; and
it is necessary to ascend a very steep road, in order to
pass the point of a craggy hill, on which, probably
before the Roman times, those fortifications were erect¬
ed that coast Vetinius so much labour.
NORIS, Henry, cardinal, a great ornament of the
order of the monks of St Augustine, was descended
from the president Jason, or James de Noris, and was
born at Verona 1631. He was carefully educated by
his father Alexander Noris, originally of Ireland, and
well known by his history of Germany. He discover¬
ed from his infancy an excellent understanding, great
vivacity, and a quick apprehension. His father instruc¬
ted him in the rudiments of grammar, and procured an
able professor of Verona, cz\\e& Massoleim, to be his
preceptor. At 15 he was admitted a pensioner in the
Jesuits college at Rimini, where he studied philosophy j
after which he applied himself to the writings of the
fathers of the church, particularly those of St Augu¬
stine : and taking the habit in the convent of the Au¬
gustine monks of Rimini, he distinguished himself among
that fraternity in a short time by his erudition : inso¬
much, that as soon as he was out of his noviciate or
time of probation, the general of the order sent tor him
to Rome, in order to give him an opportunity of im¬
proving himself in the more solid branches of learning.
He did not disappoint his superior’s expectations. He
gave himself up entirely to his study, and spent whole
days, and even nights, in the library of the Angeliques
of St Augustine. His constant course was to stick to
his books 14 hours a day j and this course he continued
till he became a cardinal. By this means he became
qualified to instruct others ; and on this errand he was
first sent to Pezaro, and thence to Perousa, where he
took his degree of doctor of divinity ; after which, pro¬
ceeding to Padua, he applied himself to finish his His¬
tory of Pelagianism. He had begun it at Rome at the
a<re of 26 and, having completed his design, the book
was printed at Florence, and published in 1673. The
great duke of Tuscany invited him the following year
N O tt
[ 51 ] NOR
Korls
Xorkopiiif
to that city, made him his chaplain, and professor of ec¬
clesiastical history in the university of Pisa, which his
highness had founded with that view.
In his history he set forth and defended the condem¬
nation pronounced, in the eighth general council, against
Origen and Mopsuesta, the first authors of the Pelagian
errors: he also added an account of the Schism of
Aquileia, and a Vindication of the Books written by St
Augustine against the Pelagians and Semi-Pelagians.
The work had procured him a great reputation, but met
with several antagonists, to whom he published proper
answers : the dispute grew warm, and was carried be*
fore the sovereign tribunal of the inquisition. There the
history was examined with the utmost rigour, and the
author dismissed without the least censure. It was re¬
printed twice afterwards, and Mr Noris honoured by
Pope Clement X. with the title of Qualificator of the
Holy Office. Notwithstanding this, the charge was
renewed against the Pelagian History, and it was dila¬
ted afresh before the inquisition in 1676; but it came
out again with the same success as at first. Mr Noris
was now suffered to remain in peace for sixteen years,
and taught ecclesiastical history at Pisa, without any
molestation, till he was called to Rome by Innocent
XII. who made him under-librarian of the Vatican in
1692. This post was the way to a cardinal’s hat 5
his accusers, therefore, took fresh fire, and published se¬
veral new pieces against him. Hence the Pope appoint¬
ed some learned divines, who had the character of ha¬
ving taken neither side, to re-examine Father Noris’s
books, and make their report of them. Their testimo¬
ny was so advantageous to the author, that his holiness
made him counsellor of the inquisition. Yet neither
did this hinder one of his adversaries, the most formida¬
ble on account of his erudition, to rise up against him,
and attack him warmly, under the assumed title of a
Scrupulous Doctor of the Sorbonne. Noris tried to re¬
move these scruples in a work which appeared in 169^,
under the title ot An Historical Dissertation concerning
one of the Trinity that suffered in the Flesh ; wherein,
having justified the monks of Scythia, who made use of
that expression, he vindicated himself also from the im¬
putation of having attainted the Pope’s infallibility, of
having abused Vincentius Lirinensis, and other bishops
of Gaul, as favourers of Semi-Pelagianism, and of ha¬
ving himself gone into the errors of the bishop of
Ypres.
H is answers to all these accusations were so much to
the satisfaction of the pope, that at length his holiness
honoured him with the purple in 1695. After this, he
was in all the congregations, and employed in the most
important affairs j so that he had little time to spend in
his study, a thing of which he frequently complained to
his friends. Upon the death of Cardinal Casanati, he
was made chief library keeper of the Vatican in 1700;
and two years afterwards nominated, among others, to
reform the kalendar : but he died at Rome in 1704 of a
dropsy. He was one of the most learned men in the last
century ; his writings abound with erudition, and are
very elegantly finished. He was a member of the Aca¬
demy ; whence he assumed the name of Eucrates Ago-
retico. His works are numerous, and were published at
Verona, in 1729 and 1730. in five volumes folio.
NORKOP1NG, a town of Sweden, in the province
of East Gothland, in east longitude 150 30', latitude
58 20.' Its name signifies “ the northern market,” in xorWn«
the Swedish language. It stands on the banks of a Normandy!
large river called Mot ala y which coming from the lake 'tv-—--'
Vetter, falls a little lower into a gulf called Brawickeu*
It is the largest and most populous town in Sweden,
next to Stockholm, conveniently situated near the sea 0:1
a navigable river, which brings large vsssels up to the
middle of the town. There are some handsome streets,
and the houses in general are neatly built. Some of
the churches are worth seeing 5 but the greatest curio¬
sity are the famous copper mines, where there is a vast
number of people constantly at work. In this article
the town carries on a very good trade ; as also in seve¬
ral other manufactures, as leather, steel, and guns,
which they make the best in Sweden.
It covers a large space of ground, being ten miles in
circumference ; but the houses are small and scattered,
and the inhabitants do not exceed 10,coo. The river
Molala flows through the town, forms a series of cata¬
racts, and is divided into four principal streams, which
encircle several rocky islands, covered with houses and
manufactories. At the extremity of the town it is na¬
vigable for small vessels. Several manufactories are
established in the town j 55 fabrics of cloth, which em¬
ploy 1500 men ; 3 sugar-houses j 1 of snuff; 50 mills
for grinding corn, which is exported in large quantities $
and a brass foundery. A salmon fishery gives employ¬
ment and riches to many of the inhabitants.
NORMANDY, a province of France, bounded ou
the north by the English channel j on the east by Picar¬
dy and the Isle of France ; on the south by Perche and
Maine, and one part of Bretagne •, and on the west by
the ocean. It is about 155 miles in length, 85 in
breadth, and 600 in circumference. It includes nearly
the whole of the departments of Lamanche, Calvados,
Orne, Eure, and Seine Inferior. It abounds in all
things except wine, but they supply that defect by cyder
and perry. There are vast m< adows, fat pastures, and
the sea yields plenty of fish. It contains iron, copper,
and a great number of rivers and harbours. It carries
on a great trade, is very populous, and comprehends a
vast number of towns and villages. It is divided into
the Upper and Lower •, the Upper borders upon Picardy,
and the Lower upon Bretagne. It contains seven dio¬
ceses or bishoprics, Rouen, Bayeux, Avranches, Evreux,
Sees, Lisieux, and Coutances, in which they compute
4189 parishes, and 80 abbeys. The inhabitants are in¬
genious, and capable of understanding any arts and
sciences, but they are chiefly fond of law. The Noi mans,
a people of Denmark and Norway, having entered
France under Rollo, Charles the Simple ceded this coun¬
try to them in 912, which from that time was called ATor-
majidy, and contains about 8200 square miles. Its chief
city is Rouen. Rollo was the first duke, and held it as a
fief of the crown of France, and several of his successors
after him, till William, the seventh duke, conquered
England in 1066: from which time it became a pro¬
vince of England, till it was lost in the reign of King
John, and reunited to the crown of France j but the
English still keep the islanels on the coast.
The principal rivers are the Seine, the Eure, the
Aure, the Iton, the Dive, the Andelle, the Rille, the
Touque, the Dromee, and the Orne: among the sea
ports, the principal are those of Dieppe, Havre, Honfleur,
Cherburg, and Granville. Rouen is the piincipal city
G 2 NORMANS,
Is ormans
N O K IS2
NORMANS, a fierce warlike people of Norway,
Denmark, and other parts of Scandinavia. I hey at
North, different times overran and ravaged most countries in
■ \r—1 Europe : to the respective histories oi those countries
we therefore refer for a fuller account ot them, as it is
impossible to enlarge upon particulars in this place with¬
out repeating what has been already said, or may e
said, in different parts of this work. .
Norman Characters, a species of writing introduced
into England by William I. From some old manu¬
scripts the Norman writing appears to have been com¬
posed of letters nearly Lombardic. In regal grants,
charters, public instruments, and law proceedings, this
character was used with very little variation from the
reign of the Conqueror to that of Edward 111. bee
Writing.
NORRIS, or Noris. See Noris.
NORTH, one of the four cardinal points of the
world *, being that point of the horizon which is di¬
rectly opposite to the sun in meridian. i he north
wind is generally accompanied with a considerable de-
trrec of cold. It sometimes blows with almost irresist¬
ible fury. It is often mentioned by the classic authors
under the name of Boreas, which is of Greek original.
See Boreas.
North Pole. See Pole.
North, Dudley, Lord, the third baron ot that ac¬
complished family, was one of the finest gentlemen in
the court of King James ; hut in supporting that cha¬
racter, dissipated and gamed away the greatest part of
his fortune. In 1645, he appears to have acted with
the parliament *, and was nominated by them to be ad¬
ministrator of the admiralty, in conjunction with the
great earls of Northumberland, Essex, Warwick, and
others. He lived to the age of 85, the latter part of
which he passed in retirement; and wrote a small folio
of miscellanies, in prose and verse, under this title, A
Forest promiscuous of several Seasons Productions, m
four parts, 1659. ^ , c 1
North, Dudley, Lord, son of the former, was made
knight of the Bath in 1616, at the creation of Charles
prince of Wales; and sat in many parliaments, till ex¬
cluded bv the prevailing party in that which condemned
the kintr. From .that period Lord North lived privately
in the country, and towards the end of his life entertain¬
ed himself with books, and, as his numerous issue requir¬
ed, with economy j on which he wrote a little tract, call-
JObservations and advices economical, 12mo. His other
works are, Passages relating to the long parliament*, the
history of the life of Lord Edward North, the first baron
of the family, addressed to his eldest son j and a volume
of Essays.
North Francis, Lord Guildford, lord-keeper of the
great seal in the reigns of Charles II. and James II.
was a third son of the second Dudley lord North, ba¬
ron of Kertling } and studied , at St John’s college m
Cambridge, from whence he removed to the Middle
Temple. He acquired French, Italian, Spanish, and
Dutch } and became not only a good lawyer, but was
well versed in history, mathematics, philosophy, and
music. He was afterwards made the king’s solicitor-
general, and was chosen to represent the borough of
Lynn in parliament. He succeeded Sir Pleneage l inch
in the post of attorney-general j and Lord Chief-Jus¬
tice Vaughan, in the place of lord chief-justice of the
] NOR
common pleas. He was afterwards made keeper of
the great seal 5 and in 1683 was created a baron by
.i _ rk]„ n„n,irnr,] T-fe died at his house at
North.
the title of Lord Guildford. He died at his house at
Wroxton in 1685. He wrote a philosophical essay on
music *, a paper on the gravitation of fluids, considered
in the bladders of fishes, printed in Lowthorp’s abridge¬
ment of the Philosophical Transactions j and some other
1 North, Right Honourable Frederick, earl of Guild¬
ford, Lord North, lord warden and admiral ot the
Cinque Ports, governor of Dover castle, lord lieutenant
and custos rotulorum of Somersetshire, chancellor of the
university cf Oxford, recorder of Gloucester and Jaun-
ton, an eider brother of the Trinity house, president o«
the Foundling hospital and of the Asylum, a governor
of the Turkey Company and of the Charter house, K.G.
and LL. D. was born April 13. 17325 and married,
May 20. 1756, Miss Ann Sjieke, an heiress of the an¬
cient family of Diilington in Somersetshire, by whom
he has left two sons and three daughters: the eldest sen
George Augustus, born September 11. 1759, and mar¬
ried, September 30. 1785, to Miss Hobart, succeeds to
the earldom and estates. The late earl succeeded ins fa¬
ther August 4. 1790. His lordship succeeded the cele¬
brated Mr Charles Townsend as manager of the house
of commons and chancellor of the exchequer 5 and in
1770, on the resignation of the duke of Grafton, was
made’first lord of the treasury 5 in which office he con¬
tinued until the close of the American war, or rather
until the formation of the Rockingham ministry, "hita
began the business of peace with the colonies. He was
a man of strong mental faculties 5 and as an orator, at
once commanded attention and enforced conviction : hut
taking the helm at a time when the king’s party were
unpopular, and when it was supposed that the late
earl of Bute was the great machine by which the
cabinet was moved, he continued in that state of un¬
popularity until he resigned the seals. During the
whole of his premiership (and to conduct the helm at
that time required uncommonly great abilities) he stu¬
diously avoided imposing any taxes that should mate¬
rially affect the lower class of people. The luxuries,
and not the necessaries, of life were repeated objects
of his budget. As a financier, he stood high, even
in the opinion of opposition 5 and they were a combi¬
nation of all the great talents in the kingdom : but,
fatally wedded to the destructive plan of subduing the
republican spirit of the Americans, his administration
will not only stand marked in the page of history with
an immense waste of public treasure, but it will appear
besprinkled with the kindred blood of thousands of
British subjects. To the very last moment he spoke in
the senate, however, he defended that war 5 and said,
he was then, as he was formerly, prepared to meet the
minutest investigation as to his conduct in that busi¬
ness 5 which nothing but the unforeseen intervention
of France could have prevented from being crowned
with success. His lordship was one of the firmest and
most strenuous supporters oi the constitution m church
and state. He died on the 5th of August 1792. His
recollection he retained to his last moments: Ins fa¬
mily except Lord North, who came within a tew mi¬
nutes afterwards, were assembled round his bed, and he
took^eave of them individually. Their grief did not
suffer them to leave the room for some time after the
event;
NOR [ 53 ] NOR
North eventand Lady Caroline Douglas was at last forced
II from it. Even Dr Warren, who must be strengthened
North-west as far as liahit can operate against nature to endure
Passage. SUCJ1 scenes> ran from this, convulsed with sorrow. If
any extent of sympathy can lessen affliction, this family
may find such relief; for perhaps no man was ever more
generally beloved by ail who had access to him than the
earl of Guildford.
We may form an opinion of the estimation the cele¬
brated university of Oxford entertained of their chan¬
cellor while living, by the very great honour they
paid to his remains. About five o’clock in the after¬
noon of the 15th, the great bell at St Mary’s church
at Oxford rang out, which was a signal that the fune¬
ral procession had arrived in the environs of that city.
The officers of the university, and the whole body of
resident students, were previously assembled in Mag¬
dalen College, in order to pay some tribute to the
memory of their deceased chancellor. They joined the
procession at Magdalen Bridge, and paraded on foot
before the herse up the high street to Carfax ; from
thence down the corn market to St Giles’s church at
the town’s end, in a most solemn manner. Here they
halted, and opening to the right and left, the herse and
other carriages passed through, the whole university be¬
ing uncovered. The herse and attendants then proceeded
to Banbury, where his lordship’s remains were deposited
in the family vault.
North Cape, the most northerly promontory in Eu¬
rope, on the coast of Norway. E. Long. 21. o. N. Lat.
7^- 9-
North Ferry, a small village, on the north side of
the frith of Forth, at the Queen’s Ferry passage. There
was here formerly a chapel, served by the monks of
Dunfermline, and endowed by Robert I. Near it are
large whinstone quarries, which partly supply London
with paving stones, and employ many vessels for the con¬
veyance. “ The granite (whinstone) (Mr Pennant says)
lies in perpendicular strata, and above is a reddish earth,
filled with micaceous friable nodules.”
North Foreland, a cape or promontory of Kent, in
the isle of Thanet, four miles east of Margate. Between
this and the South Foreland are the Downs, through
which all ships pass that are bound to or from the west.
E. Long. 1. 25. N. Lat. 51. 25.
NoRTH-West Passage, a passage to the Pacific ocean
through Hudson’s bay or Davis’s straits, and which hath
been frequently attempted without success ; notwith¬
standing which, many people arc still of opinion that it
is practicable.
The idea of a passage to the East Indies by the north
pole, or through some opening near to it, was suggested
as early as the year 1527. The person who had the
honour to conceive this idea was Robert Thorne, a mer¬
chant of Bristol, who addressed two papers on the sub¬
ject, the one to King Henry VIII. the other to Dr
Ley, ambassador from that monarch to the emperor
Charles V. To remove any objection to the under¬
taking, which might be drawn from the supposed dan¬
ger, he insists, in his address to the king, upon the great
advantages of constant daylight in the polar seas, and
the probability of the climate being in those regions
temperate during the summer months. In the paper
addressed to Dr Ley, he observes that cosmographers
may as probably be mistaken in the opinion which they
entertain of the polar regions being impassable from ex- North-we.^
treme cold, as it has been found they were in supposing Passage,
the countries under the line to be uninhabitable from
excessive heat.
The possibility of the passage was, in consequence of
these addresses, very generally supposed; and in 1557,
Sir Martin Forbisher sailed to 62° north latitude, where
he discovered the straits which have since borne his name.
In 1577, Barne, in a book entitled the Regiment of the
Sea, mentions a north-west passage as one of the five ways
to Cathay; and dwells on the mildness of the climate,
which, from the constant presence of the son during
summer, he imagines must be found near tbe pole. In
1578, George Best, a gentleman who had been with
Sir Martin Eorbisher in his voyages of discovery, wrote
a very ingenious discourse to prove all parts of the world,
habitable. It does not, however, appear that any voyage
was undertaken, for tbe express purpose of attempting
to sail to India in a north-west direction, till the year
1607 i wben Henry Hudson was sent, at tbe expence
of some merchants in London to discover a passage by
the north pole to Japan and China. He sailed from
Gravesend on the 1st of May, and on the 2ist of June
fell in with the land to the westward, in latitude 730,
which he named Uold-witk-hope. On the 27th he dis¬
covered Spitsbergen, and met with much ice. The
highest latitude in which he made an observation was
8o° 27k See Hudson.
In March 1609, Jones Poole was sent by Sir Tho¬
mas Smith, and the rest of the Muscovy Company, to
make further discoveries towards the north pole. Af¬
ter great severity of weather, and much difficulty from
ice, he made the south part of Spitsbergen on the 16th
of May ; and sailing along and sounding the coast, he
made many accurate discoveries ; but was not in that
voyage able to proceed beyond 790 job He wras
again employed (1611), in a small vessel called the
Fli%ahcth, to attempt the north-west passage ; but af¬
ter surmounting numberless difficulties, and penetrating
to 8o° of latitude, he lost bis ship at Spitsbergen. Two
voyages, equally unsuccessful, were made in 1614 and
1615, by Baffin and Fotherby; the latter of whom con¬
cludes the account of bis discoveries and dangers, with
exhorting the company which employed him not to ad¬
venture more than 150I. or 200I. at most on yearly voy¬
ages to these seas.
Hitherto nothing had been done in this great under¬
taking but by private adventurers, fitted out for the
double purpose of discovery and present advantage ; and
the polar regions were suffered to remain unexplored in
that direction, from the year 1615 till 1773, when tbe
earl of Sandwich, in consequence of an application which
had been made to him by the Royal Society, laid before
his majesty a proposal for an expedition to try bow far
navigation is practicable towards tbe north pole. Upon
receiving this proposal, his majesty was pleased to direct
that tbe voyage should be immediately undertaken, with
every assistance that could contribute to its success. Ac¬
cordingly, the Racehorse and Carcass bombs were fitted,
out for the purpose, and the command of the expedition
given to Captain Phipps, now Lord Mulgrave. His
Lordship’s instructions were to proceed up to the pole,
or as far towards it as possible, and as nearly upon a me¬
ridian as the ice or other obstructions should admit; and
during the course of the voyage, to make such observa¬
tions
NOR
[ 54 ]
NOR
North westtions of every kind as might be useful to navigation, or
Passage, tend to the promotion of natural knowledge. A very ac-
v" curate account of this voyage was published by his Lord-
ship in 1774. He had, by exerting all the powers of a
skilful and intrepid seaman, forced his way, on the 1st
of August, to 8o° 37/j but could proceed .no farther,
as he was there opposed by one continued plain of smooth
Unbroken ice, bounded only by the horiion.
Many other attempts have been made to discover this
passage, by sailing along the western coast of America j
but hitherto none of them has been crowned with suc¬
cess. So early as 1579, Sir Francis Drake assured
Queen Elizabeth that he had sailed some leagues up the
straits of Anian (see Anian), and discovered New Al¬
bion, to the north of California but the strait is now
known to have no existence ; and Drake’s real discove¬
ries were not improved. In 1638, King Charles I.
sent Captain Luke Fox in one of his pinnaces to at¬
tempt the passage ; but of his proceedings we know no¬
thing, but that he reached Port Nelson in Hudson’s bay,
where he found some remains of former navigators.
Next year Captain James was fitted out by the mer¬
chants of Bristol for the same purpose. James was one
of the ablest navigators that ever sailed from England or
any other country j and his voyages to the north were
‘'printed in 1633. After all the experiments he had
made, he concluded that there was no such passage ; or
if there be, he affirmed that the discovery of it would
not be attended with those advantages which are com¬
monly expected. His reasons, however, for these opi¬
nions have been answered, and many subsequent attempts
have been made to perform what he thought impossible.
The arguments for a north-west passage were so plau¬
sible, that in 1744, an act of parliament was passed to
encourage the discovery of it. Among many others,
Captain Cook attempted the discoveiy in vain, and
thence adopted James’s opinion. (See Cooke's Disco¬
veries, N° 103.). This celebrated navigator, after ha¬
ving proceeded northwards to the western extremity of
America, and ascertained the proximity of the two great
continents of x\sia and America, returned to the Sand¬
wich islands, firmly persuaded of the impracticability of
a passage in that hemisphere from the Atlantic into the
Pacific ocean, either by an eastern or a Western course.
An attempt was made by Vancouver between the
years 1790 and I795J but the result ol this voyage
renders the existence of such a passage still more doubt-
fuk
The last attempt to discover this passage Was made
in 1818. The two ships employed, the Isabella, Cap¬
tain Ross, and the Alexander, Lieutenant Parry, sailed
from the Thames on the 18th April. They reached
Cape Dudley Diggs on the 17th August, and afterwards
passed Smith’s sound and Whale sound, but found the
coast in many pax-ts unapproachable from ice. Jones’s
sound was explored, but no appearance ol a passage
found. From this they followed the line of the coast
southward till they came, on the 30^1 August, to Lan¬
caster sound, which at first presented appearances fa¬
vourable to their hopes, but on examination land was
found to extend across its bottom Several other inlets
were observed, but all blocked up with ice. The sea
was generally of great depth, and the coast mountainous,
-and where bays occurred they were still backed Vy high
land. On the 1st October they reached Cumberland
5
strait, which, from the current at its entrance, afiord-North-west
ed, in Captain Ross’s opinion, a better chance of a pas- Passage,
sage than any other place 5 but their instructions and
the lateness of the season would not allow them to ex- > »
plore it. The expedition arrived at Shetland on the
30th October, having coasted the whole ol Baffin’s bay,
but generally at a considerable distance from the shore,
without discovering the passage sought. It appears also,
from Captain Ross’s journal, that the supposed current
setting southward from the bay, which was one chief
reason for inferring the reality ol the passage, does not
exist. Since Captain Ross’s return, however, strong
objections have been raised to the accuracy ot his sur¬
vey in some points 5 and for this and other reasons, a
new expedition is preparing, with the view of exploring
the coast more minutely at those points where a passage
is conceived to be most px'obable. A party is also to
proceed by land from the north-western lakes ol Cana¬
da, to ascertain the position ol the coast towards the
bay. It is highly probable, therefore, that the question
will soon be set at rest. But what is known already
shows that, were the passage discovered, the navigation
can scarcely be at any time practicable, and the sub¬
ject is no farther of impoi’tance than as it xvould settle
a point in geography.
North-East Passage, a passage to the East Indies
along the northern coasts of Asia, which, like the for¬
mer, hath frequently been attempted, but hitherto with¬
out success. The first attempt was made in 1553, by
Sir Hugh Willoughby, who commanded three ships.
He departed from the Thames, and sailed to the North
Cape, where one of his ships left him, and returned
home. The other two ships being separated, Sir Hugh
proceeded farther northward, and discovered that part
of Greenland which the Dutch have since called Spitz-
berg ; but the severity of the cold obliging him to return
to the southward, he was forced, by bad weather, into
the river Arzina, in Muscovite Lap and, where, not be¬
ing able to come out, he was found the next spring fro¬
zen to death, with all his ship’s company j having the
notes of his voyage and his last will lying before him,
whereby it appeared that he lived till January. But
Richard Chancellor, in the third ship, with better suc¬
cess, in the meanwhile entered Wardhuys, where he
waited some time for his companions to no purpose ; un¬
certain whether they wei’e lost, or driven farther by stress
of weather. He held a council on what he should do j
whether to return, or pursue his voyage. Whatever dan¬
ger might be in the last, every one agreed to it, that
they might not seem to have less courage than their cap¬
tain. They therefore set sail, and in a few days found
themselves in a sea where they could no longer perceive
any night. This ship, wandering about, entered soon
after into a large bay or gulf. Here they cast anchor,
in sight of land $ and while they Were examining the
coast, they discovered a fishing boat. Chancellor get¬
ting into his sloop, went towards it 5 but the fishermen
took to flight. He followed, and, overtaking them,
showed them such civilities as conciliated their affec¬
tions to him *, and they carried him to the place where
now is the famous port of St Michael the Archangel.
These people immediately spread through all the coasts
an account of the arrival of those strangers ; and people
came from several farts to see them, and ask them que¬
stions. They, in their turn, examined the others, and
found
n or [ 55 ] NOR
Nortli-easi found that the country they were in was Russia, go-
Passage, vei ned by the mighty emperor John Basilowdtz. Chan-
Northaller-eellor from Archangel travelled on sledges to the Czar
, t9” at Moscow ; from whom, overjoyed at the prospect of
opening a maritime commerce with Europe, he obtain¬
ed privileges for the English merchants, and letters to
King Edward VI. who was not, howrever, alive to re¬
ceive them.
In 1585, Mr John Davis in two barks discovered
Cape Desolation, which is supposed to be part of
Greenland ; and two years after advanced as far as
Lat. 72°, where he discovered the strait which still
bears his name. To enumerate all the attempts which
have been made to discover a north-east passage, would
swell the article to very little purpose. The English,
Dutch, and Danes, have all attempted it without suc¬
cess. The last voyage from England for this pur¬
pose was made in 1676, under the patronage of the
duke ol York. That unfortunate prince, who was
on all occasions earnest for the promotion of commerce,
and the Lord Berkeley, &c. fitted out a ship, com¬
manded by Captain M ood, for an attempt once more
to find a north-east passage to India, accompanied with
a ship of the king’s. They were encouraged to this at-
tertipt, after it had been so long despaired of, by several
new reports and reasonings : some of which seem not
to have been very well grounded—As,
“ I. On the coast of Corea, near Japan, whales had
been found with English and Dutch harpoons stick¬
ing in them. This is no infallible proof that ships
could get thither by a north-east passage, although
whales might.
“2. Jhat, 20 yeRrs before, some Dutchmen had
sailed within one degree of the north pole, and found
it temperate weather there : and that therefore Wil¬
liam Barents, the Dutch navigator who wintered at
Nova Zembla in the year 1596, should have sailed
further to the north before turning eastward 5 in which
case, said they, he would not have found so much ob¬
struction from the ice.
“ 3. That two Dutch ships had lately sailed 300
leagues to the eastward of Nova Zembla; but their
East India Company had stifled that design, as against
their interest:—and such like other airy reports. But
this attempt proved very unfortunate. They doubled
the North Cape, and came among much ice and drift
Avood, in 76° of north latitude, steering to the coast of
Nova Zembla, where the king’s ship struck upon the
rocks, and was soon beat to pieces •, and Captain Wood
returned home with an opinion, “ that such a passage
was utterly impracticable, and that Nova Zembla is a
part of the continent of Greenland.”
These passages, however, are not yet deemed imprac¬
ticable by all. The count de Buffon holds it for cer¬
tain, that there is such a passage j and he thinks, that if
any farther attempts be made to discover a passage to
China by the north, it will be necessary to steer direct¬
ly towards the pole ; and to explore the most open seas,
where unquestionably, says he, there is little or no ice.
Ibis opinion has been revived by the honourable Daines
Barrington. See North Pole.
NORTHALLERTON, a borough town of Eng¬
land, though not incorporated, in the north riding of
Yorkshire. It sends two members to parliament. The
population in 1811 was 2234. In 1138, the Scots Xortliailer-
army under King David Avas defeated by the English ton,
near this town. It is 34 miles S. from Durham, and NorlliamP‘
223 N. from London. . t011,
NORTHAMPTON, a toAvn in England, capital
of a county of the same name, situated in W. Long.
°* 55* N* Lat. 52. 15. According to Camden, it
Avas formerly called North (fandon, from its situation
to the north of the river Nen, called anciently Au-
fo?ui, by which and another lesser river it is almost
enclosed. Dr Gibson says, that the ancient Saxon
annals called both it and Southampton simply llanip-
ton; and afterwards, to distinguish them, called the
one, from its situation, Southampton, and the other
Northampton ; but never North-afandon. Though it
does not appear to be a place of very great antiquity,
nor to have emerged from obscurity till after the Con¬
quest, it has sent members to parliament since the
reign of Edward I. and being in the heart of the
kingdom, several parliaments have been held at it.
There was also a castle, and a church dedicated to St
Andrew, built by Simon de Sancto Licio, commonly
called Senle%, the first earl of Northampton of that
name. It is said to have been burnt doivn during the
Danish depredationsj but in the reign of St Edward it
appears to have been a considerable place. It was be¬
sieged by the barons in their war Avith King John 5 at
which time that military work called Hunshill, is sup¬
posed to have been raised. In the time of Henry 111.
it sided Avitji the barons, when it was besieged and
taken by the king. Here the bloody battle was fought
in Avhich Henry VI. was taken prisoner. It was en¬
tirely consumed by a most dreadful fire in 1675 j yet,
by the help of liberal contributions from all parts of the
country, it hath so recovered itself, that it is now one
of the neatest and best built towns of the kingdom.
Among the public buildings, which are all lofty, the
most remarkable are the church called All-hallows
(which stands at the meeting of four spacious streets),
the sessions and assize house, and the George inn, which
belongs to the poor of the toAvn. A county hospital or
infirmary has been lately built here, after the manner
of those of Bath, London, Bristol, &c. ft has a con¬
siderable manufacture of shoes and stockings; and its
fairs are noted for horses both for draught and saddle ^
besides, it is a great thoroughfare for the north and
Avest roads. It was formerly Availed, and had seven
churches within and tAvo without. The horse market
is reckoned to exceed all others in the kingdom, it be¬
ing deemed the centre of all its horse markets and
horse fairs, both for saddle and harness, and the chief
rendezvous of the jockies both from York and London.
Its principal manufacture is shoes, of which great num¬
bers are sent beyond sea j and the next to that, stock¬
ings and lace, as we have hinted at above. It is the
richer and more populous, by being a thoroughfare
both in the north and Avest roads; but, being 80 miles
from the sea, it can have no commerce by navigation.
The Avails of this toAvn Avere above two miles in com¬
pass. The number of inhabitants in 1811 w7as 8427.
It had formerly a nunnery in the neighbouring mea-
doAvs, with several other monasteries ; and of its very
old castle on the west side of the toAvn, a small part
of the ruins is still to be seen. Some discontented
scholars
Xortliamp-
toa
North
H ocks.
NOR [ 56 ] . . N ° 11
tsdiolai's came hither from Oxford and Cambridge, auout
tlie end of the reign of Henry III. and, with the king s
leave, prosecuted their studies here academically for
three years j during which there was the face °f
university, till it was put a stop to by express prohibi¬
tion, because it was a damage to both universities.
The public horse races are on a neighbouring down,
called Paj-Leys. In and about the town are abundance
of cherry gardens. Within half a mile of the town is
one of the crosses erected by King Edward I. in memory
of his queen Eleanor, whose corpse was rested there in
its way to Westminster. On the north side of the rivei,
near that cross, many Roman coins have been ploughed
up. At Guiksborough, north-west of Northampton,
are to be seen the vestiges of a Roman camp, the situa¬
tion of which is the more remarkable, as lying between
the Nen and the Avon, the only pass from the north to
the south parts of England not intercepted by any river.
This camp was secured only by a single intrenchment,
which was, however, very broad and deep.
NORTHAMPTONSHIRE, a county of England,
is situated in the very heart of the kingdom: bounded
on the east by the counties of Bedford and Huntingdon j
on the south by those of Buckingham and Oxford j on
the west by Warwickshire j and on the north by the
counties of Leicester, Rutland, and Lincoln, which are
separated from it by the Lesser Avon, and the Welland.
Its oreatest length is about 50 miles, its greatest breadth
about 20, and its circumference about 130. It includes
336 parishes, one city, eleven market towns j and m
1811 contained 28,857 houses, and 141,353 inhabitants,
of whom 34,741 live in towns, and 106,612 in the coun¬
try. Nine members are returned to parliament for this
county, viz. two knights for the shire, two for the city o
Peterborough, two for each of the towns of North¬
ampton and Brockly, and one for Highnm Ferrers, ft
lies in the midland circuit, and in the diocese of Peter-
boroivh. As this county is dry, well cultivated, free
from marshes, except the fens about Peterborough, in
the centre of the kingdom, and of course at a distance
from the sea, it enjoys a very pure and wholesome air.
In consequence of this, it is very populous, and so full
of towns and churches, that 30 spires or steeples may
he seen in many places at one view 5 and even in the
fens the inhabitants seem to enjoy a good state of health,
and to be little affected by the water which frequently
overflows their grounds, especially in winter, but is
never suffered to remain long upon it. Its soil is ex*
cecdlnjr fertile both in corn and pasturage 5 but it la¬
bours under a scarcity of fuel, as it doth not produce
much wood, and by lying at a distance from the sea,
cannot be easily supplied with coal. Its commodities,
besides corn, arc sheep, wool, black cattle, and salt¬
petre ; and its manufactures are serges, tammies, shal¬
loons, boots, and shoes. Besides many lesser brooks
and streams, it is well watered by the rivers Non,
Welland, Ouse, and Lerm; the three first of which
are large, and for the most part navigable. See North¬
amptonshire, Supplement. ,
NORTH rocks (otherwise called St Patrick srocks,
from a seat of stone amongst them called St Patrick's
chair, whence the rocks have taken this second name) j
situated in the harbour of Donaghadee, in the county
of Down, and province of Ulster, in Ireland. From
north to south they are about two-thirds of a league,
Detween which cicau
he taken of the south rock, on which many ships have Kochs
perished: for it is overflowed by every tide, and no Nor^um.
crew can save their lives if the wind blows high, a Ins i^rinnd.
rock stands a full mile from the shore. ' v 1
NORTH sea. See North Sea.
NORTHERN LIGHTS, the same with Aurora
borealis, under which article we have given a co¬
pious account of this phenomenon, and of the sup¬
posed causes of it. Natural science, however, does not
arrive at perfection at once, and it is well if it does so
after trials repeated for years with care and accuracy.
How far the causes that have been assigned for this
appearance will account for it, or whether they will
be able to remove all difficulties, it is not for us to
determine; but it is the part of philosophers to hear
all sides, and to attend with patient assiduity to every
hypothesis, rejecting or receiving, as reason, after the
strictest investigation, shall seem to favour the one side
or the other. We shall here notice a hypothesis which
Doctor Stearns, an American, formed, about the yeai
1788, to account for the appearances called aurora bo¬
realis, and aurora australis.
Doctor Stearns supposes that these phenomena ori¬
ginate from aqueous, nitrous, sulphureous, bituminous,
and other exhalations, from the fumes of various kinds
of earths or other minerals, vegetables, animals, fires,
volcanoes, &c. These, he thinks, become rarefied,
and being charged with electrical fluid, become speci¬
fically lighter than the circumambient air j hence,
of course, they ascend j and being elevated to the
upper regions of the air, and driven by the winds
from warmer to colder climates, ihe cold makes them
combine and stiffen. When they are afterwards agi¬
tated by different currents of air, they sparkle and
crackle like the hairs of cats and other animals when
stiffened with cold. This coruscation in quite cold
atmospheres, and in those which are more temperate,
appears in different positions in the horizon, zenith,
or otherwise, according to the situation ot the spec¬
tator, and the position of the elevated exhalations.
The difference of colours the doctor supposes to arise
from the different qualities of the articles combined,
those of the most inflammable nature shining with the
greatest lustre.
The doctor likewise tries to account for these lights
not appearing, or but seldom appearing, in ancient
times. The atmosphere, he thinks, was not impreg¬
nated with materials proper to produce them. He ima¬
gines that the increased consumption of fuel, in A-
merica in particular, the burning of volcanoes, and the
approach of blazing stars, whose atmospheres have
been so expanded by the sun’s heat that part ot them
have fallen into the earth’s atmosphere, and communi¬
cated to it new matter, have so changed and prepared
our air, that whenever its consistence is proper, then,
if the light of the sun and moon is not too powerful, the
aurora borealis will appear.
NORTHUMBERLAND, the most northerly conn-
tv of England, and formerly a distinct kingdom, is
hounded on the north and west by the river Tweed
which divides it from Scotland, the Cheviot hills, and
part of Cumberland-, washed on the east by the Ger¬
man ocean-, and separated from Durham on the south
bv the rivers Tyne and Derwent. This county, which
- gives
4
N O K \ 5
Nortlium- gives tbe title oF duke to a nobleman, who married
bailind the daughter of Algernon duke of Somerset, whose mo-
ther was heiress of the Percy family, extends about
66 miles in length from north to south, and about 47
in breadth from east to West. It is remarkably popu¬
lous, containing 12 market towns, 280 villages, and
460 parishes. The face of the country, especially to¬
wards the west, is roughened with huge mountains, the
most remarkable of which are the Cheviot hills, and
the high ridge called Redesdale ; hut the lands are level
towards the sea side and the borders of Durham. The
climate, like that of every other mountainous country
in the neighbourhood of the sea, is moist and disagree¬
able : the air, however, is pure and healthy, as being
well ventilated by breezes and strong gales of wind ;
and in winter mitigated by the warm vapours from the
two seas, the Irish and the German ocean, between
which it is situated. The soil varies in different parts of
the county. Among the hills it is barren; though it
affords good pasture for sheep, which cover those moun¬
tains. The low country, when properly cultivated,
produces plenty of wheat, and all sorts of grain; and
great part of it is laid out in meadow lands and rich en¬
closures. Northumberland is well watered with many
rivers, rivulets, and fountains : its greatest rivers axe the
Tweed and the Tyne. The Tyne is composed of two
streams called South and North Tyne : the first rises on
"tire verge of Cumberland, near Alston moor ; enters
Northumberland, running north to Haltwhistle; then
bends easterly, and receiving the two small rivers East
and West A Ion, unites above Hexham with the other
branch, taking its rise at a mountain called Fane-head
in the western part of the county, thence called Tyne-
dale ; is swelled in its course by the little river Shele ;
pins the Read near Billingham ; and running in a direct
line to the south-east, is united with the southern Tyne,
forming a large river that washes Newcastle, and falls
into the German ocean near Tynemouth.
In all probability the mountains of Northumberland
contain lead ore and other mineralized metals in their
bowels, as they in all respects resemble those parts of
Wales and Scotland where lead mines have been found
and prosecuted. Perhaps the inhabitants are diverted
from inquiries of this nature, by the certain profits
and constant employment they enjoy in working the
coal pits, with which this county abounds. The city
of London, and the greatest part of England, are sup¬
plied with fuel from these stores of Northumberland,
which are inexhaustible, enrich the proprietors, and
employ an incredible number of bands and shipping.
About 658,858 chaldrons are annually shipped for
London.
There are no natural woods of any consequence in
this county; but many plantations belonging to the
seats of noblemen and gentlemen, of which here is a
great number. As for pot herbs, roots, salading,
and every article of the kitchen garden and orchard,
they are here raised in gr eat plenty by the usual means
of cultivation; as are also the fruits of more delicate
flavour, such as the apricot, peach, and nectarine. The
spontaneous fruits it produces in common with other
parts of Great Britain, are the crab-apple, the sloe or
bullace, the hazel nut, the acorn, hips, and haws, with
the berries of the bramble, the juniper, wood straw¬
berries, cranberries, anti bilberries.
Vol. XV. Part. I. f
7 ] NOR
Northumberland raises a good number of excellent Xoith
horses and black cattle, and affords pasture for numer- l»eria
ous flocks of sheep; both the cattle and sheep are of
a large breed, but the wool is coarser than that which
the more southern counties produce. The hills and
mountains abound with a variety of game, such as red
deer, foxes, hares, rabbits, hcathcock, grouse, partridge,
quail, plover, teal, and woodcock : indeed, this is
counted one of the best sporting counties in Great Bri¬
tain. The sea and rivers are well stocked with fish ;
especially the Tweed, in which a vast number of sal¬
mon is caught and carried to Tynemouth, where being
pickled, they are conveyed by sea to London, and sold
under the name of Newcastle salmon.
The Northumbrians were anciently stigmatized as a
savage, barbarous people, addicted to cruelty, and in¬
ured to rapine. The truth is, before the union of the
two crowns of England and Scotland, the borders on
each side were extremely licentious and ungovernable,
trained up to war from their infancy, and habituated
to plunder by the mutual incursions made into each
kingdom; incursions which neither truce nor treaty
could totally prevent. People of a pacific disposition,
who proposed to earn their livelihood by agriculture,
would not on any terms remain in a country exposed
to the first violence of a bold and desperate enemy ;
therefore the lands lay uncultivated, and in a great
measure deserted by every body but lawless adventuiv
ers, who subsisted by theft and rapine. There was a
tract 50 miles in length and six in breadth, between
Berwick and Carlisle, known by the name of the dc-
batcablc land-, -to which both nations laid claim, though
it belonged to neither .; and this was occupied by a set
of banditti who plundered on each side, and what they
stole in one kingdom, they sold openly in the other :
nay, they were so dexterous in their occupation, that
by means of hot bread applied to the horns of the
cattle which they stole, they twisted them in such a
manner, that, when the right owners saw them in the
market, they did not know their own property. War¬
dens were appointed to guard the marches or borders
in each kingdom; and these oflices were always con¬
ferred on noblemen of the first character for influence,
valour, and integrity. The English border was divided
into three marches, called the east, west, and middle
marches ; the gentlemen of the county were constituted
deputy wardens, who held march courts, regulated the
watches, disciplined the militia, and took measures for
assembling them in arms at the first alarm : but in the
time of peace between the two nations, they were
chiefly employed in suppressing the insolence and rapine
of the borderers. Since the union of the crowns, how¬
ever, Northumberland is totally changed, both with
respect to the improvement of the lands, and the refor¬
mation of the inhabitants. The grounds, being now
secure from incursion and insult, are settled by creditable
farmers, and cultivated like other parts of the kingdom.
As hostilities have long ceased, the people have forgotten
the use of arms $ and exercise themselves in the more
eligible avocations of peace, in breeding sheep and cat¬
tle, manuring the grounds, working at the coal pits, ^
and in different blanches of commerce and manufacture.
In their persons they are generally tall, strong, bold,
hardy, and fresh coloured ; and though less unpolished
than their ancestors, not quite so civilized as their
H southern
N
Northum¬
berland
It
Norton’s
Sound.
OR [ 58 ] N , ° K , f , „
The commonalty arc well fed, found the tress to be ot a larger sim the further they
- ■ ’ ’ ' proceeded. E. Long. 197* I3* 31,
southern neighbours.     ,
lodged, and clothed } and all of them remarkably dis¬
tinguished by a kind ot shibboleth or whittle^ being a
particular way of pronouncing the letter R as il they
1 hawked it up* from the windpipe, like the cawing ot
rooks. In other respects, the language they speak is an
uncouth mixture of the English and Scottish dialects.
There is no material distinction between the fashionable
people of Northumberland and those of the same rank
in other parts of the kingdom j the same form ot edu¬
cation will produce the same eftects in all countries.
The gentlemen of Northumberland, however, arc dis-
tinsuished for their industry, knowledge of rural atlairs,
and hospitality. The number of inhabitants in iaoi
was reckoned at 157,101, and in 1811, 172,161.
A great number of Roman monuments have been
found in this countybut the most remarkable are the
remains of Hadrian’s vallum and the wall of Severus.
See Adman, note (a), and Severus's Wall.
The most noted towns in Northumberland, are New¬
castle, Morpeth, Alnwick, Berwick, Hexham, and
North Shields. It sends two members to parliament.
See Northumberland, Supplement.
NORTHWICK, a small town of Cheshire, long
celebrated for its rock salt and brine pits. Ihe stra¬
tum of salt lies about 40 yards deep j and some ot the
pits are hollowed into the form of a temple. Ihe de¬
scent is through a dome, the roof supported by rows ot
pillar# about two yards thick, and several in height;
and when illuminated with a sufficient number of candles,
they make a most magnificent appearance. Above the
salt is a bed of whitish clay, (Argilla ceenda-cinerea),
used in making the Liverpool earthenware ; and m the
same place is also dug a good deal of the gypsum, or
plaster stone. The fossil salt is generally yellow and
semipellucid, sometimes debased with a dull greenish
earth j and is often found, but in small quantities, quite
clear and colourless. The town is situated near the
river Dane, and is tolerably handsome: it has a market
on Fridays. Population in 1811, 1382. It is 20 miles
north-east of Chester, and 173 north-west of London.
W. Long. 2. 36. N. Lat. 53. 16.
NORTON, in Cheshire, a good modern alms-house,
founded by P—y Brooke, Esq. on the site of a priory
of canons regular of St Augustine, founded by William,
son of Nigellus, A. D. 1135, who did not live to com¬
plete his design-, for Eustace de Burgaville granted to
Hugh. de Catherine pasture for ioo sheep, m case he
finished the church in all respects conformable to the
intent of the founders. It was granted afterwards to
R. Brooke, Esq.
NORTON’S SOUND, on the north-west coast ot
America, was discovered in Captain Cook’s last voyage,
and was so named in honour ot Sir Fletcher Noiton
(Lord Qrantley), a near relation of Mr alterwards Dr
King. It extends as far as N. Lat. 64° I here
is no good station for ships, nor even a tolerable har¬
bour in all the sound. Mr King, on his landing he.re,
discerned many spacious valleys,., with rivers flowing
through them, well wooded, and bounded with hills ot
a moderate height. One of the rivers towards the
north-west seemed to be considerable and he was in¬
clined to suppose, from its direction, that it discharged
itself into the sea from the head of the bay. Some ot
dispeople, penetrating beyond this into the country,
Norton’s
Sound,
Norway.
NORWAY, a country of Europe (for the map see _ ^
Denmark), lying between the an<^ 72ll degrees
of north latitude, and between the 5th and 31st de¬
grees of longitude east from London extending in
length about 1000 miles, in a direct line from Lindef-
naes, in the diocese ot Cbristiansand, to the North Cape,
at the extremity ot I inmark. Its breadth, from the
frontiers of Sweden westward to Cape Statt, may
amount to about 30^ niiles } but from thence the coun¬
try becomes gradually narrower towards the north.
On the south it is bounded by the Schagen rock, or
Categate, the entrance into the Baltic j on the east it
is divided from Sweden by a long ridge of high moun¬
tains ; and on the west and north it is washed by the
northern ocean. In the southern part et Norway, the
country is craggy, abrupt, and mountainous, diveisi-
fied sometimes with fertile and even delightful spots.
In these respects it resembles Switzerland: the pro¬
spects and the meteorological phenomena seem to be
very similar. The range of the theimometer is of great
extent j ii> the summer having risen to 88°, and in the
winter fallen to —40°: in general it is between 8o° and
 22°.
Respecting the population of Norway it is difficult to
attain to certainty. An author of some note (Coxe)
seems to think it amounts to 750,000 ; but he appears
to have over-rated it considerably.
The Norwegian peasants are free, well clothed, well
lodged, spirited, active, frank, open, and undaunted.
They are said to have a very considerable resemblance
to the peasants of Switzerland. The soil is too thin
for the plough: corn is therefore obtained from the
neighbouring states ; and the chief employment of the
peasants of Norway is grazing. The following extract
from Mr Coxe, being a description of the scene near
Christiana, is not beside our purpose, and may not per¬
haps be disagreeable to our readers.
“ As we approached Christiana, the country was Coxe's Tn^
more
wild and hilly, but still very fertile and agree
. vein.
 j 7   J “
able j and about two miles from the town we came to
the top of a mountain, and burst upon as fine a view
as ever I beheld. From the point on which we stood
in raptures, the grounds laid out in rich enclosures,
gradually sloped to the sea: below us appeared Chris¬
tiana, situated at the extremity of an extensive and
fertile valley, forming a semicircular bend along the
shore of a most beautiful bay, which, being enclosed
by hills, uplands, and forests, had the appearance of a
larfre lake. Behind, before, and around, the inland
mountains of Norway rose on mountains covered with
dark forests of pines and fir, the inexhaustible riches
of the north. The most distant summits were caped
with eternal snow. From the glow of the atmosphere,
the warmth of the weather, the variety ol the producr
tions, and the mild beauties of the adjacent scenery, i
could scarcely believe that I was nearly in the 60th de¬
gree of northern latitude,”
The coast of Norway, extending above 300 leagues*
is studded with a multitude of small islands, affoiding
habitation to fishermen and pilots, and pasture to a
few cattle. They form an infinite number of narrow
channels, and a natural barrier of rocks, which ren-
ders Norway inaccessible to the naval power of its ejie-
* smes=
NOR [ 59 ] NOR
Riles. Attempts of tins kind are tlie more dangerous,
as the shore is generally bold, steep, and impending j
so that close to the rocks the depth of the sea amounts
to loo, 20C, or 300 fathoms. The perils of the north
sea are moreover increased by sudden storms, sunk
rocks, violent currents, and dreadful whirlpools. The
most remarkable vortex on this coast is called Moskoc-
strom, from the small island Moskoe, belonging to the
district of Lofoden in the province of Nordland. In
time of flood, the stream runs up between Lofoden
and Moskoe with the most boisterous rapidity; but in
its ebb to the sea, it roars like a thousand cataracts,
so as to be heard at the distance of many leagues. The
surface exhibits different vortices; and if in one of
these any ship or vessel is absorbed, it is whirled down
to the bottom, and dashed in pieces against the rocks.
These violent whirlpools continue Avithout intervals,
except for a quarter of an hour, at high and low wa¬
ter, in calm weather j for the boiling gradually returns
as the flood or ebb advances. When its fury is height¬
ened by a storm, no vessel ought to venture within a
league of it. Whales have been frequently absorbed
rvithin the \ortex, and howled and belloAved hideously
in their fruitless endeavours to disengage themselAres.
A bear, in attempting to SAvim from Lofoden to Mos¬
koe, was once hurried into this whirlpool, from Avhence
he struggled in vain for deliverance, roaring so loud as
to be heard on shore j but notwithstanding all his ef¬
forts, he was borne doAvn and destroyed. Large trees
being absorbed by the current are sucked doAvn, and
rise again all shattered into splinters. There are three
A'ortices of the same kind near the islands of Ferroe.
Norway under the Danish government was divided
into the four governments of Aggerhus, Bergen, Dron-
theim, and Wardhus, besides that of Balms, Avhich be¬
longed to Sweden. The province of Aggerhus com¬
prehends the south-east pail of Norway, extending in
length about 300 miles. Its chief towns are Christiana,
the see of a bishop, suffragan to the metropolitan see of
Drontheim, Avhere the sovex*eign court of justice is held,
in presence of the viceroy and the governor of the pro-
Arince$ Aggerhus, about 15 miles to the south-Avest of
Christiana •, Frederickshall or Frederickstadt, in the
siege of which Charles XIL of Sweden lost his life}
Saltzberg, Tonsberg, Alleen, Hammar, and Hollen.
The government of Bergen lies in the most souther¬
ly and Avesterly part of Norway, including the city of
the same name, which is an episcopal see, and a place
of considerable trade j and Staffhanger, situated in
the hay of Buckenflor, about 80 miles to the south¬
ward of Bergen. The third province, called Droji-
theivi or Trontheim, extends about 500 miles along
the coast •, and is but thinly peopled. The chief toAvn,
Drontheim, seated oil a little gulf at the mouth of the
river Nider, is the only metropolitan see in Norway ;
'and carries on a considerable trade in masts, deals-, tar,
copper, and iron. Leetstrand, Stronden, Scoerdale,
Qpdal, Romsdael, and Solendacl, are likeAvise places of
some traffic. The northern division of Drontheim, call¬
ed the sub-government of Salten, comprehends the toAvns
Alelanger and Schcen. The province of Wardhus, ex¬
tending to the North Cape, and including the islands,
is divided into two parts} namely, Finmark and Nor¬
wegian Lapland. The chief town, Avhich is very in¬
considerable, stands upon an island called Ward, from
whence the place and the government derive their
name. The province of Balms, though now yielded to
the SAA’edes, is reckoned part of Norway, being a nar-
roAV tract ot land, about 90 miles in length, lying on
coast ot the Categatei
The great chain of Norway mountains, running from
north to south, called indifferently Rudfield, Sudeficld,
Skarsficld, and Scorebcrg, is knoAvn in different parts by
other appellations } such as Dofre field, Lamsficld, Sag-
mfield,^ Fitejield, Maine field, Mardangerficld, Joklrficld,
Myglefteld, Hicklefield, and Hangfield. The height and
breadth of this extensive chain likeAvise vary in different
parts. To pass the mountain Hardanger, a man must
travel about 70 English miles, Avheras Fileficld may be
about 50 over. This last rises about tAvo miles and a
half in perpendicular height ; but Dofrefield is counted
the highest mountain of Nnnvay, if not of Europe.
The river Drivane winds along the side of it in a ser¬
pentine course so as to be met nine times by those Avho
travel the Avinter road to the other side of the chain.
The bridges are throAvn over roaring cataracts, and but
indifl’erently fastened to the steep rocks on either side;
so that the Avhole exhibits a very dreadful appearance,
sufficient to deter the traveller from hazarding such a
dangerous passage } for Avhich reason, people generally
choose the road over Filefield, Avhich is much more te¬
dious. This, hoAVCA'er, is the post road used by the
king’s carriages. The Avay is distinguished by posts
fixed at the distance of 200 paces from each other, that,
in snoAvy or dark Aveather, the traveller may not be be¬
wildered. For the convenience of resting and refresh¬
ing, there are two mountain stoves or houses maintain¬
ed on Filefield, as aacII as upon other mountains, at the
expence of the public, and furnished with lire, light,
and kitchen utensils. Nothing can be more dismal and
dreary than those mountains covered Avith eternal snoAv,
where neither house, tree, nor living creature is to be
seen, hut here and there a solitary rein deer, and per¬
chance a Icav Avandering Laplanders.
In travelling from Sweden to Nordenfields, there is
only one Avay of avoiding this ch&in of mountains} and
that is, Avhere it is interrupted by a long deep valley,
extending from Romsdale to Guldbrandsdale. In the
year 1612, a body of 1000 Scots, commanded by Sin¬
clair, and sent over as auxiliaries to the SAVedes, AA’ere
put to the SAVOtd in this defile, by the peasants of Guld-
brand, Avho never give quarter.
Besides this chain, there is a great number of de¬
tached mountains over all the country, that form val¬
leys and ridges, inhabited by the peasants. Some of
thtse are of incredible height, and others exhibit very
remarkable appearances. In sailing up Joering Creek
on the left hand, the sight is astonished with a gtoup of
mountains, resembling the prospect of a city, Avith old
Gothic towers and edifices. In the parish of Oerskong
is the high mountain Skopshorn, the top of Avhich repre¬
sents the figure of a fortification, with regular Avails and
bastions. In the district of Hilgeland appears a very
high rfenge of mountains, with seven pinnacles or crests,
known by the appellation of the Seven Sisters, discern¬
ible a great way olfat sea. To the southward of this
range, though in the same district, rises the famous
mountain Torghatten, so called because the summit re¬
sembles a man’s head with a hat on, under which ap¬
pears a single eye, formed by an aperture through the
H 2 mountain.
NOR
Norway, mountain, 150 ells high, and 300O ells in length. The
v—sun may be seen through this surprising cavity, which
is passable by the loot ol travellers. On the top of the
mountain we find a reservoir of water, as large as a mo¬
derate fish pond : in the lower part is a cavern, through
which a line 400 fathoms in length, being let down,
did not reach the bottom. At Herroe in Sundmoer is
another cavern called Dolstecn, supposed to reach under
the sea to Scotland j which, however, is no more than
an idle tradition. In the year 1750, two clergymen
entered this subterranean cavity, and proceeded a con¬
siderable way, until they heard the sea dashing over
their heads : the passage is as wide and high as an ordi¬
nary church, the sides perpendicular, and the root vault¬
ed. They descended one flight of natural stairs } but
arriving at another, they were afraid to penetrate far¬
ther : they had gone so far, however, that two candles
were consumed in their progress and return. A cavern
of a very curious nature, serving as a conduit to a stream
of water, penetrates through the sides of the mountain
Limur. In the district of Rake, in the neighbourhood
of Frederickshall, are three cavities in a rock •, one of
which is so deep, that a small stone dropped down does
not reach the bottom in less than two minutes ; and
then the sound it produces is pleasant and melodious,
not unlike the sound of a bell.
The vast mountains and rugged rocks that deform the
face of this country are productive of numberless incon¬
veniences. They admit of little arable ground: they
render the country in some parts impassable, and every¬
where difficult to travellers : they afford shelter to wild
beasts, which come from their lurking holes, and make
terrible havock among the flocks of cattle : they expose
the sheep and goats, as well as the peasants, to daily ac¬
cidents of falling over precipices : they occasion sudden
torrents, and falls of snow, which descend with incre¬
dible impetuosity, and often sweep away the labours of
the husbandman •, and they are subject to dreadful dis¬
ruptions, by which huge rocks are rent from their sides,
and, hurling down, overwhelm the plains below with
inevitable ruin. The peasants frequently build their
houses on the edge of a steep precipice, to which they
must climb by ladders, at the hazard of their lives ; and
when a person dies, the corpse must be let down with
ropes, before it can be laid in the coffin. In winter the
mail is often drawn up the sides ot steep mountains.
Even in the king’s road, travellers are exposed to the
frequent risks of falling over those dreadful rocks ; for
they are obliged to pass over narrow pathways, without
rails or rising on the sides, either shored up with rotten
posts, or suspended by iron bolts fastened in the moun¬
tains. In the narrow pass of Naei oe is a remarkable
way of this kind, which, above 600 years ago, the fa¬
mous King Surre caused to be made for the passage of
his cavalry } and even this would have been found im¬
passable by any other horses than those of Norway,
which are used to climb the rocks like goats. Another
very difficult and dangerous road is that between Shog-
stadt and Vang-in-Volders, along the side^ of a steep
mountain, in some places so narrow, that if two travel¬
lers on horseback should meet in the night, they would
find it impracticable either to pass each other, or turn
back. In such a case their lives could not be saved,
unless one of them should alight, and throw his horse
headlong into the lake below, and then cling to the
NOR
rock, until the other could pass. When a sheep or goat Norway.
makes a false step to the projection of a rock, from 1 v 
whence it can neither ascend nor descend, the owner
hazards his own life to preserve that of the animal. He
directs himself to be lowered down from the top of the
mountain, sitting on a cross stick, tied to the end ot a
long rope ; and when he arrives at the place where the
creature stands, he fastens it to the same cord, and it is
drawn up with himself. Ferhaps the other end of the
rope is held bv one person only j and there are some in¬
stances in which the assistant has been dragged down
by the weight of his friend, so that both have perished.
When either man or beast has had the misfortune to fail
over very high precipices, they have not only been suf¬
focated by the repercussion of the air, but their bodies
have been always burst before they reached the ground.
Sometimes entire crests of rocks, many fathoms in length
and breadth, have fallen down at once, creating such a
violent agitation of the air, as seemed a prelude to the
world’s dissolution. At Steenbroe in Laerdale, a stu¬
pendous mass, larger than any castle in the universe, ap¬
pears to have been severed and tumbled from the moun¬
tain in large, sharp, and ragged fragments, through
which the river roars with hideous bellowing. In the
year 1731. a promontory on Sundmoer, called llam-
mersfield, that hung over Nordal Creek, suddenly gave
wav, and plunged into the water-, which swelled to
such a degree, that the church of Strand, though half a
league on the other side of the hank, was overflowed :
the creek however was not filled up) on the contrary,
the fishermen declare they find no difference in the
deoth, which is said to exceed 900 fathoms.
The remarkable rivers of Norway are these : The
Nied, issuing from Tydalen, on the borders of Sweden,
runs westward into the lake Selboe ; and afterwards,
turning to the northward, passes by the city of Dron-
theim, to which it anciently gave the name of Ntderos
and Nidrosia : Sole Ely, that descending from Sulefield,
runs with a rapid course through Nordale into the sea :
Gtilen, which rises near Sffarsfield in the north -, and
running 20 leagues westward, through Aalen, Hlotaa-
len, Storen, and Melhuus, discharges itself into the sea
about a league to the west of Dronthcim. In the year
1344, this" river buried itself under ground : from
whence it again burst forth with such violence, that the
earth and stones thrown up by the eruption filled the
valley, and formed a dam *, which, however, was soon
broken and washed away by the force of the water.
Divers churches, 48 farm houses, with 250 persons,
were destroyed on this occasion.—Otteroen, a large ri¬
ver, taking its rise from the mountain Agde, runs about
30 leagues through Seeterdale and I.fie, and disem¬
bogues itself into the cataract of Wiland. The river
Syre rises near the mountain Lang, and winds its course
through the vale of Syre into the lake of Lunde in the
diocese of Christiansand thence it continues its way to
the sea, into which it discharges itself through a narrow
strait formed by two rocks. This contraction augments
its impetuosity, so that it shoots like an arrow into the
sea, in which it produces a very great agitation. Nid
and Sheen are two considerable rivers, issuing out of
Tillemark. Their water-falls have been diverted, with
infinite labour, by canals and passages cut through the
rocks, for the convenience of floating down the timber.
Tyrefiord or Dramme, is in the neighbourhood of Ho-
nifosse.
[ 60 ]
N O 11 [6
Norway, nifosse, joined by two rivers from Oedale and Hade-
—-v—J land, and disembogues itself into the sea near Bragness.
Loveii rises in the highest part ol Nummedai, and runs
through Konsberg to the sea near Laurwig. Glaamen
is the largest river of Norway, distinguished by the
name of Star Klein, or the great river. It derives its
origin from the mountain Dofre, from whence it winds
all along the plains of Oesterdale and Soloe •, then joins
the Vorme, another considerable river rising out of
Mioes and Guldbrandsdale. These being joined, tra¬
verse the lake Oeycrn ; and thence issuing, run on to
Sarp near Frederickstadt.
Norway abounds with fresh-water lakes *, the princi¬
pal of which are If ysvand in Nordland, Snaasen, Selboe,
the Greater and Lesser Mioes, Slirevand, Sperdille,
Band, Vestn, Saren, Modurn, Lund, Norsoe, Huidsoe,
Farisvand, and Oeyevand ; all these are well stocked
with fish, and navigable for large vessels. Y\ ars have
been formerly carried on upon these inland seas ; in
some of which are small floating islands, or parcels of
earth, with trees on them, separated from the main
land, and probably preserved in compact masses by the
roots of trees, shrubs, and grass, interwoven in the soil.
In the year 1702, the family seat of Borge, near Fre¬
derickstadt, being a noble edifice, with lofty torvers and
battlements, suddenly sunk into an abyss too fathoms
deep, which was instantaneously filled by a piece ol wa¬
ter 300 ells in length and about half as broad. Four¬
teen persons, with 200 head of cattle, perished in this
catastrophe, which was occasioned by the river Glaamen
precipitating itself down a water-fall near Sarp, and un¬
dermining the foundation. Of all the water-falls in
Norway this of Sarp is the most dangerous for its height
and rapidity. The current drives 17 mills j and roars
with such violence, that the water, being dashed and
comminuted among the rocks, rises in the form of rain,
where a beautiful rainbow may be always seen when the
sun shines. In ancient times this cataract rvas made use
of for the execution of traitors and other malefactors :
they were thrown down alive, that they might be dash¬
ed in pieces on the points of rocks, and die in a dread¬
ful commotion, analogous to those they had endeavour¬
ed to excite in the community.
Great part of Norway is covered with forests of
wood, which constitute the principal article of com¬
merce in this country. They chiefly consist of fir and
pine, for which great sums are received from foreigners,
who export an immense number of masts, beams, planks,
and boards. Besides, an incredible quantity is con¬
sumed at home in building houses, ships, bridges, piles,
moles, and fences 5 over and above the vast demand
for charcoal to the founderies, and fuel for domestic
uses.—Nay, in some places, the trees are felled for no
other purpose but to clear the ground, and to be burn¬
ed into ashes for manure. A good quantity of timber
is yearly exported from all parts of Nonvay ; but the
chief exports are from Drammen, Frederickshall or
Frederickstadt, Christiana, Skeen, Arendal, Christian-
sand, Christian’s Bay, and Drontheim. The masts
and large beams are floated down the rivers, and the
rest is divided into boards at the saw mills. These
works supply a vast number of families with a com¬
fortable subsistence.—A tenth part of all sawed tim¬
ber belongs to his Danish majesty, and makes a consi¬
derable branch of his revenue. The forests in Norway
[ ] NOE
are so vast and thick, that the people seem to think Norw
there can never be a scarcity of wood, especially as the '■
soil is peculiarly adapted for the production of timber:,
they therefore destroy it with a wasteful hand j insomuch
that more wood rots in Norway than is burned in the
whole kingdom of Denmark. The best timber grows-
in the provinces of Saltan, Helleland, Romsdale, Guld¬
brandsdale, Oesterdale, Soloe, Valders,Hallingdale,Sog-
nifiord, Tellernark, and the lordship of Nedenes.
The climate of Norway is very different in different
parts of the kingdom. At Bergen the winter is so mo¬
derate, that the seas are always open and practicable
both to mariners and fishermen, except in creeks and
bays, that reach far up into the country towards File-
field, when the keen north-east wind blows from the.
land. On the cast side of Norway, from the frontiers
of Sweden to Filefield, the cold generally sets in about
the middle of October with great severity, and lasts till
the middle of April 5 during which interval the waters
are frozen to a very considerable thickness, and the face
of the country is covered with snow. In the year I7I9»
7500 Swedes, who intended to attack Drontheim, pe¬
rished in the snow on the mountain ol Ruden or Tydel,
which separates Jempteland in Sweden from the diocese
of Drontheim. A company of 200 Norwegian sledge-
men under Major Fmahus, found them all frozen to
death on the ridge of the mountain, where they had
been overtaken by a storm accompanied with snow, hail,
and extreme cold. Some of these unhappy victims ap¬
peared sitting,some lying, and others kneeling in a pos¬
ture of praying. They had cut in pieces their muskets,
and burned the little wood they aflorded.—The gene¬
rals Labarre and Zoega lost their lives ; and ol the
whole corps, consisting originally of 10,000, no more
than 2500 survived this dreadful catastrophe.
The cold is still more intense in that part of Norway
called Finmark, situated in the frigid zone near the po¬
lar circle. But if the winter is generally cold, the sum¬
mer is often excessively hot in Norway. rlhe rays of
the sun are reverberated Irom the sides ol the mountains
so as to render the weather close and sultry in the val¬
leys j besides, the sun’s absence below the horizon is so
short, that the atmosphere and mountains have not time-
to cool. The heat is so great, that vegetation is re*
markably quick. Barley is sown, grows, ripens, and
is reaped, in the space of six weeks or two months-
The longest day at Bergen consists of 19 hours $ the
sun rising at half an hour after two, and setting at half
an hour after nine. The shortest day does not exceed
six hours 5 for the sun rises at nine in the morning, and
sets at three in the afternoon.—In the beginning of the
year the daylight increases with remarkable celerity ;
and, at the approach of winter, decreases in the same
proportion. In summer one may read and write at mid¬
night by the light of the sky. Christian V. while he
resided at Drontheim, used to sup at midnight without
candles. In the district of Tromsen, at the extremity
of Norway, the sun is continually in view at midsum¬
mer. It is seen to circulate day and night round the
north pole, contracting its orbit, and then gradually
enlarging it, until at length it leaves the horizon. In
the depth of winter, therefore, it is for some weeks in¬
visible } and all the light perceived at noon is a laint
glimmering lor about an hour and a half, proceeding
from the reflection ol the sun’s rays from the highest
* mountains.
NOR [6:
Norway, mountains. But the inhabitants of these provinces are
—v—' 1 supplied with other lights that enable them to follow
their employments in the open air. The sky being ge¬
nerally serene, the moonshine is remarkably bright,
and, being reflected from the mountains, illuminates
the valleys. They are also assisted by the aurora bo¬
realis, which is very frequent in the northern parts of
Europe.
The air of Norway is generally pure and salubrious.
On the sea coasts, indeed, it is rendered moist by va¬
pours and exhalations : but in the midland parts of the
country, towards the mountains, the climate is so dry,
that meal may be kept for many years without being
worm-eaten or damaged in the least. The inhabitants
have no idea of sickness, except what is occasioned by-
excesses. It is said, that in the vale of Guldbrand the
inhabitants live to such extreme old age, that they be¬
come weary of life, and cause themselves to be removed
to a less salubrious climate, whereby they may have a
chance of dying the sooner. In consumptions, how-
, ever, the moist air on the sea side is found to be most
■agreeable to the lungs in respiration. Norway, being
a mountainous country intersected by creeks, abounding
with lakes, rivers, and snow, must be subject to fre¬
quent rains j and from sudden thaws the inhabitants are
sometimes exposed to terrible disasters. Vast masses of
snow falling from precipices overwhelm men, cattle,
boats, houses, nay even whole villages. About two
centuries ago, a whole parish was covered and destroyed
by an immense mass of snow *, and several domestic uten¬
sils, as scissars, knives, and basons, have been at differ¬
ent times brought to light by a rivulet that runs under
the snow, which has been gradually hardened and in¬
creased by repeated frosts and annual accessions.
The winds that chiefly prevail on the western coast
are those that blow from the south •, whereas, on the
other side of Filefield, the winds that produce and con¬
tinue the hard frosts are always northerly. In the sum¬
mer, there is a kind of regular trade-wind on the coast
of Bergen. In the forenoon the sea begins to be cooled
with a westerly breeze, which continues till midnight.
Then the land breeze begins from the east, and blows
till about ten in the morning. The coast is likewise
subject to sudden squalls and storms. Hurricanes some¬
times rise at sea; and in these latitudes the phenomenon
called a iDater-spout is not uncommon. One of these in
the neighbourhood of Ferro is said to have sucked up
with the water some lasts of herrings, which were
afterwards dropped on Kolter, a mountain 1200 feet
high.
The fresh water of Norway is not very light or pure ;
but on the contrary is generally turbid, and deposites a
sediment of adventitious matter, being sometimes im¬
pregnated with ochre and particles of iron.—Neverthe¬
less it is agreeable to the taste, and remarkably salubri¬
ous ; as appears from the good health of the common
people, who drink little or no other liquor.
The soil of Norway varies in different places accord¬
ing to the situation of rock or valley. The mountains,
here, as in every other country, are bare and barren 5
hut the earth washed down from them by the rains en¬
riches and fertilizes the valleys. In these the soil gene¬
rally consists of black mould, sand, loam, chalk, and
pravel, lying over one another in unequal strata, and
sometimes in three or four successions : the mould that
3
j NOR
lies uppermost is very fine and mellow, and fit to non- Norway
rish all sorts of vegetables. There is also clay found in —y-—
difl’erent parts of this kingdom, of which the inhabitants
begin to make earthen ware j but bricks and tiles are
not used in building. The face of the country is in
many places deformed by large swamps and marshes,
very dangerous to the traveller. Near Leessoe in the
diocese of Christiansand, a wooden causeway is extend¬
ed near a mile over a morass j and if a horse or any
other animal should make a false step, he will sink at
once into the abyss, never to rise again.
In a cold country like Norway, roughened w ith rocks
and mountains, interspersed with bogs, and covered with
forests, we cannot expect to find agriculture in perfec¬
tion. The ploughed lands, in respect to mountains,
woods, meadows, and wastes, do not exceed the pro¬
portion of 1 to 8oj so that the whole country does not
produce corn to maintain above half the number of its
inhabitants. The peasants are discouraged from the
practice of husbandry by the frequency of accidents tha-*
seem peculiar to the climate. Even in the fruitful pro¬
vinces of Guldbrandsdale, Oesterdale, and Soloer, as
well as in the other places, -when the corn appears in
the most flourishing condition, the whole hope of the har¬
vest is sometimes destroyed in one night by a sudden
frost that nips the blade and extinguishes the vegetation.
The kingdom is moreover visited by some unfavourable
years, in which the sun seems to have lost his genial
power j the vegetables are stunted ; the trees bud and
bloom, yet bear no fruit j and the grain, though it rises,
will yet produce nothing but empty ears and straw.
This calamity, however, rarely occurs j and in general
the cultivated parts of Norway yield plentiful crops of
excellent rye, barley, and 6ats. The most fruitful pro¬
vinces are Nordland, Inderharre, and Numedale, in the
diocese of Drontheim ; Bognifiord and Vaas, in that of
Bergen; Jedderen, Kyefylsk, Raabygdelag, and the
lordship of Nedenes, in the diocese of Christiansand;
Hedemark in the diocese of Aggerhus; Hadeland,
Toten,Romcrige, Ilingerige, and Guldbrandsdale: these
territories not only produce grain enough for their
own consumption, but likewise support their neighbours,
and even supply part of Sweden.—Pease are likewise
propagated in this country, together with wheat, buck¬
wheat, hops, hemp, and flax, hut not to any consider¬
able advantage. The meadows are well stored with
pasturage for sheep and cattle, and the fields are produc¬
tive of those vegetables which are common in other
northern countries. Within these 50 years the people
of Norway have bestowed some attention on the culture
of gardens, which in former times w as so neglected, that
the cities and towns w ere supplied with leeks, cabbage,
and roots, from England and Holland. At present,
however, the Norwegians raise their own culinary and
garden roots and vegetables, which thrive thej*e as well
as in any other country. The scurvy being a disease
that prevails along the sea coast, Nature has scattered
upon it a variety of herbs efficacious in the cure of that
distemper j such as angelica, rose-wort, gentian, cresses,
trefoil, sorrel, scurvy-grass, attd a plant called crick's-
grass, that grows in great plenty on the islands of Nord¬
land : from whence the people of the continent fetch
away boat loads of it, to be preserved in barrels as a
succedaneum for cabbage. There are also a few noxioir
vegetables little known in any country but Norway.
NOR [ 63 ] NOR
Norway. I'1 Guldbrandsdale is a species of grass called self nape j
——v—the root of which is so poisonous, that any beast which
cats of it dies immediately, the belly bursting; nay, the
carnivorous fowls that prey upon the carcass of the
beast meet with the same fate : children have been more
than once poisoned by this root, which nevertheless is
sometimes used externally as an amulet for arthritic dis-
orders. Another vegetable pernicious to the cattle is
the Gramcn ossifragum Norwegiense, which is said to
mollify the bones of the cattle which feed upon it. A-
mong the noxious plants of Norway we may also, reckon
the igle-grass, fatal to the sheep and goats ; the tour-
grass, which affects horses and cows with a sort of le¬
thargy j and the plant torboe, or histe-spring, which
produces nearly the same effect on horses, but is not at
all prejudicial to cows, sheep, or any ruminating animals.
The herb turte, not unlike angelica, operates nearly in
the same manner: yet the bears are said to feed upon
it with peculiar relish j and when their hair begins to
fall off by feeding upon this plant, they cure themselves
by eating the flesh of animals.
The common fruit trees thrive tolerably -vvell in Nor¬
way, the inhabitants of which have plenty of cherries,
apples, and pears. Some kinds of plums attain matu¬
rity f which is seldom the case with grapes, apricots,
and peaches. But even the apples and pears that ripen
here are summer fruit j that which grows till the winter
seldom coming to perfection. Great variety of agree¬
able berries is produced in different parts of this king¬
dom ", such as the hagebar, a kind of sloes j an infusion
of which in wine makes a pleasant cooling liquor ; juni¬
per berries, corinths red and white, soelbar or sun-
berries, raspberries, gooseberries, blackberries, straw¬
berries, &c. with many other species that seem to be
natives of Norway and Sweden. Among those are the
trauajbar, the produce of the myrtillus repens, red and
austere, found in the spring in perfection under the snow,
and much relished by the reindeer; craAebeer, resemb¬
ling bilberries, deemed a powerful antiscorbutic ; ager-
beer, larger and blacker than bilberries, of a pleasant
acid, ripened by cold, and used as cherries for an infu¬
sion in wine ; and finally tyltebeer, a red pleasant berry
growing on a short stem, with leaves like those of box 5
they are plucked off by handfuls, and sent to Denmark
to be preserved for the table, where they are eaten by
way of dessert.
Of the trees that grow wild in Norway, the prin¬
cipal are the fir and the pine. The first yield an an¬
nual revenue of 1,000,000 of rixdollars, if we include
the advantages resulting from the saw mills and the
masts *, one of which last has been known to sell for 200
rixdollars. The red fir tree, which grows on the moun¬
tains, is so rich in turpentine as to be almost incorrupti¬
ble. Some of the houses belonging to the Norway pea¬
sants, built of this timber, are supposed to be above 400
years standing. In Guldbrandsdale the house is still to
be seen standing in which King Olaf lodged five nights,
above 700 years ago, when he travelled round the king¬
dom to convert the people to the Christian faith. Even
100 years after the trunk of the fir tree has been cut
down, the peasants burn the roots for tar, which is a
vei*y profitable commodity. In the fens, the resin of
the fir tree is by nature transformed into a substance
itlnch may be called Norway frankincense. The buds
or pine apples of this tree, boiled in stale beer, make an Norway,
excellent medicine for the scurvy 5 less unpleasant to—y-•*•»
the taste, though as efficacious, as tar-water. The pine
tree is more tall and beautiful than the fir, though in¬
ferior to it in strength and quality $ for which reason the.-
planks of it are sold at an inferior price, and the peasants
waste it without remorse. Norway likewise produces
some forests of oak, which is found to be excellent for
ship-building. Here also grow plenty of elm trees j the
bark of which, being powdered, is boiled up with other
food to fatten hogs, and even mixed by the poor among
their meal j also the ash, from which the peasants distil
a balsam used in certain disorders, and which is used
both externally and internally. Many other trees
flourish in this country, an enumeration of which would
prove too tedious. Hazels grow here in such abundance,
that 100 tons of the nuts are annually exported from
Bergen alone.
A great diversity of stones is found in Norway, some
of which are of a surprising figure. Several mountains^
consist chiefly of a brown pebble, which decays with
age ; nay, it sometimes dissolves, and drops into "the sea,
and the cement being thus loosened, a terrible disruption
ensues. In some places the gray and black pebbles are
intermixed with iron, copper, lead, silver, and gold.
I he ground in certain districts is covered with the frag¬
ments of rocks that have been precipitated from the:
summits of mountains, and broken by their fall intO'in*
numerable shivers. Between 20 and 30 years ago, in
the neighbourhood of Bergen, a man was suddenly over¬
whelmed with such a mass, which formed a kind of vault
around him. In this dreadful tomb he remained alive
for several weeks. By his loud cries the place of his
confinement was discovered : but it was found impossible
to remove the huge stones by which he was inclosed.
All that his friends could do for him w'as, to lower
down meat and drink through some crevices j but at
length the stones fell in, and crushed him to death.
In Norway are inexhaustible quarries of excellent
marble, black, white, blue, gray, and variegated ; to¬
gether with some detached pieces of alabaster, several
kinds of spar, chalk-stone, gypsum, sand-stone, mill¬
stone, baking-stone, slate, talc, magnets, and swine-stone,
a production natural to Norway and Sweden, of a
brown colour, fetid smell, in texture resembling crystal,
and deriving its name from a supposed efficacy in curing
a distemper incident to swine. Here also is found the
amianthus or stone-flax, of which incombustible cloth
may be made. Norway, however, affords no flints,
but plenty of pyrites, beautiful rock crystals, gra¬
nites, amethysts, agate, thunder-stones, and eagle-
stones. Gold has formerly been found in small quan¬
tity in the diocese of Christiansand, and coined into
ducats. There is at present a very considerable silver
mine wrought at Kongsberg on account and at the
risk of his Danish majesty: the ore is surprisingly
rich, but interrupted in such a manner, that the vein
is often lost. Many masses of pure silver have been
found 5 and, among the rest, one piece weighing 560
pounds, preserved in the royal museum at Copen¬
hagen. Such is the richness of these mines, that the
annual produce amounts in value to a ton and a
halt in gold. About 5000 people are daily employ¬
ed, and earn their subsistence, in those stupendous
works
Norway.
* Avctm
Zool.
N O K f 64
Works (a). Other silver mines are prosecuted at Jans-
berg, but not to the same advantage ; and here tne ore
is mixed with lead and copper. In many parts ot this
country copper mines have been discovered ; but the
principal, and perhaps the richest in all Europe, is at
Koraas, about xoo English miles from Drontheim.
This work yields annually about 1109 ship pounds of
pure copper : the founderies belonging to it consume
yearly about 14,000 lasts of coal, and 500 fathoms of
wood. The next in importance is the copper work
at Lykken, about 20 miles from Drontheim. A third
mine is carried on at Indset or Quickne, at the dis¬
tance of 30 miles from the same place } and here they
precipitate the copper from its menstruum, by means
of iron. There is a fourth copper work at Silboe,
about 30 miles distant from Drontheim, though the
least considerable of the four. Other copper mines
of less note are worked in diflerent parts of the king¬
dom. Iron is still in greater plenty, and was the first
metal wrought in this country. Many hundred thou¬
sand quintals ;»re annually exported^ chiefly in bars,
and part of it in stoves, pots, kettles, and cannon .
the national profit arising from this metal is estimated
at 300,000 rixdollars. There is a species called moor-
iron, found in large lumps among the morasses : of
this the peasants make their own domestic tools and
utensils, such as knives, scythes, and axes. The lead
found mixed in the silver ore is an article ot small im¬
portance in Norway 5 yet some mines of this metal
have been lately opened in the district of Soloer by
- the proprietors of the copper work at Oudal. A vi¬
triol work has been begun near Kongsberg : the mines
yield great plenty of sulphur y which, however, the
Norwegians will not take the trouble to melt and de¬
purate, because immense quantities are found at .a
cheaper rate in the island of Iceland. Alum is found
between the slate flakes near Christiana in such plenty,
that works have been set up for refining this mineral,
, though they have not yet brought it to any degree of
transparency. His Danish majesty has established
salt works in the peninsula of Yaloe, about six English
miles from Tonsberg, where this mineral is extracted
in large quantities from the sea water.
Besides the animals common to other countries, Nor¬
way is said to contain many of the uncommon and du¬
bious kind ; such as the kraken, mermaid, sea serpent,
&.c. See these articles.
Many Danish, English, Scotch, Dutch, and Ger¬
man families have now settled in Norway 5 and indeed
form no inconsiderable part of the trading people : but
the original inhabitants are the descendants of those fe¬
rocious Normanni, who harassed almost all the coasts
of Europe with piratical armaments in the Sth* 9th, and
1 Oth centuries.
« Our first certain knowledge of the inhabitants ot
this country (says Pennant *) was from the desola-
N O R
tion they brought on the southern nations by their iVorway.
piratical invasions. Their country had before that*'—v*—
period the name of NortmanlaiKi, and the inhabitants
Nortmans, a title which included other adjacent peo¬
ple. Great Britain and Ireland were ravaged try them
in 845 •, and they continued their invasion till they
effected the conquest of England, under then leader
Canute the Great. They went up the Seine as far as
Paris, burnt the town, and forced its weak monarch to
purchase their absence at the price of fourteen thousand
marks. They plundered Spain, and at length carried
their excursions through the Mediterranean to Italy,
and oven into Sicily. They used narrow vessels, like
their ancestors the Sitones j and, besides oars, added
the improvement of two sails j and victualled them
with salted provisions, biscuit, cheese, and beer. Their
ships were at first small ; hut in after times they were
large enough to hold 100 or 120 men. Eut the mul¬
titude of vessels was amazing. The fleet of Harold
Blaatand consisted of 700. A hundred thousand of
these savages have at once sailed from Scandinavia, so
iustly styled Officina gentium, ant certe velut vagina na ¬
tion um* Probably necessity, more than ambition, caused
them to.discharge their country of its exuberant num¬
bers. Multitudes were destroyed ; but multitudes re¬
mained, and peopled more favourable climates.
“ Their king, Olaus, was a convert to Christianity
in 994', Bernard an Englishman had the honour of
baptizing him, when Olaus happened to touch at one
of the Scilly islands. He plundered with great spirit
during several years j and in ico6 received the crown
of martyrdom from his pagan subjects. But religious
zeal first gave the rest of Europe a knowledge of their
country and the sweets of its commerce. The Hanse
towns poured in their missionaries, and reaped a tem¬
poral harvest. By the year 1204, the merchants ob¬
tained from the wise prince Suer every encouragement
to commercem, and by that means introduced wealth and
civilization into his barren kingdom. England by every
method cherished the advantages resulting from an in¬
tercourse with Norway, and Bergen was the emporium.
Henry III. in 1217, entered into a league with its mo¬
narch Haquin ; by which both princes stipulated for
free access for their subjects into their respective king¬
doms, free trade, and security to their persons. In 1269,
'Henry entered into another treaty with Magnus j in
which it was agieed, that no goods should be exported
from either kingdom except they had been paid for j
and there is, besides, a humane provision on both sides,
for the security of the persons and eflects of the
subjects, who should suffer shipwreck on their several
coasts.
The inhabitants now speak the same language that
is used in Denmark, though their original tongue is
the dialect now spoken in Iceland. 1 hey profess the
Lutheran religion, under an archbishop established at
Drontheim,
fA^ Mr Coxe tells us, that he visited those mines. They formerly, he says, produced annually 70,000k
but at present yield little more than 50,000k The expences generally exceed the profits ; and goyernmen
tains oSv bY the number of miners employed. The mines of cobalt, and the preparation of Prussian blue
are much more productive. The latter goes through 270 hands, and the number of men employed n
365. It is supposed, that, at this period (1793), it may produce to government a profit of 16,0 -
, a-year.
NOB, [6
Norway. Brontliertn, with four suffragans ; namely, of Bergen,
Staffanger, Hammer, and Christiana. By the union of
Cal mar, the two kingdoms of Nomay and Denmark
were united under one monarch ; and then the people
of both nations enjoyed considerable privileges: but
the Danish government soon became absolute 5 and Nor¬
way was ruled despotically by a viceroy, who resided in
the capital, and presided in the supreme court, to which
appeals were made from the subordinate courts of judi¬
cature. The rigour of the government was however
greatly mitigated, during the reign of the present kino-
of Denmark.
The Norwegians are generally well formed, tall,
sturdy, and robust, brave, hardy, honest, hospitable, and
ingenious ; yet savage, rash, quarrelsome, and litigious.
The same character will nearly suit the inhabitants of
every mountainous country in the northern climates.
Their women are well shaped, tall, comely, remarkably
fair, and obliging. The nobility of Norway have been
chiefly removed by the kings of Denmark, in order to
prevent faction and opposition to the court 5 or are long
ago degenerated into the rank of peasants 5 seme fami¬
lies, however, have been lately raised to that dignity.
Every freeholder in Norway enjoys the right of primo¬
geniture and power of redemption ; and it is very usual
to see a peasant inhabit ing the same house which has been
possessed 400 years by bis ancestors. The oclels-gacls, or
freehold, cannot be alienated by sale or otherwise from
the right heir, called odels-mavd: if he is not able to
redeem the estate, he declares his incapacity every icth
year at the sessions ; and if he, or his heirs to the third
generation, should acquire wealth enough for that pur¬
pose, the possessor/?;’o tempore mnst resign his possession.
The mountaineers acquire surprising strength and
dexterity by hard living, cold, laborious exercise, climb¬
ing rocks, skating on the snow, and handling arms,
which they carry from their youth to defend themselves
against the rvild beasts of the forest. Those who dwell
in the maritime parts of Norway exercise the employ¬
ments of fishing and navigation, and become very expert
mariners.
The peasants of Norway never employ any handi¬
craftsmen for necessaries to themselves and families :
they are their own hatters, shoemakers, taylors, tan¬
ners, weavers, carpenters, smiths, and joiners : they are
even expert at ship-building; and some of them make
excellent violins. But their general turn is lor carving
in wood, which they execute in a surprising manner with
a common knife of their own forging. They are taught
in their youth to wrestle, ride, swim, skate, climb, shoot,
and forge iron. Their amusements consist in making
verses, blowing the born, or playing upon a kind of gui¬
tar, and the violin : this last kind of music they perform
even at funerals. The Norwegians have evinced their
valour and fidelity in a thousand different instances. The
country was always distracted by intestine quarrels, which
raged from generation to generation. Even the farmers
stand upon their punctilio, and challenge one another to
single combat with their knives. On such occasions they
hook themselves together by their belts, and fight until
one of them is killed or mortally wounded zlt wed¬
dings and public feasts they drink to intoxication, quar¬
rel, fight, and murder generally ensues. The very com¬
mon people are likewise passionate, ambitious of glory
■and independence, and vain of their pedigree. The no¬
bility and merchants of Norway fare sumptuously ; but
Vol. XV. Part I. ‘ ^ ? ^
5 J NOB
the peasant lives with the utmost temperance and fruga¬
lity, except at festivals: his common bread is made of
oatmeal, rolled into broad thin cakes, like those used in
Scotland. In time of scarcity, fliey boil, dry, and grind
the bark of the^fir tree into a kind of flour which they
mix with oat meal : the bark of the elm tree is used in
the same manner. In those parts where a fishery is car¬
ried on, they knead the roes of cod with their oat meal.
Of these last, mixed with barley meal, they make hasty
pudding and soup, enriched with a pickled herring or
salted mackerel. Tresh fish they have in plenty on the
sea coast. They hunt and eat grouse, partridge, hare,
red deer, and reindeer. They kill cows, sheep, and
goats, for their winter stock: these they pickle,or smoke,
or dry for use. They make cheese of their milk, and a
liquor called syre of their sour whey : this they common¬
ly drink mixed with water ; but they provide a store of
strong ale for Christmas, weddings, christenings, and
other entertainments. From their temperance and ex¬
ercise, joined to the purity and elasticity of their air,
they enjoy good health, and often attain to a surprising
degree ot longevity. Nothing is more common than to
see a hearty Norwegian turned of 100. In the year
1733’ f°ur couples danced before his Danish majesty at
I rederickshall: their ages, when joined, exceeded 800
years. Nevertheless the Norwegians are subject to va¬
rious diseases *, such as the scab, the leprosy, the scurvy,
the catarrh, the rheumatism, gout, and epilepsy. The
dress of the Norway peasants consists of a wide loose
jacket made of coarse cloth, with waistcoat and breeches
of the same. Their heads are covered with flapped hats,
or caps ornamented with ribbons. They wear shoes
without outer soles, and in the winter leathern buskins.
They have likewise snow shoes and long skates, with
which they travel at a great pace, either on the land or
ice. I here is a corps of soldiers thus accoutred, who
can outmarch the swiftest horses. The Norwegian pea¬
sant never wears a neckcloth, except on extraordinary
occasions : he opens his neck and breast to the weather,
and lets the snow beat into his bosom. Plis body is girt
round with a broad leathern belt, adorned with brass
plates, from wdiich depends a brass chain that sustains a
large knife, gimlet, and other tackle. The women are
dressed in close laced jackets, having leathern girdles
decorated with ornaments of silver. They likewise wear
silver chains round their necks, to the ends of which are
fixed gilt medals. Their caps and handkerchiefs are al¬
most covered with small plates of silver, brass, and tin,
large rings, and buttons. A maiden bride appears with
her hair plaited, and, together with her clothes, hung
full of such jingling trinkets.
Ihe churches, public edifices, and many private
houses in Norway, are built of stone ; but the people
in general live in wooden bouses, made of the trunks of
fir and pine tree laid upon each other, and joined by
mortises at the corners. These are counted more dry,
warm, and healthy, than stone or brick buildings. In
the whole diocese of Bergen, one hardly sees a farm
bouse with a chimney or window : they are generally
lighted by a square hole in the top of the house, which
lets in the light, and lets out the smoke. In summer
this hole is left quite open : in the winter, it is covered
with what they call a siau; that is, the membrane of
some animal, stretched upon a wooden frame that fits
the hole, and transmits the rays of light. It is fixed or
removed with a long pole occasionajtly. Every person
I that
NonvHy.
NOE [ 6E
that enters the house, upon business or courtship, takes
hold of this pole, according to ancient custom. 1 he
ceiling is about eight feet high in the middle •, and, be¬
ing arched like a cupola, the smoke ot the fire under¬
neath rolls about, until it finds a vent at the hole, winch
is called liur. Under this opening stands a thick table
with benches, and a high seat at the upper end for the
master of the family : he has likewise a small cupboard
for bis own use, in which he locks up his most valuable
effects. The boards of the roof are coated with the
bark of the birch trees, which is counted incorruptible :
this again is covered with turf, which yields a good crop
of grass for goats and sheep, and is often mowed as hay
by the farmer.
' The Norwegians carry on a considerable trade with
foreign nations. The duty on the produce of theii own
country exported, amounts annually to ioo,coo nx-
dollars. These commodities are, copper wrought and
unwrought ; iron cast into cannon, stoves, and pots, or
forged into bars •, lead, in small quantity •, masts, tim¬
ber, deal boards, planks, marble, millstones, herring,
cod, ling, salmon, lobsters, flounders, cow hides, goat
skins, seal skins, the furs of bears, wolves, foxes, beavers,
ermines, martens, See. down, feathers, butter, tal ow,
train oil, tar, juniper, and other sorts of berries, and nuts;
salt alum, glass, vitriol, and pot ashes. All other com-
modities and articles of luxury the Norwegians import
from different nations. The nature of the ground does
not admit of much improvement in agriculture: ncvje.r‘''
theless, the farmers are not deficient in industry and skill
to drain marshes, and render the ground arable and ht
for pasture. Many are employed in grazing and breed-
ipr»- cattle : but a much greater number is engaged in
felling wood, floating timber, burning charcoal, and cx-
tracting tar from the roots of the trees which have been
cut down 5, in the silver, copper, and iron mines j in the
navigation and fishery. A considerable number ol
people earn a comfortable livelihood by hunting, shoot-
inrr, and bird-catching. Every individual is at liberty
to^pursue the game, especially in the mountains and
commons : therefore every peasant is expert in the use
of fire arms ; and there are excellent marksmen among
the mountains, who make use of the how to kill those
animals, whose skins, being valuable, would be damaged
by the shot of fire arms.
^ Norway can produce above 14,000 excellent seamen.
The army of this country amounts to 30,000 effective
men: and the annual revenue exceeds 800,000nxdollars.
In consequence of an agreement between Ilus^sia,
Sweden, and Great Britain in 1812, the king of Den¬
mark was compelled to cede this country to Sweden,
and a treaty to that effect was made at Kiel in January
1814. The Norwegians, indignant at baying then li¬
berties bartered away, invited Prince Christian, a younger
son of the Danish monarch, to accept of the regency, and
declared themselves independent. A representative
constitution was framed, and the people took up arms
to resist the Swedes. But their resistance was vain ;
the crown prince (Bernadotte) entered the country
with a strong army, and the British fleet at the same
time blockading the coast, the Norwegians were forced
to submit in August 1814. Norway was united to the
Swedish crown, but retained its separate legislature as
organized a short time before.
‘N.obway Rat- See Mus, Mammalia Index.
; ] NOR
NORWICH, the capital of the county of Norfolk Nmwicli.
in England, situated in E. Long. 1. 26. N. Lat. 52. 40.
It is supposed to have had its name, which signifies <1
castle to the north,” from its situation in respect of Cas¬
ter, the ancient Venta Icenorum, three or four miles to
the south of it, out of whose ruins it seems to have risen.
In its infancy, in the reign ot Etbeldred, it was plun¬
dered and burnt by Sueno the Dane, when lie invaded
England with a great army. Afterwards it recovered ;
amf in the reign of Edward the Confessor was a con¬
siderable place, having 1320 burghers. But it suflered
again much in the reign of William I. by being the seat
of a civil war, which Ralph carl ot the ivast Angie*
raised against that king. So much was it impaired by
the siege it then underwent, that there were scarce 56a
burghers left in it, as appears from Doomsday book.
From that time forward it began by little and little to
recover, especially after Bishop Herbert translated the
episcopal see hither from Thetford in the reign of W if-
liam Rufus in 10965 and built a beautiful cathedral.
In the time of Edward I. it was walled round by the
citizens, who had presented a petition to parliament
for liberty to do it. Henry IV. allowed them, in¬
stead of bailiffs, which they had before, to elect a
mayor yearly, and made the city a county ot itsel s
In the year'1348, near 58,000 persons were carried oft
by the plague 5 and in 1505 the city was almost con¬
sumed by fire. For the flourishing state to which the
citv is now arrived, they are much indebted to the
Flemings, who fled hither from the tyranny of the duke
of xAlva and the inquisition, and taught them the manu¬
facture of those striped and flowered damasks, camblets,
druggets, black and white crape, for winch the place is
now so noted, and which have been computed to yield
sometimes 200,000k a-year. In the year 1583, the ci¬
tizens, by the help of an engine, conveyed water through
pipes to the highest parts of the city, which is plea¬
santly seated along the side ot a hill, extending a mile
and a half in length from north to south 5 hut the
breadth is much less, and it contracts itself by degrees
towards the south. It is now one of the most consider¬
able cities in Britain for wealth, populousness, neat
buildings, beautiful churches, (of which it had once
58, but now only 36), and the industry and civility of
the inhabitants. The cathedral is a very venerable
structure, with a curious roof, adorned with the history
of the Bible in little images, carved to the life, and a
lofty steeple 105 yards high. The wall of flint stone,
beautified with 40 towers and 12 gates, fimshedm 1309,
is now much decayed. The city, though there is a
great deal of waste ground within the walls, was com¬
puted, about 60 years ago, to contain 8000 houses and
CO,000 inhabitants. In 1811 the inhabitants amounted
to 27 256. Besides the cathedral already mentioned,
the most remarkable buildings are, the duke ot Norfolk’s
house, one of the largest in England 5 the castle, which
is now the county gaol, and stands m the heart of the
city with a deep moat round it, over which is a bridge ot
one very large arch 5 the town hall 5 the guild hall, for¬
merly the church belonging to the monastery of Black
Friars 5 the house of correction 5 the shire house, where
the assizes are held 5 a lofty market cross, built after
the manner of a piazza 5 the bishop’s palace 5 the king s
school, founded by Edward VI. the boys of which are
nominated by the mayor for the time being, with the
w consent
NOE C 67 ] NOS
Norwich, consent of the majority of aldermen. There having
v'~_—’ been formerly many thatched houses, an order was made,
that all houses that should hereafter be built should be
covered with tiles. The city is interspersed with gar¬
dens, orchards, and trees, which make it both pleasant
and healthful. It has four hospitals, in which a great
number of old men and 'women, boys and girls, are main¬
tained •, and a dozen charity schools. IJere are two
churches for the Dutch and French Flemings j who have
particular privileges, and are very numerous. Some of
the churches are thatched, and all of them crusted with
flint stone curiously cut; which is the more wonderful,
as Norwich stands in a clay country, and has no flint
within 20 miles of it. It is now governed by a mayor,
recorder, steward, two sheriffs, 24 aldermen, 60 common
council, with a town clerk, sword-bearer, and other in¬
ferior officers. The mayor is chosen on May-day by
the freemen, and sworn in on the Tuesday before Mid¬
summer-eve. 'Flie sheriffs are also chosen annually, on
the first Tuesday in August, one by the freemen, the
other by the aldermen, and sworn in on Michaelmas day.
The freemen of the several wards choose each their
alderman. The common council is chosen in Midlent.
The mayor is a justice of the peace and quorum, during
his year (as are also the recorder and steward) within
the city and liberties ; and after his mayoralty, he is a
justice during life. The trade and manufactures of the
city are very considerable. At Yarmouth they export
large quantities of their manufactures, most of which are
sent to London ; and import a great deal of wine, coal,
fish, oil, &c. All the city and country round are em¬
ployed in the worsted manufacture, brought hither, as
already observed, by the Flemings, in which they not
only consume the wool of their own county, in spinning,
weaving, &c. but use many thousand packs of yarn
which they receive from other parts of England, as far
as Yorkshire and Westmoreland. There are eight
wardens of the weavers chosen annually, and sworn to
take care that there be no frauds committed in spinning,
weaving or dyeing the stuffs. It is computed that there
are not less than 120,000 people employed in the city
and neighbourhood in the silk and woollen manufactures.
Their markets are thought to be the greatest in Eng¬
land, and furnished with a surprising plenty and variety
of goods and provisions. At a small village to the north
of the city, called St Faith's, not less than 40,000 head
of Scotch cattle are said to be yearly bought up by the
Norfolk graziers, and fattened in their meadows and
marshes. Its markets are on Wednesday, Friday, and
Saturday. It has a great number of fairs, sends two
members to parliament, and gives the title of earl to
the duke of Gordon.
Few cities or towns seem to have suffered more than
Norwich has done at various periods, and few seem to
have felt it less ; for though quite burnt down by Sueno
as above, it was of considerable consequence in Edward
the Confessor’s time \ nor did it long feel the evils of
the insurrection and siege in William the Conqueror’s
time, for it was rebuilt in Stephen’s reign, and made a
corporation.
'Flic city of Norwich has long been famous for its
manufactures j which are not, in the opinion of some, at
present in . 0 flourishing a state as formerly. In addition
to the naanuiacture of camblets, druggets, and crapes, it
is also remarkable for baize,serges, shalloons, stockings, Norwitli
and woollen cloths. Nostk
The inhabitants of Norwich are generally so cm- -v——
ployed in their manufactures within doors, that the
city has the appearance of being deserted, except on
Sundays and holidays, when the streets swarm with
people.
Caster, near Norwich, was the Venta Icenorum,
or capital city of the Iceni, the broken walls of which
contain a square of about thirty acres. In those walls
may still he perceived the remains of four gates and a
tower. Several Roman urns, coins, and other relicks
of antiquity, have been found in this place.
NOSE, the organ of smell. See Anatomy. The
uses of the nose are, its giving us the sense of smell¬
ing ; its serving in the great office of respiration, and
in modelling the voice ; in receiving the abundant hu¬
mours from the eyes, and in adding to the beauty of the
face.
The nose was by the augurs particularly attended
to in forming conjectures concerning future good or
ill success. The tingling of the right or left side of it,
for instance, was thought to have different significations
as it happened to different sexes, or persons in different
conditions.
In T 'artary, the greatest beauties are those who have
the least noses. Ruybrock mentions the wife of the
great Jenghiz Khan as a celebrated beauty, because she
had only two holes for a nose. The Crim Tartars break
the noses of their children while young, as thinking it
a great piece of folly to have their noses stand before
their eyes. In most other countries, China excepted,
great noses are an honour.
In what the beauty of the nose consists, different
nations have different opinions : and the following re¬
flections of Sir Joshua Reynolds on this subject are
perhaps the most philosophical account of the beauty
of form that is to be found in any language. W er,
suppose (says Sir Joshua) it will be easily granted* T°hu-
that no man can judge whether any animal be beauti¬
ful in its kind, or deformed, who has seen only one of
that species : that is as conclusive in regard to the
human figure $ so that if a man born blind was to reco¬
ver his sight, and the most beautiful woman was brought
before him, lie could not determine whether she was
handsome or not j nor, if the most beautiful and most
deformed were produced, could he any better deter¬
mine to which he should give the preference, having
seen only those twoi To distinguish beauty, then, im¬
plies the having seen many individuals of that species.
If it is asked, how is more skill required by the obser¬
vation of greater numbers ? I answer, that, in conse¬
quence of having seen many, the power is acquired,
even without seeking after it, of distinguishing between
accidental blemishes and excrescences, which are conti¬
nually-varying the surface of Nature’s works, and the
invariable general form which Nature most frequently
produces, and always seems to intend in her produc¬
tions.
“ Thus amongst the blades of grass or leaves of the
same tree, though no two can be found exactly alike*
yet the general form is invariable : a naturalist, before
he chose one as a sample, would examine many, sipce,
if he took the first that occurred, it might have, by
la accident
N O S
Nose, accident or otherwise, such a form as that it would
scarce be known to belong to that species 5 he selects
as the painter does, the most beautiful, that is, the most
general form of nature.
“ Every species of the animal as well as the vegetable
creation may be said to have a fixed or determinate
form, towards which nature is continually inclining,
like various lines terminating in the centre •, or it may
he compared to pendulums vibrating in different di¬
rections over one central point) and as they all cross
the centre, though only one passes through any other
point, so it will he found that perfect beauty is of-
tencr produced by nature than deformity : I do not
mean than deformity in general, but than any one
kind of deformity. To instance in a particular part
of a feature : the line that forms the ridge of the nose
is beautiful when it is straight } this then is the central
form, which is oftener found than either concave, con¬
vex, or any other irregular form that shall be proposed.
As we are then more accustomed to beauty than defor¬
mity, we may conclude that to be the reason why we
approve and admire it, as u'e approve and admire cus¬
toms and fashions of dress for no other reason than
that we are used to them ; so that though habit and
custom cannot be said to be the cause of beauty, it
is certainly the cause of our liking it: and I have
no doubt, hut that if we were more used to defor¬
mity than beauty, deformity would then lose the idea
now annexed to it, and take that cf beauty ; as if the
whole world should agree that yes and no should change
their meanings, yes would then deny, and ?io would
affirm.
“ Whoever undertakes to proceed further in this
argument, and endeavours to fix a general criterion
of beauty respecting different species, or to show why
one species is more beautiful than another, it will be
required from him first to prove that one species is real¬
ly more beautiful than another. That we prefer one to
the other, and with very good reason, wall be readily
granted j but it does not follow from thence that we
think it a more beautiful form; for we have no criterion
of form by which to determine our judgment. He
who says a swan is more beautiful than a dove, means
little more than that he has more pleasure in seeing a
swan than a dove, either from the stateliness of its mo¬
tions, or its being a more rare bird ; and he who gives
the preference to the dove, does it from some associa¬
tion of ideas of innocence that he always annexes to the
dove ; but if he pretends to defend the preference he
gives to one or the other, by endeavouring to prove that
this more beautiful form proceeds from a particular
gradation of magnitude, undulation of a curve, or
direction of a line, or whatever other conceit of his
imagination he shall fix on as a criterion of form, lie
will be continually contradicting himself, and find at
last that the great mother Nature will not be sub¬
jected to such narrow rules. Among the various rea¬
sons why we prefer one part of her works to another,
the most general, I believe, is habit and custom : cu¬
stom makes, in a certain sense, white black, and
black white ; it is custom alone determines our pre¬
ference of the colour of the Europeans to the ^Ethio¬
pians ; and they, for the same reason, prefer their own
colour to ours. I suppose nobody will doubt, if one
of their painters was to paint the goddess of beauty,
N O S
but that he would represent her black, with thick lips, Nose
flat nose, and woolly hair; and it seems to me lie II
would act very unnaturally if he did not; for by what, -N03t0cl;
criterion rvill any one dispute the propriety of his idea?
We indeed say, that the form and colour of the Euro¬
pean is preferable to that of the Ethiopian ; but I
know of no other reason we have for it, but that tve
are more accustomed to it. It is absurd to say, that
beauty is possessed of attractive powers, which irresis¬
tibly seize the corresponding mind with love and admi¬
ration, since that argument is equally conclusive in fa¬
vour of the white and the black philosopher.
“ The black and white nations must, in respect
of beauty, be considered as of diflerent kinds, at least
a different species of the same kind ; from one of
which to the other, as I observed, no inference can be
drawn.
“ Novelty is said to be one of the causes of beau¬
ty : that novelty is a very sufficient reason why we
should admire, is not denied ; but because it is un¬
common, is it therefore beautiful ? The beauty that
is produced by colour, as when rve prefer one bird to
another, though of the same form, on account of its
colour, has nothing to do with this argument, which
reaches only to form, I have here considered the
word beauty as being properly applied to form alone.
There is a necessity of fixing this confined sense ; for
there can he no argument, if the sense of the word
is extended to every thing that is approved. A rose
may as well be said to be beautiful, because it has a
fine smell, as a bird because of its colour. When rve
apply the word beauty, we do not mean always by it
a more beautiful form, but something valuable on ac¬
count of its rarity, usefulness, colour, or any other
property. A horse is said to be a beautiful animal ;
but had a horse as few good qualities as a tortoise, I
do not imagine that he would be then esteemed beau¬
tiful.
“ A fitness to the end proposed is said to he another
cause of beauty ; hut supposing we were proper judges
of what form is the most proper in an animal to consti¬
tute Strength or swiftness, we always determine concern¬
ing its beauty before we exert our understanding to
judge of its fitness.
“ From what has been said, it may be inferred, that
the works of nature, if we compare one species with
another, are all equally beautiful; and that preference
is given from custom, or some association of ideas ; and
that in creatures of the same species, beauty is the me¬
dium or centre of all various forms. See the article
Beauty, towards the end.
NOSOLOGY, is a Greek word signifying a dis¬
course or treatise of diseases; otherwise called pathology.
The importance of a comprehensive and accurate no¬
sology has been long and generally allowed. Baglivi,
Boerhaave, Gorter, Gaubius, and Sydenham, have ex¬
pressed their desire of a work of this kind, the great
object of which is to fix pathognomonics to every dis¬
ease ; or in which all diseases are disposed into certain
classes, orders, and genera, founded on distinctions taken
from the symptoms only, without regard to remote or
proximate causes. See Medicine.
NOSTOCH, Shot Stars; tremella nostoc, (Lin.
Spec. Plant. Dillenius de Muscis, tab. 10. fig. 14.
Elor. Dauica, tab. 885. fig. 1) ; tremella intestinalis yel
me sent erica.
[ 68 ]
NOS [ 69 ] NOS
Nostoch. mescnierica, (Liu. Spec. Plant. Diilen. ile Mus, tab.
—v—10. fig. 16. Flor. I)anic. tab. 885. fig. 2.).
A writer in the Gentleman’s Magazine gives this
account of it: “ The substance in question is not un¬
frequent in England, nor in all other parts of Europe,
after rains, both in spring and autumn. Very large
spots of it are seen in gravelly soils, and particularly on
the tops of hills, and on open downs, and often it is
found on gravel walks.
“ It is met with in some of the old authors, under
the name of nostoch, as in Paracelsus and others; and the
alchemists fancied there was something wonderful in
it, and that it would afford a menstruum for gold.
Nostoch is said to be a word synonymous to Jaculum,
alien jus stellce, vel potius ejus repurgatiane dejectum quid
in terram , jlos aeris ; fragmentum nimbi; as this sub¬
stance was believed to fall from the sky with the me¬
teors that we often see, and call falling-stars. Hence
the country people in Sweden have called it sky fall;
and in England it is known by the name of witches
butter, in common with some of the gelatinous liver¬
worts.
“ Paracelsus, Helmont, and others, ranked it with
the terniabin, or manna, and thought it dropped, as
that did, from heaven. It is described, and the che¬
mical analysis thereof given, by M. Geoffrey, in the
Paris Memoirs for 1708, and is there said to yield, be¬
sides an acid phlegm, a portion of concrete volatile salt
and some fixed salt. The distilled water from it was
believed by some to possess singular virtues, in allaying
pains of the joints ; but there is certainly no room to
attribute any extraordinary qualities to it.
“ Since the days of Paracelsus it has been consider¬
ed as a vegetable production •, but the botanists have
had difficulty to assign its place or genus in their se¬
veral systems. Our own countryman, Dr Merret,
seems to have been among the first authors who ranked
it among vegetables, and he calls it Lichen humiditate
intumescens, siccitate evanescens (Pin. page 71.). O-
thers have retained it among the plants of that genus to
this day ; as does the celebrated Dr Haller, in his His-
toria Stirp. Helvetia, who calls it Lichen gelatinosus,
plicaius, undulatus ; laciniis crispalis, granulosis, N°
2041, as there are several of the liverworts that have a
gelatinous texture and appearance ; though they differ
much from the nostoch, in not being so instantly dried
up. It was put into Hay’s Synopsis, by Dr Dillenius,
under the name of Ulva terrestris pinguis et fugax, p.
64. } but he afterwards changed that name for tremclla,
in his Historia Muscorum, whence he calls it tremclla
terrestris sinuosa pinguis et fugax, p. 52. tab. 10. f. 14,
and reduces the lavers to the same genus. Micheli,an
Italian botanist, famous for his attention to the Crypto-
gamia class of plants, makes it a fungus, as Magnol and
Dr Morison had done before him, and describes and
figures it, in his Nova Plantarum Genera, under the
name of Linkia terrestris gelatinosa, membranacea, vul-
gatissima, p. 126. t. 67. f. 1. He describes the seeds
as lying in the form of little strings of beads, coiled up
within the plant, or rather in the folds thereof, and on¬
ly to be discovered by the microscope. Linnaeus men¬
tions it, first under the name of Byssus gelatinosa fugax
terrestris, in bis Flora Lapponica, N° 530 ; but he af¬
terwards adopted Dillenius’s term, though he does not
make it a laver. Linnaeus has called it, in all his sub¬
sequent works, trcmella {nostoc) plicata, undulata, un¬
der which name it stands in his Species Plantarum,
p. 1157, and in Hudson’s Flora Anglica, p. 463, as also
in a numerous set of other authors who follow his sys¬
tem.”
Another writer in the same work gives this account
of it. “ This substance is very rarely seen between the
middle of April and the month of October. It is
most frequently to be found in the high pasture lands,
where the ground is inclined to wet, and on the moors
and commons in the north of England. The time
we always meet with it is after a very wet night,
when the air in the morning suddenly clears up, and a
sharp frost ensues. The frogs that then happen to be
out are immediately seized by the frost, and turned
into this jelly-like substance. For as I have had oc¬
casion sometimes to go out very early, I have found
several parts of the frog not yet dissolved among the
jelly, such as feet, legs, and thighs, yet in a little time
afterwards the change was fully completed. The
quantity of jelly produced from one single frog is almost
beyond belief, even to five or six times its bulk when in
its natural state.
“ I communicated this discovery to an acquaintance,
who has since had frequent opportunities of observing
and examining this production ; and we are fully as¬
sured, that, whatever opinion the learned may have of
it, it certainly proceeds from the above-mentioned cause
wherever found.
“ Most people that I have conversed with on the
subject, are of opinion that this jelly falls from the
stars, or out of the higher regions of the air ; which
notion, however absurd, many are credulous enough to
believe.”
Naturalists had for some years begun to doubt whe¬
ther tiiese gelatinous substances were of a vegetable or
animal nature, when at length Mr J. Platt of Oxford,
in a letter printed in the Gentleman’s Magazine for
1776, page 402, threw such light on the subject as to
us, at least, is perfectly satisfactory.
“ From a child I remember seeing the meteors shoot¬
ing in the air, which appearance, by my comrades, was
called star-shooting, believing the stars no larger than
their apparent magnitude. This jelly-like substance
mentioned in your magazine, was believed to be the
dross of these meteors, and took the name of star-shot,
which passed for certain with me till I had arrived at the
age of 24, when I was engaged in business that requir¬
ed my frequently passing over both meadows and pasture-
grounds, where in spring and autumn I saw many por¬
tions of this supposed alga or nostoch, but never more
than one or two contiguous, mostly near the water,
when the meadows were or had been just before flooded.
My conjectures were various, until I saw a crow peck¬
ing of something in a field, which I heard to cry ; when
turning my horse to the place, I found a frog of the
common size, which the crow (of the carrion kind)
would soon have killed and gorged, had I not disturbed
her, and chased her away.
“ About this time I found in a meadow the bowels
of a frog indigested, and compact as the chitterlings of
a calf or pig; but white as the paper I write upon,
though not translucid. I took it up and placed it in
a paper exposed to the air ; leaving it in some grass
where I found it, till my return that way in three days
time,
N ' O S rl 70 ] NOS
Xostocli, time, v.li-en I saw it changed to that tremulous jelly-
Nostrada- like substance, the alga or star-shot. I was much
1 pleased with this discovery, and took it home in my
pocket wrapped in a paper, where I showed it to a so¬
ciety of young persons of which I was a member, who
agreed with my sentiments of its being the indigestible
part of a frog disgorged by some bird of prey.
“ To corroborate my sentiments of this alga being
the bowels of a frog, 1 luckily saw some of it lying by
the side of a brook, where I lighted and took it up,
and to my great surprise found attached to the jelly
the head, heart, liver, and one leg of the frog, which
had been (L presume) disgorged by some carrion crow,
who frequented the Hooded grounds to pick up worms
and other vermine. There was also some ol it found
on an apple tree at Wyston Magna, near Leicester,
where I then lived, which, no doubt, was disgorged by
some owl.'’
Dr Darwin, in his Poem on the Loves of the Plants,
is of the same opinion with Mr Platt, that these gelati¬
nous substances are of an animal nature, and that the
different appearances they put on are otying to various
circumstances, viz. the dillercnt birds who feed on
frogs, the quantity they devour at a time, and the state
of digestion before they are voided.
NOSTRADAMUS, Michel, an able physician
and a celebrated astrologer, was a Provencal, and de¬
scended of a noble family, and born Dec. 14. J5°3> at
St Remy, in the diocese of Avignon. By his grand¬
father he was initiated in the study of the mathema¬
tics. He afterwards completed his courses of hu¬
manity and philosophy at Avignon ; and, going thence
to Montpelier, he there applied himself to physic, till
being forced away by the plague in 1525, he took his
route towards Thoulouse, and passed on till he came to
Bourdeaux. This course held him five years, during
which he undertook the cure oi all such patients as rvere
willing to put themselves under his care. After this he
returned to Montpelier, and was created doctor of his
faculty in 1529, and then revisited the same places
where he had practised physic before. At Agen he
contracted an acquaintance with Julius Caesar Scaliger,
which induced him to make some stay in that town, and
there he entered into matrimony j but having buried his
wife, and two children which she brought him, he quit¬
ted Agen after a residence of about four years. He re¬
turned into Provence, and fixed himself first at Mar¬
seilles •, but his friends having provided an advantageous
match for him at Salon, he transported himself thi¬
ther in 1544. In 1546, Aix being afflicted with the
plague, he went thither at the solicitation of the in¬
habitants, and was of great service 5 particularly by a
powder of his own invention : so that the town in
gratitude gave him a considerable pension for several
years after the contagion ceased. Returning after¬
wards to Salon, he became a recluse, and made use of
his leisure to apply himself to his studies. He had a
long time followed the trade of a conjurer occasionally j
and now he began to think himself inspired, and mira¬
culously illuminated with a prospect into futurity. As
fast as these illuminations had discovered to him any
future event, he entered it in writing, in simple prose,
but by enigmatical sentences, as he declared himself j
but revising them afterwards, he thought the sentences
would appear more respectable, and would savour more
of a prophetic spirit, if they were expressed in verse. Nostrada-
This opinion determined him to throw them all into mus.
quatrains, and he afterwards ranged them into centu-1 s—*-1
lies. When this was done, he hesitated about mak¬
ing them public, till reflecting that the time of many
events which he had foretold was very near at hand,
he determined to print them. This he did with a de¬
dication addressed to his son Caesar, an infant only
some months old, in the form of a letter or preface,
dated March 1. 1555. This first edition, which is in¬
cluded in seven centuries, was printed by Rigault at
Lyons. He prefixed his name in Latin, but gave to
his son Ciesar the name as it is pronounced, JXolra-
dame.
The public wrere divided in their sentiments of this
work : many looked upon the author as a simple visio¬
nary or a fool 5 while he was accused ol the black art,
or black magic, by others, and treated as an impious
person, who held a commerce w'ith the devil: at the
same time there were not wanting such, and those in
great numbers, who believed him to be really and truly
endued with the supernatural gift of prophecy. Last¬
ly, Some were found who remained in suspense, and re¬
frained from giving any judgment at all upon the point#
However, Henry II. and Queen Catherine of Medicis
his mother, were resolved to see our prophet $ and, re¬
ceiving orders to that effect, he presently repaired to Pa¬
ris. He was very graciously received at court; and,
besides the extraordinary respect that was paid to him,
received a present of 200 crowns. He was sent after¬
wards to Blois, to make a visit to his majesty’s children
there, and report what he should be able to discover
concerning their destinies. No doubt he exerted him¬
self to the utmost on the occasion 5 hut what his sentence
was is not known •, however, it is certain, he returned to
Salon loaded with honour and presents. Animated with
his success, he augmented his work from 300 quatrains
to the number of a complete milliade, and published it
with a dedication to the king in 1558. That prince
dying the next year of a w’ound which he received, as
is well known, at a tournament, the book of our prophet
was immediately consulted ; and in the 35th quatrain of
the first century this unfortunate event was found pre¬
dicted in the following verse :
Lc lionjcutie Ic vieux surmontera,
En champ bclliquc par singulicr duel)
Dans cage d'or les yeux hit crevera,
Dcilx classes tinc puis mourir, mart crucllc.
So remarkable a prediction added new wings to his
fame j and he was honoured shortly after with a visit
from Emanuel duke of Savoy and the princess Marga¬
ret of France his consort. From this time Nostrada¬
mus found himself even overburdened with visitors, and
his fame made every day new acquisitions. Charles IX#
coming to Salon, was eager above all things to have a
sight of him. Nostradamus, who then was in waiting
as one of the retinue of the magistrates, being instant¬
ly presented to his majesty, complained of the little
esteem his countrymen had for him \ whereupon the
monarch publicly declared, that he should hold the ene¬
mies of Nostradamus to be his enemies, and desired to
see his children. Nor did that prince’s favour stop here *,
in passing,, not long after, through the city of Arles, he
sent for Nostradamus, presented him w ith a purse of 200
crowns,
NOT [ '
Nostra- crowns, together with a brevet, constituting him his phy-
damus sician in ordinary, with the same appointment as the rest.
I! But our prophet enjoyed these honours only for the space
„ i of sixteen months, for he died July 2. 1566, at Salon.
Besides his “ Centuries,” we have the following compo¬
sitions of his : A Treatise dc Fur demens et de Se/iteurs,
1552.—A Book of singular Receipts, pour Entretenir
la Santedu Corps, 1556.—Apiece desConfitures, 1557.
—A French Translation of the Latin of Galen’s Para¬
phrase, exhorting Menedolas to Study, especially to that
of Physic, 1552. Some years before his death, he pu¬
blished a small instruction for husbandmen, showing the
best seasons for their several labours, which he entitled,
The Almanack of Nostradamus. Lastly, After his
death there came out The eleventh and twelfth Centu¬
ries of his Quatrains, added to the former ten, which
had been printed three times in two separate parts. It
is only in these first editions that our author’s Centuries
are found without alterations, additions, &c. It is to
this work that the following distich of Stephen Jodelle
alludes.
Nostra damns cum falsa damns, nam fal/ere nostrum cst,
Et cum falsa damns, nil nisi Nostra damns.
NOSTRE, Andrew LE, comptroller of the build¬
ings of the French king, and designer of his gardens,
distinguished himself by carrying the art of laying out
gardens to great perfection. lie was born-at Paris in
1631 j and was near 40 years of age when M. Fouquet,
superintendant of the finances, gave him an opportunity
of becoming known by the fine gardens of Vaux le-
Vicomte. He was afterwards employed by Louis XIV.
at Versailles, Trianon, St Germains, &c. and discove¬
red an admirable taste in all his works. In 1678 he
went to Rome, with the permission of the French king,
to improve his skill; but he found nothing there com¬
parable to what he himself had done. Pope Innocent
XL resolved to see Le Nostre, and gave him a pretty
long audience ; at the conclusion of which Le Nostre
said, “ I have seen the two greatest men in the world,
your holiness, and the king my master.” “ There is a
great difference,” answered the pope : “ The king is a
great victorious prince; and I am a poor priest, the ser¬
vant of the servants of God.” Le Nostre, charmed
with this answer, and forgetting who he was with, clap¬
ped the pope on the shoulder, saying, “ Reverend fa¬
ther, you look extremely well, and will live to bury all
the sacred college.” The pope laughed at his predic¬
tion. Le Nostre, charmed more and more at the good¬
ness of the sovereign pontiff and the singular esteem he
showed for the king, threw his arms about the pope’s
neck and kissed him. It was his custom to behave in
the same manner to all who spoke in praise of Louis
XIV. and he even embraced the king himself whenever
that prince returned from the country. Le Nostre had
also a talent for painting. He preserved his good sense
and vivacity of mind to the end of his life; and died
at Paris, in 1700, aged 87.
NOT/E, signs used in writing, which have the force
of many letters. This contrivance for expedition is of
great antiquity. It was known to the Greeks, and
n •!•es .from them derived to the Romans. Bv whom the in-
Progress of vention was brought into Home is not precisely ascer-
Writing, tained; but the most general opinion f is, that in mat-
5
'i ] NOT
ters ol importance Tully first made use of notes or short- Xotai,
hand writing, when Cato made an oration in order to Not aril.
oppose Julius Caisar relative to the conspiracy of Cati-1 *~-< 
line. Cicero, who was at that time consul, placed m-
tarti, or expert short-hand writers, in difterent parts of
the senate house, to take down the speech; and this was
the first public occasion which we find recorded of em¬
ploying short-hand writers among the Romans. It is
unnecessary to observe, that hence proceeded the name
of notary still in use.
There were three kinds of notes for short-hand writ¬
ing used by the ancients, either tor despatch or secrecv.
The first and most ancient was that of hieroglyphics,
which are rather images or representations of things
than of words. (See Hieroglyphics). The Chinese
characters are ol this kind, and may with greater pro¬
priety be called notee than liter a:, as appears from what
hath been already advanced.
I he second species of notes were called singular ice,
from their expressing words by single letters. Serto-
nus Ursatus has compiled a very copious collection of
such abbreviations, of which work there are several edi¬
tions.
rhe third kind of notes were called noire Tironiance,
from Tiro the freed man of Cicero, who was excellent¬
ly skilled in this art; and it is to him that we are in¬
debted for the preservation of Cicero’s letters, of which
a great part still remain, and one entire book of them
written to Tiro himself.
From books it appears, that notes were very frequent
among the Romans, and continued in use to the 10th
and 1 xth centuries. We have indeed but few books
remaining that are written in short-hand; but this is not
surprising, when such was the unhappy situation of earlv
ages, that either superstition condemned them to the
flames as the works of impious magicians or necroman¬
cers, or they were left to be devoured by vermine,
through ignorance and stupidity, which was so very
great, that some people, as Trithemius affirms, looked
upon notes in those days as the elements of the Arme¬
nian language. It is probable, however, that there are
writings of this sort still extant, which might contribute
to enrich the republic of letters.
There are several MSS. and instruments written in
these kind of notse, in the royal library at Paris. In
the year 1747, the learned and ingenious Mons. Char-
pentier, engraved and published at Paris a capitulary,
and 54 charters of Louis the Pious, emperor and king
of France, written in these notre Tironiance. To this
work the learned editor hath prefixed an Alphabetum
Tironianum, together with a great number and variety
of notes or marks for the difterent parts of speech, and
rules for acquiring the art of writing in these kind of
notes. Valerius Probus, in his hook De Li ter is Anti~
(puis, explains many of the characters used by the short¬
hand writers; and there is a dictionary of them set
forth by Janus Gruterus. See Stenography.
NOTARH, persons employed by the Romans to
take, by notee, trials and pleadings in their courts of
judicature, or to write as amanuenses from the mouth
of an author. These notarii were of servile condition*
Under the reign of Justinian, they were formed into a
college or corporate body. Notarii were also appoint¬
ed to attend the prefects, to transcribe for them. There
were likewise notarii domestici, who were employed in
keeping
NOT [ 72 ] NOT
Notarii keeping the accounts of the Homan nobility; and when
|| the empire became Christian, there were notaries for
N0*0, ecclesiastical affairs, who attested the acts ot arch-
r—v bishops, bishops, and other spiritual dignitaries. W e
find ecclesiastical notaries at Rome, under Pope Julius
IV. and in the church of Antioch, about the year 370.
Itoiw these notaries is derived the oflice of cliancelloi
to the bishops ; afterwards almost every advocate was
admitted a notary.
NOTARY (Notarius), signifies a person, usually
some scrivener, who takes notes, or frames short draughts,
.-of contracts, obligations, charter parties, or other writ¬
ings. At present we call him a notanj public, who
publicly attests deeds or writings, in order to make them
authentic in another nation: but he is principally em¬
ployed in business concerning merchants ; as making
protests of bills of exchange, &c. And noting a bill,
is where he goes to take notice of a merchant’s refusal
to accept or pay the same.
NOTATION, in Arithmetic and Algebra, the me¬
thod of expressing numbers or quantities by signs or
characters appropriated for that purpose. See Arith¬
metic and Algebra.
NOTES, in Music, characters which mark the sounds,
i. e. the elevations and fallings of the voice, and the
swiftnes and slowness of its motions.
Note is likewise used for a mark made in a book or
writing, where there occurs something remarkable and
■worthy of particular notice: as also for an observation
or explication of some passage in an author added in the
margin, at the bottom of the page, or elsewhere ; m
which sense it stands contradistinguished to text.
Note, is also a minute, or short writing, containing
some article of business; in which sense we say, pro¬
missory note, note of hand, bank note, &c.
NOTHUS, signifies spurious or bastard; whence it
is figuratively applied by physicians to suen diseases as,
though in respect of a similitude of symptoms, &c. they
have the same denomination as some others, yet are of
a different origin, seat, or the like, from th-e same.
Nothus a Persian prince, and grandfather to Darius
Codomannus. He is worthy of being mentioned only
as he was progenitor to that sovereign whose overthrow
conferred upon Alexander the title of Greet.
NOTION, a word which in common language is
considered as of the same import with idea. This, how¬
ever, is improper. Notion comprehends the meaning
of idea, but it denotes much more. We have a notion
of spirit, of power, of solidity ; but of these things we
can have no ideas. Ideas are relicks ot sensahon; but
there are objects of knowledge which fall under the
cognizance of no sense ; of these objects, however, we
may have very distinct notions either direct or relative.
See Metaphysics, N° ii.
NOTITIA, in literary history, a book that gives
an account of a particular country, city, or other place:
such is the Notitia Imperii Romani, Notitia Romce
Anticjuce, &c.
NOTO, an ancient, large, and handsome town of
Sicily, and capital of the Val-di-Noto. It was entirely
ruined by an earthquake in 1693; but the inhabitants
built another town at some distance from it, which they
call -NWo Nuovo. E. Long. 14. o. N. Lat. 36. 50.
Nora, Val di, one of the three valleys or provinces
into which Sicily is divided; and it lies between the sea,
I
Val-di-Demona, and Val-di-Mazara. JN010 is tue ca- jsoto
pital town. H
NOTONECTA, the boat fly, a genus of insects be-
longing to the order of hemiptera. See ENTOMOLOGY i,, .
Index. A
NOTTEBURG, a town of Russia, in the province
of Ingria, seated on an island in the lake Ladoga, at
the place where the river Neva proceeds from this lake.
It is strong, has a good citadel, and was capital of
the province before Petersburg was built. E. Long.
31. 40. N. Lat. 60. o.
NOTTINGHAMSHIRE, a county of England,
bounded on the cast by Lincolnshire, on the south-east
and south by Leicestershire, on the west by Derbyshire,
and on the north and north-west by Yorkshire. It ex¬
tends in length 48 miles, 25 in breadth, and 110 in com¬
pass ; containing 560,000 acres, 8 hundreds, 9 market
towns, 168 parishes, 450 villages, and in 1811 32,298
houses, and 162,900 inhabitants. No county m Eng¬
land enjoys a pleasanter and healthier air. As for the
soil, it differs widely in different parts of the county.
Towards the rvest, where lies the forest of Sherwood, it
is sandy ; and therefore that pait of the county is called
by the inhabitants the Sand: but the south and east
parts, watered by the Trent and the rivulets that tall in¬
to it, are clayey ; and for that reason are called by the
inhabitants the Clay. The latter is fruitful both in corn
and pasture; but the former produces little besides wood,
coal, and some lead. The county has a variety of com¬
modities and manufactures, as wool, leather, tallow,
butter, cheese, coal, marl, cattle, malt, liquorice, stock¬
ings, glass, earthen wares, and strong ale. The princi¬
pal rivers are the Trent and Idle. The Trent, whose
name is supposed to be derived from the French or La¬
tin word signifying thirty, either because it receives
thirty smaller rivers, or has thirty difierent sorts of fish
in it, is inferior to no river in England, but the Severn,
Thames, and Humber. It enters the county on the
south-west, and passes through it to the north-east,
where it enters Lincolnshire, and after a long course falls
at last into the Humber. The Idle rises in Sherwood
forest; and after traversing the northern part of the
county, falls into the Trent upon the borders of York¬
shire and Lincolnshire.
The spacious forest of Sherwood lies in the west part
of the county, and indeed takes up the greatest part ot
it. It was formerly so thick, that it was hardly passa¬
ble ; but now it is much thinner. It feeds an infinite
number of deer and stags ; and has some towns in it, ot
which Mansfield is the chief. It abounds in coal, and
a road lies through it for thirty miles together. Since
the reign of King Edward I. the nobility and gentry
have had grants of it. It was governed by a great
number of officers under the late earl of Chesterfield,
chief forester ; whose ancestor, Sir John Stanhope, had
a grant of it, with liberty to destroy and kill at plea¬
sure, reserving only a hundred deer in the whole walk.
The duke of Newcastle is now steward and keeper.
See Nottinghamshire, Supplement.
Nottingham, chief town of the above county. It
is a handsome town, and a county of itself by charter.
The name is derived from the Saxon word Snottevgham,
which signifies caves, from the caves and apartments
anciently dug in the rocks on which the town stands.
These, being soft, easily yield to the spade and pickaxe
whence
NOT
Netting- whence the townsmen have excellent cellars for the vast
ham quantities of malt liquors made here, and sent, as well
“‘v——' as their malt, to most parts of England. The situation
of the town is very pleasant, having meadows on one
hand, and hills of a gentle easy ascent, on the other,
It is well supplied with fuel, both wood and coal, from
the forest j and with fish by the Trent, which runs
about a mile to the south of it, and has been made na¬
vigable for barges : so that they receive by it not only
great quantities of cheese from Warwickshire and Staf¬
fordshire ; but all the heavy goods from the Humber,
and even from Hull. Over the Trent is a stately stone
bridge of 19 arches, where the river is very large and
deep, having received the addition of the Dove, the
Derwent, the Irwasb, and the Soar, three of them great
rivers of themselves, which fall into it after its passing
by Burton in Staffordshire.
The town is of great antiquity, and it had formerly
a strong castle, in which the Danes, in the time of the
heptarchy, held out a siege against Buthred king of
Mercia, Alfred, and Ethelred his brother king of the
West Saxons.
Soon after the Conquest, William either repaired this
fortress, or built a new one on the same spot, in the se¬
cond year of his reign, probably to secure a retreat on
his expedition against Edwin earl of Chester and Mor-
car earl of Northumberland, who had revolted. He
committed the custody of it to William Peverell, his
natural son, who has by some been considered as the
founder. It stands on a steep rock, at the foot of which
runs the river Leen.
Deering, in his history of Nottingham, seems very
justly to explode the story of the place called Morti¬
mer’s Hole, having been made as a hiding place for him j
and from his description of it, shows that it was meant
as a private passage to the castle, to relieve it ivith men
or provisions in a siege. He says that it is one conti¬
nued staircase, without any room, or even a place to sit
down on. It was by this passage that Edward III. got
into the castle and surprised Mortimer and the queen j
and from hence, and his being carried awav through it,
it has its name.
Edward IV. greatlv enlarged the castle, but did not
live to complete the buildings he began. Richard III.
finished them.
It was granted by James I. to Francis earl of Rut¬
land, who pulled down many of the buildings j but it
was still of so much strength, that Charles I. in 1642,
pitched on it as the place for beginning his operations
of wrar. He set up his standard, first on the walls of
the castle, but in two or three days removed it to a
close on the north side of the castle, without the wall, on
a round spot *, after which it 'was for many years called
Standard close, and since from the name of one who
rented it, Nevil’s close. Where the standard was fixed,
there stood a post for a considerable time. It is a
common error that it was erected on a place called Der-
rymount, a little further north than the close just men¬
tioned ; this is an artificial hill, raised on purpose for a
wind-mill which formerly stood there. The castle was
afterwards sequestered by the parliament, and the trees
in the park cut down.
This castle was so strong that it was never taken by
storm. After the civil war, Cromwell ordered it to
be demolished. On the Restoration, the duke of Btick-
Vol. XV. Part I. i
t 73 3
NOT
ingham, whose mother was daughter and heir of this Notting-
Francis earl of Rutland, had it restored to him, and Jiam-
sold it to William Cavendish, marquis and afterwards
duke of Newcastle. In 1674 he began the present
building, but died in 1676, when the work net
far advanced. However, he )iad the building of it so
much at heart, that he left the revenue of a consider¬
able estate to be applied to that purpose, and it wa?
finished by Henry his son. The ejcponce was about
14,000!. It is one of the seats of the present duke of
Newcastle.
In the park, west of the castle, and facing the river
Leen, are some remains of an ancient building (if it
may be so called) cut and framed in the rocf:. Dr
Stukeley gives it, as he does most things, to the Bri¬
tons. Many other ancient excavations have been found
in other parts of the rocks.
The frames for knitting stockings were invented by
one William Lea of this county, about the beginning
of the 17th century j but not meeting with the encou¬
ragement he expected, he went with several of his
workmen to France on the invitation of Henry IV.
The death of that king, and the troubles which ensued,
prevented attention being given to the work. Lea died
there, and most of his men returned to England. Other
attempts were made to steal the trade, without better
success, and it has flourished here ever since, and is
now carried on to a very considerable extent. It is
noted for its horse-races on a fine course on the north
side of the town. The corporation is governed by a
mayor, recorder, six aldermen, twro coroners, two sher¬
iffs, two chamberlains, and twenty-four common-coun¬
cil men, eighteen of the senior council, and six of the
junior, and a bell-bearer. The population, which in
1801 was 28,861, in 1811 had increased to 34,253.
The town being within the jurisdiction of the forest,
the former of these pinders is town-woodward, and
attends the forest courts. It has three neat churches,
the chief of which is St Mary’s j and an alms-house,
endowed with 1 ool. a-year, for twelve poor people;
with a noble townhouse, surrounded with piazzas. A
considerable trade is carried on in glass and earth¬
en wares, and frame stockings, besides the malt, and
malt liquors, mentioned above: Marshal Tallard, when
a prisoner in England, was confined to this town and
county. In the duke of Newcastle’s park there is a
ledge of rocks hewn into a church, houses, chambers,
dove-houses, &c. The altar of the church is natural
rock ; and between that and the castle there is a her¬
mitage of the like workmanship. Upon the side of a
hill there is a very extraordinary sort of a house, where
vou enter at the garret, and ascend to the cellar, which
is at the top of the house. Here is a noted hospital
founded by John Plumtree, Esq. in the reign of Rich¬
ard II. for thirteen poor old widows. There are four
handsome bridges over the Trent and Lind. To keep
these in repair, and for other public purposes, the cor¬
poration has good estates. This town and Winchelsea
both give title of earl to the noble family of Finch.
Here David king of Scots, when a prisoner in Eng¬
land, resided ; and under ground is a vault, called
Mortimer's hole, because Roger Mortimer, carl of
March, is said to have concealed himself in it, when he
was taken and hanged by order of Edward HI. W.
Long. 1. c. N, Lat. n- °' _
* ^ K NOVA
Nova
Scotia
II .
Novatian.
NOV [74
NOVA Scotia. See Nova Scotia.
Nova Zembla. See Nova Zembla.
NO VALLE, a small, rich, and1 populous town of
Italy, between Padua and Ireviso. E. Long. 12. 5*
N. Lat. 45.. .■
NOVARA, an ancient and strong ctty ot Italy, in
that part of the duchy of Milan which belongs to Sar¬
dinia. Some pretend that this city was built by the
Trojans, and so called quasi Nova Ara, because they
had erected there a temple to \ enus. I acitus men¬
tions its being made a municipal city by the Romans,
and there are many inscriptions still extant, which suf¬
ficiently prove its ancient splendour. It is now a
small, but well-built town, situated on a little emi¬
nence, in a fine country, betwixt two rivers, very well
fortified, and is the see of a bishop, suffragan of Mi¬
lan. It is remarkable for the several sieges sustained
in past times, and for being the birthplace of Peter
Lombard, master of the sentences. E. Long. 8. 35*
N. Lat. 45. 25.
NOVATIAN, who made so much noise and so
greatly disturbed the peace of the church, -was, we are
told, first a Pagan philosopher. He was baptized in bed
when dangerously ill: recovering, however, he wras
afterwards ordained priest of the church of Rome,
his bishop having obtained this favour for him, which
the clergy and the people were far from being disposed
to grant. He does not appear to have had the good of
the church much at heart} for with his wit, know¬
ledge, and eloquence, he might have been peculiarly
serviceable to her, had he not with cowardice shrunk
from his duty when he dreaded persecution. His am¬
bition to be made a bishop likewise misled him •, and
what occasioned the apostasy of most of the first^here-
siarclis, also occasioned his. On the death ot 1 abian
bishop of Rome, after writing a letter to St Cyprian, he
remained quiet whilst the see was vacant; but the
promotion of Cornelius to that dignity excited his
envy and jealousy to no common pitch. Hie conse¬
quence was a separation from the new bishop, and from
those who professed to believe, what Novatian strenu¬
ously denied, that the church could receive those again
who had been guilty of idolatry. He soon got a num¬
ber of followers among the laity, and some even among
the clergy. Novatus, a priest of Carthage, was one
of his party, and having been a party-man himself
against St Cyprian, brought his adherents with him.
He got himself consecrated bishop of Rome in a most
infamous and clandestine manner, by three weak men,
whom he had most grossly imposed upon, and one of
whom did penance tor having been concerned in what
. was so contrary to order, decency, and the rules of the
church.
His designs, however, in this disgraceful affair did
not succeed, for he was not acknowledged as bishop
of that diocese ; Cornelius being confirmed in it, whilst
he was condemned and excommunicated. He still,
however, taught his doctrine, and at length became
the head of the party which bears his name. Besides
the letter mentioned above, St Jerome says he wrote
on the Passover, on the Sabbath, on Circumcision, on the
Hi'tr/i Priests, on Prayer, on Je wish meals, and ox\ Firm¬
ness of mind, &c. with a large treatise on the Primty.
None of them appear under his own name, and some are
thought not to be his.
] NOV
NOVATIANS, Novatiani, a sect of ancient here- Noratians
tics, that arose towards the close of the third century, so
called from Novatian, a priest of Rome, (see the Pie~
ceding article). They were called also Cathan, from
Kcctapoi, pure, q. d. Puritans. .
Novatian first separated from the communion of Pope
Cornelius, on pretence of his being too easy in admit¬
ting to repentance those who had fallen oft in times o
persecution. , . .
Novatus coming to Rome, joined himself to the
faction of Novatian-, and both maintained, that there
was no other admission into the church but by the re¬
pentance in baptism ; grounding their opinion on
that of St Paul: “ It is impossible for those once
“ enlightened, and who have tasted the heavenly gift,
“ if they fall away, to renew themselves by repent-
Not that they denied but a person fallen into any
sin, how grievous soever, might obtain pardon by re¬
pentance ; for they themselves recommend repentance
in the strongest terms: but their doctrine was, that
the church had it not in its power to receive sinners
into its communion, as having no way of remitting
sins but by baptism; which once received could not be
repeated.
In process of time the Novations softened and mo¬
derated the rigour of their master’s doctrine, and on y
refused absolution to very great sinners.
The two leaders were proscribed, and declared here¬
tics, not for excluding penitents from communion, but
for denying that the church had a power of remitting
sins. See Novatus. -i r
NOVATION, or Innovation, in the tivil Law,
denotes the change of one kind of obligation for an¬
other ; as when a promise is accepted instead of a writ¬
ten obligation. .
NOVATUS, a priest of Carthage, in the third cen¬
tury, who, to avoid being punished for a crime, join¬
ed with the deacon, named Fehcissimus, against St Cy¬
prian. He went to Rome in 231 j and there found No¬
vatian, who had acquired great reputation by his elo¬
quence, but who murmured at his not being raised to
the see of Rome in preference to Cornelius. Noyatus
contracted a friendship with him ; and afterwards pro¬
moted the detestable consecration of Novatian to the see
of Rome. This irregular consecration produced a very
great schism. Novatus also maintained, that the church
had not the power to receive those to communion who
were fallen into idolatry.
NOVEL, a fictitious narrative in prose, which pro¬
fesses to exhibit the natural workings of the human
heart, the happiness and misery of private life, and,
above all, the nature of the affection called Love, and
the consequence of indulging it in certain circum¬
stances. . .
The novel sprung out of the old romance, and has
been censured for insipidity, as its parent was for ex¬
travagance. (See Romance). That the greater part
of those absurd things, which, under this title, arc
daily issuing from the press, deserve all the contempt
with which they can be treated, is a position which
we feel not ourselves inclined to controvert j but we
cannot admit that any species of writing is in itself in¬
sipid, merely because numbers have attempted it with¬
out success. The heroic poems of Blackmore are uni-
4
NOV [ 75 ] NOV
Novel, versally known to be contemptible performances j and
-—Y—if we had before us all the heroic poetry that has ever
been written, howr many thousands of volumes should
we have as mean as either Prince Arthur, Kins;Arthur,
Elize, or Alfred? Yet no critic has hitherto dared to
maintain, that heroic poetry is an insipid species of
writing.
But to the novel objections have been urged of
more importance than its insipidity. It has been often
affirmed, with learned solemnity, that the perusal of
novels tends to corrupt the youth of both sexes ; to
produce effeminacy in men and extravagant notions
of the happiness of love in women j that it diverts the
minds of the former from more serious and useful stu¬
dies, and exposes the latter to the arts of seduction.
That there are too many novels to which this objec¬
tion is applicable in its full force, is a fact which we
are afraid cannot be denied : but when it is admitted,
let not these performances be again accused of insipi¬
dity : for were they insipid, they could have no such
consequences. It is by laying fast hold of the heart
that they lead it astray. That a novel might be writ¬
ten so as to interest the heart in behalf of virtue, as
much as any one has ever warped it to the side of
vice, is a truth which no man will ever venture to call
in question who has any knowledge of human nature ;
and therefore we are decidedly of opinion, that there
may be novels worthy at once of the perusal of inexpe-
* Johnson, rienced youth and hoary wisdom. A critic*, by no
means too indulgent to works of fancy, and among whose
failings laxity of morals has never been numbered, thus
expresses himself on the subject of novel-writing:—
“ These familiar histories may perhaps be made of
greater use than the solemnities of professed morality,
and convey the knowledge of vice and virtue with more
efficacy than axioms and definitions. But if the power
of example is so great, as to take possession of the me¬
mory by a kind of violence, and produce effects almost
without the intervention of the will, care ought to he
taken, that, when the choice is unrestrained, the best
examples only should be exhibited ; and that what is
likely to operate so strongly, should not be mischievous
or uncertain in its effects.”
We have said, that the novel professes above all
things to exhibit the nature of love and its consequen¬
ces. Whether this be essential to such performances
may perhaps be reasonably questioned : but it has
been made an important part of the drama in most
novels, and, we think, with great propriety. It is the
object of the novelist to give a true picture of life, di¬
versified only by accidents that daily happen in the
world, and influenced by passions and qualities which
are really to be found in conversing with mankind.
To accomplish this object, he conceives a hero or he¬
roine, whom he places in a certain rank of life, en¬
dues with certain qualities of body and mind, and
conducts, through many vicissitudes of fortune, either
to the summit of happiness or to the abyss of misery,
according to the passion which he wishes to excite in
his readers. In the modern novel, this hero or he¬
roine is never placed on a throne, or buried in a cot¬
tage *, because to the monarch and the cottager no dif¬
ficulties occur which can deeply interest the majority of
readers. But among the virtuous part of the inter¬
mediate orders ot society, that affection which we call
love * seldom fails, at some period of life, to take pos¬
session of the hearts of both sexes j and wherever it has
place, it must be productive of happiness or of misery.
In the proper management of this passion consists much
of the difficulty ol the novel writer. He must exhibit
his hero as feeling all the pangs and pleasures of love,
as sometimes animated with hope, and sometimes ready
to sink into despair, but always exerting himself to ob¬
tain the gratification of his wishes. In doing this, care
should be taken, either that he never transgress the
laws of virtue, or at least that he never transgress them
with impunity.
“ It is justly considered as the greatest excellency
of art to imitate nature j but it is necessary to distin¬
guish those parts of nature winch are most proper for
imitation : greater care is still required in representing
life, which is so often discoloured by passion or de¬
formed by wickedness. If the world be promiscuously
described, l cannot perceive (says the great critic al
ready quoted) of what use it can be to read the ac¬
count ; or why it may not be as safe to turn the eye
immediately upon mankind, as upon a mirror which
shows all that presents itself without discrimination.
It is therefore not a sufficient vindication of a cha¬
racter, that it is drawn as it appears ; for many cha¬
racters ought never to be drawn: nor of a narrative,
that the train of events is agreeable to observation ;
for that observation which is called knowledge of the
world will be found much more frequently to make
men cunning than good. The purpose of these writ¬
ings is surely not only to show mankind, but to pro¬
vide that they may be seen hereafter with less hazard ;
to teach the means of avoiding the snares which are
laid by Treachery for Innocence, without ensuring
any wish for that superiority with which the betrayer
flatters his vanity ; to give the power of counteracting
fraud, without the temptation to practise it*, to ini¬
tiate youth by mock encounters in the art of necessary
defence $ and to increase prudence, without impairing
virtue.
“ Many writers, for the sake of following nature, so
mingle good and bad qualities in their principal perso¬
nages, that they are both equally conspicuous ; and as
we accompany them through their adventures with de¬
light, and are led by degrees to interest ourselves in
their favour, we lose the abhorrence of their faults, be¬
cause they do not hinder our pleasures, or perhaps re¬
gard them with some kindness for being united with so
much merit—There have, been men indeed splendidly
wicked, whose endowments threw a brightness on their
crimes, and whom scarce any villany made perfectly
detestable, because they never could be wholly divested
of their excellencies : but such have been in all ages the
great corrupters of the world ; and their resemblance
ought no more to be preserved than the art of murder¬
ing without pain.
“ In narratives, where historical veracity has no
place, there should be exhibited the most perfect idea
of virtue ; of virtue not angelical, nor above probability
(for what we cannot credit we shall never imitate), but
the highest and purest that humanity can reach, which,
exercised in such txials as the various revolutions of
things shall bring upon it, may, by conquering some
calamities and enduring others, teach us what we may
hope, and what we can perform. Vice (for vice is ne-
K 2 cessary
Kovel,
f Tlie au¬
thor of
La jo lie
femme, or
La femme
du jour.
NOV [76
cessary to be shown) should always disgust} nor should
the graces of gaiety, or the dignity of courage, be so
united with it, as to reconcile it to the mind. Where-
ever it appears, it should raise hatred by the malignity
of its practices, and contempt by the meanness of its
stratagems •, for while it is supported by either parts or
spirit, it will seldom be heartily abhorred.”
If these observations be just, and to us they appear
unanswerable, Richardson’s Lovelace is a character which
ought never to have been drawn. In the graces oi
gaiety and the dignity of courage, in liberality without
profusion, in perseverance and address, he everywhere
appears as the first of men *, and that honour with which
he protects the virtue of his Rosebud, if any instruction
is to be drawn from it, can only lead the admirers of
Richardson to believe that another Clarissa might be in
perfect safety were she to throw herself upon the honour
of another Lovelace. Yet in the composition of this
splendid character there is not one principle upon which
confidence can securely rest j and Lovelace, whilst he
is admired by the youth of both sexes, and escapes the
contempt of all mankind, must excite in the breast of the
cool moralist sentiments of abhorrence and detestation.
A French critic t, speaking of this charaeter, says,
« By turns I could embrace and fight with Lovelace.
His pride, his gaiety, his drollery, charm and amuse
me : his genius confounds me and makes me smile $ his
wickedness astonishes and enrages me •, but at the same
time I admire as much as I detest him.” Surely this
is not the character which ought to be presented to the
inexperienced and ardent mind.
The most perfect characters which we at present re¬
collect in any novel are Richardson’s Grandison and
Fielding’s Allworthy. The virtues of the former are
perhaps tinctured with moral pedantry, if we may use
the expression : and the latter suffered himself to be long
imposed upon by the arts of the hypocrite and the phi¬
losophical coxcomb $ but without some defects they
would not be human virtues, and therefore no objects
of human imitation. Clarissa is an excellent character:
sAe has as much perfection as can be expected in wo¬
man, whilst she exhibits, at the same time, some obvious
defects. .
As it is the object of the novelist to interest the
heart, and to communicate instruction through the me¬
dium’of pleasure, his work, like a tragedy or comedy,
should be one,, exhibiting a hero or heroine, whose suc¬
cess every incident should contribute to forward or to
retard. In this respect no work of fancy has ever sur¬
passed the Tom Jones of Fielding. It is constructed up¬
on principles of the soundest criticism, and contains not
* single event which does not in some way contribute
towards the winding up of the piece. A living author,
deeply read in Grecian literature, and far from being
prejudiced in behalf of any modern, has been heard to
say, that had Aristotle seen Tom Jones, he would have
pronounced it a poem perfect in its kind.
Against this sentence another critic of name has en¬
tered his protest,and strenuously maintained that nothing
can he a poem which is not written in verse. We shall
judge of the truth of this conelusion by comparing it
with the principles from which it is deduced. Having
laid down as a maxim incontrovertible, that “ the end
*f poetry is pleasure, to which use itself must be subser¬
vient,” he very justly infers from this idea, that
]
NOV
poetry should neglect no advantage that fairly offers 
itself, of appearing in such a dress or mode of language ’
as is most taking and agreeable to us. It follows (he
says), from the same idea of the end which poetry would
accomplish, that not only rhythm, but NUMBERS pro¬
perly so called, is essential to it, and that it cannot ob¬
tain its own purpose unless it be clothed in VERSE.”
He then proceeds to ask, “ What, from this conclusion,
are we to think of those novels or romances, as they are
called, which have been so current of late through all
Europe ? As they propose pleasure for their end, and
prosecute it, besides, in the way of fiction, though with¬
out metrical numbers, and generally indeed in harsh
and rugged prose, one easily sees what their pretensions
are, and under what idea they are ambitious to be re¬
ceived. Yet as they are wholly destitute of measured
sounds (to say nothing of their other numberless defects),
they can at most be considered but as hasty, imperfect,
and abortive poems : whether spawned from the drama¬
tic or narrative species, it may be hard to say.
Unfinish’d things one knows not what to call,
Their generation’s so equivocal.
However, such as they are, those novelties have been,
generally well received : Some for the real merit of
their execution others, for their amusing subjects 5 all
of them for the gratification they afford, or at least
promise, to a vitiated, pallid, and sickly imagination,
that last disease of learned minds, and sure prognostic of
expiring letters. But whatever may be the temporal y
success of these things (for they vanish as fast as they
are produced), good sense will acknowledge no work oi
art but such as is composed according to the law of its
kind.”
Of this severe criticism the author himseli has given
us, what amounts to a complete confutation. He tells
us, that the ancients looked for so much force and spirit
of expression in whatever they dignified with the name
o{poem, as sometimes to make a question “ whether co¬
medy were rightly referred to this class, because it dif¬
fered only in measure from mere prose ? J heir doubt
(he justly adds) might have been spared or at least re¬
solved, if they had considered that comedy adopts as
much of this force and spirit of words as is consistent
with the nature and dignity of that pleasure which it.
pretends to give : For the name of poem will belong to
every composition whose primary end is to please, pro¬
vided it be so constructed as to afford all the pleasure
which its kind or sort will permit.”
If this decision be just, and we readily admit it, a
well composed novel is entitled to the appellation of a,
poem, though it be written in prose and in a style not-
remarkable for elevation. The business of the novelist
is to interest the heart by a display of the incidents of
common life. In doing this, he must exhibit scenes
that are probable, and record speeches that are natural.
He is not at; liberty to invent, but only to select, ob¬
jects, and to cull from the mass of mankind those indi¬
viduals upon which the attention ought most to be em¬
ployed. The more closely he adheres to this rule, the
more deeply does he interest us in his narrative j because
every reader sees at once that it is possible he may at
some time or other be in circumstances nearly resem¬
bling those of the hero of the tale. But the business of
Nevel.
NOV [ 77 ] NOV
jfovcl l»fe is n°t transacted in pompous language, nor the
Novelty, speeches of real lovers made in verse either rhymed or
'■ ""v blank. Were Tom Jones or Clai'issa Harlowe to be
translated into verse, vve shall venture to assert that they
would quickly lose their hold of the public mind: be¬
cause the hero and heroine would then appear in a light
which every heart must feel to be unnatural.
It is well observed by Johnson, that the task of the
novel writer “ requires, together with that learning
which is to be gained from books, that experience
which can never be attained by solitary diligence, but
must arise from general converse and accurate observa¬
tion of the living world. Their performances have, as
Horace expresses it, plus oneris quantum varies minuss
little indulgence, and therefore more difficulty. They
are engaged in portraits of which every one knows the
original, and can detect any deviation from exactness of
resemblance. Other writings are safe, except from the
malice of learning, but these are in danger from every
common reader j as the slipper ill executed was censured
by a shoemaker who happened to stop in his way at the
Venus of Apelles.” It is in thus faithfully copying na¬
ture that the excellence of Fielding consists. No man
was ever better acquainted with the shades which diver¬
sify characters, and none ever made his personages act
and speak more like real men and women in the parti¬
cular circumstances which he describes.
“ But the fear of not being approved as a just copier
of human manners, is not the most important concern
that an author of this class ought to have before him.
Novels are written chiefly to the young, the ignorant,
and the idle, to whom they serve as lectures of conduct
and introduction into life. In every such work, it
should therefore be carefully inculcated, that virtue is
tile highest proof of understanding, and the only solid
basis of greatness $ and that vice is the natural con¬
sequence of narrow thoughts j that it begins in mis¬
take and ends in ignominy: and since love must be
introduced, it should be represented as leading to wretch¬
edness, whenever it is separated from duty or from pru¬
dence.”
Novel, in the civil law, a term used for the consti¬
tutions of several emperors, more particularly those of
Justinian. They were called navels, either from their
producing a great alteration in the face of the ancient
law, or because they were made on new cases, and after
the revisal of the ancient code.
NOVELTY, or Newness. Of all the circumstan¬
ces that raise emotions, not excepting beauty, nor even
*-E/mcMtsgreatness, says Lord Karnes*, novelty hath the most
*f Criti- powerful influence. A new object produces instantane¬
ously an emotion termed wonder, which totally occu¬
pies the mind, and for a time excludes all other objects.
Conversation among the vulgar never is more interesting
than when it turns upon strange objects and extraordi¬
nary events. Men tear themselves from their native
country in search of things rare and new j and novelty-
converts into a pleasure th§ fatigues and even perils of
travelling. To what cause shall we ascribe these singu¬
lar appearances P To curiosity undoubtedly: a principle
implanted in human nature for a purpose extremely be¬
neficial, that of acquiring knowledge ; and the emotion
of wonder raised by new and strange objects, inflames
our. curiosity to know more of such objects. This emo¬
tion is different from admiration: novelty, wherever
found, whether in a quality or action, is the cause of Novelty,
wonder; admiration is directed to the person who per- *y ■
forms any thing wonderful.
During infancy, every new object is probably the oc¬
casion of wonder, in some degree ; because, during in¬
fancy, every object at first sight is strange as well as
new: but as objects are rendered familiar by custom,
we cease by degrees to wonder at new appearances, if
they have any resemblance to what we are acquainted
with j for a thing must be singular as well as new, to
raise our wonder. To save multiplying words, we
would be understood to comprehend both circumstances
when we hereafter talk of novelty.
In an ordinary train of perceptions, where one thing
introduces another, not a single object makes its appear¬
ance unexpectedly: the mind thus prepared for the re¬
ception of its objects, admits them one after another
without perturbation. But when a thing breaks in un¬
expectedly, and without the preparation of any connec¬
tion, it raises an emotion, known by the name of sur*
prise. That emotion may be produced by the most fa¬
miliar object, as when one unexpectedly meets a friend
who was reported to be dead j or a man in high life,
lately a beggar. On the other hand, a new object,
however strange, will not produce the emotion, if the
spectator be prepared for the sight: an elephant in In¬
dia will not surprise a traveller who goes to see one
and yet its novelty will raise his wonder: an Indian in ,
Britain would be much surprised to stumble upon an
elephant feeding at large in the open fields j hut the
creature itself, to which he was accustomed, Would not
raise his wonder.
Surprise thus in several respects differs from wonder:
unexpectedness is the cause of the former emotion ; no¬
velty is the cause of the latter. Nor differ they less in
their nature and circumstances, as will be explained by
and by. With relation to one circumstance they pet--*-,
fectly agree j which is, the shortness of their duration :
the instantaneous production of these emotions in per¬
fection, may contribute to that effect, in conformity to
a general law, That things soon decay which soon come
to perfection : the violence of the emotions may also
contribute j for an ardent emotion, which is not sus¬
ceptible of increase, cannot have a long course. But
their short duration is occasioned chiefly by that of
their causes : we are soon reconciled to an object, how¬
ever unexpected $ and novelty soon degenerates into fa¬
miliarity.
Whether these emotions be pleasant or painful, is not
a clear point. It may appear strange, that our own
feelings and their capital qualities should afford any
matter for a doubt : but when vve are engrossed by any
emotion, there is no place for speculation $ and when
sufficiently calm for speculation, it is not easy to recal
the emotion with accuracy. New objects are sometimes
terrible, sometimes delightful; the terror which a tyge#
inspires is greatest at first, and wears off gradually by
familiarity: on the other hand, even women will ac¬
knowledge that it is novelty which pleases the most in a
new fashion. Ik would be rash, however, to conclude,
that wonder is in itself neither pleasant nor painful, but
that it assumes either quality according to circumstances.
An object, it is true, that hath a threatening appear¬
ance, adds to our terror by its novelty: but from that
experiment it doth not follow* tlrat novelty is in itself
disagreeable.) .
NOV [ 78 ] NOV
Novelty, disagreeable \ for it is perfectly consistent, that we be
 v~~ 1 delighted with an object in one view, and terrified with
it in another. A river in flood swelling over its banks,
is a grand and delightful object •, and yet it may pro¬
duce no small degree of fear when we attempt to cross
it : courage and magnanimity are agreeable •, and yet,
when we view these qualities in an enemy, they serve to
increase our terror. In the same manner, novelty may
produce two effects clearly distinguishable from each
other : it may, directly and in itself, be agreeable 5 and
it may have an opposite effect indirectly, which is, to
inspire terror \ for when a new object appears in any
degree dangerous, our ignorance of its powers and fa¬
culties affords ample scope for the imagination to dress
it in the most frightful colours. I he first sight of a
lion, for example, may at the same instant produce two
opposite feelings, the pleasant emotion of wonder, and
the painful passion of terror : the novelty of the object
produces the former directly, and contributes to the lat¬
ter indirectly. Thus, when the subject is analyzed,
we find that the power which novelty hath indirectly to
inflame terror, is perfectly inconsistent with its being in
every circumstance agreeable. The matter may be put
in the clearest light, by adding the following circum¬
stance. If a lion be first seen from a place of safety,
the spectacle is altogether agreeable without the least
mixture of terror. If, again, the first sight puts us
within reach of that dangerous animal, our terror may
be so great as quite to exclude any sense of novelty.
But this fact proves not that wonder is painlul : it
proves only, that wonder may be excluded by a more
powerful passion. Every man may be made certain
from his own experience, that wonder raised by a new
object that is inoffensive, is always pleasant; and with
respect to offensive objects, it appears from the fore¬
going deduction, that the same must hold as long as the
spectator can attend to the novelty.
Whether surprise be in itself pleasant or painful, is a
question not less intricate than the former. It is certain
that surprise inflames our joy when unexpectedly we
meet with an old friend ; and not less our terror when
we stumble upon any thing noxious. To clear that
question, the first thing to be remarked is, that in some
instances an unexpected object overpowers the mind, so
as to produce a momentary stupefaction : where the ob¬
ject is dangerous, or appears so, the sudden alarm it
gives, without preparation, is apt totally to unhinge the
mind, and fora moment to suspend all its faculties, even
thought itself; in which state a man is quite helpless :
and if he move at all, is as like to run upon the danger
as from it. Surprise carried to such a height, cannot
be either pleasant or painful ; because the mind, during | Novelty- , j
such momentary stupefaction, is in a good measure, if ^ '
not totally, insensible.
If we then inquire for the character of this emotion,
it must be where the unexpected object or event produ-
ceth less violent effects. And while the mind remains
sensible of pleasure and pain, is it not natural to suppose,
that surprise, like wonder, should have an invariable
character ? It would appear, however, that surprise has
no invariable character, but assumes that of the object
which raises it. Wonder being an emotion invariably
raised by novelty, and being distinguishable from all
other emotions, ought naturally to possess one constant
character. The unexpected appearance of an object,
seems not equally entitled to produce an emotion distin¬
guishable from the emotion, pleasant or painful, that is
produced by the object in its ordinary appearance : the
effect it ought naturally to have, is only to swell that
emotion, by making it more pleasant or more painful
than it commonly is. And that conjecture is confirmed
by experience, as well as by language which is built
upon experience : when a man meets a friend unexpect¬
edly, he is said to be agreeably surprised ; and when he
meets an enemy unexpectedly, he is said to be disagree¬
ably surprised. It appears, then, that the sole effect
of surprise is to swrell the emotion raised by the object.
And that effect can be clearly explained : a tide of con¬
nected perceptions glide gently into the mind, and pro¬
duce no perturbation ; but an object breaking in unex¬
pectedly, sounds an alarm, rouses the mind out of its
calm state, and directs its whole attention to the object,
which, if agreeable, becomes doubly so. Several cir¬
cumstances concur to produce that effect: on the one
hand, the agitation of the mind and its keen attention
prepare it in the most effectual manner for receiving a
deep impression : on the other hand, the object, by its
sudden and unforeseen appearance, makes an impression,
not gradually, as expected objects do, but as at one
stroke with its whole force. The circumstances are
precisely similar where the object is in itself disagree¬
able (a).
The pleasure of novelty is easily distinguished from
that of variety : to produce the latter, a plurality of ob¬
jects is necessary; the former arises from a circumstance
found in a single object. Again, Where objects, whe¬
ther co-existent or in succession, are sufficiently diver¬
sified, the pleasure of variety is complete, though every
single object of the train be familiar; but the pleasure
of novelty, directly opposite to familiarity, requires no
diversification.
There are different degrees of novelty, and its effects
are
(a) What Mareschal Saxe terms In cceur humain, is no other than fear occasioned by surprise. It is owing
to that cause that an ambush is generally so destructive : intelligence of it beforehand renders it perfectly harmless.
The Mareschal gives from Caesar’s Commentaries two examples of what he calls le cceur humain. At the siege ot
Amiens by the Gauls, Caesar came up with his army, which did not exceed 7000 men ; and began to entrench
himself in such hurry, that the barbarians judging him to be afraid, attacked his entrenchments with great spirit.
During the time they were filling up the ditch, he issued out with his cohorts, and by attacking them unexpectedly
struck a panic that made them fly with precipitation, not a single man offered to make a stand. At the siege ot
Alesia, the Gauls, infinitely superior in number, attacked the Roman lines of circumval ation, in order to raise le
siege. Caesar ordered a body of his men to march out silently, and to attack them on the one flank, while he wit 1
another body did the same on the other flank. The surprise of being attacked when they expected a defence only,
put the Gauls into disorder, and gave an easy victory to Caesar.
A
N O V
Novelty. are in proportion. The lowest degree is found in ob-
' jects surveyed a second time after a long interval } and
that in this case an object takes on some appearance of
novelty, is certain from experience: a large building of
many parts variously adorned, or an extensive field em¬
bellished with trees, lakes, temples, statues, and other
ornaments, will appear new oftener than once : the me¬
mory of an object so complex is soon lost, of its parts at
least, or of their arrangement. But experience teaches,
that, even without any decay of remembrance, absence
alone will give an air of novelty to a once familar ob¬
ject 5 which is not surprising, because familiarity wears
olf gradually by absence : thus a person with whom we
have been intimate, returning after a long interval, ap¬
pears like a new acquaintance. And distance of place
contributes to this appearance, not less than distance of
time : a friend, for example, after a short absence in a
remote country, has the same air of novelty as if he had
returned after a longer interval from a place nearer
home : the mind forms a connexion between him and
the remote country, and bestows upon him the singula¬
rity of the objects he has seen. For the same reason,
when two things equally new and singular are presented,
the spectator balances between them *, but when told
that one of them is the product of a distant quarter of
the world, he no longer hesitates, but clings to it as the
more singular: hence the preference given to foreign
luxuries, and to foreign curiosities, which appear rare
in proportion to their original distance.
The next degree of novelty, mounting upward, is
found in objects of which we have some information at
second hand ; for description, though it contribute to
familiarity, cannot altogether remove the' appearance
of novelty when the object itself is presented : the first
sight of a lion occasions some wonder, after a thorough
acquaintance with the correctest pictures and statues of
that animal.
A new object that bears some distant resemblance to
a known species, is an instance of a third degree of no¬
velty : a strong resemblance among individuals of the
same species, prevents almost entirely the effect of no¬
velty, unless distance of place or some other circum¬
stance concur ; but where the resemblance is faint, some
degree of wonder is felt, and the emotion rises in pro¬
portion to the faintness of the resemblance.
The highest degree of wonder ariseth from unknown
objects that have no analogy to any species we are ac¬
quainted with. Shakespeare in a simile introduces that
species of novelty :
NOV
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him,
When he bestrides the lazy pacing clouds,
And sails upon the bosom of the air. ?
Romeo and Juliet.
One example of that species of novelty deserves pe¬
culiar attention ; and that is, when an object altogether
new is seen by one person only, and but once. These
circumstances heighten remarkably the emotion : the
singularity of the spectator concurs with the singu¬
larity of the object, to inflame wonder to its highest
pitch.
In explaining the effects of novelty, the place a be¬
ing occupies in the scale of existence, is a circumstance
that must not be omitted. Novelty in the individuals
of a low class is perceived with indifference, or with a
very slight emotion : thus a pebble, however singular in
its appearance, scarcely moves our wonder. The emo¬
tion x'ises with the rank of the object j and, other cir¬
cumstances being equal, is strongest in the highest order
of existence ; a strange insect aflects us more than a
strange vegetable j and a strange quadruped more than
a strange insect.
However natural novelty may be, it is a matter of
experience, that those who relish it the most are careful
to conceal its influence. Love of novelty, it is true,
prevails in children, in idlers, and in men of shallow
understanding : and yet, after all, why should one be
ashamed of indulging a natural propensity ? A distinc¬
tion will afford a satisfactory answer. No man is asham¬
ed of curiosity when it is indulged to acquire know¬
ledge. But to piefer any thing merely because it is
new, shows a mean taste which one ought to be asha¬
med of : vanity is commonly at the bottom, which
leads those who are deficient in taste to prefer things
odd, rare, or singular, in order to distinguish them¬
selves from others. And in fact, that appetite, as
above mentioned, reigns chiefly among persons of a
mean taste, who are ignorant of refined and elegant
pleasures.
Of this taste we have some memorable instances in
men of the highest and the best education. Lucian
tells'the following story of Ptolemy I. which is as dis¬
graceful to him, as honourable to his subjects. This
prince had ransacked the world for two curiosities j
one was a camel from Bactria all over black ; the other
a man, half black half white. These he presented to
the people in a public theatre, thinking they would
give them as much satisfaction as they did him j but
the black monster instead of delighting them, affright¬
ed them j and the party-coloured man raised the con¬
tempt of some and the abhorrence of others. Ptolemy,
finding the Egyptians preferred symmetry and beauty
to
As glorious to the sight
As is a winged messenger from heaven
Unto the white up-turned wond’ring eye
[ 79 ]
A third may be added not less memorable. In the year 846, an obstinate battle was fought between Xamire
king of Leon, and Abdoulrahman the Moorish king of Spain. After a very long conflict the night only pre¬
vented the Arabians from obtaining a complete victory. The king of Leon, taking advantage of the darkness,
retreated to a neighbouring hill, leaving the Arabians masters of the field of battle. Next morning, perceiving
that he could not maintain bis place for want of provisions, nor be able to draw oft his men in the face of a victo¬
rious army, he ranged his men in order of battle, and, without losing a moment, marched to attack the enemy,
resolving to conquer or die. The Arabians, astonished to be attacked by those who were conquered the night be¬
fore, lost all heart: fear succeeded to astonishment, the panic was universal, and they all turned their backs with¬
out almost drawing a sword.
NOV [ 80
to tlie most astonishing productions of art or nature
without them, wisely removed, his two enormous trifles
out of sight't tlie neglected camel died in a little
time, and the man he gave for a song to the musician
Thespis. •ii*
One final cause of wonder, hinted above, is, that this
emotion is intended to stimulate our curiosity. An«
other, somewhat different, is, to prepare the mind for
receiving deep impressions of new objects. An acquaint¬
ance with the various things that may affect, us, and
with their properties, is essential to our well-being : nor
will a slight or superficial acquaintance be sufficient;
they ought to be so deeply engraved on the mind, as to
be ready for use upon every occasion.. Now, in order
to a deep impression, it is wisely contrived, that things
should be introduced to our acquaintance with a certain
pomp and solemnity productive of a vivid emotion.
When the impression is once fairly made, the emotion
of novelty being no longer necessary, vanishetli almost
instantaneously j never to return, unless where the im¬
pression happens to be obliterated by length of time or
other means j in which case the second introduction
hath nearly the same solemnity with the first.
Designing wisdom is nowhere more legible than in
this part of the human frame. If new objects did.not
affect us in a very peculiar manner, their impressions
would be so slight as scarce to be of any use in ife .
on the other hand, did objects continue to affect us as
deeply as at first, the mind would be totally engrossed
with them, and have no room left either for action or
reflection. ... *141
The final cause of surprise is still more evident than
of novelty. Self-love makes us vigilantly attentive
to self-preservation *, but self-love, which operates by
means of reason and reflection, and impels not the
mind to any particular object or from it, is a principle
too cool for a sudden emergency ; an object breaking
in unexpectedly, affords no time for deliberation *, and
in that case, the agitation of surprise comes in season¬
ably to rouse self-love into action : surprise gives the
alarm j and if there be any appearance of danger, our
whole force is instantly summoned to shun or to pre-
VeNOVELLARA, a handsome town of Italy, and
capital of a small district of the same name, with a
handsome castle, where the sovereign resides. E.
Long. 10. 37. N. Lat. 45. 50. .
NOVEMVIRI, nine magistrates of Athens, whose
government lasted but for one year. The first of whom
was called archon, or prince; the second bem/tus, or
king; the third polemarchus, or general of the army :
the other six were called tfiesmotheta, or lawgivers.
They took an oath to observe the laws ; and m case ot
failure, obliged themselves to bestow upon the common¬
wealth a statue of gold as big as themselves. Those
who discharged their office with honour, were received
into the number of the senators of Areopagus.
NOVI, a town of Italy, in the territory of Genoa,
on the confines of the Milanese. It was taken by the
Piedmontese in 1746. E. Long. 8. 48. N. Lat. 44.
Novi Ba%ar, a considerable town of Turkey an Eu¬
rope, and in Servia, near the river Orefico. E- Long.
‘20. 24* N. Lat. 43 • 25*
3
] NOV
NOVICE, a person not yet skilled or experienced Novice
in an art or profession. Novolorod
In the ancient Roman militia, novicn or non u, were
the young raw soldiers, distinguished by this appellation,    
from the veterans.
In the ancient orders of knighthood, there were no¬
vices or clerks in arms, who went through a kind ot
apprenticeship ere they were admitted knig ts.— ee
Knight. , . . f..
Novice is more particularly used in monasteries toi
a religious yet in his, or her, year of probation, and
who has not made the vows.
In some convents, the sub-prior has the direction ot
the novices. In nunneries, the novices wear a white
veil; the rest a black one. , -
NOVICIATE, a year of probation appointed tor
the trial of religious, whether or no they have a voca¬
tion, and the necessary qualities for living up to tie
rule; the observation whereof they are to bind them¬
selves to by vow. The noviciate lasts a year at least»
in some houses more. It is esteemed the bed of the
civil death of a novice, who expires to the world by
Pr°NOVIGRAD, a small but strong town of Upper
Hungary, capital of a county of the same name, with
a good castle, seated on a mountain near the Danube.
E. Long. 18. 10. N. Lat. 40. 50.
NoviGRAD, a small but strong town of DalmaUa,
with a castle, and subject to the Turks ; seated on a
lake of the same name, near the gulf of Venice. tL,
Long. 16.45* N. Lat. 44. 3°* . ,. . .
Novigrad, a very strong place of Servia. subject to
the Turks j seated near the Danube. E. .Long. 20.5.
N'NOVIODUNUM (Caesar,), a town of the jEdm,
commodiously seated on the Liguris : the Nivermm
of Antonine. Now Nerers in the Or eannois, on the
Loire.—A second Noviodunum of the Aulerm Dia-
blintes, in Gallia Celtica, (Antomne) i called Novio-
dunum (Ptolemy), and Noningentum Rotrudum by the
moderns : Nogente le Rotrou, cap.tal of the duchy of
Perche.—A third of the Bitunges, (Caesar) . Now
Nueve sur Baranion ; a village 15 miles to the north
of Bourges, towards Orleans._A fourth, Mcxsia
Inferior, (Ptolemy),situated on the Ister*, '
in Bessarabia.—A fifth, of Pannpn.a Superior, (An¬
tonine) ; now Gurkfeld in Canntlua.-A sixth, Nona-
dunum Suessionum, the same with
 A seventh, Noviodunum of the Veromandui in Gallia
Belgica, (Caesar): now Noyon in the Isle of I ranee,
on the borders of Picardy. . r, . t •„
NOUN, see Grammar, N 7.} and Chaptei 1.
^NOVOGOROD WELICKI, Great Novogorod,^ ac¬
cording to Mr Coxe, is one of the most anoent cities
in Russia. It was formerly called Great Nwogorod, to
distinguish it from other Russian towns of a similar ap-
peflation *, and now presents to the attentive and mtel-
Ugent traveller a striking instance °f ^len grandeu^.
According to Nestor, the earliest of the Russian hi-
irknt it was built at the same time with Kiof,
namely in the middle of the 5th century, by a ScL-
v^ian horde, who, according to Procopius, issued
from the banks of the Volga. Its antiquity is ckarly
NOV
Novogorotl proved by a passage in th® Gothic historian Jornandes,
Welicki. in which it is called Civitas Nova, oi' new town. We
1 v™ "l have little insight into its history before the 9th cen¬
tury, when Ruric the first great duke of Russia reduced
it, and made it the metropolis of his vast dominion.
The year subsequent to his death, which happened in
879, the seat of government wras removed, under his
son Igor, then an infant, to Kiof; and Novogorod con¬
tinued, for above a century, under the jurisdiction of
governors nominated by the great dukes, until 970,
when Svatoslaf, the son of Igor, created his third son
Vladimir duke of Novogorod : the latter, succeeding his
father in the throne of Russia, ceded the town to his
son Yaroslaf, who in 1036 granted to the inhabitants
very considerable privileges, that laid the foundation of
that extraordinary degree of liberty which they after¬
wards gradually obtained. From this period Novogorod
was for a long time governed by its own dukes: these
sovereigns were at first subordinate to the great dukes,
wrho resided at Kiof and Volodimir but afterwards, as
the town increased in population and wealth, they gra¬
dually usurped an absolute independency. Its indepen¬
dency, however, was not perpetual. It continued, in¬
deed, in a flourishing state until the middle of the 15th
century: but the great dukes of Russia, whose ancestors
bad reigned over this town, and who still retained the
title of dukes of Novogorod, having transferred their re¬
sidence from Kiof to Volodimir, and afterwards to Mos¬
cow, laid claim to its feudal sovereignty ^ a demand
which the inhabitants sometimes put off by composition,
sometimes by resistance, but were sometimes compelled
to acknowledge. At length, however, the great duke
became absolute sovereign of Novogorod, though the
ostensible forms of government were still preserved. It
even then, however, continued to be the largest and
most commercial city of Russia ; a proof of which we
have as late as the year 1554, from the following de¬
scription of Richard Chancellor, who passed through it
in 1554 on his way to Moscow. “ Next unto Moscow,
the city of Novogorod is reputed the chiefest of Russia 5
for although it be in majesty inferior to it, yet in
greatness it goeth beyond it. It is the chiefest and
greatest mart town of all Muscovy ; and albeit the
emperor’s seat is not there, but at Moscow, yet the
commodiousness of the river, falling into that gulf
which is called Sinus Finnicus, whereby it is well fre¬
quented by merchants, makes it more famous than Mos¬
cow itself.” An idea of its population during this pe¬
riod, when compared with its present declined state, is
manifest from the fact, that in 1508 above 15,000 per¬
sons died of an epidemical disorder j more than double
the number of its present inhabitants. In its most
flourishing condition it contained at least 400,000 souls.
Its ruin was brought on by Ivan Vasilievitch II. and
completed by the foundation of Petersburgb, from which
it lies about 90 miles south. The present town is sur¬
rounded by a rampart of earth, -with a range of old
towers at regular distances, forming a circumference of
scarcely a mile and a half j and.-even this inconsider¬
able circle includes much open space, and many houses
which are not inhabited. As Novogorod was built
after the manner of the ancient towns in this country,
in the Asiatic style, this.rampart, like that of the Sem-
lainogorod at Moscow, probably enclosed several interior
circles. Without it was a vast extensive suburb, which
Vol. XV. Part I. +
N O Y
reached to the distance of six miles, and included with- Novogorod
in its circuit all the convents and churches, the ancient Welicki
ducal palace and other structures, that now make a r H
splendid but solitary appearance, as they lie scattered in , ?Voy°tl-
the adjacent plain. v""
Novogorod stretches on both sides of the Volkof, a
beautiful river of considerable depth and rapidity, and
somewhat broader than the Thames at Windsor. This
river separates the town into two divisions, the trad¬
ing part, and the quarter of St Sophia, which are unit¬
ed by means of a bridge, partly wooden and partly
brick.
NoroGORQD ffrelicki, a province of Muscovy, bound¬
ed on the north by Ingria j on the east by part of the
duchy of Belozero, and that of Tuera, which also
bounds it on the south, with the province of Rzeva ;
and on the west by Plescow. It is full of lakes and
forests ; however, there are some places which produce
corn, flax, hemp, honey, and wax.
Novogorod Serpskoi, a strong town of the Russian
empire, and capital of a province of Siberia of the
same name, seated on the river Dubica, in E. Lon?. 23.
20. N. Lat. 52. 30.
NOVOGORODECK, a town of Lithuania, and
capital of a palatinate of the same name. It is a large
place, and situated in a vast plain, in E. Long. 25. 30.
N. Lat. 53. 45.
NOURISHMENT. See Nutrition.
Nourishment of Vegetables. See Agriculture
Index.
NO WED, in Heraldry, signifies .knotted,” from
the Latin nodatus; being applied to the tails of such
creatures as are very long, and sometimes represented in
coat armour as tied up in a knot.
NOX, in fabulous history, one of the most ancient
deities among the heathens, daughter of Chaos. From
her union with-her brother Erebus, she gave birth to the
Day and the Light. She was also the mother of the
Parcse, Hesperides, Dreams, of Discord, Death, Mo-
mus, Fraud, &c. She is called by some of the poets
the mother of all things, of gods as tvell as of men j
and she was worshipped with great solemnity by the
ancients. She had a famous statue in Diana’s temple
at Ephesus. It was usual to offer her a black sheep,
as she was the mother of the Furies. The cock was
also offered to her, as that bird proclaims the approach
of day during the darkness of the night. She is re¬
presented as mounted on a chariot, and covered with
a veil bespangled with stars. The constellations gene¬
rally went before, her as her constant messengers. Some¬
times she is seen holding two children under her armsj
one of which is black, representing Death, and the other
white, representing Sleep. Some of the moderns have
described her as a woman veiled in mourning, and
crowned with poppies, and carried on a chariot drawn
by owls and bats.
NO YON, a town of France, situated on the decli¬
vity of a hill on the rivulet Vorse, which at a quarter
of a league’s distance falls into the Oyse, in the de¬
partment of Oyse, in E. Long. 3. o. N. Lat. 49. 38.
about 66 miles north-east of Paris. It is an ancient
place, being the Noviodunum Be/garmn of the Latins.
It contained 6033 inhabitants in 1800, and is well
situated for inland trade, which consists here in wheat
and oats, which they send to Paris. They have
L al.st
[ 81 ]
NUB
also manufactories of linen cloths,
ned leather. There are eight parishes in it, two ab¬
beys, and several monasteries ot both sexes. It is
the see of a bishop, suffragan to the metropolitan ot
Kheims ; he has the title of count and peer ol 1 ranee,
and his income is said to amount to about 15,000 iivres
per annum. The principal buildings are the episcopa
palace, a cloister where the canons ot the cathedral dwell,
and the town-house. The latter is regularly built in a
large square, in the middle ot which there is a fountain,
where the water conveyed to it from a neighbouring
mountain runs continually through three conduits, and
is received in a large bason built of very hard stone.
They have also many other fountains, several market
places, and two public gardens. Noyon is particularly
remarkable for the birth of the famous John Cal vin, who
was born here on the 10th of July 1502, and died at
Geneva the 27th of May 1564. .
NUAYHAS, the Ague Tree ; a name given by
the Indians to a sort of bamboo cane, the leaves ol
which falling into the water, are said to impregnate
it with such virtue, that the bathing in it afterwards
cures the ague. They use also a decoction ot the
leaves to dissolve coagulated blood, giving it inter¬
nally and at the same time rubbing the bruised part
externally with it. It is said that this plant bears its
flowers only once in its life 5 that it lives 60 years be¬
fore those make their appearance ; but that when they
begin to show themselves, it withers away m about a
month afterwards ; that is, as soon as it has ripened
the seed. There seems to be something ot faction in
the account of many other particulars relating to this
tree in the Hortus Malabaricus ; but it seems certain,
that the length of the stalks, or trunk, must be very
great: for, in the gallery of Leyden, there is preserv¬
ed a cane of it 28 feet long *, and another not much
shorter in the Ashmolean museum at Oxtord, and which
is more than eight inches in diameter : yet both these
appear to be only parts of the whole trunk, they being
nearly as large at one end as at the othei.
NUBA, a race of black Pagans, in the neighbour¬
hood of Sennaar, of whom we know nothing but what
we have learned from Mr Bruce. That celebrated tra¬
veller passed a day or two among them, in his way
from Abyssinia; and he tells us, that they are all so -
diers of "the Mek or king of Sennaar, cantoned in vil¬
lages, which to the distance of four or five miles sur¬
round the capital. They are not the aborigines of that
part of Africa ; but “ are either purchased or taken
by force from Fazuclo, and the provinces to the south
upon the mountains Dyre and Tegla.” Though the
upon tne moumtiuta 0
slaves of a cruel and treacherous master, Mr Bruce re¬
presents them as a gentle, honest, and hospitable people j
and he says expressly, that on a journey he had seldom
passed a more comfortable night, than one in which he
took refuge from a storm in a village ol those Nuba.
He had a good supper, and a clean neat hut to sleep in,
while some of the Nuba watched for him all night,
and took care of his beasts and his baggage. “ Having
settlements and provisions given them by the govern¬
ment of Sennaar, as also arms put into their hands,
they never wish to desert, but live a very domestic
and sober life, and. are a much gentler sort ot negro
than their masters.” (See Sennaar). I hough the
[ 82 ] NUB
lawns, and tan- established religion of Sennaar is that ol Mahomet, the HuW
government has never attempted to convert the JN uba.
On the contrary, a certain number of Pagan priests
is maintained for them in every village, who have sol¬
diers in pay to assist them in the aflairs ot their re.igion.
This is a very singular instance ot toleration among
Mahometans, and what we should little have expected
from such barbarous and sanguinary wretches as those
who have the supreme power in Sennaar, had not our
observing traveller informed us, that these men them¬
selves know almost nothing of the religion which they
profess, and are in their hearts rather Pagans than Ma¬
hometans. .. T • .
The idolatry of the Nuba is described as a mixture
of Sabi ism and statue worship: but what is very un¬
common, their worship is chiefly paid to the moon,
while they pay no attention to the sun either rising or
setting, advancing to the meridian or receding from it.
It is an old observation, that the worship ol every
people is tinctured by their natural dispositions •, and
this is verified in the Nuba. “ That their worship is
performed with pleasure and satisfaction, is obvious
(says our author) every night that the moon shines.
Coming out from the darkness of their huts, they say a
few words upon seeing her brightness, and testily great
joy, by motions of their feet and hands, at the first
appearance of the new moon.” This is just what we
should have expected from their gentleness and hospi¬
tality. They worship likewise a tree and a stone ; but
our author could never discover what tree or stone ,
only he learned that neither of them exists in bennaar,
hut in the country where the Nuba are born, bucb 0
them as are natives of the villages where he saw them,
become, like their masters, nominal Mahometans.—•
The rest practise the idolatrous worship ol their ances¬
tors, and are much under the influence of their priests,
from fear rather than from affection. They are im¬
moderately fond of swine’s flesh, and maintain great,
herds of small hogs, marked with black and white spots.
Few of the Nuba advance higher than to be soldiers
and officers in their own corps } and the Mek main¬
tains about 12,000 of them near Sennaar to keep the
Arabs in subjection. In a climate so violent as that
which they inhabit, there is very little need ot luel 5
and it is happy for them that such is the case, lor m
the whole country there is not a single tree, or turl,
or any thing restnibling it. They do not, however,,
“ eat their meat law like the Abyssimans ^ out witfa
the stalk of the dova or millet, and the dung 01 ca¬
mels, they make ovens under ground, m which they
roast their hogs whole, in a very cleanly manner, keep-
• 1 • ..•11 A I.   tlx/’ I he V
roabl UlCii uugo ~ j ^ ^ 1 rpi
W their skins on till they are perfectly baked. J hey
have neither flint nor steel with which to light their
fire at first j but do it in a manner still more expedi¬
tious, by means of two sticks, brought, we are fed to,
think, from. Sennaar, and there picked out ol the river
when flooded. They make a small hole in one ol these*
sticks and point the other : then laying the lormer m
a horizontal position, they apply the point of the latter
to the hole j and, turning the perpendicular stick be¬
tween their hands, as we do a chocolate mill, both sticks
take fire and flame in a moment *, so perfectly dry and
prepared to take fire is every thing there on the surlace
of the earth.” *
NUB [ 83 ] NUB
Nubecula, NUBKCUL A, XiITTLE Cloud, in Medicine, a term
Nubia, sometimes used for a disease in the eye, wherein objects
'"v" appear as through a cloud or mist.
The nubecula seems to arise from certain gross par¬
ticles detained in the pores of the cornea, or swimming
in the aqueous humour, and thus intercepting the ravs
of light.
Nubecula, or Nubes, is also used for what is other¬
wise called albugo. See Albugo.
Nubecula is used likewise for a matter in form of
a cloud, suspended in urine.
NUBIA, a kingdom of Africa, bounded on the
north by Egypt, on the east by the Red sea and part
of Abyssinia, on the west by the kingdoms of Tagua,
Gaoga, and the desert of Gerham. The river Nile
runs through it; on the banks of which, and those of
the other rivers, it is pretty fruitful, but in other
places barren, sandy, and in want of water. To the
west of the Nile is the desert of Bahouda, which is five
days journey over, being the usual road from Egypt to
Abyssinia. Money is of no use in this country in the
way of trade, it being all carried on by way of ex¬
change. Their bread and drink is made of a small
round seed, called doi'a or seff, which is very ill tasted.
Their houses have mud walls, being very low, and
covered with reeds. The habit of the better sort is a
vest without sleeves •, and they have no coverings for
their heads, legs, and feet. The common people wrap
a piece of linen cloth about them, and the children go
quite naked. They are a stupid debauched sort of
people, having neither modesty, civility, nor religion,
though they profess to be Mahometans.—The produc¬
tions of this country are gold, elephants teeth, civet,
and sandal wood ; and they send a great many slaves
into Egypt. The principal towns known to the Euro¬
peans are Dangola and Sennaar.
It is famous for a race of horses the most powerful
and docile in the world. These animals are generally
about sixteen hands high j and by Mr Bruce, who has
given the most scientific account of them, they are
said to be the breed which was introduced into Nubia
at the Saracen conquest, and has been preserved un¬
mixed to this day. Our author represents this as a
much nobler animal than the Arabian horse. “ What
* Travels, figure (says he*) the Nubian horse would make in
vol.iv. b. 8. point of fleetness is very doubtful, his make being so
I C1,IC* entirely different from that of the Arabian j but if
beautiful symmetry of parts, great size and strength,
the most agile, nervous, and elastic movements, great
x endurance of fatigue, docility of temper, and seeming
attachment to men beyond that of any other domes¬
tic animal, can promise any thing for a stallion, the
Nubian is above all comparison the most eligible in the
world.” He thinks, and justly thinks, that an at¬
tempt should at least be made to import them into this
kingdom. “ The expence (he says) would not be
great, though there might be some trouble and appli¬
cation necessary : but if adroitly managed, there would
not be much even of that. The Nubians are very jea¬
lous in keeping up the pedigree of their horses, which
ai'e black or white, but a vast proportion of the former
to the latter.” Our author never saw the colour which
w'e call gray, i. e. dappled 5 but he has seen some bright
bays, and some inclined to sorrel. All noble horses
in Nubia are said to be descended of one of the five
upon which Mahomet and his four immediate succes- Nubia,
sors, Abu Beer, Omar, Atmen, and Ali, fled from Mec-—v—
ca to Medina the night of the Hegira. No one will
pay much regard to this legendary tale, or believe that
the strength and heauty of this breed of horses is owing
to any virtue communicated to the first of them by the
prophet and his apostles. Mr Bruce accounts for their
excellence upon rational principles “ The best horses
of the Arabian breed are found (he says) in the tribe
of Mo well i and Annecy, which is about ^6° north la¬
titude, Dangola, which is in 20° latitude, seemed to
him to be the centre of excellence for this noble ani¬
mal.” Hence he infers, that the bounds in which the
horse is in greatest perfection, ai-e between the 20th and
36th degrees of latitude, and between 30 degrees of
longitude east from Greenwich and the banks of the
Euphrates. If to the effects of climate we add the
manner of feeding the Nubian horses, we shall perhaps
have the true cause of their superiority over all others.
“ They are kept fat upon dora, and suffered to eat no¬
thing green but the shmt roots of grass that are to be
found by the side of the Nile, after the sun has wither¬
ed it. This is dug out where it is covered with earth,
and appears blanched, and laid in small heaps once a-
day on the ground before them.”
NUBIAN DESERT, a vast tract of barren x’oeks and
burning sands, extending from Syene in Upper Egypt
to Geon, the capital of Berber in Nubia. As Syene
is in latitude 240 o' 45" north, and Geon in latitude
I7° Si' 22,,» the length of this desert from north to
south is 6° 3' 23", or upwards of 420 English miles.
Its breadth from east to west has not, as far as we
know, been precisely ascertained. Through this hor¬
rid region, where nothing is to be seen which has the
breath of life, must all travellers pass from Sennaar to
Egypt 5 in danger every moment of perishing by thirst,
being overwhelmed by moving columns of sand, suffo¬
cated by a hot and poisonous wind, or cut in pieces by
troops of wandering Arabs. The last European of whom
we have heard that made the journey and lived to give
an account of it, is Mr Bruce; and the person must
have neither taste nor sensibility who can read unmoved
his manly narrative.
No single traveller,nor even a caravan,can enter with
safety into this desert, but under the protection of a Hy-
bear, whose title and office are thus explained by Mr '
Bruce : “ A Hybear is a guide, from the Arabic word
Hubbar, which signifies to inform, instruct, or direct,
because they arc used to do this office to the caravans
travelling through the desert in all -directions. They
are men of great consideration, knowing perfectly the
situation and properties of all kinds of water to be met
with on the route ; the distance of wells, whether oc¬
cupied by enemies or not; and if so, the wTay to avoid
them with the least inconvenience. It is also necessary
that they should know the places occupied'by the Si¬
moom, and the seasons of its blowing (see Simoom),
as well as those occupied by moving sands.”—Under
the conduct of one of these men, Mr Bruce, with in¬
finite fortitude and address, passed through the desert
in the year 1772, surmounting dangers at which one
shudders in his closet. Of these, the following, which
we shall give in the nervous language of the author,
may serve as an instance,
“ We were here (at a place called Wzadi al Halbouh)
L 2 at
Nubian
Desert
tl
Nucta.
N U ' C [
at once surprised and terrified by a sight surely one ot
the most magnificent in the world. In that vast ex¬
panse of desert, from W. to NW. of us, we saw a
, number of prodigious pillars of sand at difl’erent di¬
stances, at times moving with great celerity, at others
stalking on with a majestic slowness. At intervals we
thought they were coming in a very few minutes to
overwhelm us j and small quantities ot sand did actually
more than once reach us. Again they would retreat so
as to be almost out of sight 5 their tops reaching to the
very clouds. There the tops often separated from the
bodies •, and these once disjoined, dispersed in the air,
and did not appear more. Sometimes they were broken
in the middle as if struck with a large cannon shot.
About noon they began to advance with considerable
swiftness upon us, the wind being very strong at north.
Eleven of them ranged alongside of us about the di¬
stance of three miles. The greatest diameter ot the
84 ] N U M
and volatile parts by the continued action of a vertical
sun •, so that instead of being subject to evaporation, it
grows daily more and more inclined to putrefaction. ^
About St John’s day it receives a plentiful mixture
of the fresh and fallen rain from Ethiopia, which di¬
lutes and refreshes the almost corrupted river, and the
sun near at hand exerts its influence upon the water,
which is now become light enough to be exhaled, thougi
it has still with it a mixture of the corrupted fluid, it
is in February, March, or April only, that the plague
begins in Egypt.” Our philosophical traveller does not
believe it an endemical disease ; but assigns very suni-
cient reasons for thinking that it comes from Constan¬
tinople with merchandise or with passengers at the very
time of the year when the air, by the long absence oi
dews, has attained a degree of putridity proper to re¬
ceive it. In this state of the atmosphere, the injec¬
tion continues to rage till the period of St John’s day,
Nucta
11
Numa.
stance of three miles. The greatest diameter or tne J b/the dews occasioned by
site;trs
*■ Bruce'
Travels,
vol. iv.
ineasuit aw iwwv.   - ^ 1 • e
at SE. leaving an impression upon my mind to which
I can give no name 5 though surely one ingredient in
it was fear, with a considerable degree ot wonder and
astonishment.” . . . T
If it be true, as the author of A Philosophical in¬
quiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and
Beautiful affirms, that “ the passion raised by the sublime
is astonishment, and that astonishment is that state ot the
soul in which all its motions are suspended with some
degree of horror,” surely a more sublime spectacle was
never presented to mortal eyes, than that which was on
this occasion presented to Mr Bruce. It must have ieen
awfully majestic j but few, we believe, would choose
the pleasure of contemplating such a scene of magmti-
cence at the hazard of that dreadful death with which
at every moment it threatened our traveller and Ins at¬
tendants. He, indeed, had firmness of mind to stand
still and admire it j but his companions shrieked out 5
while some of them exclaimed that it was the day ot
judgment, and others that it was hell or the world set
on fire. But for a more particular account ot this phe¬
nomenon, as well as of the nature of the desert and the
proper way of passing it, we must refer to the work trom
s which this short sketch is taken*.
NUCLEUS, in general, denotes the kernel ot a nut,
or even anv seed enclosed within a husk. The term
nucleus is also used for the body of a comet, otherwise
called its head. , , ,
NUCTA, a dew, which falling in Egypt about
St John’s day, is by the superstitious natives ot the
country considered as miraculous, and the peculiar gitt
of that saint. Its effects are indeed so beneficial, that
this belief is little surprising among a people so totally
ianorant of natural causes as the modern Egyptians -, tor
it is acknowledged, by the most enlightened travellers.
into the Nile at the beginning of the inundation.
The first and most remarkable sign of the change ef¬
fected in the air, is the sudden stopping of the plague.
Every person, though shut up from society tor months
before, buys, sells, and communicates with bis neigh¬
bour without any sort of apprehension j and as tar as
our author could learn upon fair inquiry, it was never
known that one fell sick of the plague after the anni¬
versary of St John. He admits that some have died
of it after that period-, but of them the disease had
got such hold, under the most putrid influence ot the
air, that they could not recover. To corroborate this
theory, which attributes so much to the benign influ¬
ence of the falling dew, he observes, that immediately
after St John’s day, the clothes of the many thousands
who have died during the late continuance of the plague
are publicly exposed in the market place ) and that a
these, though consisting ot furs, cotton, silk, and woollen
cloths, which are the stuffs most retentive of infection,
imbibing the moist air of the evening and the morning,
are handled, bought, put on and worn, without any ap¬
prehension of danger, and without a single accident be¬
ing known to have happened to any one possessed ot this
happy confidence.
NUDITIES, in painting and sculpture, those parts
of a human figure which are not covered with any
drapery 5 or those parts where the carnation appears.
NULLITY, in Law, signifies any thing that is null
or void : thus there is a nullity of marriage, where per¬
sons marry within the degrees, or Avhere infants marry
without consent of their parents or guardians.
NUMA Pomfilius, the fourth son ot I ompilius
Pompo, an illustrious Sabine. He had married Tatia,
the daughter of King Tatius, and together with her
remained in his native country, preferring the tran-
it is acknowledged, by the most enlightened » - ;vate ]Jfe to the splendour of a court,
to stop the plague, and announce a speedy and plentiful of his wlfe> AVith whom he had lived
inundation of the country. Ihese effects are thus 1 a- Upon , , . iKe stndv
tionally accounted for by Mr Bruce.
“ In February and March, the sun is on its ap¬
proach to the zenith of one extremity of Egypt, and
of course has a very considerable influence upon the
ether. The Nile having now fallen low, the water in
certain old cisterns, which, though they still exist, are
suffered to accumulate all the filth of the river, be¬
comes putrid, and the river itself has lost all its finer
thirteen years, he gave himself up entirely to the study
of wisdom-, and, leaving the city of Cures, confined
himself to the country, wandering from solitude to
solitude, in search only of those woods and fountains
which religion had made sacred. His recluse life gave
rise to the fable, which was very early received among
the Sabines, that Numa lived in familiarity with the
nymph Egeria. Upon the death of Romulus, hothjhe
N U M F 85 ] N U M
Numa. senate and people strongly solicited him to be their king.
—v-""-' They despatched Julius Proculus and Valerius Volesns,
two senators of distinction, to acquaint Numa with
their resolution, and make him an oiler of the king¬
dom. The Sabine philosopher rejected at first their
proposal} hut being at last prevailed upon by the ar¬
guments and entreaties of the deputies, joined with
those of his father and of Martius his near relation,
lie yielded j and having offered sacrifices to the gods,
set out for Rome, where he was received hy all ranks
of people with loud shouts of joy. Spurius Vettius, the
interrex for the day, having assembled the curiae, he was
elected in due form, and the election was unanimously
confirmed hy the senate.
The beginning of his reign was popular j and lie-
dismissed the 300 bodyguards which his predecessor had
kept around his person, and observed, that he did not
distrust a people who had compelled him to reign over
them. He was not, like Romulus, fond of war and
military expeditions, but he applied himself to tame the
ferocity of his subjects, to inculcate in their minds a
reverence for the Deity, and to quell their dissensions hy
dividing all the citizens into difl’erent classes. He esta¬
blished different orders of priests, and taught the Ro¬
mans not to worship the Deity by images j and from
his example no graven or painted statues appeared in
the temples or sanctuaries of Rome for the space of 160
years. He encouraged the report that was spread of
his paying regular visits to the nymph Egeria, and
made use of her name to give sanction to the laws and
institutions which he had introduced. He established
the college of the vestals, and told the Remaps that
the safety of the empire depended upon the preservation
of the sacred ancyle or shield, which, as was generally
believed, had dropped from heaven. He dedicated a
temple to Janus, which, during his whole reign, remain¬
ed shut as a mark of peace and tranquillity at Rome.
After a reign of 42 years, in which he had given every
possible encouragement to the useful arts, and in which
he had cultivated peace, Numa died in the year of
Rome 82. Not only the Romans, hut also the neigh¬
bouring nations, were eager to pay their last offices to
a monarch whom they revered for his abilities, mode¬
ration, and humanity. He forbade his body to be burnt
according to the custom of the Romans j but he ordered
it to be buried near Mount Janiculum, with many of
the books which he had written. These books were
accidentally found by one of the Romans, about 400
years after his death 5 and as they contained nothing
new or interesting, but merely the reasons why he had
made innovations in the form of worship and in the re¬
ligion of the Romans, they were burnt by order of the
senate. He left behind him one daughter called Pom-
pilia, who married Numa Marcius, and became the mo¬
ther of Ancus Marcius the fourth king of Rome.
Some say that he had also four sons ; but this opinion is
ill founded. The principal laws of King Numa, men¬
tioned by different authors, are, 1. That the gods should
be worshipped with corn and a salted cake. 2. That
whoever know'ingly killed a free man, should be held
as a parricide. 3. That no harlot should touch the
altar of Juno*, and if she did, that she should sacrifice
a ewe-lamb to that goddess, with dishevelled hair.
4. That whoever removed a land-mark should be put to
death. 5. That wine should not be poured on a funeral Numa
NUMANT. IA, a very noble city, the ornament of,
the Hither Spain, (Florus) ; celebrated for the long
war of 20 years which it maintained against the Ro¬
mans. The baseness and injustice of the Romans during
this war were truly disgraceful to them, and altogether
unworthy of a great and powerful people. The inha¬
bitants obtained some advantages over the Roman
forces, till Scipio Africanus rvas empowered to finish .
the war and to see the destruction of Numantia. He
began the siege, with an army of 60,000 men, and was
bravely opposed by the besieged, rvho were no more
than 4000 men able to bear arms. Both armies be¬
haved with uncommon valour, and the courage of the
Numantines was soon changed into despair and fury.
Their provisions began to fail, and they fed upon the
flesh of their horses, and afterwards on that of their
dead companions, and at last they were obliged to draw
lots to kill and devour one another. The melancholy
situation of their affairs obliged them to surrender to
the Roman general. Scipio demanded them to deliver
themselves up on the morrow j they refused, and when
a longer time had been granted to their petitions, they
retired and set fire to their houses and destroyed them¬
selves, so that not even one remained to adorn the tri¬
umph of the conqueror. Some historians, however,
deny that *, and assert, that a number of Numantines
delivered themselves into Scipio’s hands, and that 50
of them were drawn in triumph at Rome, and the rest
sold as slaves. The fall of Numantia was more glorious
than that of Carthage or Corinth, though the place
was much inferior to them. It was taken by the Ro¬
mans, A. U. C. 629 ; and the conqueror obtained the
surname of Numanticus.
NUMBER, an assemblage of several units, or things
of the same kind. See Arithmetic, and Metaphy¬
sics, N° 205—208.
Number, says Malcolm, is either abstract or appli¬
cate : Abstract, when referred to things in general,
without attending to their particular properties ; and
applicate, when considered as the number of a particu¬
lar sort of things, as yards, trees, or the like.
When particular things are mentioned, there is al¬
ways something, more considered than barely their
numbers ; so that what is true of numbers in the ab¬
stract, or when nothing but the number of things is
considered, will not be true when the question is li¬
mited to particular things : for instance, the number
two is less than three *, yet two yards is a greater
quantity than three inches: and the reason is, because
regard must be had to their different natures as well as
number, whenever things of a different species are
considered; for though we can compare the number
of such things abstractedly, yet we cannot compare
them in any applicate sense. And this difference is ne¬
cessary to be considered, because upon it the true sense, -
and the possibility or impossibility, of some questions
depend.
Number is unlimited in respect of increase j because
we can never conceive a number so great but still there
is a greater. However, in respect of decrease, it is li¬
mited ; unity being the first and least number, below
which therefore it cannot descend.
N U M
[ 86 ]
N U M
Knnk and distinctions of Numbers. Mathemati¬
cians, conswlering number under a great many relations,
have established the following distinctions.
Broken numbers are the same with fractions.
Cardinal numbers are those which express the quan¬
tity of units, as I , 2, 3, 4, &c. whereas ordinal num¬
bers are those which express order, as 1st, 2d, 3d, &c.
Compound number, one divisible by some other num¬
ber besides unity ; as 12, which is divisible by 2, 3, 4,
and 6. Numbers, as 12 and 15, which have some com¬
mon measure besides unity, are said to be compound
numbers among themselves.
Cubic number is the product of a square number by
its root: such is 27, as being the product of the
square number 9 by its root 3 All cubic numbers,
whose root is less than 6, being divided by 6, the re¬
mainder is the root itself-, thus 27^6 leaves the re¬
mainder 3, its root; 215, the cube of 6, being di¬
vided by 6, leaves no remainder; 343, the cube ot 7,
leaves a remainder x, which added to 6, is the cube
root ; and 5x2, the cube of 8, divided by 6, leaves a
remainder 2, which added to 6, is the cube root.
Hence the remainders of the divisions ot the cubes
above 216, divided by 6, being added to 6, always
o-ive the root of the cube so divided till that remainder
be c and consequently 11, the cube root of the number
divided. But the cubic numbers above this being
divided by 6, there remains nothing, the cube root be¬
ing 12 Thus the remainders of the higher cubes are
to be added to 12 and not to 6, till you conmto 18,
when the remainder of the division must be added to
x8 ; and so on ad infinitum.
Determinate number is that referred to some given
•unit, as a ternary or three: whereas an indeterminate
one is that referred to unity in general, and is called
^Homogeneal numbers are those referred to the same
unit ; as those referred to different units are termed
heterogcneal. . „ . .
Whole numbers are otherwise called integers.
Rational number is one commensurable With unity ;
as a number, incommensurable with unity, is termed
-irrational, or a surd. . , .
In the same manner, a rational whole number is that
whereof unity is an aliquot part; a rational broken
number, that equal to some aliquot part of unity ; and a
rational mixed number, that consisting ot a whole num¬
ber and a broken one. . .. . .
Even number, that which may be divided into two
equal parts without any fraction, as 6, 12, &c. I lie
difference, and product, of any number ot even
numbers, is always an even number.
An evenlv even number, is that which may be mea¬
sured, or divided, without any remainder, by another
even number, as 4 by 2.
An unevenly even number, when a number may be
enuallv divided bv an uneven number, as 20 by 5.
Uneven number, that which exceeds an even number,
ut least by unity, or which cannot be divided into two
equal parts, as 3» 5’ &-c* , ,
The sum or difference of two uneven numbers makes
an even number ; but the factum of two uneven ones
makes an uneven number.
If an even number be added to an uneven one, or it
the one be subtracted from the other; in the former
4
case the sum, in the latter the difference, is an uneven
number : but the factum of an even and uneven num-
ber is even.
The sum of any even number of uneven numbers is
an even number ; and the sum of any uneven number
of uneven numbers is an uneven number.
Primitive or prime numbers are those divisible omy
by unity, as 5, 7, &c. And prime numbers among
themselves, are those which have no common measure
besides unity, as 12 and 19.
Perfect number, that whose aliquot parts added to¬
gether make the whole number, as 6, 28 ; the aliquot
parts of 6 being 3, 2, and 1, —6; and those of 28, be¬
ing 14, 7, 4, 2, 1, =28. ^ ,
Imperfect numbers, those whose aliquot parts aciaea
together make either more or less than the whole.
And these are distinguished into abundant and defec¬
tive : an instance in the former case is x 2, whose ali¬
quot parts 6, 4, 3, 2, 1, make 16 ; and in the latter
case 16, whose aliquot parts 8, 4, 2, and 1, make
but 15. .....
Plane number, that arising from the multiplication
of txvo numbers, as 6, which is the product of 3 by 2 ;
and these numbers are called the sides of the plane.
Square number is the product of any number multi¬
plied by itself; thus 4, which is the factum of 2 by 2-,
is a square number.
Even square number added to its root makes an even
number.
Figurate numbers, are such as represent some geo¬
metrical figure, in relation to which they are always
considered ; as triangular, pentagonal, pyramidal, &.c.
numbers.
Figurate numbers, are distinguished into orders, ac¬
cording to their place in the scale of their generation,
being all produced one from another, viz. by adding
continually the terms of any one, the successive sums are
the terms of the next order, beginning from the first
order which is that of equal units I, 1, I, 1, &.c.; then
the 2d order consists of the successive sums of those ot
the 1 st order, forming the arithmetical progression I,
2, 3, 4, &c ; those of the third order are the successive
sums of those of the 2d, and are the triangular num¬
bers I, 3, 6, 10, 15, &c.; those of the fourth order arc
the successive sums of those of the 3d, and are the py-
Number.
ramidal numbers 1
below:
Order. Names.
4, 10, 20, 35, &c.; and so on as
Equals,
Arithmeticals,
Triangulars,
Pyramidals,
2cl Pyramidals,
3d Pyramidals,
Numbers.
1, 1, 1, I, I, &c.
I, 2, 3, 4, 5> &c‘
1, 3, 6, 10, 15, &.c.
1, 4, 10, 20, 35, &c.
I, 5> IJ> 35> 7°> &c*
1, 6, 21, 56, 126, &c.
4th Pyramidals, I, 7> 28, 84, 210, &c.
The above are all considered as different soi’ts of tri¬
angular numbers, being formed from an arithmetical pro¬
gression whose common difference is 1. But if that
common difference be 2, the successive sums will be
the series of square numbers: if it be 3, the series will
be pentagonal numbers, or pentagons ; if it be 4, the
series will be hexagonal numbers, or hexagons; and so
on. llnr Arithmeticals.
N U M
[
Number.
Arithmetical^;,
&c
4 5
7*
10,
1st Sums, or
Polygons.
Tri.
Sqrs.
Pent.
Hex.
6,
9>
12,
ii.
IO
16
22
28
2(1 Sums, or
2d Polygons.
io,
I4>
6, 18,
7, 22,
20
30
40
50
And the reason of the names triangles, squares, pen¬
tagons, hexagons, &c. is, that those numbers may be
placed in the form of these regular figures or polygons.
But the figurate numbers of any order may also be
found without computing those of the preceding orders j
which is done by taking the successive products of as
many of the terms of the arithmeticals, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,
&c. in their natural order, as there are units in the num¬
ber which denominates the order of figurates required,
and dividing those products always by the first product:
thus, the triangular numbers are found by dividing the
products 1X2, 2X3, 3X4, 4X5, &c. each by the
1st pr. 1 X 2 J the first pyramids by dividing the pro¬
ducts T X 2 x 3, 2 x 3 X 4> 3x4x5, &c- hy the first
1X2X3- And, in general, the figurate numbers
of any order n, are found by substituting successively
I, 2, 3, 4, 5, &c. instead of x in this general ex-
. .v . x4.1 . x -j- 2 . a*-j-3 . &c. , , „
pression  —: where the factors
1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . &c.
in the numerator and denominator are supposed to be
multiplied together, and to be continued till the num¬
ber in each be less by 1 than that which expresses the
order of the figurates required. See Maclaurin’s Flux¬
ions, art. 351, in the notes 5 also Simpson’s Algebra,
p. 213 ; or Malcolm’s Arithmetic, p. 396, where the
subject of figurates is treated in a very extensive and
perspicuous manner. Hutton's Mathematical Dictionary.
Polygonal or polygonous numbers, the sums of arith¬
metical progressions beginning with unity: these, where
the common difference is 1, are called triangular num¬
bers ; where 2, square numbers; where 3, pentagonal
numbers; where 4, hexagonal numbers ; where 5, hepta-
gonal numbers, &c.
Pyramidal numbers, the sums of polygonous numbers,
collected after the same manner as the polygons them¬
selves, and not gathered out of arithmetical progressions,
are called first pyramidal numbers ; the sums of the first
pyramidals are called secondpyramidals, &c.
If they arise out of triangular numbers, they are called
triangular pyramidal numbers; if out of pentagons,
first pentagonal pyramidals.
From the manner of summing up polygonal numbers,
it is easy to conceive how the prime pyramidal numbers
„ . . (a—2)/<3-1~3 7z3—(a—()n
are found, viz.   ff” “— expresses
all the prime pyramidals.
The number nine has a very curious property, its pro¬
ducts always composing either 9 or some lesser product
of it. We have already given an account of this, with
the examples from Hume, under the article Nine •,
and we need not repeat them. Hid our limits permit
us, we could instance in a variety of other numbers
properties both curious and surprising. Such specula¬
tions are indeed by some men considered as trifling
87 ] N U M
and useless: but perhaps they judge too hastily; for Number
few employments are more innocent, none more inge- [j
nious, nor, to those who have a taste for them, more Numbers,
amusing. v ' 1
Numbers were by the Jews, as well as the ancient
Greeks and Romans, expressed by letters of the alpha¬
bet : hence we may conceive how imperfect and limit¬
ed their arithmetic ivas, because the letters could not be
arranged in a series, or in different lines, conveniently
enough for the purposes of ready calculation. The in¬
vention of the cypher, or arithmetical figures, which we
now make use of, has given us a very great advantage
over the ancients in this respect.
Mankind we may reasonably suppose, first reckoned
by their fingers, which they might indeed do in a va¬
riety of ways. From this digital arithmetic, very pro¬
bably, is owing the number xo, which constitutes the
whole set of arithmetical figures.
The letters chiefly employed by the Romans to ex¬
press numbers xvere, M, for 1000; D, for 500 ; C,
for 100; L, for 50; V, for 5; X, for 10; and I,
for one.—M, probably signified ioco, because it is the
initial of mille; H stands for 500, because it is dimi-
dium mille; C signifies 100, as being the first letter
of the word centum ; L stands for 50, because it is the
half of C, having formerly been wrote thus ; V sig-
~-c-~ 5, because V is the fifth vowel; X stands for
nifies because Yis
10, because it contains twice ^ or V in a double form;
I stands for one, because it is the first letter of initium.
These however are fanciful derivations. See Numeral
Letters.
The Jewish cabbalists, the Grecian conjurors, and the
Roman augurs, had a great veneration for particular
numbers, and the result of particular combinations of
them. Thus three, four, six, seven, nine, ten, are full
of divine mysteries, and of great efficacy.
Golden Number. See Chronology, N° 27.
Numbers, in Poetry, Oratory, &c. are certain mea¬
sures, proportions, or cadences, which render a verse,
period, or song, agreeable to the ear.
Poetical numbers consist in a certain harmony in the
order, quantities, &c. of the feet and syllables, which
make the piece musical to the ear, and fit for singing,,
for which all the verses of the ancients were intended.
See Poetry.—It is of these numbers Virgil speaks in
his ninth Eclogue, when he makes Lycidas say, Nu-
meros memini, si verba tenerem ; meaning, that al¬
though he had forgot the words of the verses, yet he
remembered the feet and measure of which they were
composed.
Rhetorical or prosaic numbers are a sort of simple un¬
affected harmony, less glaring than that of verse, but
such as is perceived and affects the mind with pleasure.
The numbers are that by which the style is said to be
easy, free, round, flowing, &c. Numbers are things
absolutely necessary in all writing, and even in all speech.
Hence Aristotle, Tully, Quintilian, &c. lay down abun¬
dance of rules as to the best manner of intermixing dac-
tyles, spondees, anapests, &c. in order to have the num¬
bers perfect. The substance of what they have said, is
reducible to what follows : 1. The style becomes nu¬
merous by the alternate disposition and temperature of
long and short syllables, so as that the multitude of short
ones neither render it too hasty, nor that of long ones
too
N U M
[
umbers,
Numeral.
too slow ami languid : sometimes, indeed, long and
short syllables are thrown together designedly without
any such mixture, to paint the slowness or celerity ot
any thing by that of the numbers *, as in these verses ot
Virgil
and
HU inter sese magna vi brachia tollunt;
Radii iter liquidum, celeres neque commovet alas
2. The style becomes numerous, by the intermixing
Words of one, two, or more syllables ; whereas the too
frequent repetition of monosyllables renders the style
pitiful and grating. 3. It contributes greatly to the
numerousness of a period, to have it closed by magni¬
ficent and well-sounding words. 4. The numbers depend
hot only on the nobleness of the rvords in the close, but
hf those in the Avhole tenor of the period. 5. To have
the period florv easily and equally, the harsh concur¬
rence of letters and words is to be studiously avoided,
particularly the frequent meeting of rough consonants 5
the beginning the first syllable of a Avord AVith the last
of the preceding j the frequent repetition of the same
letter or syllable and the frequent use of the like end¬
ing Avords. Lastly, The utmost care is to be taken, lest,
in aiming at oratorial numbers, you should fall into poe¬
tical onesand instead of,prose, write verse.
Book of Numbers, the fourth book of the Pentateuch,
taking its denomination from its numbering the famines
of Israel. . , , .
A great part of this book is historical, relating to seve¬
ral remarkable passages in the Israelites march through
the Avilderness. It contains a distinct relation of their
several movements from one place to another, or their
42 stages through the wilderness* and many other things,
Whereby avc are instructed and confirmed in some ot the
Weightiest truths that have immediate reference to God
and his providence in the world.—-But the greatest part
of this book is spent in enumerating those laivs and or¬
dinances, Avhether civil or ceremonial, which Avere given
by God, but not mentioned before in the preceding
NUMERAL letters, those letters of the alphabet
Which are generally used for figures 5 as I, one*, V, five;
X, ten ; L, fifty; C, a hundred; D, five hundred;
M, a thousand, &c. . . „
It is not agreed how the Roman numerals originally
received their value. It has been supposed, as we have
observed in the end of the article Number, that the
Romans used M to denote 1000, because it is the first
letter of milk, Avhifch is Latin for looo ; and C to de¬
note 100, because it is the first letter of centum, Avlnch
is Latin for 100. It has also been supposed, that D,
being formed by dividing the old M in the middle, was
therefore appointed to stand lor 500, that is, halt as
much as the M stood for when it Avas whole ; and that
L being half a C, was, for the same reason, used to de¬
nominate 50. But what reason is there to suppose, that
looo and 100 Avere the numbers which letters were first
used to express ? And what reason can be assigned why
D the first letter in the Latin Avord decern, ten, should
not rather have been chosen to stand for that number,
than for COO, because it had a rude resemblance to halt
an M ? But if these questions could be satisfactorily
answered, there are other numeral letters Avlnch have
never vet been accounted for at all. These considera-
2
88 ] N U M
tions render it probable that the Romans, did not, m
their original intention, use letters to express numbers
at all ; the most natural account of the matter seems to
be this: . T
The Romans probably put doAvn a single stioke, 1,
for one* as is still the practice of those who score on a
slate or With chalk: this stroke, I, they doubled, trebled,
and quadrupled, to express 2, 3, and 4 : thus, 11. ill.
I [[I. So far they could easily number the strokes with
a glance of the eye. But they presently found, that if
more were added, it would soon be necessary to tell
the strokes one by one : for this reason then, when they
came to 5, they expressed it by joining tAVO strokes to¬
gether in an acute angle thus, V; which av ill ap¬
pear the more probable, if it be considered that the
progression of the Roman numbers is from 5 to 5,
i. effrom the fingers on one hand to the fingers on the
other.—Ovid has touched upon the original of this in
his Fastorum, lib. iii. and Vitruvius has made the same
remark. , -it- r c.
After they had made this acute angle V. lor five,
they added the single strokes to it to the number 0 4,
thus, VI. VII. VIII. VIM. and then as the strokes
could not be further multiplied Avithout confusion, they
doubled their acute angle by prolonging the two lines
beyond their intersection thus, X, to denote two fives,
or ten. After this they doubled, trebled, and^quadru-
pled, this double acute angle thus, XX. XXX. XXX A.
they then, for the same reason which induced them first
to make a single and then to double it, joined two single
strokes in another form, and instead of an acute angle,
made a right angle L, to denote fifty. When this 50
Avas doubled, they then doubled the right angle thus E,
to denote 100, and having numbered this double right
angle four times, thufc EE EEE EEEE ; when they came
to the fifth number, as before, they reverted it, and put
a single stroke before it thus IT, to denote 500 ; and
When this 500 was doubled, then they also doubled their
double right angle, setting tivo double right angles op¬
posite to each other, with a single stroke between them,
thus EIT to denote 1000 : Avhen this note tor lOOO had
been four times repeated, then they put down ITT tor
rooo, EEITT for 10,000, and 1111 for 50,000, and
EEEITTT for IOO,000,ITTTTfor 500,0C0and EEEEITTTT
for one million. ' . . „ ^ ta/t r
That the Romans did not originally Arrite M tor
1000, and C for 100, but square characters as they are
written above, we are expressly informed by Raulus
Manutius ; but the corners of the angles being cut o.l
by the transcribers for despatch, these figures were gra¬
dually brought into what are now numeral letters.—
When the corners of EIT Avere made round, it stood
thus cio, Avhich is so near the Gothic m, that it sgon
deviated into that letter; so IT having the corner made
round, it stood thus IT, and then easily deviated into IX
L also became a plain C by the same meansy the single
rectangle-which denoted 50, was without alteration, a
capital L; the double acute angle was an X ; the single
acute angle a V consonant; and a plain single stroke,
the letter I; and thus these seven letters, M, H,G, X, A,
V. I, became numerals.
Numeral Characters of the Arabs, are those figures
which are now used in all the operations of arithmetic
in every nation in Europe. We have elsewhere shown
that the Arabs derived the use of them most probably
Numeral.
N U M [ 89
Numeral from India, (Sec Arithmetic, N° 5.). This opinion,
[j however, though very generally received, has been con-
'vumerical. troverted with some ingenuity. A writer intheGentle-
v ~' man’s Magazine, at a period when that miscellany was
in its highest reputation, thus endeavours to prove that
the Arabs derived their notations from the Greeks. “ [
maintain (says he) that the Indians received their nu¬
meral characters from the Arabians, and the Arabians
from the Greeks, as from them they derived all their
learning, which in some things they improved, but for
the most part have altered. The numerical figures which
tiiey received from the Greeks are proofs of this altera¬
tion j which is so great, that without particular atten¬
tion one can scarce discover in them the vestiges of their
origin. But when we compare them carefully and with¬
out prejudice, we find in them manifest traces of the
Greek figures. The G reek numerical figures ■were no
other than the letters of their alphabet. A small stroke
was the mark of unity. The B, being abridged of its
two extremities, produced the 2. If you incline the y a
little on its left side, and cut oft' its foot, and make the
left horn round towards the left side, you will produce a
3 j ^1C A makes the 4, by raising the right leg perpen¬
dicularly, and lengthening it a little below the base, and
lengthening the base on the left side. The s forms the
5, by turning the lowest semicircle towards the right,
which before was turned towards the left side. The
number 5 forms the 6, by having its head taken off, and
its body rounded. Z, by taking away the base, makes
the 7. If we make the top and bottom of H round,
we shall form an 8. The 0 is the 9 with a very little al¬
teration. The cypher o was only a point, to which one
of the figures was added to make it stand for ten times
as much. It was necessary to mark this point very strong¬
ly 5 and in order to form it better, a circle was made,
which was filled up in the middle ; but that circum¬
stance was afterwards neglected. Theophanes, an histo¬
rian of Constantinople, who lived in the ninth century,
says expressly, that the Arabians retained the Greek lig-
gures, having no characters in their language to repre¬
sent all the numbers. The Greeks observed in their
numbers the decuple progression, which the Arabians
have retained. Certain characters are found in the
Greek alphabet, which are not used in reading, but on¬
ly in calculation, and for this reason, they are styled
Episemes, that is to say, notes, marks, in order to distin¬
guish them from letters. The number 6 derives its form
from one of these episemes, which was called tviaxpcifintv.
This episeme forms the letter F among the iEolians and
among the Latins. This was called the Digamma, so
styled from its figure, which seems to have been one r
placed upon another.
That this reasoning is plausible will hardly be que¬
stioned; but whether it be conclusive our readers must
determine. It has not convinced ourselves; but through
the whole of this work we wish to state candidly the dif¬
ferent opinions held on every subject of curiosity and
usefulness.
NUMERATION, or Notation, in Arithmetic, the
art of expressing in characters any number proposed in
words, or of expressing in words any number proposed
in characters. See Arithmetic, N° 7.
NUM ERICAL, Numerous, or Numeral, something
belonging to numbers ; as numerical algebra is that
whiui makes use of numbers, instead of letters of the
Yol. XV. Part L f
]
N U M
alphabet.—-Also numerical difference is that by which Numerical
one man is distinguished from another. Hence a thing 1|
is said to he numerically the same, when it is so in the NumidiV,.
strictest sense of the word.  
NUMIDA, a genus of birds belonging to the order
of gallinoe. See Ornithology Index.
NUMLDIA, an ancient kingdom of Africa, hound¬
ed on the north by the Mediterranean sea; on the south
by Goetulia, or part of Libya Interior; on the west by
the Mulucha, a river which separated it from Maurita¬
nia; and on the east by the Tusca, another river which
bounded it in common with Africa Propria. Dr Shaw
has rendered it probable, that the river which formerly
'vent under the denominations of Mciva, Malvana, Mtt-
lucha, and Moloc/iath, is the same with that now called
Mullooiah by the Algerines; in which case, the king¬
dom of Numidia must have extended upwards of 50c
miles in length: its breadth, however, cannot be so well
ascertained; but supposing it to have been the same with
that of the present kingdom of Algiers, in the parrow-
est part it must have been at least 40 miles broad, and
in the widest upwards of 10O. %
This country included two districts; one inhabited Aneicut di-
by the Massy/i, and the other by the Massa-sy/i; the lat-visiolu
ter being also called in alter times, Mauritania Casari-
ensis, and the former Numidiu Propria. The’country
of the Massyli, or, as some call it, Terra Metagonitis,
was separated from the proper territory of Carthage by
its eastern boundary the river Tusca, and from the king¬
dom of the Massylia, or Mauritania Caesariensis, by the
river Ampsaga. It seems to correspond with that part
of the province of Constantina lying between the Zajne
and the Wed al Kibetr, which is above 130 miles long,
and more than 100 broad. The sea coast of this pro¬
vince is for the most part mountainous and rocky, an¬
swering to the appellation given to it by Abnlfeda, viz.
ElEdwaa, the high or lofty. It is far from being equal
in extent to the ancient country of the Massaesyli, which,
Strabo informs us, was yet inferior to the country of the .
Massyli. Its capital was Cirta, a place of very consi¬
derable note among the ancients.
The most celebrated antiquarians agree, that the tract, Peopled l.j
extending from the isthmus of Suez to the lake Trite-the de¬
nis, was chiefly peopled by the descendants of Miz-scendants
raim, and that the posterity of his brother Put, or°fPhut*
Phut, spread themselves all over the country between
that lake and the Atlantic ocean. To this notion He¬
rodotus gives great countenance: for he tells us, that
the Libyan Nomades, whose territories to the west
were bounded by the Triton, agreed in their customs
and manners with the Egyptians; but that the Afri¬
cans, from that river to the Atlantic ocean, differed '
in almost all points from them. Ptolemy mentions a
city called Putea near Adrametum ; and Pliny, a river
of Mauritania Tingitana, known by the name of Fut,
or Phut; and the district adjacent to this river tvas cal«
led Regio Phutensis, which plainly alludes to the name
of Phut. That word signifies scattered, or dispersed,
which very well agrees with what Mela and Strabo re¬
late of the ancient Numidians; so that we may, with¬
out any scruple, admit the aborigines of this country to
have been the descendants of Phut.
The history of Numidia, during many of the early Great par
ages, is buried in oblivion. It is probable, however, of the bi-l
that ns the Phoenicians were masters of a great part of8*-01) un-
0 - knowa.
M
the
N U M [9°
Numidia. the coiu^ry, these transactions had been recorded, and
‘ y ' generally known to the Carthaginians. King Jarbas
probably reigned here as well as in Africa Propria, it
not in Mauritania, and other parts of Libya, when Di¬
do began to build Byrsa. It appears from Justin, that
about the age of Herodotus, the people of this country
were called both Africans or Libyans and Numidians.
Justin likewise intimates, that about this time the Car¬
thaginians vanquished both the Moors or Mauritanians
and the Numidians; in consequence of which they were
excused from paying the tribute which had hitherto
been demanded of them.
After the conclusion of the first Punic war, the Ain-
can troops carried on a bloody contest against their ma¬
sters the Carthaginians; and the most active in this re¬
bellion, according to Diodorus Siculus, were a part ot
the Numidian nation named Micatamans* This so in¬
censed the Carthaginians, that alter Hamilcar had either
killed or taken prisoners all the mercenaries, he sent a
large detachment to ravage the country of those Nunu-
dians. The commandant of that detachment executed
his orders with the utmost cruelty, plundering the di¬
strict in a terrible manner, and crucifying all the priso¬
ners without distinction that fell into his hands, ihis
filled the rest with such indignation and resentment,
that both they and their posterity ever afterwards bore
4 an implacable hatred to the Carthaginians.
History of In the time of the second Punic war, Syphax king
Syphax and0f tjie lyiasstesyli entered into an alliance with the lio-
Masinissa. mans aml tiie Carthaginians a considerable defeat.
This ’induced Gala, king of the Massyli, to conclude a
treaty with the Carthaginians, in consequence ot whicli
his son Masinissa marched at the head of a powerful
army to give Syphax battle. The contest ended m fa¬
vour of Masinissa; 30,000 of the Massaesyh were put
to the sword, and Syphax driven into Mauritania; and the
like bad success attended Syphax in another engagement,
where his troops were entirely defeated and dispersed.
Gala dying whilst his son Masinissa was acting at the
head of the Numidian troops sent to the assistance of the
Carthaginians in Spain, his brother Desalces, according
to the established rules of succession in Numidia, took
possession of the Massylian throne. That prince dying
soon after his succession, Capusa his eldest son succeeded
him. But he did not long enjoy his high dignity ; lor
one Mezetulus, a person of the royal blood, but an ene¬
my to the family of Gala, found means to excite a great
part of his subjects to revolt. A battle soon took place
between him and Capusa ; in which the latter was slain
with many of the nobility, and his army entirely de¬
feated. But though Mezetulus thus became possessed
of the sovereignty, he did not think proper to assume
the title of king, but styled himself guardian to Lacu-
maces, the surviving son of Desalces, whom he graced
with the royal title. To support himself m bis usurpa¬
tion he married the dowager of Desalces, who was
Hannibal’s niece, and consequently of the most power¬
ful family in Carthage. In order to attain the same
end, he sent ambassadors to Syphax, to conclude a treaty
of alliance with him. In the mean time Masinissa, re¬
ceiving advice of his uncle’s death, of his cousin’s slaugh¬
ter and of Mezetulus’s usurpation, immediately passed
over to Africa, and went to the court of Bocchar king
of Mauritania to solicit succours. Bocchar, sensible of
the great injustice done Masinissa, gave him a body of
4000 Moors to escort him to his dominions. His sub-
]
N U M
jects, having been apprised of his approach, joined him Xumidia.
upon the frontiers with a party of 500 men. The' v—-
Moors in pursuance of their orders, returned home, as
soon as Masinissa reached the confines of his kingdom.
Notwithstanding which, and the small body that decla¬
red for him having accidentally met Lacumaces at
Thapsus with an escort going to implore Syphax’s assis¬
tance, he drove him into the town, which he carried by
assault after a faint resistance. However, Lacumaces,
with many of his men, found means to escape to Sy¬
phax. The fame of this exploit gained Masinissa great
credit, insomuch that the Numidians flocked to him
from all parts, and amongst the rest, many of his father
Gala’s veterans, who pressed him to make a speedy and
vigorous push for his hereditary dominions. Lacuma¬
ces having joined Mezetulus with a reinforcement of
Masssesylians, which he had prevailed upon Syphax to
send to the assistance of his ally, the usurper advanced
at the head of a numerous army to offer Masinissa bat¬
tle ; which that prince, though much inferior in num¬
bers, did not decline. Hereupon an engagement en¬
sued; which notwithstanding the inequality of numbers
ended in the defeat of Lacumaces. The immediate
consequence of this victory of Masinissa was a quiet and
peaceable possession of his kingdom ; Mezetulus and
Lacumaces, with a few that attended them, flying into
the territories of Carthage. However, being apprehen¬
sive that he should be obligetl to sustain a war against
Syphax, he offered to treat Lacumaces with as many
marks of distinction as his father Gala had Desalces,
provided that prince would put himself under his pro¬
tection. He also promised Mezetulus pardon, and a
restitution of all the effects forfeited by his treasonable
conduct, if he would make his submission to him. Both
of them readily complied with the proposal, and imme¬
diately returned home; so that the tranquillity and re¬
pose of Numidia would ha ve been settled upon a solid
and lasting foundation, had not this been prevented by
Asdrubal, who was then at Syphax’s court. He insi¬
nuated to that prince, who was disposed to live amica¬
bly with his neighbours, “ That he was greatly mista¬
ken, if he imagined Masinissa would be satisfied with his
hereditary dominions. That he was a prince of much
greater capacity and ambition, than either his father
Gala, his uncle Desalces, or any of his family. I hat
he had discovered in Spain marks of a most rare and
uncommon merit. And that, in fine, unless his rising
flame was extinguished before it came to too great a
head, both the Masssesylian and Carthaginian states
would be infallibly consumed by it.” Syphax, alarmed
by these suggestions, advanced with a numerous body
of forces into a district which had long been in dispute
between him and Gala, but was then in possession ot
Masinissa. This brought on a general action between
these two princes; wherein the latter was totally de¬
feated, his army dispersed, and he himself obliged to fly
to the top of Mount Balbus, attended only by a few of
his horse. Such a decisive battle at the present juncture,
before Masinissa was fixed in his throne, could not but
put Syphax into possession of the kingdom of the Mas¬
syli. Masinissa in the mean time made nocturnal incur¬
sions from his post upon Mount Balbus, and plundered
all the adjacent country, particularly that part of the
Carthaginian teritory contiguous to Numidia. Tins
district he not only thoroughly pillaged, but likewise
laid waste with fire and sword, carrying off from thence
an
N U M [9
Numidia an immense booty, which was bought by some mer-
J chants, who had put into one of the Carthaginian iiorts
for that purpose. In fine, he did the Carthaginians more
damage, not only by committing such dreadful devasta¬
tions, but by massacring and carrying into captivity vast
numbers of their subjects on this occasion, than they
could have sustained in a pitched battle, or one cam¬
paign of a regular war. Sypbax, at the pressing and
reiterated instances of the Carthaginians, sent Bocchar,
one of his most active commanders, with a detachment
of 4000 foot, and 2000 horse, to reduce this pestilent
gang of robbers, promising him a great reward if he
could bring Masinissa either alive or dead. Bocchar,
watching an opportunity, surprised the Massylians, as
they were straggling about the country without any or¬
der or discipline 5 so that he took many prisoners, dis¬
persed the rest, and pursued Masinissa himself, with a
few of his men, to the top of the mountain where he
had before taken post. Considering the expedition as
ended, he not only sent many head of cattle, and the
other booty that had fallen into his hands, to Syphax,
but likewise all the force, except 500 foot and 200
horse. With this detachment he drove Masinissa from
the summit of the hill, and pursued him through several
narrow passes and defiles, as far as the plains of Clupea.
Here he so surrounded him, that all the Massylians, ex¬
cept four, were put to the sword, and Masinissa himself,
after having received a dangerous wound, escaped with
the utmost difficulty. As this was effected by crossing
a rapid river, in which attempt two of his four attend¬
ants perished in the sight of the detachment that pur¬
sued him, it was rumoured, all over Africa, that Masi¬
nissa also was drowned j which gave inexpressible plea¬
sure to Syphax and the Carthaginians. For some time
he lived undiscovered in a cave, where he was support¬
ed by the robberies of the two horsemen that had made
their escape with him. But having cured his wound by
the application of some medicinal herbs, he boldly be¬
gan to advance towards his own frontiers, giving out
publicly that he intended once more to take possession
of his kingdom. In his march he was joined by about
40 horse, and, soon after his arrival amongst theMassyli,
so many people flocked to him from all parts, that out
of them he formed an army of 6000 foot and 4000
horse. With these forces, he not only reinstated him¬
self in the possession of his dominions, but likewise laid
waste the borders of the Masssesyli. This so irritated
Syphax, that he immediately assembled a body of troops,
and encamped very commodiously upon a ridge of
mountains between Cirta and Hippo. His army he
commanded in person ; and detached his son Vermina,
with a considerable force, to take a compass, and attack
the enemy in the rear. In pursuance of his orders,
Vermina set out in the beginning of the night, and
took post in the place appointed him, without being dis¬
covered by the enemy. In the mean time Syphax de¬
camped, and advanced towards the Massyli, in order
to give them battle. When he had possessed himself
of a rising ground that led to their camp, and conclu¬
ded that his son Vermina must have formed the ambus¬
cade behind them, he began the fight. Masinissa being
advantageously posted, and his soldiers distinguishing
themselves in an extraordinary manner, the dispute was
long and bloody. But Vermina unexpectedly falling
upon their rear, and by this means obliging them to
i j N U M
divide their forces, which were scarcely able before to Numioia.
oppose the main body under Syphax, they were soon *-—, 
thrown into confusion, and forced to betake themselves
to a precipitate flight. All the avenues being blocked
up, partly by Syphax, and partly by his son, such a
dreadful slaughter was made of the unhappy Massyli,
that only Masinissa himself, with 60 horse, escaped to
the Lesser Syrtis. Here he remained, betwixt the con¬
fines of the Carthaginians and the Garamantes, till the
arrival of Ladius and the Boman fleet on the coast of
Africa. What happened immediately after this junction
with the Homans, belongs to the article Rome.
It will be sufficient, therefore, in this place to ob¬
serve, that, by the assistance of Lcelius, Masinissa at
last reduced Syphax’s kingdom. According to Zonaras,
Masinissa and Scipio, before the memorable battle of
Zama, by a stratagem, deprived Hannibal of some ad¬
vantageous posts ; which, with a solar eclipse happen¬
ing during the heat of the action, and not a little inti¬
midating the Carthaginian troops, greatly contributed
to the victoiy the Romans obtained. At the conclusion
therefore of the second Punic war, he was amply re-
warded by the Romans for the important services he
had done them. As for Syphax, after the loss of his
dominions, he was kept in confinement for some time
at Alba; from whence being removed in order to grace
Scipio’s triumph, he died at Tibur in his way to Rome.
Zonaras adds, that his corpse was decently interred ;
that all the Numidian prisoners were released ; and
that Vermina, by the assistance of the Romans, took
peaceable possession of his father’s throne. However,
part of the Masssesylian kingdom had been before an¬
nexed to Masinissa’s dominions, in order to reward
that prince for his singular fidelity and close attach¬
ment to the Romans.
This seems to he countenanced by the epitomizer of
Livy, who gives us sufficiently to understand, that Sy¬
phax’s family, for a considerable time after the conclu¬
sion of the second Punic war, reigned in one part of
Numidia. lor he intimates, that Archobarzanes, Sy¬
phax’s grandson, and probably Vermina’s son, hovered
with a powerful army of Numidians upon the Cartha¬
ginian frontiers a few years before the beginning of
the third Punic war. This he seems to have done,
either in order to cover them, or to enable the Cartha¬
ginians to make an irruption into Masinissa’s territo¬
ries. Cato, however, pretended that these forces, in
conjunction with those of Carthage, had a design to in¬
vade the Roman dominions, which he urged as a reason
to induce the conscript fathers to destroy the African
republic.
Nothing further is requisite, in order to complete the
history of this famous prince, than to exhibit to our
readers view some points of his conduct towards the de¬
cline, and at the close, of life; the wise dispositions
made after his death by iEmilianus, in order to the re¬
gulation of his domestic affairs ; and some particulars
relating to his character, genius, and habit of body,
drawn from the most celebrated Greek and Roman au¬
thors.
By drawing a line of circumvallation around the
Carthaginian army under Asdrubal, posted upon an
eminence, Masinissa cut off’ all manner of supplies fVom
them ; which introduced both the plague and famine
into their camp. As the body of Numidian troops em-
M Z ployed
N U M
[ 92 ]
N U M
Nunjidift.
TVtasiuissa
displeased
ivith the
Homans;
ployed in this blockade was not near so numerous as
the Carthaginian forces, it is evident, that the line here
mentioned must have been extremely strong, and con¬
sequently the effect of great labour and art. Hie
Carthaginians, finding themselves reduced to the last
extremity, concluded a peace upon the following terms,
which Masinissa dictated to them: I. 'i hat they
should deliver up all deserters. 2. That they should
cecal their exiles, who had taken refuge in his domi¬
nions. 3. That they should pay him 5000 talents of
silver within the space of 50 yt?.rs. 4. lhat their
soldiers should pass under the jugum, each of them car¬
rying off only a single garment. As Masinissa him¬
self,"though between 80 and 90 years of age, conduc¬
ted the whole enterprise, he must have been extremely
well versed in fortification, and other branches of the
military art. His understanding likewise he must
have retained to the last. This happened a short time
before the beginning of the third Punic war. See
Carthage. .
Soon after, the consuls landed an army 111 Africa, m
order to lay siege to Carthage, without imparting to
Masinissa their design. This not a little chagrined
him, as it was contrary to the former practice of the
Romans *, who, in the preceding war, had communicat¬
ed their intentions to him, and consulted him on all
occasions. When, therefore, the consuls applied to him
for a body of his troops to act in concert with their
forces, he made answer, “ That they should have a re¬
inforcement from him when they stood in need of it.
It could not hut he provoking to him to consider, that
after he had extremely weakened the Carthaginians,
and even brought them to the brink of ruin, his pre-
tencUHl imperious friends should come to reap the fruits
of his victory, without giving him the least intelligence
However, his mind soon returned to its natural bias,
which was in favour of the Romans. Finding his end
approaching, he sent to ^milianus, then a tribune in
the Roman army, to desire a visit from him. W hat he
proposed by this visit, was to invest him with lull
powers to dispose of his kingdom and estate as he should
think proper, for the benefit of his children. Ihe
hicrh idea he had entertained of that young hero s abi¬
lities and integrity, together with his gratitude and at-
„ fection for the family into which he was adopted in¬
tuit leaves duced him to take this step. But, believing that death
every thing would not permit him to have a personal conference
to the dis- wlth /Emilianus upon this subject, he informed his wife
posal of ^ children jn his last moments, that he had empower-
*U'lanUS' cd him to dispose in an absolute manner of all his pos¬
sessions, and divide his kingdom amongst his sons, l o
which he subjoined, “ I require, that whatever Xmi-
lianus may decree, shall be executed as punctually as if
I myself had appointed it by my will. Having utter¬
ed these words, he expired, at about 90 years of age.
This prince, during his youth, had met with strange
reverses of fortune. However, says Appian, being
supported by the Divine protection, he enjoyed an un¬
interrupted course of prosperity for a long series of
vears. His kingdom extended from Mauritania to
the western confines of Cyrenaica; from whence it ap-
oe 4rs that he was one of the most powerful princes of
Africa Many of the inhabitants of this vast tract he
•Avilaed in a wonderful manner, teaching them to cul¬
tivate their soil, and to reap those natural advantages Numidia.
which the fertility of some parts of their country of-' v—J
fered them. He was of a more robust habit of body
than any of his cotemporaries, being blessed with the
greatest health and vigour 5 which v/as doubtless owing
to bis extreme temperance, and the toils he incessantly
sustained. We are informed by Polybius, that some¬
times be stood upon the same spot of ground from mor¬
ning till evening, without the least motion, and at others
continued as long in a sitting posture. He would re¬
main on horseback for several days and nights togetner,
without being sensible of the least fatigue. Nothing
can better evince the strength of his constitution, than
his youngest son, namedStcmbal, St/ic/nba, or Stembami.s,
who was but four years old at his decease. . 1 hough 90
years of age, he performed all the exercises used by
young men, and always rode without a saddle. Pliny
tells us, that he reigned above 60 years. He was aa
able commander, and much facilitated the reduction of
Cartilage. Plutarch from Polybius observes, that the
day after a great victory won over the Carthaginians,
Masinissa was seen sitting at the door of his tent, eating
a piece of brown bread. buidas relates, that, to the
last he could mount his horse without any assistance.
According to Appian he left a numerous well disciplined
army, and an immense quantity of wealth, behind him.
Masinissa, before his death, gave his ring to his eldest
son Micipsa-, but left the distribution of all his other
effects and possessions amongst his children entirely to
iEmilianus. Of 54 sons that survived him, only three
were legitimate, to wit, Micipsa, Gulussa, and Masta-
nabal. iEmilianus arrived at Cirta after he had ex¬
pired divided his kingdom, or rather the government
of it ’amongst these three, though to the others he gave
considerable possessions. To Micipsa, who was a prince
of a pacific disposition, and the eldest son, he assigned
Cirta, the metropolis, for the place of his residence, m
exclusion of the others. Gulussa, the next to him
being a prince of military genius, had the command of
the army, and the transacting of all affairs relating to
peace or war committed to his care. And Mastanabal,
the youngest, had the administration of justice, an
employment suitable to his education, allotted him.
They enjoyed in common the immense treasures Masinis¬
sa had amassed, and were all of them dignified by Himi-
lianus with the roval title. After he had made these
wise dispositions, that young nobleman departed from
Cirta taking with him a body of Numidian troops,
under the conduct of Gulussa, to reinforce the Roman
army that was then acting against the Carthaginians.
Mastanabal and Gulussa died soon after their father,
as appears from the express testimony of Sallust. We
find nothing more remarkable of these princes, besides^
what has been already related, than that the latter con¬
tinued to assist the Romans in the third Punic war, and
that the former was pretty well versed in the Greek
language. Micipsa therefore became sole possessor of
theTkingdom of Numidia. In his reign, and under the
consulate of M.Platius Hypsseus and M. Fulvius Mac-
cus, according to Orosius, a great part of Africa was co¬
vered with locusts, which destroyed all the produce of
the earth, and even devoured dry wood. But at last
they were all carried by the wind into the African sea,
out of which being thrown in vast heaps upon the
shore, a plague ensued which swept away an infinite
7 * 0 r number
Kurnidia.
History of
Jugurtha.
Is dreaded
by King
Micipsa,
N U M [
number of animals of all kinds. In Numidia only
800,000 men perished, and in Africa Propria 200,000 ;
amongst the rest, 30,000 Roman soldiers quartered in
and about Utica for the defence of the latter province.
At Utica, in particular, the mortality raged to such a
degree, that 1 500 dead bodies were carried out of one
gate in a day. Micipsa had two sons, Adherbal and
Hiempsal, whom he educated in his palace, together
with his nephew Jugurtha. That young prince was
the son of Mastanabal j but his mother having been
only a concubine, Masinissa had taken no great notice
of him. However, Micipsa considering him as a prince
of tiie blood, took as much care of him as he did of his
own children.
Jugurtha possessed several eminent qualities, which
gained him universal esteem. He was very handsome,
endued with great strength of body, and adorned with
the finest intellectual endowments. He did not devote
himself, as young men commonly do, to a life of luxury
and pleasure. He used to exercise himself, with persons
of his age, in running, riding, hurling the javelin, and
other manly exercises, suited to the martial genius of
the Numidians ; and though he surpassed all his fellow
sportsmen, there was not one of them but loved him.
The chase was his only delight ; but it was that of
lions and other savage beasts. Sallust, to finish his
character, tells us, that he excelled in all things, and
spoke very little of himself.
So conspicuous an assemblage of fine talents and per¬
fections, at first charmed Micipsa, who thought them
an ornament to his kingdom. However, lie soon be¬
gan to reflect, that he was considerably advanced in
years, and his children in their infancy •, that mankind
naturally thirsted after power, and that nothing was
capable of making men run greater lengths than a vi¬
cious and unlimited ambition. These reflections soon
excited his jealousy, and determined him to exjiose Ju¬
gurtha to a variety of dangers, some of which, he en¬
tertained hopes, might prove fatal to him. In order to
this, he gave him the command of a body of forces
which he sent to assist the Romans, who were at that
time besieging Numantia in Spain. But Jugurtha, by
his admirable conduct, not only escaped all those dan¬
gers, but likewise won the esteem of the whole army,
and the friendship of Seipio, who sent a high charac¬
ter of him to his uncle Micipsa. However, that ge¬
neral gave him some prudent advice in relation to his
future conduct", observing, no doubt, in him certain
sparks of ambition, which, if lighted into a flame, he
apprehended might one day be productive of the most
fatal consequences.
Before this last expedition, Micipsa had endeavour¬
ed to find out some method of taking him off" private¬
ly •, but his popularity amongst the Numidians obliged
that prince to lay aside all thoughts of this nature.
After his return from Spain the whole nation almost
adored him. The heroic bravery he had shown there,
his undaunted courage, joined to the utmost calmness
of mind, which enabled him to preserve a just medium
between a timoious foresight and an impetuous rash¬
ness, a circumstance rarely to be met with in persons
of his age, and above all the advantageous testimo¬
nials of his conduct given by Scipio, attracted an uni¬
versal esteem. Nay, Micipsa himself, charmed with
the high opinion the Roman general had entertained of
93 ] N U M
his merit, changed his behaviour towards him ; resolv- NwmJia.
ing, if possible, to win his aflection by kindness. He
therefore adopted him, and declared him joint heir
with his two sons to the crown. Finding, some few
years afterwards, that his end approached, he sent for
all three to his bed side ; where, in the presence of the
whole court, he desired Jugurtha to recollect with what
extreme tenderness he had treated him, and consequent¬
ly to consider how well he had deserved at his hands. p
He then entreated him to protect his children on all vvho ue-
occasions ; who, being before related to him by thevertIieless
ties of blood, were now by their father’s bounty be-
come his brethren. In order to fix him the more firmly the care of
in their interest, he likewise complimented him upon Ins chitd-
his bravery, address, and consummate prudence. Hercn ;
further insinuated, that neither arms nor treasures con¬
stitute the strength of a kingdom j hut friends, who
are neither won by arms nor gold, but by real services
and an inviolable fidelity. “ Now, where (continued
he) can we find better friends than in brothers ? And
how can that man who becomes an enemy to his rela¬
tions, repose any confidence in, or depend upon stran¬
gers ?” Then addressing himself to Adherbal and Hi¬
empsal, “ And you (said he) I enjoin always to pay
the highest reverence to Jugurtha. Endeavour to imi¬
tate, and if possible surpass, his exalted merit, that the
world may not hereafter observe M cipsa’s adopted son
to have reflected greater glory upon his memory than
his own children.” Soon after, Micipsa, who, accord¬
ing to Diodorus, was a prince of an amiable character,
expired. Though Jugurtha did not believe the king
to speak his real sentiments with regard to him, yet
he seemed extremely pleased with so gracious a speech,
and made him an answer suitable to the occasion.
Plowever, that prince at the same time was determined
within himself to put in execution the scheme he had
formed at the siege of Numantia, which was suggested
to him by some factious and abandoned Roman offi¬
cers, with whom he there contracted an acquaintance.
The purport of this scheme was, that he should extort
the crown by force from his two cousins, as soon as
their father’s eyes were closed ; which they insinuated
might easily be effected by his own valour, and the
venality of the Romans. Accordingly, a shoit time
after the old king’s death, he found means to assassi- 1(3
nate Hiempsal in the city of Thirmida where his trea-one of
sures were deposited, and drive Adherbal out of his wllom he
dominions. That unhappy prince found himself °^li-drives
ged to fly to Rome, where he endeavoured to engage out the
the conscript fathers to espouse his quarrel j but, not-other,
withstanding the justice of his cause, they had not vir¬
tue enough effectually to support him. Jngartha’s am¬
bassadors, by distributing vast sums of money amongst
the senators, brought them so far over, (hat a majority
palliated his inhuman proceedings. This encouraged
those ministers to declare, that Hiempsal had been
killed by the Numidians on account of his excessive
cruelty ; tiiat Adherbal was the aggressor in the late
troubles ; and that be was only chagrined because he
could not make that havock among his countrymen he
would willingly have done. They therefore entreated,
the senate to form a judgment of Jugurtha’s behaviour
in Africa from his conduct at Numantia, rather than
from the suggestions of his enemies. Upon which, by
far the greatest part of the senate discovered themselves
prejudiced
N U M
[ 94 ]
N U M
Numidia. prejudiced in his favour1. A few, however, that were
’— v 11" ■'' not lost to honour, nor abandoned to corruption, insisted
upon bringing him to condign punishment. But as they
could not prevail, he had the best part ol Numidia
allotted him, and Adherbal was forced to rest satisfied
TI with the other.
Venality Jugurtha finding now by experience that every thing
of the Ro- was venal at Rome, as his friends at Numantia had
before informed him, thought he might pursue ^hij
towering projects without any obstruction from that
quarter. He therefore, immediately after the last di¬
vision of Micipsa’s dominions, threw oft the mask, and
attacked his cousin by open force. As Adherbal was
a prince of a pacific disposition, and almost in all ic-
spects the reverse of Jugurtha, he was by no means a
match for him. The latter therefore pillaged the for¬
mer’s territories, stormed several ol his fortresses, and
overran a good part of his kingdom without opposition.
Adherbal, depending on the friendship of the Romans,
which his father in his last moments assured him would
be a stronger support to him than all the troops and
treasures in the universe, despatched deputies to Rome
to complain of these hostilities. But whilst he lost his
time in sending thither fruitless deputations, Jugur¬
tha overthrew him in a pitched battle, and soon alter
shut him up in Cirta. During the siege of this city, a
Roman commission arrived there, in order to persuade
both parties to an accommodation j but finding Jugur¬
tha untractable, the commissioners returned home with¬
out so much as conferring with Adherbal. A second
deputation, composed of senators of the highest distinc¬
tion, with iEmilius Scaurus, president of the senate, at
• •their head,landed some time after at Utica, and sum¬
moned Jugurtha to appear before them. That prince
at first seemed to be under dreadful apprehensions, espe¬
cially as Scaurus reproached him with his enormous
crimes, and threatened him v/ith the resentment of the^
Romans if he did not immediately raise the siege of
Cirta. However, the Numidian, by his audress, and
the irresistible power of geld, as was afterwards su¬
spected at Rome, so mollified Scaurus, that he left
Adherbal at his mercy. In fine, Jugurtha had at last
Cirta surrendered to him, upon condition only that he
should spare the life of Adherbal. But the merciless
tyrant, in violation of the laws of nature and humanity
as well as the capitulation, when he had got possession
of the town, ordered him to be put to a most cruel
death. The merchants likewise, and all the Numidians
in. the place capable of bearing arms, he caused without
distinction to be put to the sword.
Every person at Rome inspired with any sentiments
of humanity, was struck with horror at the news of
this tragical event. However, all the venal senators
still concurred with Jugurtha’s ministers in palliating
his enormous crimes. Notwithstanding which, the
people, excited thereto by Caius Memmius their tri¬
bune, who bitterly inveighed against the venality of
the senate, resolved not to let so flagrant an instance^ of
villany go unpunished. This disposition in them in¬
duced the conscript fathers likewise to declare their
intention to chastise Jugurtha. In order to this, an
army was levied to invade Numidia, and the command
of it given to the consul Calpurnius Bestia, a person of
good abilities, but rendered unfit for the expedition he
was to go upon by his insatiable avarice. Jugurtha
2
being informed of the great preparations making at Numidia,
Rome to attack his dominions, sent his son thither to ' v—
avert the impending storm. The young prince was
plentifully supplied with money, which he had orders
to distribute liberally amongst the leading men. But
Bestia, proposing to himself great advantages from an
invasion of Numidia, defeated all his intrigues, and
got a decree passed, ordering him and his attendants
to depart Italy in ten days, unless they were come to
deliver up the king himself, and all his territories, to
the republic by way ol dedition. Which decree being
notified to them, they returned without so much as
having entered the gates of Rome j and the consul
soon after landed with a powerful army in Africa. For
some time he carried on the war there very briskly,
reduced several strong holds, and took many Numi¬
dians prisoners. But upon the arrival of Scaurus, a
peace was granted Jugurtha upon advantageous terms.
That prince coming from Vacca, the place of his resi¬
dence, to the Roman camp, in order to confer with
Bestia and Scaurus, and the preliminaries of the trea¬
ty being immediately after settled between them in
private conferences, everybody at Rome was convin¬
ced that the prince of the senate and the consul had to
their avarice sacrificed the republic. The indigna¬
tion therefore of the people in general displayed itself
in the strongest manner. Memmius also fired them
with his speeches. It was therefore resolved to despath
the praetor Cassius, a person they could confide in, to
' Numidia, to prevail upon Jugurtha to come to Rome,
that they might learn from the king himself which of
their generals and senators had been seduced by the
pestilent influence of corruption. Upon his arrival there,
he found means to bribe one Baebius Salca, a man of
great authority amongst the plebeians, but of insatiable
avarice, by whose assistance he escaped with impunity.
Nay, by the efficacy of gold, he not only eluded all the
endeavours of the people of Rome to bring him to justice,
but likewise enabled Bomilcar, one ol his attendants, to
get Massiva, an illegitimate son of Micipsa, assassinated
in the streets of Rome. That young prince was advised
by many Romans of probity, wellwishers to the family
of Masinissa, to apply for the kingdom of Numidia j
which coming to Jugurtha’s ears, he prevented the ap¬
plication by this execrable step. However, he was ob¬
liged to leave Italy immediately.
Jugurtha had scarce set foot in Africa, when he re¬
ceived advice that the senate had annulled the shame¬
ful peace concluded with him by Bestia and Scaurus.
Soon after, the consul Albinus transported a Roman
army into Numidia, flattering himself with the hopes of
reducing Jugurtha to reason before the expiration ol his
consulate. In this, however, he found himself deceived j
for that crafty prince, by various artifices so amused and
imposed upon Albinus, that nothing of moment happen¬
ed that campaign. This rendered him strongly suspected
of having betrayed his country, after the example of his
predecessors. His brother Aulus, who succeeded him
in the command of the army, was still more unsuccessful;
for after rising from before Suthul, where the king’s
treasures were deposited, he marched his forces into a
defile, out of which he found it impossible to extricate
himself. He therefore was obliged to submit to the
ignominious ceremony of passing under thejugum, with
all his men, and to quit Numidia entirely in ten days
time.
N U M [ 95 ] N U M
Kuraidia. time, in order to deliver his troops from immediate de-
—-v—■ J struction. I'he avaricious disposition of the Roman
commander had prompted him to besiege Suthul, the
possession of which place he imagined would make him
master of all the wealth of Jugmtha, and consequently
paved the way to such a scandalous treaty. However,
this was declared void as soon as known at Rome, as
being concluded without the authority of the people.
The Roman troops retired into Africa Propria, which
they had now reduced into the form of a Roman pro¬
vince, and there took up their winter quarters.
In the mean time Cains Mamillius Limetanns, tri¬
bune of the people, excited the plebeians to inquire
into the conduct of those persons by whose assistance
Jugurtha had found means to elude all the decrees of
the senate. This put the body of the people into a
great ferment j which occasioned a prosecution of the
guilty senators, that was carried on, for some time,
with the utmost heat and violence. Lucius Metellos
I2 the consul, during these transactions, had Numidia
Metellus assigned him for his province, and consequently was
scntagfunst appointed general of the army destined to act against
ugurtia. jUgUr*|la> As he perfectly disregarded wealth, the
Numidian found him superior to all his temptations j
which was a great mortification to him. To this he
joined all the other virtues which constitute the great
captain ; so that Jugurtha found him in all respects in¬
accessible. That prince therefore was now forced to
regulate his conduct according to the motions of Me¬
tellus, with the greatest caution ; and to exert his ut¬
most bravery, in order to compensate for that hitherto
so favourable expedient which now began to fail him.
Marius, Metellus’s lieutenant, being likewise a person
of uncommon merit, the Romans reduced Vacca, a
large opulent city, and the most celebrated mart in
Numidia. They also defeated Jugurtha in a pitched
battle ; overthrew Bomilcar, one of his generals, up¬
on the hanks of the Muthullus ; and, in fine, forced
the Numidian monarch to take shelter in a place ren¬
dered almost inaccessible by the rocks and woods with
which it was covered. However, Jugurtha signalized
himself in a surprising manner, exhibiting all that could
be expected from the courage, abilities, and attention
of a consummate general, to whom despair administers
fresh strength, and suggests new lights. But his troops
could not make head against the Romans j they were
again worsted by Marius, though they obliged Metel¬
lus to raise the siege of Zama. Jugurtha, therefore,
finding his country everywhere ravaged, bis most opu¬
lent cities plundered, his fortresses reduced, his towns
burnt, vast numbers of his subjects put to the sword
and taken prisoners, began to think seriously of coming
T ^ to an accommodation with the Romans. His favourite
Who is be- Bomilcar, in whom he reposed the highest confidence,
tniyed by but who had been gained over to the enemy by Me-
oim car. tenUSj observing this disposition, found it no difficult
matter to persuade him to deliver up his elephants,
money, arms, horses, and deserters, in whom the main
strength of his army consisted, into the hands of the
Romans. Some of these last, in order to avoid the pu¬
nishment due to their crime, retired to Bocchus king
ol Mauritania, and listed in his service. But Metellus
ordering him to repair to Tisidium, a city of Numidia,
there to receive farther directions, and he refusing a
compliance with that order, hostilities were renewed
with greater fury than ever. Fortune now seemed to Nunddia.
declare in favour of Jugurtha: he retook Vacca, and L—
massacred all the Roman garrison, except Turpilius
the commandant. However, soon after, a Roman le¬
gion seized again upon it, and treated the inhabitants
with the utmdst severity. About this time, one of Mas-
tanabal’s sons, named Ganda, whom Micipsa in his
will had appointed to succeed to the crown in case
his two legitimate sons and Jugurtha died without
issue, wrote to the senate in favour of Marius, who
was then endeavouring to supplant Metellus. That
prince having his understanding impaired by a de¬
clining state of health, fell a more easy prev to the
base and infamous adulation of Marius. The Roman,
soothing his vanity, assured him, that as he w'as the
next heir to the crown, he might depend upon being
fixed upon the Numidian throne, as soon as Jugurtha
wras either killed or taken j and that this must in a short
time happen, when once lie appeared at the head of the r.
Roman army with an unlimited commission. Soon af-Aconspira-
ter, Bomilcar and Nabdalsa formed a design to assassi- cy against
nate Jugurtha, at the instigation of Metellus 5 but this “m‘
being detected, Bomilcar and most of his accomplices
sulfered death. The plot however had such an effect
upon Jugurtha, that he enjoyed afterwards no tran¬
quillity or repose. He suspected persons of all deno¬
minations, Numidians as well as foreigners, of some
black designs against him. Perpetual terrors sat
brooding over his mind ; insomneh that he never got a
wink of sleep but by stealth, and often changed his bed
in a low plebeian manner. Starting from his sleep, he
would frequently snatch his sword, and break out into
the most doleful cries : So strongly was he haunted by •
a spirit of fear, jealousy, and distraction !
Jugurtha having destroyed great numbers of his
friends on suspicion of their having been concerned in
the late conspiracy, and many more of them deserting
to the Romans and Bocchus king of Mauritania, he
found himself, in a manner, destitute of counsellors, ge¬
nerals, and all persons capable of assisting him in carry¬
ing on the war. This threw him into a deep melancho¬
ly, which rendered him dissatisfied with every tiling,
and made him fatigue his troops with a variety of con¬
tradictory motions. Sometimes he would advance with
great celerity against the enemy, and at others retreat
with no small swiftness from them. Then he resumed
bis former courage, but soon after despaired either of
the valour or fidelity of the forces under his command.
All his movements therefore proved unsuccessful, and
at last he was forced by Metellus to a battle. That
part of the Numidian army which Jugurtha command¬
ed, behaved with some resolution ; but the other fled x,
at the first onset. The Romans therefore entirely de-He is de¬
feated them, took all their standards, and made a few ieated by
of them prisoners. But few of them were slain in the Metellus.
action ; since, as Sallust observes, the Numidians
trusted more to their heels than to their arms for safe¬
ty in this engagement.
Metellus pursued Jugurtha and his fugitives to Tha-
la. His inarch to this place being through vast de¬
serts, was extremely tedious and difficult. But be¬
ing supplied with leathern bottles and wooden vessels
of all sizes taken from the huts of the Numidians,
which were filled with rvater brought by the natives,
who had submitted to him, he advanced towards the
city.
N U M - [ 96
Nnmidla. citv. lie Ir.ul no sooner begun bis marcu, than a most
1 ,——■1 copious shower of rain, a thing very uncommon in those
deserts, proved a great and seasonable refreshment to Ins
troops. This so animated them, that upon their arrival
before Thala, they attacked the town with such vigour,
that Jugurtha with his family, and treasures deposited
therein, thought proper to abandon it. Alter a brave
defence, it was reduced ; the garrison, consisting of Ro-
men deserters, setting fire to the king’s palace, and con¬
suming themselves, together with every thing valuable
to them, in the flames. Jugurtha, being now reduced
to great extremities, retired into Gietulia, where he
formed a considerable corps. From thence he advanced
to the confines of Mauritania j and engaged Bocchus
king of that country, who had married his daughter, to
enter into an alliance with him. In consequence oi
which, having reinforced his Gaetulian troops with a
powerful body of Mauritanians, he turned the tables up¬
on Mctellus, and obliged him to keep close within his
entrenchments. Sallust informs us, that Jugunha brib¬
ed Bocehus’s ministers to influence that prince in his
favour j and that having obtained an audience, he
insinuated, that, should Numidia be subdued, Mauri¬
tania must he involved in its ruin, especially as the Ro¬
mans seemed to have vowed the destruction of all the
thrones in the universe. In support of what he ad¬
vanced, he produced several instances very apposite to
the point in view. However, the same author seems
to intimate, that Bocchus was determined to assist Ju¬
gurtha against his enemies by the slight the Romans
had formerly shown him. That prince, at the^ fust
breaking out of the war, had sent ambassadors to Rome,
to propose an offensive and defensive alliance to the re¬
public } which, though of the utmost consequence to it
at the juncture, a few of the most venal and infamous
senators, who were abandoned to corruption, prevent¬
ed from taking effect. This undoubtedly wrought
more powerfully upon Bocchus in favour of Jugurtha,
than the relation he stood in to him : For both the
Moors and Numidians adapted the number of then-
wives to their circumstances, so that some had 10, 20,
&c. to their share their kings therefore were unli¬
mited in this particular, and of course all degrees of af¬
finity resulting to them from marriage had little force.
It is observable, that the posterity of those ancient na¬
tions have the same custom prevailing amongst them at
16 this day. _ „ „ . . XT -j- 1
Marius sue- Such was the situation of affairs m JMumidia, wnen
eeeds Me- Metellus received advice of the promotion of Marius
to the consulate. But, notwithstanding this injurious
treatment, he generously endeavoured to draw oft Boc¬
chus from Jugurtha, though this would facilitate the re¬
duction of Numidia for his rival. To this end ambassa¬
dors were despatched to the Mauritanian court, who in¬
timated to Bocchus, “ That it would be highly im¬
prudent to come to a rupture with the Romans without
any cause at all j and that he had now a fine opportuni¬
ty of concluding a most advantageous treaty with them,
which was much preferable to a war. To which they
added, that whatever dependence he might place upon
his riches, he ought not to run the hazard of losing his
dominions by embroiling himself with other states, when
he could easily avoid this ; that it was much easier to
begin a war than to end it, which it was in the power
of the victor alone to do > that, in fine, he would by no
] N U M
means consult the interest of his subjects if he followed Numidia.
the desperate fortunes of Jugurtha.” To which Boc- ' ~v 1
elms replied. “ That for his part there was nothing he
wished for more than peace ; but that be could not help
pitying the deplorable condition of Jugurtha-, that if
the Romans, therefore, would grant that unfortunate
prince the same terms they bad offered him, he would
bring about an accommodation.” Metellus let the
Mauritanian monarch know, that it was not in his power
to comply with what he desired. However, he took
care to keep up a private negotiation with him till the
new consul Marius’s arrival. By this conduct he served
two wise ends. First, He prevented Bocchus from
coming to a general action with his troops *, which was
the very thing Jugurtha desired, as hoping that this,
whatever the event might be, would render a reconci¬
liation betwixt him and the Romans impracticable. Se¬
condly, This inaction enabled him to discover something
of the genius and disposition of the Moors j a nation of
whom the Romans, till then, had scarcely formed any
idea ■, which, he imagined, might be of no small service,
either to himself or his successors, in the future prose¬
cution of the war.
Jugurtha, being informed that Marius, with a nu¬
merous army, was landed at Utica, advised Bocchus
to retire, with part of the troops, to some place ol dif¬
ficult access, whilst he himself took post upon another
inaccessible spot with the remaining corps. By this
measure, he hoped the Romans would be obliged to di¬
vide their forces, and consequently be more exposed to
his efforts and attacks. He likewise imagined, that see¬
ing no formidable body appear, they would believe the
enemy in no condition to make head against them j
which might occasion a relaxation of discipline, the usu¬
al attendant of a too great security, and consequently
produce some good effect. However, he was disappoint¬
ed in both these views. For Marius, far from suffering
a relaxation of discipline to take place, trained up his
troops, which consisted chiefly of new levies, in so per¬
fect a manner, that they were soon equal in goodness to
any consular army that ever appeared in the field. He
also cut off great numbers of the Gaetulian marauders,
defeated many of Jugurtha’s parties, and had like to
have taken that prince himself near the city of Cirta.
These advantages, though not of any great importance, He gajns
intimidated Bocchus, who now made overtures for an a grciit ad-
accommodation ; but the Romans, not being sufficiently vantage
satisfied of his sincerity, paid no great attention to them, Jugni-
In the mean time Marius pushed on his conquests, redu- d‘
cing several places ofless note, and at last resolved to
besiege Capsa. That this enterprise might be conducted
with the greater secrecy, he suffered not the least hint
of his design to transpire, even amongst any of his offi¬
cers. On the contrary, in order to blind them, he de¬
tached A. Manlius, one of his lieutenants, with some
light-armed cohorts, to the city of Lares, where he had
fixed his principal magazine, and deposited the military
chest. Before Manlius left the camp, that he might
the more effectually amuse him, he intimated, that him¬
self with the army should take the same route in a few
days : but instead of that, he bent his march towards
the Tanais, and in six days time arrived upon the banks
of that river. Here he pitched his tents for a short
time, in order to refresh bis troops which having done,
he advanced to Capsa, and made himself master of it.
As
mam
N U M
Numldia. -^s the situation of this city rendered it extremely com-
v—-> modious to Jugurtba, whose plan of operations, ever
since the commencement of the war, it had exceedingly
favoured, he levelled it with the ground after it had
been delivered up to the soldiers to be plundered. The
citizens likewise, being more strongly attached to that
prince than any of the other Numidians, on account of
the extraordinary privileges he indulged them with,
and of course bearing a more implacable hatred to the
Romans, he put to the sword or sold for slaves. The
true motive of the consul’s conduct on this occasion
seems here to be assigned; though we are told by Sallust,
in conformity to the Roman genius, that neither avarice
nor resentment prompted him to so barbarous an ac¬
tion, but only a desire to strike a terror into the Numi-
dians.
The Numidians, ever after this exploit, dreaded the
very name of Marius; who now, in his own opinion,
had eclipsed the glory of all his predecessor’s great a-
chievements, particularly the reduction of Thala, a city,
in strength and situation, nearly resembling Capsa. Fol¬
lowing his blow, he gradually presented himself before
most of the places of strength in the enemy’s country ;
many of which either opened their gates, or were aban¬
doned, at his approach, being terrified with what had
happened to the unfortunate citizens of Capsa. Others
taken by force, he laid in ashes ; and in short filled the
greatest part of Numidia with blood, horror, and con¬
fusion. Then, after an obstinate defence, he reduced a
castle that seemed impregnable, seated not far from Mu-
Jucha, where Jugurtha kept part of his treasures. In
the mean time, Jugurtha not being able to prevail upon
Bocchus, by his repeated solicitations, to advance into
Numidia, where he found himself greatly pressed, was
obliged to have recourse to his usual method of bribing
the Mauritanian ministers, in order to put that prince in
motion. He also promised him a third part of his king¬
dom, provided they could either drive the Romans out
of Africa, or get all the Numidian dominions confirmed
to him by treaty.
So considerable a cession could not fail of engaging
Bocchus to support Jugurtha with his whole power.
The two African monarchs, therefore, having joined
their forces, surprised Marius near Cirta as he was go¬
ing into winter quarters. rlhe Roman general was so
pushed on this occasion, that the barbarians thought
themselves certain of victory, and doubted not but they
iS should be able to extinguish the Roman name in Nu-
Jugmtha midia. But their incaution and too great security
de-enabled Marius to give them a total defeat; which
'* 1 * was followed four days after by so complete an over¬
throw, that their numerous army, consisting of 90,000
men, by the accession of a powerful corps of Moors,
commanded by Bocchus’s son \ olux, was entirely ruin¬
ed. Sylla, Marius’s lieutenant, most eminently distin¬
guished himself in the last action, which laid the foun¬
dation of his future greatness. Bocchus, now looking
upon Jgurtha’s condition as desperate, and not being
willing to run the risk of losing his dominions, showed
a disposition to clap up a peace with Rome. However,
the republic gave him to understand, that he must not
expect to be ranked amongst its friends, till he had
delivered up into the consul’s hands Jugurtlia, the inve¬
terate enemy of the Roman name. The Mauritanian
■nonarch, having entertained a high idea of an alliance
Vol. XV, Part. I, +
C 97 1
N U M
with that state, resolved to satisfy it in this particular ; Numidin.
and was confirmed in his resolution by one Dabar, a ^
Numidian prince, the son of Massugrada, and descended
by his mother’s side from Masinissa. Being closely at¬
tached to the Romans, and extremely agreeable to Boc¬
chus, on account of his noble disposition, he defeated alt
the intrigues of Aspar, Jugurtha’s minister. Upon Syf-
la’s arrival at the Mauritanian court, the affair there
seemed to be entirely settled. However, Bocchus, who
was for ever projecting new designs, and, like, the rest of
his countrymen, in the highest degree perfidious, de¬
bated within himself, whether he should sacrifice Sylla
or Jugurtha, who were both then in his power. He was
a long time fluctuating with uncertainty, and combated
by a contrariety of sentiments. The sudden changes
which displayed themselves in his countenance, his air,
and his whole person, evidently showed how strongly his
mind was agitated. But at last he returned to his first de-
sign, to which the bias of his mind seemed naturally to
lead him. He therefore delivered up Jugurtha into the
hands of Sylla, to be conducted to Marius ; who, by that
successful event, happily terminated this dangerous war.
The kingdom of Numidia was now reduced to a new
form : Bocchus, for his important services, had the
country of the Masssesyli, contiguous to Mauritania, as¬
signed him : which, from this time, took the name of
Neiv Mavi'itania. Numidia Propria, or the country of
the Massyli, was divided into three parts; one of which
was given to Hiempsal, another to Mandrestal, both
descendants of Masinissa; and the third the Romans
annexed to Africa Propria, or the Roman province adja¬
cent to it. What became of Jugurtba after he bad
graced Marius’s triumph, at which ceremony he was led
in chains, together with his two sons, through the streets
of Rome, we have already laid before our readers. See
Jugurtha. 1 i
Jugurtha’s two sons survived him, but spent their Tran sac-
lives in captivity at Venusia. However, one of them, tions alter
named Oxyntas, was, for a short time, released froni the death of
his confinement by Aponius, who besieged Acerrse in Ju8urt^a.
the war between the Romans and the Italian allies.
1 hat general brought this prince to his army, where
he treated him as king, in order to draw the Numidian
forces off from the Roman service. Accordingly those
Numidians no sooner heard that the son of their old
king was fighting for the allies, than they began to
desert by companies ; which obliged Julius Caesar the
consul to part with all his Numidian cavalry, and send
them back into Africa. Some few years after this
event, Pompey defeated Cneius Domitius Ahenobar-
bus, and Hiarbas one of the kings of Numidia, kill-
ing 17,000 of their men upon the spot. Not satisfied
with this victory, that general pursued the fugitives to
their camp, which he soon forced, put Domitius to the
sword, and took Hiarbas prisoner. He then reduced
that part of Numidia which belonged to Hiarbas, who
seems to have succeeded Mandrestal above-mentioned ;
and gave it to Hiempsal, a neighbouring Numidian
prince, descended from Masinissa, who had always op¬
posed the Marian faction. 20
Suetonius informs us, that a dispute happened be-Cassar in-
tween Hiempsal and one Masintba, a noble Numidian, suhB Juba*
whom, it is probable, he bad in some respect injured,
when Julius Caesar first began to make a figure in the
world. The same author adds, that Caesar warmly
N espoused
Numidia.
N U M L 98 ]
espoused the cause of Masintha, and even grossly Insult- struction
21
Juba de-
ed Juba, Hlempsal’s son, when he attempted to vindi¬
cate his father’s conduct on this occasion. He pulled
him by the beard, than which a more unpardonable af¬
front could not be offered to an African. In short, be
screened Masintha from the insults and violence of his
enemies *, from whence a reason may be assigned for
Juba’s adhering so closely afterwards to the Pompeian
Julia ae- In consequence of the indignity Csesar had oftered
teats one of Juba, and the disposition it had occasioned, that prince
Caesar’s jjj C^sjir great damage in the civil wars betwixt hirn
lieutenants. an(1 pompey# By a stratagem he drew Curio, one of
his lieutenants, into a general action, which it was Ins
interest at that time to have avoided. He caused it to
be given out over all Africa Propria and Numidia, that
he was retired into some remote country at a great di¬
stance from the Roman territories. This coming to
Curio’s ears, who was then besieging Utica, it hin¬
dered him from taking the necessary precautions against
a surprise. Soon after, the Roman general receiving in¬
telligence that a small body of Numidians was approach¬
ing his camp, he put himself at the head of his forces in
order to attack them, and for fear they should escape,
began his march in the night, looking upon himself as
sure of victory. Some of their advanced posts he sur¬
prised asleep, and cut them to pieces ; which still farther
animated him. In short, about daybreak he came up
with the Numidians, whom he attacked with great bra¬
very, though his men were then fasting, and vastly fa¬
tigued by their forced and precipitate march. In the
mean time, Juba, who immediately after the propagation
of the rumour above mentioned, had taken care to march
privately, with the main body of the Num.dian army,
to support the detachment sent before to decoy Curio,
advanced to the relief of his men. The Romans had
met with a great resistance before he appeared ; so that
he easily broke them, killed Curio, with a great part ot
his troops, upon the spot, pursued the rest to their camp,
which he plundered, and took many of them prisoners.
Most of the fugitives, who endeavoured to make their
escape on board the ships in the port of Utica, were
either slain by the pursuers, or drowned. Ihe remain¬
der fell into the hands of Yarns, who would have saved
them ; but Juba, who arrogated to himself the honour
of this victory, ordered most of them to be put to the
S Vhis victory infused new life and vigour into the
Pompeian faction, who thereupon conferred great ho-
*nours upon Juba, and gave him the title of
Numidia. But tear and his adherents declared him
an enemy to the state of Rome, adjudging to Boccluis
and Bogud, two African princes entirely in their in¬
terest' the sovereignty of his dominions. Juba after¬
wards, uniting his forces with those of Scipio, reduce
Ceesar to great extremities, and would in all pioiab
ty have totally ruined him, had he not been relieved
by Publius Sittius. That general, having formed a
considerable corps, consistmgof Roman exiles, and Mau¬
ritanian troops sent him by Bocchus according o Dio,
or as Csesar, will have it, Bogud, made an irruption in¬
to Giulia and Numidia, while Juba was employed in
Africa Propria. As he ravaged these countries in a
dreadful manner, Juba immediately returned with the
best part of his army, to preserve them from utter de-
22
Juba over¬
thrown by
Caesar.
N U M
'•tiueiiuu. However, Caesar knowing his horse to be Numidia,
afraid of the enemy’s elephants, did not think proper to Nnmisma.
attack Scipio in the absence of the Numuhan, till his , ^
own elephants, and a fresh reinforcement of troops,
hourly expected, arrived from Italy. With this acces¬
sion of strength, he imagined himself able to give a good
account, both of the Roman forces with which be was
to cope, and the barbarians. In the mean time Scipio
despatched reiterated expresses to Juba to hasten to his
assistance ; hut could not prevail upon him to move out
of Numidia, till he had promised him the possession ot
all the Roman dominions in Africa, if they could from
thence expel Caesar. This immediately put him in mo¬
tion ; so that, having sent a large detachment to make
head against Sittius, he marched with the rest oi his
troops to assist Scipio. However, Caesar at last over¬
threw Scipio, Juba, and Labienus, near the town ot
Thapsus, and forced all their camps. As Scipio was
the first surprised and defeated, Juba fled into Numu i,i
without waiting for Caesar’s approach ; but the body ot
the Numidians detached against Sittius, having been
broken and dispersed by that general, none oi his sub¬
jects there would receive him. Abandoned theieioie
to despair he sought death in a single combat with Re-
treius, and having killed him, caused himself to be des¬
patched by one of his slaves. 23
After this decisive action, and the reduction ot x\-Ntumdia
frica Propria, Ceesar made himself master of Numidia, reduced to
which he reduced to a Roman province, appointing ^ ^
Crispus Sallustius to govern it in quality oi proconsul,
with private instructions to pillage and plunder the in¬
habitants, and, by that means put it out ol their power
ever to shake olf the Roman yoke. However, Bocchus
and Bogud still preserved a sort of sovereignty m the
country of the Masssesyli and Mauritania, since the for¬
mer of those princes, having deserted Caesar, sent an ar¬
my into Spain to assist the Pompeians 5 and the latter,
with his forces, determined victory to declare for Caesar
at the ever memorable battle ol Munda. Bogud, after¬
wards siding with Antony against Octavius, sent a body
of forces to assist him in Spain •, at which time the I in-
gitanians revolting from him, Bocchus, with an army
composed of Romans 5n the interest ot Octavius, who
passed over from Spain into Africa, and his own subjects
possessed himself of Mauritania Tingitana. Bogud fled
to Antony 5 and Octavius, after the conclusion oi the
war, honoured the inhabitants of Tingi with all the pri¬
vileges of Roman citizens. He likewise confirmed Bcc-
ehus king of Mauritania Csesariensis, or the country of
the Masssesyli, in the possession ot 1 ingitana, which he
had conquered, as a reward for his important services.
In this he imitated the example of his great predeces¬
sor Julius Caesar, who divided some of the fruitful plains
of Numidia among the soldiers of P. Sittuis, who had
conquered great part of that country, and appointed
Sittius himself sovereign of that district. Sittius, as
has been intimated above, having taken Cirta, killed
Sabura, Juba’s general, entirely dispersed his forces,
and either cut off or taken prisoners most ot the Pom¬
peian fugitives that escaped from the battle of l hap-
sus highly deserved to be distinguished in so eminent a
manner. After Bocchus’s death, Mauritania and the
Masssesylian Numidia were in all respects considered as
Roman provinces. , -
NUMISMATGGRAPHIA, a term used for the
description
NUN [ 99 ] N U O
Kumisraa- description and knowledge of ancient coins and medals,
tograplna whether of gold, silver, or brass. See Coins and Me-
II DALS.
NUMITOR, the son of Procas king of Alba, and
the brother of Amulius. Procas before his death made
him and Amulius joint heirs to the crown, on condition
of their reigning annually by turns: but Amulius, on
getting possession of the throne, excluded Numitor,
whose son Lausus he ordered to be put to death, and
obliged Rhea Sylvia, Numitor’s only daughter, to be¬
come a vestal. This princess becoming pregnant, de¬
clared that she was with child by the god Mars ; and
afterwards brought forth Remus and Romulus, who at
length killed Amulius, and restored Numitor to the
throne, 7 54 B. C. See Remus and Romulus.
NUMMUS, a piece of money, otherwise called
aestertius.
NUN, the son of Elishamah, and father of Joshua,
of the tribe of Ephraim. The Greeks gave him the
name of JSfane instead of Nun. This man is known in
sacred history only by being the father of Joshua.
Nun, a woman, in several Christian countries, who
devotes herself, in a cloister or nunnery, to a religious
life. See the article Monk.
There were women, in the ancient Christian church,
who made public profession of virginity, before the
monastic life was known in the world, as appears from
the writings of Cyprian and Tertullian. These, for dis¬
tinction’s sake, are someti mes called ecclesiastical virgins,
and were commonly enrolled in the canon or matricula
of the church. They differed from the monastic virgins
chiefly in this, that they lived privately in their fathers
houses, whereas the others lived in communities: but
their profession of virginity was not so strict as to make
it criminal for them to marry afterwards, if they thought
lit. As to the consecration of virgins, it had some
things peculiar in it j it was usually performed publicly
in the church by the bishop. The virgin made a pub¬
lic profession of her resolution, and then the bishop put
upon her the accustomed habit of sacred virgins. One
part of this habit was a veil, called the sacrum velamen;
another was a kind of mitre or coronet worn upon the
head. At present, when a woman is to be made a nun,
the habit, veil, and ring of the candidate are carried to
the altar-, and she herself, accompanied by her nearest
relations, is conducted to the bishop, who, after mass
and an anthem, (the subject of which is “ that she
ought to have her lamp lighted, because the bridegroom
is coming to meet her),” pronounces the benediction :
then she rises up, and the bishop consecrates the new
habit, sprinkling it with holy water. When the candi¬
date has put on her religious habit, she presents herself
before the bishop, and sings, on her knees, Ancilla Chris-
ti sum, &c.} then she receives the veil, and afterwards
the ring, by which she is married to Christ; and lastly,
the crown of virginity. When she is crowned, an ana¬
thema is denounced against all who shall attempt to
make her break her vows. In some few instances, per¬
haps, it may have happened that nunneries, monasteries,
&c. may have been useful as well to morality and reli¬
gion as to literature: in the gross, however, they have
been highly prejudicial \ and however well they might
be supposed to do when viewed in theory, in fact they
are unnatural and impious. It was surely far from the
intention of Providence to seclude youth and beauty in
a cloistered ruin, or to deny them the innocent enjoy- Xuu
ment of their years and sex. ||
NUNCIO, or Nuntio, an ambassador from the pope Monte
to some Catholic prince or state, or a person who at-, J>I>10V0-
tends on the pope’s behalf at a congress, or an assembly
of several ambassadors.
NUNCUPATIVE, in the schools, something that
is only nominal, or has no existence but in name.
Nuncupative Will or Testament, a will made ver¬
bally, and not put in writing. See the articles Will
and Testament.
NUN DINA, a goddess among the ancient hea¬
thens, supposed to have the care of the purification of
infants. And because male infants were purified nine
days after their birth, her name is derived from nanus,
or the ninth, though female infants were purified the
eighth day *, which purification was called lustration by
the Romans.
NUNDINAL, Nundinalis, a name which the Ro¬
mans gave to the eight first letters of the alphabet used
in their kalendar.
This series of letters, A, B, C, D, E, F, G, H, is
placed and repeated successively from the first to the
last day of the year : one of these always expressed the
market days or the assemblies called nundincc, quasino-
vendince, because they returned every nine days. The
country people, after working eight days successive!)",
came to town the ninth, to sell their several commodi¬
ties, and to inform themselves of what related to reli¬
gion and government. Thus the nundinal day being
under A on the first, ninth, seventeenth, and twenty-
fifth days of January, &c. the letter D will be the nun¬
dinal letter of the year following. These nundinals
bear a very great resemblance to the dominical letters,
which return every eight days, as the nundinals did
every nine.
NUNDOCOMAR, a Rajah in Bengal, and head of
the Bramins, who, in 1775, was condemned to an ig¬
nominious death by English law3 newly introduced, in
an English court of justice newly established, for a for¬
gery charged to have been committed by him many
years before. That he was guilty of the deed cannot
be questionedbut there wras surely something hard in
condemning a man by an ex post facto law. He bore
his fate with the utmost fortitude, in the full confidence
that his soul would soon be reunited to the universal
spirit whence it had sprung. See Metaphysics, Part
III. Chap. IV. Of the Immortality of the Soul.
Monte NUOVO, in the environs of Naples, blocks
up the valley of Averno. “Thismountain (MrSwinburne
tells us) arose in the year 1538; for after repeated
quakings, the earth burst asunder, and made way for a
deluge of hot ashes and flames, which rising extremely
high, and darkening the atmosphere, fell down again
and formed a circular mound four miles in circumfe¬
rence, and 1000 feet high, with a large cup in the
middle. The wind rising afterwards, wafted the light¬
er particles over the country, blasted vegetation, and
killed the animals who grazed5 the consequence was,
that the place was deserted, till Don Pedro de Toledo,
viceroy of Naples, encouraged the inhabitants, by ex¬
ample and otherwise to return.
“ Part of Monte Nuovo is cultivated, hut the larger
portion of its declivity is wildly overgrown with prickly
broom, and rank weeds that emit a very fetid sulpha-
N 2 reons
N U R [ioo
jreous smell. The crater is shallow, its inside clad with
shruhs, and the little area at the bottom planted with
fig and mulberry trees } a most striking specimen ot the
amazing vicissitudes that take place in this extraordinary
country. I saw no traces ol lava or melted matter, and
few stones within.
“ Near the foot of this mountain the subterraneous
fires act with such immediate power, that even the sand
at the bottom of the sea is heated to an intolerable de-
gree*” . i
NUPTIAL rites, the ceremonies attending the so¬
lemnization of marriage, which are difterent in difierent
ages and countries. We cannot omit here a custom
which was practised by the Romans on these occasions y
which was this : Immediately after the chief ceremonies
were over, the new married man threw /tuts about the
room for the boys to scramble for. Various reasons
have been assigned for it *, but that which most gene¬
rally. prevails, and seems to be the most just, is, that by
this act the bridegroom signified his resolution to aban¬
don trifles, and commence a serious course of life
whence nucibus relictis in this sense became a proverb.
They might also be an emblem of fertility.
The ancient Greeks had a person to conduct the
bride from her own to the bridegroom’s house 5 and
bence he was called by the Greeks Nymphagogus, which
term was afterwards used both by the Romans and the
Jews.
NUREMBERG, an imperial city of Germany, ca¬
pital of a territory of the same name, situated in E.
Long. 11. N. Lat. 47. 30. It stands on the Regmtz,
over which it has several, bridges, both of wood and
stone, at the bottom of a hill, 60 miles from Augs¬
burg, 87 from Munich, 46 from Wurtzburg, and 50
from Ratisbon •, and is thought by some to be the Sego-
dunum, and by others the Castrum Noricum of the
ancients.
The city has derived its name from the hill, upon
which stands this castle, called, in Latin, Castrum No¬
ricum, round which the city was begun to be built, and
where the emperors formerly lodged y and here they
lodge still, when they pass by that city. They there
preserve, as precious relicks, the crown, sceptre, clothes,
buskins, and other ornaments ot Charlemagne (a),
which served also the emperor Leopold, when he went
thither after his election, to receive the homage of the
city. The small river Regnitz, which runs through it,
and those of Rednitz and Schwarzack, which pass by
its Avails, furnish the inhabitants, besides other advan¬
tages, with the means of making all sorts of stuffs, dyes,
and other manufactures (b), and toys, which are car¬
ried and sold even in the Indies.
]
N U R
It is a large and well-built town, but not very popu¬
lous. Its fortifications are a double wall, flanked with
towers mounting cannon, and a deep ditch. The ma¬
gistrates, and most of the inhabitants, are Lutherans.
There are a great many churches and chapels in it. In
that of St Sebald is a brass monument of the saint; and
a picture, representing the creation of the world, by
the celebrated Albert Durer, who was a native ot the
town y but the finest church in the town is that of St
Giles. In that of the Holy Ghost are kept most of the
jewels of the empire, together with the pretended spear
with which our Saviour’s side was pierced, a thorn of
his crown, and a piece of the manger wherein he was
laid. Here are also a great many hospitals, one in par¬
ticular for foundlings, and another for pilgrims 5 with a
gymnasium, an anatomical theatre, a granary, a fine
public library, the old imperial fortress or castle, some
remains of the old citadel of the burgraves of Nurem¬
berg, several Latin schools, an academy of painting, a
well furnished arsenal, a Teutonic house in which the
Roman Catholic service is tolerated, and a mint. Mr
Keysler says, there are upwards of 500 streets in it,
about 140 fountains, 16 churches, 44 religious houses,
12 bridges, 10 market places, and 25,000 inhabitants y
and that its territories, besides the capital and four other
towns, contain above 500 villages, and about 160 mills
on the Regnitz. The trade of this city, though upon
the decline, is still very great, many of its manufactures
being still exported to all parts of the world y among
which may be reckoned a great variety of curious toys
in ivory, wood, and metal, already mentioned. The
city has also distinguished itself in the arts of painting
and engraving. "When the emperor Henry VI. assisted
at a tournament in Nuremberg, he raised 38 burghers
to the degree of nobility, the descendants of whom are
called patricians, and have the government of the city
entirely in their hands y the whole council, except eight
masters of companies, who are summoned only on extra¬
ordinary occasions, consisting of them. Among the
fine brass cannon in the arsenal, is one that is charged
at the breech, and may be fired eight times in a mi¬
nute y and two that carry balls of eighty pounds. The
city keeps, in constant pay, seven companies, consisting
each, in time of peace, of 100 men, but, in time of
war, of 185 y two troops of cuirassiers, each consisting
of 85 men y and two companies of invalids. There are
also 24 companies of burghers, well armed and discip¬
lined. On the new bridge, which is said to have cost
100,000 guilders, are tivo pyramids, on the top of one
of which is a dove with an olive branch in her bill, and
on the other an imperial black eagle. Music also flou-
rislies greatly in Nuremberg y and those who delight in
mechanic
f a} These ornaments are, a mitred crown, enriched with rubies, emeralds, and pearls y the dalmatic of Char-
lemaime, richly embroidered y the imperial mantle powdered with embroidered eagles, and its border thick set
whh large emeralds, sapphires, and topazes y the buskins covered with plates of gold y the gloves embroidered ;
the apple the golden sceptre, and sword. The ancient custom of the empire is, that the emperor is bound to as¬
semble in this city the first diet that he holds after his election and coronation. , f ,
(jA There is in Nuremberg, and in the neighbouring villages depending upon it, an mfimte numbei of work¬
men very ingenious in making several kinds of toys of wood, which are carried through all the fairs of Germany
Ll from thence through all Europe. These toys are called Nurembergs y and they have so great a sale tha it
even exceeds description. This employment affords a livelihood to the greatest part ol the inhabitants of the city y
and they make a very considerable profit from this traffic.
Nurem-
f An. Reg.
?ol. vi.
?* i3°*
N U R [ ioi ] N U R
mechanic arts and manufactures cannot anywhere bet¬
ter gratify their curiosity. As an imperial city, it has
a seat and voice at the diets of the empire and circle,
paying to the chamber of Wetzlar 812 rixdollars each
term. The territory belonging to the city is pretty
large, containing, besides two considerable forests of
pine, called the Sibald and Laurence forests, several
towns and villages.
We have mentioned already that certain families cal¬
led patricians, to the exclusion of the rest, possess the
oflices of the senate. They are composed of 42 per¬
sons (c), over which two castellans, or perpetual se¬
neschals, preside, the first of whom has his residence in
the castle. These castellans assemble sometimes in the
castle, with five or six of the chief members, to hold a
secret council (d). And, as this city glories in being
one of the first which embraced Lutheranism, it pre¬
serves the privilege of that in civil matters, not admit¬
ting any Catholics to the magistracy or freedom of the
town ; the Catholics there having the liberty only of
remaining under the protection of the rest, and perform¬
ing their religious worship in a commandery of Malta,
and this but at certain hours, not to disturb the Luthe¬
rans, who likewise assemble there, although in posses¬
sion of all the other churches.
This city is particularly noted for its antiquity,
grandeur, fortifications, its triple walls of hewn stone,
its large and deep moat, its fine houses, large churches,
its wide streets, always clean, and for its curious and
large library, and its magazine stored with every thing
proper for its defence.
NURSERY, in Gardening, is a piece of land set
apart for raising and propagating all sorts of trees and
plants to supply the garden and other plantations.
NURSING of Children. See Lactatio.
The following observations and directions are said to
he the result of long experience -f-. The child should
be laid (the first month) upon a thin mattress, rather
longer than itself, which the nurse will keep upon her
lap, that the child may always lie straight, and only sit
up as the nurse slants the mattress. To set a child
quite upright before the end of the first month, hurts
the eyes, by making the white part of the eye appear
below the upper eyelid. Afterwards the nurse will be¬
gin to set it up and dance it by degrees. The child
must be kept as dry as possible.
The clothing should be very light, and not much
longer than the child, that the legs may be got at with
ease, in order to have them often rubbed in the day
with a warm hand or flannel, and in particular the in¬
side of them.
Rubbing a child all over takes off scurf, and makes
the blood circulate. The one breast should be rubbed
with the hands one way, and the other the other way,
night and morning at least.
The ankle bones and inside of the knees should be
rubbed twice a-day j this will strengthen those parts, Nursing,
and make the child stretch its knees and keep them u—-\r-—
flat, which is the foundation of an erect and graceful
person.
A nurse ought to keep a child as little in her arms
as possible, lest the legs should be cramped, and the
toes turned inwards. Let her always keep the child’s
legs loose. The oftener the posture is changed, the
better.
Tossing a child about, and exercising it in the open
air in fine weather, is of the greatest service. In cities,
children are not to be kept in hot rooms, but to have as
much air as possible.
Want of exercise is the cause of large heads, weak
and knotted joints, a contracted breast, which occasions
coughs and stuffed lungs, an ill-shaped person, and wad¬
dling gait, besides a numerous train of other ills.
The child’s flesh is to be kept perfectly clean, by
constantly washing its limbs, and likewise its neck and
ears, beginning with warm water, till by degrees it
will not only bear, but like to be washed with cold
water.
Rising early in the morning is good for all children,
provided they awake of themselves, which they gene¬
rally do : but they are never to be waked out of their
sleep, and as soon as possible to be brought to regular
sleeps in the day.
When laid in bed or cradle, their legs are always to
be laid straight.
Children, till they are two or three years old, must
never be suffered to walk long enough at a time to be
weary.
Girls might be trained to the proper management of
children, if a premium were given in free schools, work-
houses, &c. to those that brought up the finest child to
one year old.
If the mother cannot suckle the child, get a whole¬
some cheerful woman with young milk, who has been
used to tend young children. After the first six months,
small broths, and innocent foods of any kind, may do
as well as living wholly upon milk.
A principal thing to be always attended to is, to
give young children constant exercise, and to keep
them in a proper posture.
With regard to the.child’s dress in the day, let it be
a shirt; a petticoat of fine flannel, two or three inches
longer than the child’s feet, with a dimity top (com¬
monly called a bodice coat), to tie behind j over that a
surcingle made of fine buckram, two inches broad, co¬
vered over with satin or fine ticken, with a ribbon fast¬
ened to it to tie it on, which answers every purpose of
stays, and has none of their inconveniences. Over this
put a robe, or a slip and frock, or whatever you like
best; provided it is fastened behind, and not much
longer than the child’s feet, that their motions may be
strictly observed.
Two
(c) Of these 42 members, there are only 34 chosen from the patrician families j the other eight are taken
from among the burghers, and make in a manner a small separate body.
(d) This secret council is composed of seven principal chiefs of the republic, and for that reason is called
septemvirate. It determines the most important affairs j and is the depository of the precious stones of the em--
pire, of the imperial crown, the ensigns, seals, and keys of the city.
Vr--. ■;
7 v'
NUT [i
Two caps arc to be put on the head, till the child has
got most of its teeth.
The child’s dress for the night may be a shirty a
blanket to tie on, and a thin gown to tie over the
NUSANCE, or Nuisance, in Law, a thing done
to the annoyance of another.
Nuisances are either public or private.—A public
nuisance is an offence against the public in general, ei¬
ther by doing what tends to the annoyance ot all the
king’s subjects, or by neglecting to do what the com¬
mon good requires : in which case, all annoyances and
injuries to streets, highways, bridges, and large rivers,
as also disorderly alehouses, baw'dy-houses, gaming
houses, stages for rope-dancers, &c. are held to be com¬
mon nuisances.—A private nuisance is, when only one
person or family is annoyed by the doing of any thing*,
as where a person stops up the light of another’s house,
or builds in such a manner that the rain falls from his
house upon his neighbour’s.
NUT, among botanists, denotes a pericarpium ot
an extraordinary hardness, enclosing a kernel or seed.
NUTATION, in Astronomy, a kind of tremulous
motion of the axis of the earth, whereby, in each an¬
nual revolution, it is twice inclined to the ecliptic, and
as often returns to its former position.
NUTCRACKER. See Corvus, Ornithology
Index *
NUTHATCH. See Sitta, Ornithology Index.
NUTMEG, the fruit of a tree, and a well known
spice. See Myristica.
NUTRITION, in the animal economy, is the re¬
pairing the continual loss which the different parts of
the body undergo. The motion of the parts of the
bodv, the friction of these parts with each other, and
especially the action of the air, would destroy the body
entirely, if the loss was not repaired by a proper diet,
containing nutritive juices *, which being digested m the
stomach, and afterwards converted into chyle, mix with
the blood, aad are distributed through the whole body
for its nutrition.
In young persons, the nutritive juices not only serve
to repair the parts that are damaged, but also to increase
them } which is called growth.
In grown persons, the cuticle is everywhere constant¬
ly desquamating, and again renewing*, and in the same
manner the parts rubbed off, or otherwise separated from
the fleshy parts of the body, are soon supplied with new
flesh *, a wound heals, and an emaciated person grows
plump and fat. . .
Buff on, in order to account for nutrition, supposes
the body of an animal or vegetable to be a kind of
mould, in which the matter necessary to its nutrition
is modelled and assimilated to the ivhole. But (con¬
tinues he) of what nature is this matter which an
animal or vegetable assimilates to its own substance ?
What power is it that communicates to this matter
the activity and motion necessary to penetrate this
mould ? and, if such a force exist, would it not be by a
similar force that the internal mould itself might be re¬
produced ?
As to the first question, he supposes that there exists
in nature an infinite number ot living organical parts,
and that all organized bodies consist of such organical
parts *, that their production costs nature nothing, since
Nuyts.
02 ] N U Y
their existence is constant and invariable j so that the Nutrition
matter which the animal or vegetable assimilates to its
substance, is an organical matter ot the same nature
with that of the animal or vegetable, which conse¬
quently may augment its volume without changing its
form or altering the quality ot the substance in the
mould. . i \ •
As to the second question : There exist (says he) m
nature certain powers, as that of gravity, that have no
affinity with the external qualities of the body, but act
upon the most intimate parts, and penetrate them
throughout, and which can never fall under the obser¬
vation of our senses.
And as to the third question, he answers that the
internal mould itself is reproduced, not only by a simi¬
lar power, but it is plain that it is the very same pow*er
that causes the unfolding and reproduction thereof: for
it is sufficient (proceeds he), that in an organized body
that unfolds itself, there be some part similar to the
whole, in order that this part may one day become it¬
self an organised body, altogether like that of winch it
is actually a part.
NUX moschata. See Myristica.
Nux Pistachio. See Pistachia, Botany Iwokr.
Nux Vomica, a flat, compressed, round fruit, about
the breadth of a shilling, brought from the East Indies.
It is found to be a certain poison for dogs, cats, &c.
and it is not to be doubted that it would also prove fatal
to mankind. Its surface is not much corrugated ; and
its texture is firm like horn, and of a pale grayish-bi own
colour. It is said to be used as a specific against the
bite of a species of water-snake. It is considerably bit¬
ter and deleterious 5 but has been used in doses from five
to ten grains twice a-day or so, in intermittents, paiti-
cularly obstinate quartans, and in contagious dysentery.
The strychnus Ignatii is a tree of the same kind, pro¬
ducing gourd-like fruit, the seeds of which are impro¬
perly'called St Ignatius’s beans. These, as also the
woods or roots of some such trees, called lignum colu-
brinum, or snakewood, are very narcotic bitters, like
the nux vomica. .
NUYTS, Peter, a native of Holland, and a lead¬
ing character in that extraordinary transaction which
happened between the Japanese and the Dutch about
the year 162S. In 1627 Nuyts arrived in Batavia
from' Holland, and was in the same year appointed am¬
bassador to the emperor of Japan by the governor and
council of Batavia.
He repaired to that empire in 1628 ; and being a
man of a haughty disposition, and extremely vain, he
believed it practicable to pass upon the natives for an
ambassador from the king of Holland. Upon his as¬
suming this title he was much more honourably receiv¬
ed, caressed, and respected, than former ministers had
been. But he was soon detected, reprimanded, and re¬
proached in the severest manner, sent back to the port,
and ordered to return to Batavia with all the circum¬
stances of disgrace imaginable j notwithstanding which,
his interest was so great, that, instead of being punish¬
ed as he deserved, he was immediately afterwards pro¬
moted to the government of the island of Formosa, oi
which he took possession the year following. _ _
He entered unon the administration of affairs in that
island with the same disposition that he had shown while
ambassador, and with the most implacable resentment
against
N i C [ 103 ] N Y M
\Tuyts against the Japanese j neither was it long before an op-
f| portunity offered, as he thought, of revenging himself
Nychthe- to the full. Two large Japanese ships, with upwards of
nieron' , 500 men on hoard, came into the port; upon which he
took it into his head to disarm and unrig them, in the
same manner as the Dutch vessels ai’e treated at Japan.
The Japanese did all they could to defend themselves
from this ill usage; but at last, for want of water, they
were forced to submit. Governor Nuyts went still
farther. When they had finished their affairs at For¬
mosa, and were desirous of proceeding, according to
their instructions, to China, he put them oil' with fair
words and fine promises till the monsoon was over.
They began then to be very impatient, and desired to
have their cannon and sails restored, that they might
return home; but the governor had recourse to new
artifices, and, by a series of false promises, endeavour¬
ed to hinder them from making use of the season pro¬
per for that voyage.
The Japanese, however, soon perceived his design ;
and at length, by a bold attempt, accomplished what
by fair means and humble entreaty they could not
obtain 5 for, by a daring and well concerted effort,
they took him prisoner, and made him and one of the
council sign a treaty for securing their liberty, free de¬
parture, and indemnity, which was afterwards ratified
by the whole council. Nuyts was first confined in Ba¬
tavia, and afterwards delivered up to the Japanese, not¬
withstanding the most earnest entreaties on his part to
be tried, and even to suffer any kind of death where he
was, rather than to be sent to Japan. He was sent
there, however, in 1634. He wras submitted to the
mercy or discretion of the emperor •, and the conse¬
quence was, that, though imprisoned, he was well used,
and could go anywhere, provided bis guards were with
him, which was more than he could possibly have ex¬
pected. He now looked for nothing but the continu¬
ance of his confinement for life. On a particular occa¬
sion, however, i. e. at the funeral of the emperor’s fa¬
ther, at the request of the Dutch he was set free, and
returned again to Batavia, to the surprise of that peo¬
ple, who, however, adopted ever after a very different
conduct with respect to the Japanese.
NUZZER, or Nuzzeranah ; a present or offering
from an inferior to a superior. In Hindostan no man
ever approaches his superior for the first time on busi¬
ness without an offering of at least a gold or silver
rupee in his right hand } which, if not taken, is a mark
of disfavour. Nuzzeranah is also used for the sum
paid to the government as an acknowledgement for a
grant of lands or any public office.
NYCHTHEMERON, among the ancients, signi¬
fied the whole natural day, or day and night consisting
of 24 hours, or 24 equal parts. This way of consider¬
ing the day w’as particularly adopted by the Jews, and
seems to owe its origin to that expression of Moses, in
the first chapter of Genesis, “ the evening and the
morning were the first day.”—Before the Jews had in¬
troduced the Greek language into their discourse, they
used to signify this space of time by the simple expres¬
sion of a night and a day.
It is proper here to observe, that all the eastern
countries reckoned any part of a day of 24 hours for
a whole day ; and say thing a that was done on the
third or seventh day, &c. from that last mentioned, was
done after three or seven days. And the Hebrews, Nychthe-
having no tvord which exactly answers to the Greek nieron
signifying “ a natural day of 24 hours,” , II
use night and day, or day and night, for it. So that, yymP»-
to say a thing happened after three days and three
nights, was, with them, the same as to say it happened
after three days, or on the third day. This, being re¬
membered, will explain what is meant by “ the Son of
Man’s being three days and three nights in the heart
of the earth.”
NYCTALOPIA. See Medicine, N° 361.
NYCTANTHES, Arabian Jasmine, a genus of
plants, belonging to the diandria class, and in the natu¬
ral method ranking with the 44th order, Sepiarice. See
Botany Index.
NYCTASTRATEGI, among the ancients, were of¬
ficers appointed to prevent fires in the night, or to give
alarm and call assistance when a fire broke out. At
Rome they had the command of the watch, and were
called nocturni triumviri, from their office and number.
NYCTICORAX, the night raven 5 a species of
Ardea. See Ardea, Ornithology Index.
NYLAND, a province of Finland in Sweden, ly¬
ing on the gulf of Finland, to the west of the province
of Carelia.
NYL-GHAU, a species of quadrupeds belonging to
the genus Bos, a native of the interior parts of India.
See Mammalia Index.
NYMPH, in Mythology, an appellation given to
certain inferior goddesses, inhabiting the mountains,
wood, rvaters, &c. said to be the daughters of Oce-
anus and Tethys. All the universe was represented as
full of these nymphs, who are distinguished into seve¬
ral ranks or classes. The general division of them
is into celestial and terrestrial ; the former of them
were called uranice, and were supposed to be intelli¬
gences that governed the heavenly bodies or spheres.
The terrestrial nymphs, called cpigeicc, presided over
the several parts of the inferior world *, and were divi¬
ded into those of the water, and those of the earth.
The nymphs of the water were the oceanitides, or nymphs
of-the ocean \ the nereids, the nymphs of the sea 5 the
naiads and ephydriades, the nymphs of the fountains j
and the limniades, the nymphs of the lakes. The nymphs
of the earth were the arcades, or nymphs of the moun¬
tains ; the napceee, nymphs of the meadows; and the
dryads and hamadryads, who were nymphs of the fo¬
rests and groves. Besides these, rve meet with nymphs
who took their names from particular countries, rivers,
&c. as the cithceroniades, so called from Mount Citlue-
ron in Boeotia : the dodonidcs, from Dodona 5 tiberi-
ades, from the Tiber, &c.—Goats were sometimes sa¬
crificed to the nymphs 5 but their constant offerings
were milk, oil, honey, and wine.
We have the following account of nymphs in Chand¬
ler’s Greece. “ They were supposed to enjoy longevity,
but not to be immortal. They were believed to delight
in springs and fountains. They are described as sleep¬
less, and as dreaded by the country people. They were
susceptible of passion. The Argonauts, it is related,
landing on the shore of the Propoqtis to dine in their
w’ay to Colchos, sent Hylas, a boy, for water, who dis¬
covered a lonely fountain, in which the nymphs Eunica,
Mails, andNycheia, were preparing to dance 3 and these
seeing him were enamoured, and, seizing him by the
hand
N Y M
Nymph. imirA as tie was filling his vase, pulled him in.
' - —v tics, their copartners in the cave, are such as presided
with them over rural and pastoral affairs.
“ The old Athenians were ever ready to cry out,
A god ! or a goddess ! The tyrant Pisistratus entered
the city in a chariot with a tall woman dressed in ar¬
mour to resemble Minerva, and regained the Acropolis,
which he had been forced to abandon, by this stratagem j
the people worshipping, and believing her to be the dei¬
ty whom she represented. The nymphs, it was the po¬
pular persuasion, occasionally appeared; and nympho-
lepsy is characterised as a frenzy, which arose from ha¬
ving beheld them. Superstition disposed the mind to
adopt delusion for reality, and gave to a fancied vision
the efficacy of full conviction. The foundation was per¬
haps no more than an indirect, partial, or obscure view
of some harmless girl, who had approached the foun¬
tain on a like errand with Hylas, or was retiring after
she had filled her earthen pitcher.
“ Among the sacred caves on record, one on Mount
Ida in Crete was the property of Jupiter, and one by
Tebadea in Bceotia of Trophonius. Both these were
oracular, and the latter bore some resemblance to that
we have described. It was formed by art, and the mouth
surrounded with a wall. The descent to the landing
place was by a light and narrow ladder, occasionally
applied and removed. It was situated on a mountain
above a grove ; and they related, that a swarm of bees
conducted the person by whom it was first discovered.
But the common owners of caves were the nymphs,
and these were sometimes local. On Cithaeron in Boeo-
tia, many of the inhabitants were possessed by nymphs
called Sphragitidcs, whose cave, once also oracular, was
on a summit of the mountain. Their dwellings had ge¬
nerally a well or spring of water} the former often a
collection of moisture condensed or exuding from the roof
and sides ; and this, in many instances, being pregnant
with stony particles, concreted, and marked its passage
by incrustation, the groundwork in all ages and coun¬
tries of idle tales framed or adopted by superstitious and
credulous people.
“ A cave in Paphlagonia was sacred to the nymphs
who inhabited the mountains about Heraclea. It was
long and wide, and pervaded by cold water, clear as
crystal. There also were seen bowls of stone, and
nymphs and their webs and distaffs, and curious work,
exciting admiration. The poet who has described this
grotto, deserves not to be regarded, as servilely copying
Homer; he may justly lay claim to rank as an original
topographer.
“ The piety of Archidamus furnished a retreat for the
nymphs, where they might find shelter and provision, if
distressed ; ■whether the sun parched up their trees, or
Jupiter enthroned in clouds upon the mountain top scared
them with his red lightning and terrible thunder, pour¬
ing down a deluge of rain, or brightening the summits
with his snow.”
Nymph, among naturalists, that state of winged in¬
sects between their living in the form of a worm and
their appearing in the winged or more perfect state.
The eggs of insects are first hatched into a kind of
worms or maggots: which afterwards pass into the
nymph state, surrounded with shells or cases of their
own skins } so that, in reality, these nymphs are only
the embryo insects, wrapt up in this covering •, from
3
[ 104 1 N Y M
The del- whence they at last get loose, though not without great
difficulty.
During this nymph state the creature loses its motion.
Swammerdam calls \t vyrnpha aurclia, or simply aurclia;
and others give it the name of chrysalis^ a term of the
like import. See the article Chrysalis.
Nymph-Band) situated about JO leagues oil the
coast of the county of Waterford, and province of Mun¬
ster in Ireland, is a great fishing place, and 11 leagues
S. S. E. from the high head of Durgarvan. It
abounds with cod, ling, skate, bream, whiting, and
other fish } which was discovered by Mr Doyle, who
on July 15. 1736 sailed to it, in company with seven
men, on board the Nymph, a small vessel of about 1 2
tons. This place is well adapted for a fishing com¬
pany, the great public advantages of which must be
very evident.
NYMPH/E, in Anatomy, two membranaceous parts,
situated on each side the rima. See Anatomy Index.
NYMPHiEA, the Water-lily j a genus of plants
belonging to the polyandria class, and in the natural
method ranking under the 54^* order, Miscellancce.
See Botany Index.
NymphjEA (amongst the ancients), doubtful what
structures they were } some take them to have been
grottoes, deriving their name from the statues of the
nymphs with winch they were adorned but that they
were considerable works appears from their being ex¬
ecuted by the emperors, (Ammian, \ ictor, Capitolinus)
or by the city prefects. In an inscription, the term
is written nymfiwn. None of all these nymphsea has
lasted down to our time. Some years since, indeed, a
square building of marble was discovered between
Naples and Vesuvius, with only one entrance, and
some steps that went down to it. On the right hand as
you enter, towards the head, there is a fountain^ of the
purest water •, along which, by way of guard, as it were,
is laid a naked Arethusa of the whitest marble •, the bot¬
tom or ground is of variegated marble, and encompassed
with a canal fed by the water from the fountain , the
walls are set round with shells and pebbles of vaiious co-
lours ; by the setting of which, as by so many strokes in
a picture, are expressed the 12 months of the year, and
the four political virtues ; also the rape of Proserpine ;
Pan playing on his reed, and soothing his flock j besides
the representations of nymphs swimming, sailing, and
wantoning on fishes, &.c.
It seems pretty evident that the nymphsea were pub
lie baths ; for at the same time that they were furnished
with pleasing grottoes, they were also supplied with
cooling streams, by which they were rendered exceed¬
ingly delightful, and drew great numbers of people to
frequent them. Silence seems to have been a particular
requisite there, as appears by this inscription, Nymphis
loci, bibe, lava, tace. That building between Naples
and Vesuvius, mentioned above, was certainly one of
these nymphsea.
NYMPH^EUM, (Plutarch) ; the name of a sacred
place, near Apollonia in Illyricum, sending forth con¬
tinually hre in detached streams from a green valley
and verdant meadows. Dio Cassius adds, that the fire
neither burns up nor parches the earth, but that heibs
and trees grow and thrive near it, and therefore the
place is called nypheeum: near which was an oracle of
such a nature, that the fire, to show that the wish was
granted
Nymph
11
Nymph®-
N Y M [ i
Nymph*- granted, consumed tlie frankincense thrown into it:
um, but repelled it, in case the desire was rejected. It was
^duis'1^ t^iere t*iat a seeping satyr was once caught and brought
; ' < to Sylla as he returned from the Mithridatic war.
This monster had the same features as the poets ascribe
to the satyr. He was interrogated by Sylla and by
his interpreters j but his articulations were unintelli¬
gible j and the Roman spurned from him a creature
which seemed to partake of the nature of a beast more
than that of a man. *
NYMPHiEUM, in antiquity, a public hall magnificent¬
ly decorated, for entertainments, &c. and where those
who wanted convenience at home held their marriage
feasts $ whence the name.
NTMPHIDIUS, Sabinus, a person of mean de¬
scent, but appointed by Nero colleague of Tigellinus
in the command of the praotorian guards. About the
time, however, that the German legions revolted from
this despicable prince, he was also betrayed by Nymphi-
dius and abandoned by his guards.
Nymphidius began now to entertain thoughts of
seizing the sovereignty himself. However*, he did not
immediately declare his ambitious views ; but pretending
to espouse the cause of Galba, assured the guards that
Nero was fled, and promised them such sums as neither
Galba nor any other was able to discharge. This
promise secured for the present the empire to Galba,
occasioned afterwards the loss of it, and finally, pro¬
duced the destruction of Nymphidius and the guards
themselves. Alter Nero’s death, however, and on the
acknowledgement of Galba as emperor, he renewed his
ambition j and having, by his immense largesses, gained
the affections of the praetorian guards, and persuading
himself that Galba, by reason of his infirmities and old
age, would never reach the capital, usurped all the
authority at Rome. Presuming upon his interest, he
obliged Tigellinus, who commanded, jointly with him,
the praetorian guards, to resign his commission. He
made several magnificent and extensive entertainments,
inviting such as had been consuls or had commanded
armies, distributed large sums among the people, and
with shows and other diversions, which he daily exhibit¬
ed, gained so great an interest with all ranks, that he
already looked upon himself as sovereign. The senate,
dreading his power, conferred extraordinary honours
upon him, styled him their protector, attended him when
he appeared in public, and had recourse to him for the
confirmation of their degrees, as if he had been already
invested with the sovereign power. This base com-
°5 ] NYU
pliance elated him to such a degree, that he usurped, Nvmphi-
not leisurely and by degrees, but all at once, an ab- dius
solute authority. He acted as sovereign indeed, but II
he had not as yet openly declared his design of seizing
the empire : his power, however, was great, and he
used it in undermining Galba’s power j he was, how¬
ever, unsuccessful, and the disclosure of lus designs was
much against him. Galba was again acknowdedged
and proclaimed, and he, notwithstanding his artifices,
detected and slain by the soldiers who were proclaiming
Galba. See Nero.
NYON, a considerable town of Switzerland, in the
canton of Bern, and capital of a bailiwick of the same
name, with a castle. It stands delightfully upon the
edge of the lake of Geneva, in the very point where it
begins to widen, and in a most charming country com¬
monly called de Vaud. It was formerly called
Colonia Equestris Noioditnum ; and, as a proof of its
antiquity, several Roman inscriptions, and other ancient
remains, have been frequently discovered in the out¬
skirts of the town. E. Long. 5. 10. N. Lat. 46. 24.
N\ SA, 01 Nyssa, in Ancient Geography, a town
of Ethiopia, at the south of Egypt. Some place it in
Arabia. This city, with another of the same name in
India, was sacred to the god Bacchus, who was edu¬
cated there by the nymphs of the place, and who re¬
ceived the name of Uionysus, which seems to be com¬
pounded of A<«j and Nvo-ae, the name of his father, and
that of the place of his education. The god made this
place the seat of his empire, and the capital of the con¬
quered nations of the east. According to some geogra¬
phers, there were no less than ten places of this name.
One of these was famous on the coast of Euboea, for
its vines, which grew in such a uncommon manner, that
if a tvyig was planted in the ground in the morning, it
immediately produced grapes which were full ripe in
the evening. A city of Thrace : another seated on the
top of Mount Parnassus, and sacred to Bacchus.
N^. SLOT, a strong town of Russia, in Livonia, with
a castle 5 seated on the river Narva, among large
marshes. E. Long. 26. 55. N. Lat. 58. 46.
NYSSA, a genus of plants, belonging to the poly-
gamia class 5 and in the natural method ranking under
the 12th order, Holoracece. See Botany Index.
NYU-CHE, or Kin, an empire which arose in
Eastern Tartary in the beginning of the 13th century,
iiom the founder of this empire the late Chinese em¬
peror Kang-hi said that his family was descended.
See China and Tartary.
O.
THE 14th letter and fourth vowel of our alpha-
5 bet j pronounced as in the words nose, rose, &c.
The sound of this letter is often so soft as to require
it double, and that chiefly in the middle ol words, as
goose, reproof, &c. And in some words, this 00 is pro¬
nounced like u short, as in blood, flood, &c.
Vol. XV. Part I. f
As a numeral, O was sometimes used for 11 among
the ancients ; and wdth a dash over it thus, o, for
11,000.
In the notes of the ancients, O. CON, is read opus
conductum ; O. C. Q. opera consilioque ; O. D. M. ope-
rce, donum munus ; and O. LO. opus locatum,
O
The
OAK [ 1
The Greeks had two O’a ; viz. omicron, and
omega, «j the first pronounced on the tip of the lips
with a sharper sound ; the second in the middle ot the
mouth, with a fuller sound, equal to oo in our lan¬
guage. The long and short pronunciation ot our U
are equivalent to the two Greek ones 5 the first, as in
suppose; the second, as in obey.
O is usually denoted long by a servile « subjoined,
as vioan; or by 0 at the end of the syllable, as W,
when these vowels are not used, it is generally short.
Among the Irish, the letter O, at the beginning of
the name of a family, is a character of dignity annexed
to great houses. Thus, in the history of Ireland, we
frequently meet with the O AW.s, O Carrols, &c. con¬
siderable houses in that island. 1 j,.
Camden observes, that it is the custom of the lords
of Ireland to prefix an O to their names, to distinguish
them from the commonalty. r m
The ancients used O as a mark of triple time , fiom
a notion that the ternary, or number 3, was the most
perfect of numbers, and therefore properly expressed
by a circle, the most perfect of figures. ,
^ It is not, strictly speaking, the letter O, but the
figure of a circle O, °r double C0’ ^ h°1
dern ancients in music used to express what they called
tempo perfecto, or triple time. Hence the Italians call
U Thetven antlphones, or alternate bynom of seven
verses, &c. sung by the choir m the time of Advent
were formerly called O, from their beginning with such
^oTsaTadTerb of calling, or interjection of sorrow
or wishing.
OAK, in Botajiy. See Quercus.
The oak has been long known by the Ut]e ^
march of the woods, and very justly. It is well
known, and often very elegantly ‘\escribed by the an¬
cient poets. The following description hom Vngil is
exquisite:
Veluti annoso validam cum robore quercum
Alpini Borece, nunc hinc, nunc fiatibus tlhnc
Eruere inter se certant: it stridor, et alte
Consternunt terram concusso stipite jrondes:
Ipsa turret scopulis ; et quantum vertice ad auras
.Etherias, tantum radice in lartara ^
Oak.
As o’er th’ aerial Alps sublimely spread.
Some aged oak uprears his reverend head-,
This way and that the furious tempests blow,
To lay the monarch of the mountains low }
Th’ imperial plant, though nodding at the sound,
Though all his scatter’d honours strew the ground j
Safe in his strength, and seated on the rock,
In naked majesty defies the shock :
High as the head shoots tow’nng to the skies.
So deep the root in hell’s foundation lies. I ITT.
06 ] ' OAK
The ancient druids had a most profound veneration
for oak trees. Pliny » says, that “ the dru.ds (as he ^ ^ ^
Gauls call their magicians or wise men) held noth g c ^
so sacred as the misletoe, and the tree on which it
grows, provided it he an oak. They make choice 01
oak groves in preference to all others, and perform 110
rites without oak leaves 5 so that they seem to a\e ie
name of druids from thence, if we derive their name
from the Greek,” &c. (See Druids, Definition, and
N° 11.) Maximus Tyrius says the Ce tae or Gauls wor¬
shipped Jupiter under the figure of a lofty oak ( a). .
This useful tree grows to such a surprising magni¬
tude, that there were not many well authenticated in¬
stances of them in our own country, they would cei-
tainly appear difficult of belief. In the 18th volume
of the Gentleman’s Magazine we have the dimensions
of a leaf twelve inches in length and seven m breadth,
and all the leaves of the same tree were equally large.
On the estate of Woodhall, purchased in 1775 by bir
Thomas Rumbold, Bart, late governor of Madras an
oak was felled which sold for 43\. and measured 24
feet round. We are also told of one m Millwood fo¬
rest, near Chaddesley, which was in full verdure m
winter, getting its leaves again alter the autumn ones
fell off. In Hunter’s Evelyn’s Sylva, we have an ac¬
count of a very remarkable oak at Greent.ale j which
Gough, in his edition of Camden, thus minutely de¬
scribes : “ The Greendale oak, with a road cut through
it, still bears one green branch. Such branches as have
been cut or broken off are guarded from wet by lead.
The diameter of this tree at the top, whence the
branches issue, is 14 feet 2 inches at the surface °f
the ground feet j circumference there 35 ^t ,
height of the trunk 53 j height of the arch 10, width 6.
Mr Evelyn mentions several more oaks of extraordinary
size in Worksop park.”
In the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1773 we have an
account of one differing very essentially from the com¬
mon one •, it is frequent about St 1 homas m Devons me,
and is in that county called Lucombe oak, from one
William Lucombe who successfully cultivated it near
Exeter. It grows as straight and handsome as a hr j
its leaves are evergreen, and its wood as hard as that
of the common oak. Its growth is so ff^k, as to
exceed in 20 or 30 years the altitude and girth of the
common one at 100. It is cultivated m various places ,
Cornwall, Somersetshire, &c. - ,
M. du Hamel du Mon^eau, of the Royal Academy
of Sciences at Paris (who wrote a treatise on husband¬
ry), gave an account in the year 1749 of an oak which
he had kept in water eight years, and wbch yielded
fine leaves every spring. Hie tree had, he says,
or five branches j the largest 19 or 20 lines round, and
more than 18 inches long. It throve more m the two first
years than it would have done in the best earth i it af¬
terwards lost its vigour, and rather decayed 5 which he
attributed to a defect in the roots rather than to a want
of aliment.
(a) Camden Informs ns of a tradition (which, like most ^h^Rofus was killed, viz. that
S ^ t0 ^ ^ th“S
.gainst which Tyrrel’s arrow glanced.
OAK [ i
M. de BufFon made some experiments on oak trees j
the result of which is recorded in the Gentleman’s
Magazine, 1754. He had compared harked with un¬
barked trees, and proves, we think with success, from a
variety of trials, that timber barked and dried stand¬
ing, is always heavier and considerably stronger than
timber kept in its bark.
The bark of oak trees was formerly thought to be
extremely useful in vegetation. One load (Mr Mills in
his Treatise on Husbandry informs us) of oak bark,
laid in a heap and rotted, after the tanners have used
it for dressing of leather, will do more service to still’
cold land, and its effects will last longer, than two
loads of the richest dung $ but this has been strenuously
controverted. (See Ojk Leaves').
The bark, in medicine, is also a strong astringent •,
and hence stands recommended in haemorrhagies, al~
vine fluxes, and other preternatural or immoderate
secretions ; and in these it is sometimes attended with
good effects. Some have alleged, that by the use of
this bark every purpose can be answered which may be
obtained from Peruvian bark. But after several very
fair trials, we have by no means found this to be the
case. Besides the bark, the buds, the acorns and their
cups are used j as also the galls, which are excrescences
caused by insects on the oaks of the eastern countries, of
which there are divers sorts ; some perfectly round and
smooth, some rougher with small protuberances, but all
generally having a round hole in them. All the parts
of the oak are styptic, binding, and useful in all kinds
of fluxes and bleedings, either inward or outward. The
bark is frequently used in gargarisms, for the relaxation
of the uvula, and for sore mouths and throats: it is
also used in restringent clysters and injections, against
the prolapsus uteri or ani. The acorns, beaten to pow¬
der, are frequently taken by the vulgar for pains in the
side. The only officinal preparation is the aqua germi-
tium quercus.
Oak Leaves. The use of oak bark in tanning, and
in hot-beds, is generally known. For the latter of these
purposes, however, oak leaves are now found to answer
equally well, or rather better. In the notes to Hr
Hunter’s edition of Evelyn’s Treatise on Forest Trees,
we find the following directions for their use by W.
Speedily: The leaves are to be raked up as soon as
possible after they fall from the trees. When raked
into heaps, they should immediately be carried into some
place near the hot-houses, where they may lie to couch.
Mr Speechly says, it was his custom to fence them round
with charcoal hurdles, or any thing to keep them from
being blown about the garden in windy weather. In
this place they tread them well, and water them in case
they happen to have been brought in dry. The heap
is made six or seven feet thick, and covered over with
old mats, or any thing else, to prevent the upper leaves
from being blown away. In a few days the heap will
come to a strong heat. For the first year or two in
which he used these leaves, our author did not continue
them in the heap longer than ten days or a fortnight:
hut by this method of management they settle so much
when brought to the hot-house, that a supply was very
Soon required j and he afterwards found, that it was
proper to let them remain five or six weeks in the heaps
before they are brought to the hot-house. In getting
them into the pine pots, if they appear dry, they are to
07 ] OAK
be watered, and again trodden down exceedingly well,
in lay ers, till the pits are quite full. The whole is then
covered with tan bark, to the thickness of two inches,
and well trodden down, till the surface becomes smooth
and even. On this the pine pots are to be placed in the
manner they are to stand, beginning with the middle
row first, and filling up the spaces between the pots with
tan. In this manner we are to proceed to the next row,
till the whole be finished ; and this operation is perform¬
ed in the same manner as when tan only is used. The
leaves require no farther trouble through the whole sea¬
son 5 as they w ill retain a constant and regular heat for
12 months without stirring or turning j and our author
informs us, that if he may judge from their appearance
when taken out (being always entire and peri’ect) it is
probable they would continue their heat through a
second year j but, as an annual supply of leaves is easily
obtained, the experiment is hardly worth making.
Alter this, the pines will have no occasion to be moved
but at stated times of their management, viz. at the
shifting them in their pots, &c. when at each time a
little fresh tan should be added to make up the deficiency
arising from the settling of the beds j but this will be
inconsiderable, as the leaves do not settle much after
their long couching. During the first two years of our
author’s practice he did not use any tan, but plunged
the pine pots into the leaves, and just covered the sur¬
face of the beds, when finished, with a little saw-dust,
to give it a neatness. This method, however, was
attended with one inconvenience; for, by the caking
of the leaves, they shrunk from the sides of the pots,
whereby they became exposed to the air, and at the same
time the heat of the beds was permitted to escape.
“ Many powerful reasons (says Mr Speechly) may
be given why oak leaves are preferable to tanners
bark.
“ j. They always heat regularly j for during the
whole time that I have used them, which is near seven
years, I never once knew of their heating with vio¬
lence and this is so frequently the case with tan, that
I affirm, and indeed it is well known to every person
conversant in the management of the hot house, that
pines suffer more from this one circumstance, than all
the other accidents put together, insects excepted.—
When this accident happens near the time of their
fruiting, the effect is soon seen in the fruit, which is
exceedingly small and ill-shaped. Sometimes there will
be little or no fruit at all j therefore gardeners who make
use of tan only for their pines, should be most particu¬
larly careful to avoid an over-heat at that critical junc¬
ture—the time of showing the fruit.
“ 2. The heat of oak leaves is constant; whereas
tanner’s bark generally turns cold in a very short time
after its furious heat is gone off. This obliges the gar¬
dener to give it frequent turnings in order to promote
its heating. These frequent turnings, not to mention
the expcnce, are attended with the worst consequences j
for by the continual moving of the pots backwards and
forwards, the pines are exposed to the extremes of
heat and cold, whereby their growth is considerably
retarded j whereas, when leaves are used, the pines
will have no occasion to be moved but at the times of
potting, &c. The pines have one peculiar advantage
in this indisturbed situation 5 their roots grow through
the bottoms of the pots, and mat among the leaves iq
O 2 ~ »
OAK [ 108 ] OAR
Oak. a surprising manner. From the vigour of the plants
—v 1 when in this situation, it is highly probable that the
leaves, even in this state, aftord them an uncommon
ami agreeable nourishment.
“ 3. There is a saving in point of expenee *, which
is no inconsiderable object in places where tan cannot
be had but from a great distance.
“ 4. The last ground of preference is, that decayed
leaves make good manure ; whereas rotten tan is ex¬
perimentally found to be of no value. I have often
tried it both on sand and clay, and on wet and dry
land ; and never could discover in any of my experi¬
ments, that it deserved the name of a manure ; whereas
decayed leaves are the richest, and of all others the
most proper manure for a garden. Leaves mixed with
dung make excellent hot-beds 5 and I find that beds
compounded in this manner, preserve their heat much
longer than when made entirely with dung; and in
both cases, the application of leaves will be a consider¬
able saving of dung, which is a circumstance on many
accounts agreeable.”
OAK-Leaf Galls. These are of several kinds ; the
remarkable species called the mushroom gall is never-
found on any other vegetable substance but these
leaves: and besides this there are a great number ol
other kinds.
The double gall of these leaves is very singular, be¬
cause the generality ol productions ol this kind affect
only one side of a leaf or branch, and grow all one
way: whereas this kind of gall extends itself both
ways, and is seen on each side of the leaf, m form of
two protuberances, opposite the one to the other. T-hese
are of differently irregular shapes, but their natural
figure seems that of twm cones, with broad bases, and
very obtuse points, though sometimes they are round,
or very nearly so.
These make their first appearance on the leaf in
April, and remain on it till June or longer. They are
at first green, but afterwards yellowish, and are softer
to the touch than many other of the productions of this
kind ; they are usually about the size of a large pea, but
sometimes they grow to the bigness of a nut. 'When
opened, they are found to be of that kind which are in¬
habited each by one insect only, and each contains one
cavity. The cavity in this is, however, larger than in
any other gall of the size, or even in many others of
three times its size; the sides of it being very little
thicker than the substance of the leaf.
It is not easy to ascertain the origin of the several
species of flies which are at times seen in this manner
to come out of the same species of galls. It seems
the common course of nature, that only one species of
insect forms one kind of gall ; yet it may be, that
two or three kinds may give origin to the same kind.
There is, however, another occasion of our seeing dif¬
ferent species come out oi different galls ol the same
kind : and this is the effect of the enemies of the pro¬
per inhabitants.
It might appear that the parent fly, when she had
formed a gall for the habitation of her worm offspring,
had placed it in an impregnable fortress; but this is
not the case; for it frequently happens, that a fly, as
small perhaps as that which gave origin to the gall,
produces a worm which is of the carnivorous kind, as
the other feeds on vegetable juices. This little fly,
well knowing that where there is one of these protu- <jak
berances on a leaf, there is a tender and defenceless in- |1
sect within, pierces the sides of the gall, and deposites, °ar
her egg within it. This, when it hatches into a worm,
feeds upon the proper inhabitant; and, finally, after
devouring it, passes into the chrysalis state, and thence
appears in the form of its parent fly, and is seen mak¬
ing its way out of the gall, in the place ot the proper
inhabitant.
On opening these leaf-galls, which are properly the
habitation only of one animal, it is common to find
two, the stronger preying upon the body of the other,
and sucking its juices as it does those of the leaf:
often it is found wholly employed in devouring its un¬
offending neighbour at once : this is probably the case
when its time of eating is nearly over : and, in fine,
when we find the gall inhabited by only one insect, or
containing only one chrysalis, as it ought in its natu¬
ral state to do, we are never certain that this is the
proper inhabitant, as it may be one of these destroy¬
ers who has eaten up the other, and supplied its place.
See Aphis, Entomology Index.
Oak Saw-dust is now found to answer the purposes of
tanning, as well, at least, as the bark. See Tanning.
Oak of Jcrusalc7n. See Chenopodium, Botany
Index.
OAKHUM, Ockham, or Oakum, in sea language,
denotes the matter of old ropes untwisted and pulled
out into loose hemp, in order to be used in caulking
the seams, treenails, and bends of a ship, for stopping
or preventing leaks.
OAKIIAMPTON, a town of Devonshire, which
sends two members to parliament, has 1440 inhabitants,
and a manufacture of serge ; situated in W. Long. 4. 5.
N. Lat. 50. 48.
CANNES, a being in Chaldean mythology, repre¬
sented as half a man and half a fish. According to Be-
rosus and other fabulous writers, this monster was the ci¬
vilizer of the Chaldeans; to whom he taught a system of
jurisprudence so perfect as to be incapable of improve¬
ment. In discharging the duties of his office, he spent
the day on dry land, but retired every night into the
ocean or the river. See Mythology, N° 25.
OAB, a long piece of timber, flat at one end ami
round or square at the other; and which being applied,
to the side of a floating vessel, serves to make it advance
upon the water.
That part of the oar which is out of the vessel, and
which enters into the water, is called the blade or
wash-plat; and that which is within board is termed
the loo7n, whose extremity being small enough to be
grasped by the rowers, or persons managing the oars,
is called the handle.
To push the boat or vessel forwards by means of
this instrument, the rowers turn their backs forward,
and, dipping the blade of the oar in the water, pull
the handle forward so that the blade at the same time
may move aft in the water: but since the blade cannot
be so moved, without striking the water, this impulsion
is the same as if the water were to strike the blade from
the stern towards the head: the vessel is therefore neces¬
sarily moved according to this direction. Hence it fol¬
lows, that she will advance with the greater rapidity,
by as much as the oar strikes the water more forcibly.
Thus it is evident, that an oar acts upon the side of a
boat
OAT [ i
boat or vessel like a lever of the second class, whose ful¬
crum is the station upon which the oar rests on the boat’s
gunnel. In large vessels, this station is usually called
the row-port; but in lighters and boats it is always
termed the row-lock.
OARISTUS, or Oaristys, a term in the Greek
poetry, signifying a dialogue between a husband and his
wife; such as that in the sixth book of the Iliad between
Hector and Andromache.
Scaliger observes, that the oaristus is not properly any
particular little poem, or entire piece of poetry ; but al¬
ways a part of a great one. He adds, that the passage
now cited in Homer is the only proper oaristus extant
in the ancient poets.
OASIS, the name of a fertile spot in the midst of a
sandy desert. Many of those spots, or oases, in the
African deserts are remarkable for their fertility.
OAT. See Avena, Botany Index.
Mr Bruce gives the following account of the oats
which he found growing wild in Aroossi, a small terri¬
tory in Abyssinia, not far from the source of the Nile :
“ Wild oats (says he) grow up here spontaneously to a
prodigious height and size, capable often of concealing
both the horse and his rider, and some of the stalks
being little less than an inch in circumference. They
have, when ripe, the appearance of small canes. The
inhabitants make no sort of use of this grain in any
period of its growth : the uppermost thin husk of it is
beautifully variegated with a changeable purple colour;
the taste is perfectly good. I often made the meal into
cakes in remembrance of Scotland.” Our author in¬
forms us, that the Abyssinians could never be brought
to relish these cakes, which they said were bitter, burnt
their stomachs, and made them thirsty. He is, however,
decidedly of opinion, that the wild oat of Aroossi is the
oat in its original state ; and that it has degenerated
everywhere in Europe.
OATH , an affirmation or promise, accompanied with
an invocation of God to witness what we say ; and with
an imprecation of his vengeance, or a renunciation of his
favour, if what we affirm be false, or what we promise
be not performed (a).
09 ] OAT
The laws of all civilized states have required the Oatb.
security of an oath for evidence given in a court of jus- *
tice, and on other occasions of high importance (b) ;
and the Christian religion utterly prohibits swearing
except when oaths are required by legal authority.
Indeed no serious and reflecting theist, whether he ad¬
mit the truth of revelation or not, can look upon
swearing on trivial occasions as any thing else than a
sin of a very heinous nature. To call upon that in¬
finite and omnipresent Being, who created and sus¬
tains the universe, to witness all the impertinence of
idle conversation, of which great part is commonly ut¬
tered at random, betrays a spirit so profane, that nothing
short of experience could make us believe it possible for
a creature endowed with reason and; reflection to be ha¬
bitually guilty ol a practice so impious. No man can
plead in extenuation of this crime, that he is tempted to
swear by the importunity of any appetite or passion im¬
planted in the human breast : for the utterance of a
profane oath communicates no pleasure and removes no
uneasiness : it neither elevates the speaker nor depresses
the hearer.
Quakers and Moravians, swayed by these considera¬
tions, and by the sense which they put upon certain
texts of Scripture, refuse to swear upon any occasion,
even at the requisition of a magistrate, and in a court
of justice. These scruples are groundless ; and seem
to proceed from an incapacity to distinguish between
the proper use and abuse of swearing. It is unque¬
stionably impious to call upon God to witness imper¬
tinences, or to use his tremendous name as a mere ex-
pletive in conversation; but it by no means follows,
that we may not piously call upon him to witness
truths of importance, or invoke his name with reve¬
rence and solemnity. No individual could, without
gross profaneness, pray for a thousand times more
wealth than he may ever have occasion to use; but it
was never thought profane to pray “ day by day for
our daily bread, for rain from heaven, and fruitful sea¬
sons.” If it be lawful to ask of God these earthly
blessings, because he alone can bestow them ; it cannot
surely be unlawful, where the lives or properties of
our
(a) The word oath is a corruption of the Saxon eoth. It is often in England called a corporal oath, because
in the days of popery, the person wras sworn over the host or corpus Christi.
(B) The various oaths required by different nations at different times, and the various forms, &c. of imposing
them, is a subject of very considerable extent and curiosity: An account of them does not fall within the plan of
the present article; it would indeed extend it to an undue length; we cannot, however, omit observing, what is
doubtless very remarkable, that the grand impostor Mahomet taught the Moslems, that their oaths might be dissol¬
ved. This wonderful doctrine is contained in the 66th chapter of the Koran ; which, to free himself from his
promise and oath to Hafsa his spouse, he pretended was revealed. What the use of oaths is in such circumstances
or what secux-ity they afford for performance, it is difficult to ascertain.
# It is also very remarkable, that an oath respecting marriages was the cause of the first divorce at Rome. The
circumstance happened about the year of the city 525, Posthumius Albinus and Spurius Carvilius being consuls.
The censors of this year observing the population declining, and imagining it proceeded from interested marriages
and promiscuous cohabitation, obliged all the citizens to swear, that they would not marry with any other view
than that ol peopling the republic. It raised, however, many scruples, and occasioned many domestic ruptures.
Among the rest, one Carvilius Ruga, a man of distinction, imagined that he was bound by his oath to divorce his
wife, whom he passionately loved, because she was barren, which was the first instance of a divorce at Rome from
its foundation, though the marriage laws of the kings allowed it; it afterwards, however, became shamefully fre¬
quent. This is also a striking instance of the great attention paid to oaths among the Romans; it is remarked in¬
deed by all writers, that they paid a most profound respect to them ; and on that we know they founded their hopes
el success in war.
OAT [ii
Oath. ®uv neighbours, or the security of government is con-
cernecb t0 invoke him with reverence to vyitness the
truth of our assertions, or the sincerity ot our intentions 5
because ot our truth in many cases, and of our sincerity
in all, none but he can be the witness.
The text of Scripture upon which the Quakers
chiefly rest their argument for the unlawfulness of all
swearing under the gospel, is our Saviour’s prohibi¬
tion (Mat. v. 34.): “ I say unto you, swear not at all.
But whoever shall take the trouble of turning over his
Bible, and looking at the context, will perceive, that
it is only in ordinary conversation, and by no means 111
courts of justice, that our Lord prohibits bis follow¬
ers from swearing at all. There is no evidence^what¬
ever, that swearing by heaven, by the earth, by Jerusa¬
lem, or by their own heads, was the form of a 'judicial
oath in use among the Jews. On the contrary, we are
* See Whit- told by Maimonides*, that “ if any man swear by hea-
by on the Ven or by earth, yet this is not an oath 5” which sure-
Place. j ^ coui4 not have said, had such been the forms of
judicial swearing. Indeed they could not have ad¬
mitted such forms into their courts without expressly
violating the law of Moses, who commands them to
“ Fear the Lord (Jehovah) their God, to serve him,
and to swear by his name.” But the Jews, as evtiy
one knows, had such a reverence for the name Jeho¬
vah, that they would not pronounce it on slight occa¬
sions, and therefore could not swear by that name in
common conversation. Hence, to gratify their pro¬
pensity to common swearing, they invented such oaths
as, bv heaven, by earth, by Jerusalem, by the life of thy
head, &c. and by this contrivance they thought to
avoid the guilt of profaning the name Jehovah.
These, however, being appeals to insensible objects,
either had no meaning, or were in fact, as our Sa¬
viour justly argues, oaths by that God whose crea¬
tures they were •, so that the Jew who swore them
was still guilty of profaneness towards the very Jeho¬
vah whose name his superstition would not permit him
to pronounce. But what puts it beyond all doubt
that .the use of judicial oaths is not wholly prohibited
in the gospel, is the conduct of our Saviour himself as
well as of his apostle St Paul. When Jesus was
simply asked by the high priests, what it was which
certain false witnesses testified against him ? we are
told by the evangelists, that “ he held his peace
but being adjured by the living God to declare whe¬
ther he was the Christ, the Son of God, or not, he
immediately answered the high priest, without objecting
to the oath (for such it was) upon which he was ex-
* Valeu's amined. “ St Paul, in his Epistle to the Romans +,
Moral Phi- says, ‘ God is my witness, that, without ceasing, 1 make
tosoyhy. mention of you in my prayers and to the Corinthians,
still more strongly, ‘ 1 call God for a record upon my
soul, that, to spare you, I came not as yet to Corinth?
Both these expressions are of the nature of oaths ; and
the author of the Epistle to the Hebrews speaks of the
custom of swearing judicially without any mark of cen¬
sure or disapprobation : ‘ Men verily swear by the great¬
er , and an oath, for confirmation, is to them an end of
all strife.”
But though a nation has an undoubted right to re¬
quire the security of an oath upon occasions ot real im¬
portance, wre do not hesitate to say, that, in our opinion,
it is something worse than bad policy to multiply oaths,
O A T
Oath.
0 1 . .
and to hold out to the people temptations to perjure
themselves. The security which an oath affords, de¬
pends entirely upon the reverence which attaches to it
in the mind of him by whom it is given j but that vej
verence is much weakened by the frequency of oaths,
and by the careless manner in which they are too often
administered. An excellent moralist if observes, with } Mr Pa
truth, that “ the levity and frequency with which oaths ley-
are administered, has brought about a general inadver¬
tency to the obligation of them, which both in a re¬
ligious and political view is much to be lamented ; and
it merits (continues he) public consideration, whether
the requiring of oaths on so many frivolous occasions,
especially in the customs, and in the qualification for
petty offices, has any other effect than to make them
cheap in the minds of the people. A pound of tea can¬
not travel regularly from the ship to the consumer with¬
out costing half a do%en oaths a\.\easX', and the same se¬
curity for the due discharge of his office, namely that of
an oath, is required from a church warden and an arch¬
bishop, from a petty constable and the chief justice of
England. Let the law continue its own sanctions, if
they be thought requisite j but let it spare the solemni¬
ty of an oath: and where it is necessary, from the want
of something better to depend upon, to accept a man s
own word or own account, let it annex to prevarication
penalities proportioned to the public consequence of the
offence.”
That these pernicious consequences of frequent oaths
are not felt only in England, we have the evidence of
another respectable writer, whose acuteness well quali¬
fied him to observe, whilst his station in society furnish¬
ed him with the best opportunities of observing, the ef¬
fects of repeated swearing upon the morals of Scotch¬
men. “ Customhouse oaths (says Lord Karnes §) have 5 Sketches
become so familiar among us, as to be swallowed with-j/^ Jfe
out a wry face ", and is it certain that bribery and per- '
jury in electing parliament members are not approach¬
ing to the same cool state ? men creep on to vice by
degrees. Perjury, in order to support a friend, has be¬
come customary of late years m, witness fictitious quali¬
fications in the electors of parliament-men, which are
made effectual by perjury : yet such is the degeneracy
of the present time, that no man is the worse thought
of upon that account. We must not flatter ourselves,
that the poison will reach no farther : a man who bog¬
gles not at perjury to serve a friend, will in time be¬
come such an adept, as to commit perjury in order to
ruin a friend when he becomes an enemy.”
Besides the frequency of oaths, we have mentioned
the irreverent manner in which they are too often ad¬
ministered as one of the causes which make them cheap
in the estimation of the people. In this view, the
form of the oath, and the ceremonies with which it is
required to be taken, are of considerable importance.
“ The forms of oaths in Christian countries (says Mr
Paley) are very different *, but in none I believe worse
contrived either to convey the meaning or to impress
the obligation of an oath, than in England. In that
country the juror, after repeating the promise or affirma¬
tion which the oath is intended to confirm, adds, ‘ so
help me God or more frequently the substance of the •
oath is repeated to the juror by the officer or magistrate
who admini ters it ; adding in the conclusion, ‘ so help
you God.’ The energy of the sentence resides in the
J particle
OAT [i
particle so: so, i. e. hac lege ‘ upon condition of my
speaking the truth, or performing this promise, may God
help me, and not otherwise.’ The juror, whilst he hears
or repeats the words of the oath, holds his right hand
upon a Bible, or other book containing the four gospels.
The conclusion of the oath sometimes runs, ‘ ita me
Dens adjuret, et here sancta evaugelia,' or ‘ so help me
God, and the contents of this book which last clause
forms a connexion between the words and action of the
juror, which before was wanting. The juror then kisses
the book.”
This obscure and elliptical form, the excellent au¬
thor justly observes, is ill calculated to impress the
juror with reverence: and he seems to think great
preference due to the form of judicial oaths in Scot¬
land. In that country the juror holds up his right
hand towards heaven, and swears by Almighty God,
and as he shall answer to God at the great day of
judgment, “that he will tell the truth, the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth, so far as he knows, or it
shall be asked of him.” This, if administered with
dignity and reverence, is an oath sufficiently solemn
and well calculated to have the proper effect upon the
mind of the juror, as it brings immediately into his
view the Author of his being, and the awful day of final
retribution when every man shall receive the things
done in his body according to that he hath done, whe¬
ther it be good or evil. But when the magistrate, as
is too often the case, repeats this solemn invocation
without rising from his seat at the name of the Su¬
preme Being, and in a tone of carelessness which may
convey to the ignorant juror an ^opinion that he has
himself no serious belief that there ever will be a great
day of judgment, the form, however excellent, makes
not its full impression.
But let us suppose the oath to be administered with
the greatest dignity and reverence, the words of the
promise itself appear to us by no means unexception¬
able. In a trial on life and death, we should be glad
to know what this oath binds the witness to declare.
Is he to tell all that he knows touching the matter in
question ? or only all that shall be asked of him ? If
he be obliged, in virtue of his oath, to tell all that he
knows, the clause—“ or it shall be asked of you” is
superfluous, and calculated to mislead. If he be bound
to tell nothing more of the truth than what shall be
asked of him, the word or should be changed into and;
he should swear “ to tell the truth, &c. so far as he
knows, and it shall be asked of him.” The court, we
believe, considers the witness as bound to declare every
thing which he knows touching the matter in question.
The greater part of witnesses, on the other hand, con¬
sider themselves as bound no farther by their oath than
to give true answers to such questions as shall be asked
of them. They would do well, however, to remember,
that as oaths are designed for the security or the public,
they must be interpreted in the sense in which the pu¬
blic intends them, otherwise they afford no security.
But the sense of the public is the law 5 and as it be¬
longs to the court to declare what the mind of the law
is, the witness, who has any doubt concerning the extent
of the obligation imposed on him by the words of this
oath, should apply to the court for a solution of that
doubt, which will be a safe guide to him respecting the
evidence which he is to give. Should the court, in re-
11 ] OAT
solving the doubts of a witness, give an opinion concern- Oath,
ing the sense of any other part of the oath contrary to u—-y—j
what he apprehends to be the design of the law in im¬
posing it, he is bound to disregard such opinion j because
it is only where he himself is doubtful that the court
has a right to interfere, and because in all moral ques¬
tions men must be finally determined by their own
judgment and conscience.
There is one case, and but one, in which, whatever
sense be put upon the words of the oath, no witness is
obliged to declare the ivhole truth. It is when such
declaration would tend to acuse himself of some legal
crime; lor as the laws of Scotland and England con¬
strain no man to become his own accuser, they must
be considered as imposing the oath of testimony with
this tacit reservation. “The exception, however *,*Paley's
must be confined to legal crimes. A point of honour,
of delicacy, or of reputation, may make a witness back- *
ward to disclose some cix-cumstance with which he is
acquainted; but is no excuse for concealment, unless
it could be shown, that the law which imposes the
oath, intended to allow this indulgence to such mo¬
tives. The exception is also withdrawn by compact
between the magistrate and the witness, when an ac¬
complice is admitted to give evidence against the part¬
ners of his crime. But these are a sort of witnesses to
whom a sensible jury will always listen with a very
cautious car.
Oaths are either assertory or promissory. Assertory
oaths are required both to confirm our veracity in
evidence, and to give security to the public that we
believe certain propositions conceived to be of public
importance. An oath in evidence binds the juror to
declare what he knows to be true, and nothing but
what he knows to be true. An oath required to as¬
sure the public of our belief in the truth of any propo¬
sition, cannot, without the guilt of perjury, he taken
by any man, who, at the time of swearing, has the
slightest doubt whether the proposition be really true.
Such an oath, however, though it unquestionably re¬
quires the sincerity of the juror’s belief at the time
when it is given, cannot oblige him to continue in that
belief as long as he may live; for belief is not in any
man’s power: it is the necessary consequence of evi¬
dence, which compels the assent of the mind according
as it appears to preponderate on the one side or on the
ether. No man, therefore, can be justly accused of
perjury for holding opinions contrary to those which
he may formerly have sworn to believe; because his
belief at the time of emitting his oath may have been
the necessary result of the evidence which then ap¬
peared before him; and his change of opinion may
have resulted with the same necessity from superior
evidence which had been since thrown into the opposite
scale, and made it preponderate. On this account, we
cannot help thinking, that all assertory oaths, except
such as are necessary to confirm testimony respecting
j'acts, ought either to be abolished or expressed with
great caution. Of truths intuitively certain or capable
of rigid demonstration, no man of common sense can en¬
tertain a doubt; and therefore the public never requires
from individuals the solemnity of an oath as an assurance
of their believing such truths. But with respect to
the truth of propositions which admit of nothing supe¬
rior to moral evidence on either side, a man of the most
steady
O B E
Oath steady virtue may think differently at different periods
|| of his life ; and in such cases, the effect of an oath, if
Obed- it have any effect, can only be either, to shut the man’s
Edom, eyes against the light, or to make his integrity be cause-
_ lessly questioned by those who shall observe his change
of belief.
Promissory oaths cannot, without the guilt of perju¬
ry, be given by him, who, at the time ol swearing,
knows that it will not be in his power to fulfil the pro¬
mise, or who does not seriously intend to fulfil it. A
promissory oath cannot, without great guilt, be given
by any man, who at the time of swearing believes the
object of the promise to be in itself unlawful 5 for if he
seriously mean to fulfil his oath, he calls upon Almighty
God to witness his intention to commit a crime. Pro¬
missory oaths give to the public greater security than a
simple promise j because the juror having the thoughts
of God and of religion more upon his mind at the one
time than at the other, offends with a higher hand, and
in more open contempt ot the divine power, knowledge,
and justice, when he violates an oath, than when he
breaks a promise. Yet it is certain that promissory oaths,
though more solemn and sacred, cannot be binding,
when the promise without an oath would not be so in
an inferior degree j for the several cases of which, see
Promise and Allegiance.
Coronation Oath. See King.
OATHLAW, the name of a parish in Angus,
about two miles from Forfar, chiefly remarkable for
the remains of a Roman camp called Battle-dykes (vul¬
garly Black-dyke s'), which is about a mile west of the
church.
OBADIAH, or the Prophecy of OBADIAH, a cano¬
nical book of the Old Testament, which is contained in
one single chapter j and is partly an invective against
the cruelty of the Edomites, who mocked and derided
the children of Israel as they passed into captivity •, and
with other enemies, their confederates, invaded and op¬
pressed those strangers, and divided the spoil amongst
themselves 5 and partly a prediction of the deliverance
of Israel, and of the victory and triumph of the whole
church over her enemies.
ObadiaH, the prophet, is believed to have been the
same with the governor of Ahab’s house, mentioned in
the first book of Kings, (xviii. 3, &c.) who hid and fed
the hundred prophets whom Jezebel would have destroy¬
ed ; and some say, that he was that Obadiah whom
Josiah made overseer of the works of the temple,
(2 Chron. xxxiv. 12.). The truth is, that when he
lived or prophesied is wholly uncertain: though most
writers make him cotemporary with Hosea, Amos, and
Joel.
Obadiah, a valiant man of David’s army, who came
to join him in the wilderness, with several others of the
tribe of Gad, (1 Chron. xii. 9.).
This was also the name of one of those whom King
Jehoshaphat sent into the cities of Judah to instruct the
people in their religion, (2 Chron. xvii. 7.). It was al¬
so the name of ofte of the principal men of Judah, who
signed the covenant that Nehemiah renewed with the
Lord, (Nehem. x. 5.).
OBED-EDOM, son of Jeduthun, a Levite, (1 Chr.
xvi. 38.) and father of Shemaiah, Jehozabad, Joah,
Sacar, Nathaneel, Ammiel, Issachar, and Peulthai. He
had a numerous family, says the Scripture, (1 Chron.
O B E
xxvi. 4.) because the Lord blessed him; and this is the Obed-
occasion of the blessing. W hen David transferred the Edom,
ark of the covenant to the city of Jerusalem,Uzzah ha- ,
ving rashly laid hands on the ark, which he thought to
be in danger of falling, was smitten of God, and died
upon the spot. David, terrified at this accident, durst
not remove the ark into the place he had provided for
it in his own house, but set it up in the house of Obed-
edom, which was near the place where Uzzah had been
struck dead. But the presence of the ark not only cre¬
ated no temporal misfortune to the family of this Levite,
but, on the contrary, the Lord heaped upon him all
sorts of blessings; which encouraged David some months
after to remove it to the place he had appointed for it.
Afterwards Obed-edom and his sons were assigned to be
keepers of the doors of the temple, (1 Chron. xv. 18,
21.). In the second book of Samuel, (vi. 10.) Obed-
edom is called the Gittite, probably because he was of
Gathrimmon, a city of the Levites beyond Jordan,
(Josh. xxi. 24, 25.).
OBELISK, in Architecture, a truncated, quadran¬
gular, and slender pyramid, raised as an ornament, and
frequently charged either with inscriptions or hierogly¬
phics.
Obelisks appear to be of very great antiquity, and to
have been first raised to transmit to posterity precepts of
philosophy, which were cut in hieroglyphical charac¬
ters: afterwards they were used to immortalize the
great actions of heroes, and the memory of persons be¬
loved. The first obelisk mentioned in history was that
of Ramases king of Egypt, in the time of the Trojan
war, which was 40 cubits high. Phius, another king
of Egypt, raised one of 55 cubits; and Ptolemy Phila-
delphus, another of 88 cubits, in memory of Arsinoe.
Augustus erected one at Rome in the Campus Martins,
which served to mark the hours on a horizontal dial,
drawn on the pavement. They were called by the E-
gyptian priests the fingers of the sun, because they were
made in Egypt also to serve as styles or gnomons to
marks the hours on the ground. The Arabs still call
them Pharaoh's needles ; whence the Italians call them
aguglia, and the French aiguilles.
The famous obelisks called the devil's arrows, now
reduced to three, the fourth having been taken down
in the last century, stand about half a mile from the
town of Borough-Bridge to the south-west, in three
fields, separated by a lane, 200 feet asunder nearly, on
high ground sloping every way. Mr Drake urges many
arguments for their Roman antiquity, and plainly proves
them to be natural, and brought from Plumton quar¬
ries about five miles off, or from Ickly 16 miles off.
The cross in the town, 12 feet high, is of the same
kind of stone. The eastermost or highest is 22 feet
and a half high by 4 broad, and 14-J in girth ; the se¬
cond 2l|- by 55'T 5 the third 16^ by 84. Stukeley^s
measures differ. The flutings are cut in the stone but
not through : the tallest stands alone, and leans to the
south. Plot and Stukeley affirm them to be British mo¬
numents, originally hewn square. Dr Gale supposed
that they were Mercuries, which have lost their heads
and inscriptions; but in a MS. note in his Antoninus,
he acknowledges that he was misinformed, and that
there was no cavity to receive a bust.
On the north side of Penrith, in the churchyard, are
two square obelisks, of a single stone each, 11 or 12 feet
high,
[ 112 ]
O B L
Obelisk high, about 12 inches diameter, and 12 by 8 at the
II sides, the highest about 18 inches diameter, with some-
Oblati. thing like a transverse piece to each, and mortised into
round base. They are 14 feet asunder, and between
them is a grave enclosed between four semicircular stones
of the unequal lengths of five, six, and four and a half,
and two feet high, having on the outsides rude carving,
and the tops notched. This is called the Giant's grave,
and ascribed to Sir Ewen Caesarius, who is said to have
been as tall as one of the columns, and capable of
stretching his arms from one to the other ; to have de¬
stroyed robbers and wild boars in Englewood forest;
and to have had a hermitage hereabouts called Sir
Hugh's parlour; but the conjectures respecting them
are extremely various and contradictory. A little to
the west of these is a stone called the Giant's Thumb,
six feet high, 14 inches at the base contracted to 10,
which is no more than a rude cross, such as is at Long-
town in Cumberland, and elsewhere; the circle of the
cross 18 inches diameter.
Near the town of Forres in the north of Scotland
there is a very fine obelisk, 22 feet in height, known
by the name of the Forres pillar, or Sweno's stone. See
Forres.
M. Pouchard, in the memoirs of the Academy of In¬
scriptions, gives a curious account of some celebrated
Egyptian obelisks. See Gentleman’s Magazine for
June 1748.
OBJECT, in Philosophy, something apprehended or
presented to the mind by sensation or imagination. See
Metaphysics, Part I. Chap. I. Sect II.
Object-Glass of a Telescops, or Microscope, the glass
placed at the end of the tube which is next the object.
See Optics and Microscope.
OBJECTION, something urged to overthrow a po¬
sition, or a difficulty raised against an allegation or
proposition of a person we are disputing with.
OBJECTIV E, is used in the schools, in speaking
of a thing which exists no otherwise than as an object
known. The existence of such a thing is said to be
objective.
OBI I, (Lat.) signifies a funeral solemnity, or office
f or the dead, most commonly performed when the corpse
lies in the church uninterred: Also the anniversary of¬
fice, (2 Cro. 51 Dyer 313.). The anniversary of any
person’s death was called the obit; and to observe such
day with prayers and alms, or other commemoration,
was the keeping of the obit. In religious houses they
had a register, wherein they entered the obits or obi-
tual days of their founders and benefactors 5 which was
thence termed the obituary. The tenure of obit or
chantry lands is taken away and extinct by 1 Edw. VI.
c. 14. and 15 Car. II. c. 9.
OBLATE, flattened or shortened; as an oblate
spheroid, having its axis shorter than its middle diame¬
ter; being formed by the rotation of an ellipse about
the shorter axis. Jlie earth, whose polar diameter is
shorter than the equatorial, is an oblate spheroid.
OBLA1I, in church history, were secular persons,
who devoted themselves and their estates to some mo¬
nastery, into which they were admitted as a kind of lay
brothers. Tiie form of their admission was putting the
bell ropes of the church round their necks, as a mark
of servitude. They wore a religious habit, but differ¬
ent from that of the monks.
Vol. XV. Part I.
O B O
OBLIGATION, in general, denotes any act where¬
by a person becomes bound to another to do some¬
thing ; as to pay a sum of money, be surety, or the
like.
Obligations are of three kinds, viz. natural, civil,
and mixed. Natural obligations are entirely founded on
natural equity; civil obligations on civil authority alone,
without any foundation in natural equity ; and mixed
obligations are those which, being founded on natural
equity, are farther enforced by civil authority.
In a legal sense, obligation signifies a bond, wherein
is contained a penalty, with a condition annexed, for
the payment of money, &c. The differenee between
it and a bill is, that the latter is generally without a
penalty or condition, though it may be made obliga¬
tory : and obligations are sometimes by matter of re¬
cord, as statutes and recognizances. See the article
Bond.
Moral Obligation. See Moral Philosophy,
N° 58, &c.
OBLIQUE, in Geometry, something aslant, or that
deviates from the perpendicular. Thus an oblique an¬
gle is either an acute or obtuse one, i. e. any angle ex¬
cept a right one.
Oblique Cases, in Grammar, are all the cases ex¬
cept the nominative. See Grammar.
Oblique Ascension, is that point of the equinoctial
which rises with the centre of the sun, or star, or any
other point of the heavens, in an oblique sphere.
Oblique Circle, in the stereographic projection, is
any circle that is oblique to the plane of projection.
Oblique Descension, that point of the equinoctial
which sets with the centre of the sun, or star, or any
other point of the heavens, in an oblique sphere.
Oblique Line, that which, falling on another line,
makes oblique angles with it, viz. one acute, and the
other obtuse.
Oblique Planes, in Dialling, are those which de¬
cline from the zenith, or incline towards the horizon.
See Dial.
Oblique Sailing, in Navigation, is when a ship sails
upon some rhumb between the four cardinal points,
making an oblique angle with the meridian; in which
case she continually changes both latitude and longi¬
tude. See Navigation, Chap. VIII.
OBLIQUES, in Anatomy, a name given to several
muscles, particularly in the head, eyes, and abdomen.
See Anatomy, Table of the Muscles.
OBLONG, in general, denotes a figure that is long¬
er than broad ; such is a parallelogram.
OBOLARIA, a genus of plants belonging to the
didynamia class ; and in the natural method ranking
under the 40th order, Personatae. See Botany Index.
OBOLUS, an ancient silver money of Athens, the
sixth part of a drachma; worth somewhat more than a
penny farthing sterling.—The word comes from the
Greek oooAaj, or eoe>.sj, “ spit, or broach ;” either be¬
cause it bore such an impression ; or because, accord¬
ing to Eustathius, it was in form thereof. But those
now in the cabinets of the antiquaries are round.
Obolus, in Medicine, is used for a weight of ten
grains, or half a scruple.
OBOTH, an encampment of the Hebrews in the
wilderness. From Punon they went to Oboth, and
from Oboth to lie-abarim, (Num. xxi. xo. xxxiii. 45).
t P Ptolemr
r 113 ]
CBS
[ 114 1
O B S
Obotli
II
Observa¬
tory.
Ptolemy speaks of a city called Oboda, or Eboda, in
Arabia Petraea, which is the same as Oboth. Pliny
and the geographer Stephanus mention it also. Stepha-
, nus makes it belong to the Nabathaeans, and 1 liny to
the Helmodeans, a people of Arabia. It was at Oboth
that they worshipped the god Obodus, which lertu-
Han joins with Dusares, another god or king oi this
country. . . A .
OBllEPTITIOUS, an appellation given to letters
patent, or other instruments, obtained of a superior by
surprise, or by concealing from him the truth.
OBSCURE, something that is dark and reflects lit¬
tle light in material objects, or that is not clear and in¬
telligible in the objects of the intellect.
OBSECRATION, in Rhetoric, a figure whereby
the orator implores the assistance of God or man. >
OBSEQUIES, the same with funeral solemnities.
See Funeral. . • -r ..
OBSERVATION, among navigators, signifies the
takimj the sun’s or the stars meridian altitude, m order
thereby to find the latitude.
OBSERVATORY, a place destined for observing
the heavenly bodies *, being generally a building erect¬
ed on some eminence, covered with a terrace for making
astronomical observations.
The more celebrated observatories are, 1. i he Green¬
wich observatory, built in 1676, by order of Charles 11.
at the solicitation of Sir Jonas Moore and Sir Christo¬
pher Wren ; and furnished with the most- accurate in-
Observa¬
tory.
struments } particularly a noble sextant of seven feet
radius, with telescopic sights. . , . , f
2. The Paris observatory, built by the order ot
Louis XIV. in the fauxbourg St Jacques.
It is a very singular, and a very magnificent building,
the design of Monsieur Perault: it is 80 feet high; and
has a terrace at the top.
The difference in longitude between this and the
Greenwich observatory is 2° 20'.
In it is a cave or cellar, of 17° feef descent, for ex¬
periments that are to be made far from the sun, &c.
particularly such as relate to congelations, refrigera¬
tions, indurations, conservations, &c. _
q Tycho Brahe’s observatory, which was in the little
island Ween, or Scarlet Island, between the coasts of
Schonen and Zealand in the Baltic, It was erected and
furnished with instruments at his own expence, and call¬
ed by him Uraniburg. Here he spent twenty years in
observing the stars; the result is his catalogue.
4. Pekin observatory. Father Le Compte describes
a very magnificent observatory, erected and furnished
by the late emperor of China, in his capital, at the in¬
tercession of some Jesuit missionaries, principally Father
Verbeist, whom he made his chief observer. The in¬
struments are exceedingly-large ; but the division less
accurate, and the contrivance in some respects less com¬
modious, than that of the Europeans. The chief are,
An armillary zodiacal sphere ot six feet diameter ; an
equinoctial sphere of six feet diameter ; an azimuthal
horizon of six feet diameter ; a large quadrant six feet
radius; a sextant eight feet radius ; and a celestial
globe six feet diameter.
Observatories, as they are very useful, and indeed ab¬
solutely necessary for astronomers, so they have become
far more common than they were. There is a very ex¬
cellent one now at Oxford, built by the trustees of Dr
Radcliffe, at the expence of nearly 30,000!. At Cam¬
bridge there is as yet no public observatory. Over the , ,
great gate of Trinity college, indeed, there is one
which is called Sir Isaac Newton's, because this great
philosopher had used it ; but it is gone to decay. It
were well if the university would repair and preserve it
in memory of that truly great man. In St John’s, too,
there is a small one. The late ingenious Mr Cotes had
used to give lectures in Sir Isaac Newton’s on experi¬
mental philosophy. In Scotland there is an observatory
at Glasgow belonging to the university: there is one
erected' on the Calton hill at Edinburgh ; but it is in
very bad repair (see Edinburgh) ; and there is an ex¬
cellent one at Dublin.
e. Bramins observatory at Benares. Of this Sir Ro- Plate
bert Barker gives the following account (Phil. Trans. CCL-Laa.
vol. Ixvii. p. 598.). “ Benares in the East Indies, one
of the principal seminaries of the Bramins or priests of
the original Gentoos of Hindostan, continues still to be
the place of resort of that sect of people ; and there are
many public charities, hospitals, and pagodas, where
some thousands of them now reside. Having frequently
heard that the ancient Bramins had. a knowledge of
astronomy, and being confirmed in this by their infor¬
mation of an approaching eclipse both of the sun and
moon, I made inquiry, when at that place in the year
1772, among the principal Bramins, to endeavour to
get some information relative to the manner in wlndi
they were acquainted with an approaching eclipse. I he
most intelligent that I could meet with, however, gavp
me but little satisfaction. I was told that these mat¬
ters were confined to a few, who were in possession ot
certain books and records; some containing the myste¬
ries of their religion ; and others the tables ot astrono¬
mical observations, written in the Shanscrit language,
which few understood but themselves : that they wouid
take me to a place which had been constructed for tfie
purpose of making such observations as I was inquiring
after, and from whence they supposed the learned Bra-
mins made theirs. I was then conducted to an ancient
building of stone, the lower part of which, in its pre¬
sent situation, was converted into a stable tor horses,
and a receptacle for lumber ; but by the number of
court-yards and apartments, it appeared that it must
once have been an edifice for the use of some public bo-
dv of people. We entered this building, and went up
a staircase to the top of a part of it, near to the river
Ganges, that led to a large terrace, where, to my sur¬
prise and satisfaction, I saw a number of instruments yet
remaining, in the greatest preservation, stupendously
large, immoveable from the,, spot, and built of stone
some of them being upwards of 20 feet in height; and
although they are said to have been erected 200 yeaws
ago the graduations and divisions on the seveial aics
appeared as well cut, and as accurately divided, as if
they had been the performance of a modern artist. I he
execution in the construction of these instruments exhi¬
bited a mathematical exactness in the fixing, bearing,
fitting of the several parts, in the necessary and suffi¬
cient supports to the very large stones that composed
them, and in the joining and fastening each into the
other by means of lead and iron.
“ The situation of the two large quadrants of the
instrument marked A in the plate, whose radius is nine
feet two inches, by their being at right angles with a
gnomon
O B S [ i
Observa- gnomon at twenty-five degrees elevation* are thrown
tory. into such an oblique situation as to render them the
most difficult, not only to construct of such a magnitude,
but to secure in their position for so long a period, and
alfords a striking instance of the ability of the architect
in their construction : for by the shadow of the gnomon
thrown on the quadrants, they do not appear to have al¬
tered in the least from their original position j and so
true is the line of the gnomon, that, by applying the
eye to a small iron ring of an inch diameter at one end,
the sight is carried through three others ©f the same
dimension, to the extremity at the other end, distant 38
feet 8 inches, without obstruction ; such is the firmness
and art with which this instrument has been executed.
This performance is the more wonderful and extraordi¬
nary, when compared with the works of the artificers of
Hindostan at this day, who are not under the immediate
direction of an European mechanic j but arts appear to
have declined equally with science in the east.
“ Lieutenant Colonel Archibald Campbell, at that
time chief engineer in the East India Company’s service
at Bengal, made a perspective drawing of the whole of
the apparatus that could be brought within his eye at
one view; but I lament he could not represent some
very large quadrants, whose radii were about 20 feet,
they being on the side from whence he took his draw¬
ing. Their description, however, is, that they are ex¬
act quarters of circles of different radii, the largest of
which I judged to be 20 feet, constructed very exactly
on the sides of stone walls, built perpendicular, and si¬
tuated, I suppose, in the meridian of the place : a brass
pin is fixed at the centre or angle of the quadrant, from
whence, the Bramin informed me, they stretched a wire
to the circumference when an observation was to be
made $ from which, it occurred to me, the observer
must have moved his eye up or down the circumference,
by means of a ladder or some such contrivance, to raise
and lower himself, until be had discovered the altitude
of any of the heavenly bodies in their passage over the
meridian, so expressed on the arcs of these quadrants :
these arcs were very exactly divided into nine large sec¬
tions ; each of which again into ten, making ninety les¬
ser divisions or degrees ; and those also into twenty,
expressing three minutes each, of about two-tenths of
an inch asunder ; so that it is probable they had some
method of dividing even these into more minute divi¬
sions at the time of observation.
“ My time would only permit me to take down the
particular dimensions of the most capital instrument, or
the greater equinoctial sun-dial, represented by figure A,
which appears to be an instrument to express solar time
by the shadow of a gnomon upon two quadrants, one
situated to the east, and the other to the west of it; and
indeed the chief part of their instruments at this place
appear to be constructed for the same purpose, except
the quadrants, and a brass instrument that will be de¬
scribed hereafter.
“ Figure B is another instrument for the purpose of
determining the exact hour of the day by the shadow of
a gnomon, which stands perpendicular to, and in the
centre of, a flat circular stone, supported in an oblique
situation by means of four upright stones and a cross
piece so that the shadow of the gnomon, which is a
perpendicular iron rod, is thrown upon the division of
15 ] o B T
the circle described on the face of the flat circular observa-
stone.
“ Figure C is a brass circle, about two feet diameter,
moving vertically upon two pivots between two stone
pillars, having an index or hand turning round horizon¬
tally on the centre of this circle, which is divided into
360 parts ; but there are no counter divisions on the in¬
dex to subdivide those on the circle. This instrument
appears to be made for taking the angle of a star at set¬
ting or rising, or for taking the azimuth or amplitude of
the sun at rising or setting.
“ The use of the instrument, figure D, I was At a loss
to account for. It consists of two circular walls j the
outer of which is about forty feet diameter, and eight
feet high j the wall within about half that height, and
appears intended for a place to stand on to observe the
divisions on the upper circle of the outer wall, rather
than for any other purpose j and yet both circles are
divided into 360 degrees, each degree being subdivided
into twenty lesser divisions, the same as the quadrants.
There is a door-way to pass into the inner circle, and
a pillar in the centre, of the same height with the lower
circle, having a hole in it, being the centre of both
circles, and seems to be a socket for an iron rod to be
placed perpendicular into it. The divisions on these, as
well as all the other instruments, will bear a nice ex¬
amination with a pair of compasses.
“ Figure E is a smaller equinoctial sun dial, construct¬
ed upon the same principle as the larger one A.
“ I cannot quit this subject without observing, that
the Bramins, without the assistance of optical glasses,
had nevertheless an advantage unexperienced by the
observers of the more northern climates. The serenitv
and clearness of the atmosphere in the night-time in the
East Indies, except at the seasons of the monsoons or
periodical winds changing, is difficult to express to those
who have not seen it, because we have nothing in com¬
parison to form our ideas upon : it is clear to perfec¬
tion, a total quietude subsists, scarcely a cloud to be
seen, and the light of the heavens, by the numerous ap¬
pearance of the stars, affords a prospect both of wonder
and contemplation.
“ This obsei’vatory at Benares is said to have been
built by the order of the emperor Ackbar : for as this
wise prince endeavoured to improve the arts, so he
wished also to recover the sciences of Hindostan, and
therefore directed that three such places should be
erected ; one at Delhi, another at Agra, and the third
at Benares.”
OBSIDIANUS lapis, or Obsidian, a mineral
substance. See Mineralogy Index.
OBSIDIONALIS, an epithet applied by the Ho¬
mans to a sort of crown. See the article Crown.
OBSTETRICS, or the Obstetric Art, the same
with Midwifery.
OBSTRUCTION, in Medicine, such an obturation
of t]ie vessels as prevents the circulation of the fluids,
whether of the sound and vital, Or of the morbid and
peccant kind, through them.
OBTURATOR. See Anatomy, Tabic of the
Muscles.
OBTUSE, signifies blunt, dull, &c. in opposition
to acute or sharp. Thus we say, obtuse angle, obtuse-
angled triangle, &c.
P 2
tory
II
Obtuse*
OBY,
o C C [ 116 ]
Ol,y OBY, or Ob, a large and famous river of Asiatic
II Russia, which issues from the Altin lake (called by the
Occupancy. Russians J'eleskoi Ozero'), in latitude 52 degrees, and
longitude 97 degrees. Its name signifies Great;
and accordingly in Russia it is often styled the Great
Hirer. The Cal mucks and Tartars call it Umar.
Its stream is very large and smooth, its current being
usually slow } and it is in general between two and three
hundred fathoms broad 5 though in some places it is
much wider, It affords plenty of fish, and is navigable
almost to the lake from which it springs. After along
winding course through a vast tract of land, m wmch it
forms several islands, it empties itsell in latitude 67 de¬
grees, and longitude 86 degrees, into a bay, which, ex¬
tending near 400 miles farther, joins the Icy sea, in la¬
titude 73. 30. and longitude 90. I he springs irom
which this river rises, are not very copious: but it re¬
ceives in its course the waters of a great number 01 con¬
siderable streams. Of these, the Tom and the Irtis are
the most considerable: the Tom lalls into it in latitude
c8. and the Irtis in latitude 61. and longitude 86. I he
exact course of this river was unknown till the country
was surveyed by the Russians: who have given us toler¬
able maps of it and of all Siberia. The Oby is the first
great river eastward ot the Oural mountains which
hound Europe, and its course is upwards of 2000 miles
in length.
OCCIDENT, in Geography, the westward quarter
of the horizon *, or that part of the. horizon where the
ecliptic, or the sun therein, descends into the lower he¬
misphere ; in contradistinction to orient. Hence we use
the word occidental for any thing belonging to the west j
as occidental bezoar, occidental pearl, &c.
Occident Estival, that point of the horizon where
the sun sets at midwinter, when entering the sign Ca¬
pricorn. . £• I 1 •
Occident Equinoctial, that point or the horizon
where the sun sets, when he crosses the equinoctial, or
enters the sign Aries or Libra.
OCCIPITAL, in Anatomy, a term applied to the
parts of the occiput, or back part ot the skull.
OCCULT, something hidden, secret, or invisible.
The occult sciences are magic, necromancy, cabbala,
&c. Occult qualities, in philosophy, were those qua¬
lities of body or spirit which baffled the investigation
of philosophers, and for which they were unable to give
any reason ; unwilling, however, to acknowledge their
ignorance, they deceived themselves and the vulgar by
an empty title, calling what they did not know occult.
Occult, in Geometry, is used for a line that is scaice
perceivable, drawn with the point of the compasses or a
leaden pencil. These lines are used in several opera¬
tions, as the raising of plans, designs ot building, pieces
of perspective, &c. They are to be effaced when the
work is finished.
OCCULTATION, in Astronomy, the time a star or
planet is hid from our sight, by the interposition of the
body of the moon or some other planet.
Klackst OCCUPANCY, in Law, is the taking possession of
Comment, those things which before belonged to nobody. This
is the true ground and foundation of all Property,
or of holding those things in severalty, which by the
law of nature, unqualified by that ot society, were
common to all mankind. But, when once it was a-
greed that every thing capable of ownership should
o c c
have an owner, natural reason suggested, that he who Occupancy,
could first declare his intention of appropriating any '
thing to his use, and, in consequence of such his in¬
tention, actually took it into possession, should there¬
by gain the absolute property of it-, according to that
rule of the law of nations, recognized by the laws ol
Rome, (imd nullius est, id ratione naturah occupantt
conceditur. . ,
This right of occupancy, so tar as it concerns lea
property, hath been confined by the laws ot England
within a very narrow compass j and was extended only
to a single instance -, namely, where a man was tenant
pour autre vie, or had an estate granted to himself only
(without mentioning his heirs) tor the hte ot another
man, and died during the life of cestuy que me, or him
by whose life it was holden : in tins case he that couh
first enter on the land, might lawfully retain the pos¬
session so long as cestuy que vie lived, by right ot occu-
P This seems to have been recurring to first principles,
and calling in the law of nature to ascertain the pro¬
perty of the land, when left without a legal owner.
For it did not revert to the granter, who had parted
with all his interest, so long as cestuy que lived j it
did not escheat to the lord of the fee -, for all escheats
must be of the absolute entire fee, and not of any par¬
ticular estate carved out of it, much less of so minute
a remnant as this: it did not belong to the grantee 5
for he was dead: it did not descend to his heirs -, tor
there were no words of inheritance in the grant: nor
could it vest in his executors; for no executors could
succeed to a freehold. Belonging therefore to nobody,
like the hcereditas jacens of the Romans, the law left it
open to be seized and appropriated by the first person
that could enter upon it, during the life ot cestuy que
vie, under the name of an occupant. But there was no
right of occupancy allowed, where the king had the re¬
version of the lands : for the reversioner hath an equal
right with any other man to enter upon the vacant pos¬
session ; and where the king’s title and a subject’s inter¬
fere the king’s shall always be preferred. Against the
king therefore there could be no prior occupant, because
nullum tempts occurrit regi. And, even in the ease ot
a subiect, had the estate pour autre vie granted to a man
and his heirs during the life ot cestuy que vie, there the
heir might, and still may enter and hold possession, and
is called in law a special occupant; as having a special
exclusive right, by the terms of the original grant, to
enter upon and occupy this hccreditasjacens, during the
residue of the estate granted: though some have thought
him so called with no very great propriety -, and that
such estate is rather a descendible freehold But the
title of common occupancy is now reduced almost to no¬
thing by two statutes j the one, 29 Car. II. c. 3. which
enacts that where there is no special occupant, in whom
the estate may vest, the tenant/war autre vie may de¬
vise it by will, or it shall go to the executors and be
assets in their hands for payment of debts : the other
that of 14 Geo. II. c. 20. which enacts, that it shall
vest not only in the executors, but, in case the tenant
dies intestate, in the administrators also: and go in
course of a distribution like a chattel interest.
By these two statutes the title of common occupancy
is utterly extinct and abolished : though that of special
occupancy, by the heir-at-law, continues to this day j such
O C C [I
Occupancy. heir being held to succeed to the ancestor’s estate, not
i—y——/ by descent, for then he must take an estate of inheritance,
but as an occupant, especially marked out and appointed
by the original grant. The doctrine of common occu¬
pancy, may, however, be usefully remembered on the
following account, amongst others : That, as by the
common law no occupancy could be of incorporeal he¬
reditaments, as of rents, tithes, advowsons, commons, or
the like, (because, with respect to them, there could be
no actual entry made, or corporeal seisin had } and there¬
fore by the death of the grantee pour autre vie a grant
of such hereditaments was entirely determined) : so now,
it is apprehended, notwithstanding those statutes, such
grant would be determined likewise ; and the heredi¬
taments could not be deviseable, nor vest in the execu¬
tors, nor go in a course of distribution. For the statutes
must not be construed so as to create any new estate, or
to keep that alive which by the common law was deter¬
mined, and thereby to defeat the grantee’s reversion 5
but merely to dispose of an interest in being, to which
by law there was no owner, and which therefore was
left open to the first occupant. When there is a resi¬
due left, the statutes give it to the executors, &c. in¬
stead of the first occupant 5 but they will not create a
residue on purpose to give it to the executors. They
only mean to provide an appointed instead ot a casual,
a certain instead of an uncertain owner, of lands
which before were nobody’s 5 and thereby to supply this
casus omissus, and render the disposition ot the law in
all respects entirely uniform 5 this being the only in¬
stance wherein a title to a real estate could ever be ac¬
quired by occupancy.
Far there can be no other case devised, wherein there
is not some owner of the land appointed by the law.
In the case of a sole corporation, as a parson of a church,
when he dies or resigns, though there be no actual
*>wner of the land till a successor be appointed, yet there
is a legal, potential, ownership, subsisting in contempla¬
tion of law j and when the successor is appointed, his
appointment shall have a retrospect and relation back¬
wards, so as to entitle him to all the profits from the in¬
stant that the vacancy commenced. And in all other
instances, when the tenant dies intestate, and no other
owner of the lands is to be found in the common course
of descents, there the law vests an ownership in the
king, or in the subordinate lord of the tee, by escheat.
So also, in some cases, where the laws of other nations
give a right by occupancy, as in lands newly created,
by the rising of an island in a river, or by the alluvion
or dereliction of the sea •, in these instances, the law of
England assigns them an immediate owner. ForBrac-
ton tells us, that if an island arise in the middle oi a river,
it belongs in common to those who have lands on each
side thereof; but if it be nearer to one bank than the
other, it belongs only to him who is proprietor of the
nearest shore: which is agreeable to, and probably co¬
pied from, the civil law. Aetthis seems only to be
reasonable, where the soil of the river is equally divided
between the owners of the opposite shores : for if the
whole soil is the freehold of any one man, as it must be
whenever a several fishery is claimed, there it seems just
{and so is the usual practice) that the islets, or little
islands, arising in ai>y part of the river, shall be the
property of him who cwneth the piscary and the soil.
However, in case a new island rise in the sea, though the
4
Ocean.
17 ] O C E
civil law gives it to the first occupant, yet our’s gives it Occupancy
to the king. And as to lands gained from the sea ;
either by alluvion, by the washing up of sand and earth,
so as in time to make terra firma ; or by dereliction, as
when the sea shrinks back below the usual water-mark ;
in these cases the law is held to be, that if this gain
be by little and little, by small and imperceptible de¬
grees, it shall go to the owner of the land adjoining.
For de minimis non curat lex: and, besides, these own¬
ers being often losers by the breaking in of the sea, or
at charges to keep it out, this possible gain is there¬
fore a reciprocal consideration for such possible charge
or loss. But if the alluvion or dereliction be sudden
and considerable, in this case it belongs to the king :
for as the king is lord of the sea, and so owner of the
soil while it is covered with water, it is but reasonable
he should have the soil when the water has left it dry.
So that the quantity of ground gained, and the time dur¬
ing which it is gained, are what make it either the
king’s or the subject’s property. In the same manner,
if a river, running between two lordships, by degrees
gains upon the one, and thereby leaves the, other dry,
the owner who loses his ground thus imperceptibly has
no remedy : but if the course of the river be changed
by a sudden and violent flood, or other hasty means,
and thereby a man loses his grounds, he shall have what
the river has left in any other place as recompense
for this sudden loss. And this law of alluvions and de¬
relictions, with regard to rivers, is nearly the same in
the imperial law ; from whence indeed those our deter¬
minations seem to have been drawn and adopted : but
we ourselves, as islanders, have applied them iv marine
increases; and have given our sovereign the preroga¬
tive he enjoys, as well upon the particular reasons be¬
fore mentioned, as upon this other general ground of
prerogative, which was formerly remarked, that what¬
ever hath no other owner is vested by law in the king.
See Prerogative.
OCCUPANT, in Law, the person that first seizes
or gets possession of a thing.
OCCUPATION, in a legal sense, is taken for use
or tenure : as in deeds it is frequently said, that such
lands are, or were lately, in the tenure or occupation
of such a person.—It is likewise used for a trade or
mystery.
OCCUPIERS of Walling, a term used in the
salt-works for the persons who are the sworn officers
that allot in particular places what quantity of salt is
to be made, that the markets may not be overstocked,
and see that all is carried fairly and equally between
the lord and the tenant.
OCEAN, that huge mass of salt waters which en¬
compasses all parts of the globe, and by means of which,
in the present improved state of navigation, an easy in¬
tercourse subsists between places the most distant.
The ocean is distinguished into three grand divi¬
sions. 1. The Atlantic ocean, which divides Europe
and Africa from America, which is generally about
3000 miles wide. 2. The Pacific ocean, or South sea,
which divides America from Asia, and is generally
about 10,000 miles over*. And, 3. Ihe Indian Ocean,
which separates the East Indies from Africa, which is
3000 miles over. ’Ihe other seas, which are called
oceans, are only parts or branches ot these, and usually
receive their names from the countries they border upon.
For
Ocean
Ocellus.
O C E [it
For the saltness, tides, 8cc. of the ocean, see the ar¬
ticles Sea, Tides, &c.
OCEANIDES, in fabulous history, sea nymphs,
daughters of Oceanus, from whom they received their
names, and of the goddess Tethys or Thetis. 'I hey
were 3000 according to Apollodorus, who mentions the
names of seven of them } Asia, Styx, Electra, Donis,
Eurynome, Amphitrite, and Metis. Hesiod speaks oi
the eldest of them, which he reckons 41, Pitho, Adme-
te, Prynno, lanthe, Rhodia, Hippo, Callirhoe, Urania,
Clymene, Idyia, Pasithoe, Clythia, Zeuxo, Galuxaui.e,
Plexaure, Perseis, Pluto, Thoe, Polydora, Melobosis,
Dione,Cerceis, Xanthe, Acasta, lanira, Telestho, Euro-
pa, Menestho, Petraea, Eudora, Calypso, Tyche, Ocy-
roe, Crisia, Amphiro, with those mentioned by Apollo¬
dorus, except Amphitrite. Hyginus mentions 16, whose
names are almost all different from those of Apollodo¬
rus and Hesiod j which difference proceeds from the mu¬
tilation of the original text. The Oceanides, like the
rest of the inferior deities, were honoured with libations
and sacrifices. Prayers were offered to them, and they
'were entreated to protect sailors from storms and dange¬
rous tempests. The Argonauts, before they proceeded
to their expedition, made an offering of flour, honey,
and oil, on the sea shore, to all the deities of the sea,
and sacrified bulls to them, and entreated their protec¬
tion. When the sacrifice was made on the Sea shore,
the blood of the victim was received in a vessel ; bdt
when it was in open sea, they permitted the blood to
run down into the waters. When the sea was calm,
they generally offered a lamb or a young pig ; but it it
was agitated by the winds and rough, a black bull was
deemed the most acceptable victim.
OCEANUS, in Pagan mythology, the son of Ccelus
and Terra, the husband of 1 hetis, and the father of the
rivers and fountains, called Oceanides. The ancients
called him the father of all things, imagining that he
was produced by Humidity, which, according to Thales,
was the first principle from which every thing was pro¬
duced. Homer represents Juno visiting him at the re¬
motest limits of the earth, and acknowledging him and
Thetis as the parents of the gods. He was represented
with a bull’s head, as an emblem of the rage and bel¬
lowing of the ocean when agitated by a storm.
According to Homer, he was the father even of all
the gods, and on that account he received frequent visits
from them. He is often, indeed almost always, repre¬
sented as an old man with a long flowing beard, and sit-
’ ting upon the waves of the sea. He often holds a pike
in his hand, while ships under sail appear at a distance,
or a sea monster stands near him. Oceanus presided
over every part of the sea, and even the rivers were sub¬
jected to his power. The ancients were superstitious in
their worship of him, and revered with great solemnity
a deity to whose care they entrusted themselves when
going on any voyage.
OCEIA, a woman who presided over the sacred rites
of Vesta for 57 years with the greatest sanctity. She
died in the reign of Tiberius, and the daughter of Do-
mitius succeeded her.
OCELLUS the LucaNIAN, an ancient Greek philo¬
sopher of the school of Pythagoras, who lived before
Plato. His work rov Tletv%f, or “ The Universe,”
is the only piece of his which is come down entire to
us j and was written originally in the Doric dialect, but
3
8 ] O C R
was translated by another hand into the Attic. Wil¬
liam Christian, and after him Lewis Nogarola, transla¬
ted this work into Latin •, and we have several editions
of it, both in Greek and Latin.
OCELOT, the Mexican cat. See Felis, Mamma¬
lia Index.
OCHLOCRACY, that form of government where¬
in the populace have the chief administration of af¬
fairs. .
OCHNA, .a genus of plants belonging to the poly-
andria class j and in the natural method ranking with
those of which the order is doubtful. See BOTANY
Index.
OCHRE, in Natural History, a mineral substance
composed of oxide and carbonate of iron, and clay.
See Ores of Iro-nt, Mineralogy Index.
OCHROMA, a genus of plants belonging to the
monadelphia class j and in the natural method ranking
under the 37th order, Columniferce. See Botany In-
dcvC •
OCHUS, 'a king of Persia, son of Artaxerxes. He
was cruel and avaricious j and in order to strengthen
himself on his throne, he murdered all his brothers
and sisters. His subjects revolted *, but he reduced
them to obedience, and added Egypt to his other do¬
minions. Bagoas, his favourite eunuch, poisoned him
for the insults he had offered to Apis the god of the
Egyptians $ and he gave his flesh to be eaten by cats,
and made handles for knives with his hones. It seems
to be not a little remarkable, that all those monsters
who disgraced humanity hy their crimes, and sunk
themselves below the level of brutes, have met with
condign punishment $ and this in general seems true,
whether we refer to ancient or modern times.—A man
of Cyzicus, who was killed by the Argonauts.—A
prince of Persia, who refused to visit his native country
for fear of giving all the women each a piece of gold.—
A river of India or of Bactriana.—A king of Persia :
He exchanged his name for that of Darius Nothus.
See Persia.
OCKLEY, SlMON, an eminent orientalist, and pro¬
fessor of Arabic in Cambridge, was born at Exeter in
1678. He was educated at Cambridge, and dis-
tinguished himself by uncommon skill in the Oriental
languages. Having taken a degree in divinity, he was
presented by Jesus College with the vicarage of Svva-
vesev in 1705, and in 1711 was chosen Arabic profes¬
sor of the university. He had a large family, and his
latter days were rendered unhappy by pecuniary em¬
barrassments. He died in 1720. His principal works
t. Introductio ad linguas Orientates, a small vo-
lume. 2. The History of the present Jews throughout
the World, from the Italian of Leo Modena. 3. The
Improvement of Human Reason, fiom the Arabic.
4. The History of the Saracens, in 2 yols. 8vo. This
last work is justly valued for its accuracy and erudi¬
tion, and has been highly commended by Samuel John¬
son. A great part of his materials were drawn from
Arabic manuscripts in the Bodleian library at Oxford,
OCRx\, a viscous vegetable substance well known in
the West Indies, where it is used to thicken soup, parti¬
cularly that kind called pepper pot, as well as for other
purposes.
OCRISIA, in fabulous history, the wife of Cormcu-
lus, was one of the attendants of Tanaquil the wife ot
Tarquinius
O' C T [I
Ocrisia. Tarquinius Priscus. As she was throwing into the
(i flames, for offerings, some of the meats that were served
Octavia^ on tf,e taijie 0f Tarquin, she suddenly saw, as is report¬
ed, in the fire, what Ovid calls obscceni forma virilis.
She informed the queen of it; and when by her com¬
mand she had approached near it, she conceived a son
who was named Servius Tullius, and was educated in
the king’s family. He afterwards suceeded to the va¬
cant throne. Some suppose that Vulcan had assumed
that form which was presented to the eyes of Ocrisia,
and that this god was the father of the sixth kinn- of
Home.
OCTAETERIS, a cycle or term of eight years,
in the Grecian chronology, at the conclusion of which
three entire lunar months were added. The cycle was
in use till Melon’s invention of the golden number or
cycle of 19 years.
OCTAGON, or Octogon, in Geometry, is a figure
of eight sides and angles j and this, when all the sides
and angles are equal, is called a regular octagon, or one
that may be inscribed in a circle.
Octagon, in Fortification, denotes a place that has
eight bastions. See Fortification.
OCTAHEDRON, or Octakdron, in Geometry,
one of the five regular bodies, consisting of eight equal
and equilateral triangles.
OCTANDRIA (e*T<v, “ eight,” and cevijg, a “ man
or husband,”) the 8th class in Linnaeus’s sexual system;
consisting ot plants which are furnished with eight star
mina. See Botany Index.
OCTANT, the eighth part of a circle.
Octant, or Octii.k, in A.stronomy, that aspect of two
planets, wherein they are distant an eighth part of a
circle, or 450 from each other.
OCI APE A, in matters of sacred literature, denotes
a Polyglot Bible, consisting of eight, columns, and as
many different versions of the sacred tc^t; viz. the ori¬
ginal Hebrew both in Hebrew and Greek characters,
Greek versions, &c.
OCI ATEUCH, an appellation given to the eight
first books of the Old Testament.
OCTAVE, in Music. See Interval.
OCTA\ IA, daughter of Cains Octavius and sister
to Augustus Csesar. See the following article. She
was one of the most illustrious ladies of ancient Rome;
her virtues and her beauty were equally conspicuous.—-
Prideaux says she was much handsomer than Cleopatra.
She married Claudius Marcellus, and after his death M.
Antony. Her marriage with Antony was a political
match, to reconcile her brother and him together. An¬
tony proved for some time attentive to her ; but when
he had seen Cleopatra, he neglected and despised her:
and when she attempted to withdraw him from this ille¬
gal amour by going to meet him at Athens, she wras rer
buked and totally banished from his presence. This af¬
front was highly resented by her brother ; and though
Octavia endeavoured to pacify him by palliating Antor
ny’s behaviour, yet he resolved to revenge her cause by
arms. After the battle of Actium and the death of
Antony, Octavia, forgetful of her own injuries, took
into the house all the children of her husband, and
treated them with extraordinary tenderness. Marcellus,
her son by her first husband, was married to a niece of
Augustus, and openly intended as, a successor to his
uncle. His sudden death plunged all the family into
19 1 OCT
the greatest grief. Virgil, whom Augustus patronized, Octavia,
undertook of himself to pay a melancholy tribute to the Octavianus.
memory of a young man whom Rome had looked upon v—-
as her future father and patron. He was desired to re¬
peat his composition in the presence of the emperor and
his sister. Octavia burst into tears even when the poet
began; but when he mentioned Tu Marcellus cris, she
swooned away. This tender and pathetic encomium
upon the merit and the virtues of young Marcellus she
liberallyrewarded; and\ irgil received 10,000 sesterces,
according to some 78!. 2s. 6d. for every one of the ver¬
ses. Octavia had two daughters by Antony, Antonia
Major and Antonia Minor.—The elder married L.
Domitius Ahenobarbus, by whom she had Cn. Do-
mitius, who was the father of the emperor Nero by
Agrippina the daughter of Germanicus. Antonia Mi¬
nor, who was as virtuous and as beautiful as her mother,
married Drusus the son of Tiberius, by whom she had
Germanicus, and Claudius who reigned before Nero.
The death of Marcellus constantly preyed upon the
mind of Octavia, who died of grief or melancholy,
about 11 years before the Christian era. Her brother
paid,great regard to her memory, and pronounced her
funeral oration himself. The Roman people also showed
their regard to her virtues, by wishing to pay her divine
honours.—A daughter of the emperor Claudius by
Messalina. She was betrothed to Silanus, but by the
intrigues of Agrippina, she was married to the emperor
Neirn in the 16th year of her age. She wras soon after
divorced under pretence of barrenness; and the emperor;
married Poppsea, who exercised her enmity upon Octa¬
via by procuring her to be banished into Campania.
She was afterwards recalled by the people ; but Pop-
pa:a, who was determined on her ruin, caused her again
to be banished to an island, where she was ordered to
kill herself by opening her veins. Her head was cut
oft and carried to Poppoea.
OCTAVIANUS, or Octavius Cesar, was ntv
phew ot Julius Caesar the dictator, being the son of
Accia his sister by Octavius a senator, and afterwards
became the second emperor of Rome. He was bom
in the year of the city 691, during the consulship of
Cicero. His uncle Julius Caesar adopted him, and
left him the greatest part of his , fortune. When he
wms but 20 years of age, he was raised to the consul¬
ship. His .youth and inexperience were ridiculed by
his enemies; notwithstanding which obstacle, his pru¬
dence and valour raised his consequence. He made
w ar against his opponent? on pretence of avenging the
assassination of his uncle. He engaged in five civil
wars with great success, viz. The wars of Mutina,
Perusia, Philippi, Sicily, and Actium : the first an4
last of which wore against M. Antony; the second
against L. Antony, brother of the triumvir; the third
was against Brutus and Cassius; and the fourth against
Sext. Pompey, son of Pompey the Great. He united
his forces with Antony’s at the battle of Philippi ;
and had he not been supported by the activity and
bravery of his colleague, he would doubtless have been
totally ruined in that engagement. In his triuni;
virate with Antony and Lepidus, he obtained the
western parts of the Roman empire; and, like his other
colleagues, more firmy to establish his power, fie pro¬
scribed his enemies and cut them off. The triumvirate
lasted for 10 years. He had given his sister Octavia ip
marriage
O C U [ I2<:
marriage to Antony, to make their alliance more lasting 5
but when Cleopatra had charmed this unfortunate man,
Octavia was repudiated. Augustus immediately took
up arms to avenge the wrongs of his sister \ but perhaps
more eager to remove a man whose power and ex¬
istence kept him in continual fear and constant de¬
pendence. Both parties met at Actium to decide
the fate of Borne. Antony was supported by all the
power of the east, and Augustus by Italy. Cleopa¬
tra fled from the battle with 60 ships j and her flight
ruined the interest of Antony, who followed her into
Egypt. The conqueror soon after went into Egypt
likewise, besieged Alexandria, and honoured with a mag¬
nificent funeral his unfortunate colleague and the cele¬
brated queen, whom the fear of being led in the victor s
triumph at Borne had driven to commit suicide. Al¬
ter he had established peace all over the world, he shut
the gates of the temple of Janus, A. U. C. 753. He
was twice determined to lay down the supreme power
immediately after the victory obtained over Antony,
and on account of his ill health ; but his two laithiul
friends Mecaenas and Agrippa dissuaded him, and con¬
tended, that if he did he would leave it to be the
prey of the most powerful, and expose himself to the
greatest dangers. He died at Nola in the 76th year
of his age, after he had held the sovereign power for
1:7 years.—He was an active emperor, and consulted
the good of the Romans with the greatest anxiety and
care. He visited all the provinces except Africa and
Sardinia, and his consummate prudence and experience
occasioned many salutary laws. He is, i.owever, ac¬
cused of licentiousness and adultery •, but the good¬
ness of bis heart, the fidelity of bis friendship, and the
manv good qualities which the poets whom he patro¬
nized have perhaps truly celebrated, made some, though
in the eye of strict religion and true morality but little,
amends for his natural foibles. He was ambitious of be¬
ing esteemed handsome j and as lie was publicly report¬
ed to be the son of Apollo according to his mother’s
declaration, he wished his flatterers to represent him
with the figure and attributes of that god. Like Apollo,
bis eyes were clear, and he affected to have it thought
that they possessed some divine irradiation, and was well
pleased if, when he fixed his eyes upon any body, they
held down their eyes, as if overcome by the glaring
brightness of the sun. He distinguished himself by
his learning ; he was a complete master of the Greek
language, and wrote some tragedies, besides memoirs
of his life and other works, which are now lost. He
married four times-, but he was unhappy in all these
connexions and his only daughter Julia disgraced her¬
self and her father by the debauchery and licentiousness
of her manners. He recommended at his death his
adopted son Tiberius as his successor. He left his for¬
tune partly to him and to Drusus, and made donations
to the army and Roman people. The title of Augustus
was confer!ed upon him by the senate aftei the battle
of Actium and the final destruction of the Roman re¬
public. The title continued afterwards, being given
to his successors in the empire. ^ irgil is said to have
written his JEneid at the desire of Augustus, whom he
represents under the amiable and perfect character of
iEneas. The name of Octavius was very common at
Rome ; it was the name of a variety of men of very con¬
siderable rank.
] O D A
OCTOBER, in Chronology, the eighth month of Ro- Oetot.er
mulns’s year, which the name implies j but tenth in the
kalendar of Ntuna, Julius Caesar, &c. 1 he senate gave v—
this month the name Fuustinus, in compliment to 1 au-
stina, the wife of the emperor Antoninus; Commodus
would have it called Invictus ; and Domitian named it
Domitianus; but in spite of all these attempts it still
retains its original name. Ibis month was sacred to
Mars, and under his protection.
October EcjtiuS) a horse annually sacrificed to Alais
in the month of October, either because the horse is a
warlike animal, or to punish him for the taking of lioy.
A race was run with chariots, drawn by two horses,
previous to the sacrifices, and he that ran quickest was
adjudged to be the victim.
OCTOSTYLE, in the ancient architecture, is the
face of an edifice adorned with eight columns.
OCULUS, the Eye, in Anatomy. See there, No.
^OCYMOPHYLLON, a name given by Buxbaum
to a new genus of plants, the characters ot which are
these: The flower is of the stamineous kind, having no
petals this stands upon the embyro fruit, which after¬
wards becomes an oblong quadrangular seed-vessel, di¬
vided into four cells, and containing roundish and very-
small seeds j its leaves are like those of the common ocy-
mum or basil, whence its name} and its place ot growth
is in damp marshes. Boccone has described it under
the improper name glaux, calling it the great, green-
flowered, marsh glaux.
' OCYMUM, Basil ; a genus of plants belonging
to the didynamia class; and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 4 2d order, l erticillatcB. See Botany
Index.
OCZAKOW, or OczAKOFF, a town m southern
Russia in the province of Cherson, and formerly belong¬
ing to Turkey. It bad a! urkish garrison ot 20,000 men,
but was taken bv the Russians in 1 73 7,.and all those that
resisted were put to the sword. The Russians themselves
lost 18,000 men in the assault. Ihe lurks returned the
same year with 70,000 men to retake it; but were ob¬
liged to retire, after the loss of 20,000. In I_73^’ ^!C
Russians withdrew their garrison, and demolished the
fortifications. It is seated on the river Bog, to the
west of the Niepcr, or rather where they both unite
and fall into the Black sea. It is 42 miles south-west
of Bialagrod, and 190 north by east of Constantinople.
It has been again lately a subject of contest between
the Russians and Turks, hut finally remains in the pos¬
session of the latter. Its population has diminished,
and its importance sunk, since the rise of Odessa. E.
Long. 30. 50. N. Lat. 46. 50.
ODA, in the Turkish seraglio, signifies a class, or¬
der, or chamber. The grand siguior’s pages are di¬
vided into five classes or chambers. The first, which
is the lowest in dignity, is called tiie g, cat oda, from
the greater number ot persons that compose it; these
are the juniors, who are taught to read, write, and
speak the languages. The second is called the little
oda, where from the age of 14 or 15 years, till about
20, they are trained up to arms, and the study of all
the’ polite learning the Turks are acquainted with. The
third chamber, called hilar oda, consists of 200 pages,
who, besides their other exercises, are under the com¬
mand of the kilardgi-bachi, and serve in the pantry and
fruit ery.
ODE [ 121 ] ODE
Oda frultery. The fourth consists only of 24, wlio are under not navigable, and about two miles from the bay of odenseu
* /)d 11 see comraan^ t*ie ^iazine(!a’'jac*1b ant^ *lave charge Stegestrand. Many of the houses are ancient, bearing II
. e°sce'i of the treasure in the grand signior’s apartment, which dates about the middle of the 16th century ; but part is oder*
they never enter with clothes that have pockets. The newly built: it contains about 5200 inhabitants, who 11 ■»" ,L '
fifth is called kas oda or privy~cha?nber ; and is compo- carry on some commerce, exporting chiefly grain and
sed of only 40 pages, who attend in the prince’s chant- leather; the latteris much esteemed, and its goodness
her. Every night eight of these pages keep guard in is supposed to arise from a certain property in the river
the grand signior’s bedchamber while he sleeps : they water, in which it is soaked for tanning. The Danish
take care that the light, which is constantly kept in cavalry are supplied from thence with the greatest part
the room, does not glare in his eyes, lest it should of their leathern accoutrements.
awake him : and if they find him disturbed with trou- “ Odensee is the seat of a bishop, which was founded
blesome dreams, they cause him to be arvakened by one by Harold Blaatand in 980, and is the richest in Deit-
of their agas. mark next to Copenhagen. It has a school, endowed
ODA-Bt'chi, or Oddabassi, an officer in the Turkish by the celebrated Margaret of Vaidemar, in which a
soldiery, equivalent to a serjeant, or corporal among us. certain number of scholars, from six to 16 years of age,
The common soldiers and janizaries called oldachis, af- are instructed gratis : they live and board in the town,
ter having served a certain number of years, are always and each receives a yearly pension ; other schplarships
preferred, and made biquelairs ; and of biquelairs in have been also founded by private persons. The whole
time become odobachis, i. e. corporals of companies, or number amounted to 70. There is also a gymnasium,
dhiefs of certain divisions whose number is not fixed ; instituted by Christian IV. for the admission of students
being sometimes ten, and sometimes tyventy. at the age of 16. The seminary was still further im-
Their pay is six doubles per month ; and they are proved by the liberality of Holberg the Danish histo-
distinguished by a large felt, a foot broad, and above a rian, who protected letters with the same zeal with
foot long, hanging on the back, with two long ostrich which he cultivated them. It is now greatly fallen from
feathers. its former flourishing state, containing, when I passed
ODDLY ODD. A number is said to be oddly-odd, through the town, only eight students. The cathedral
when an odd number measures it by an odd number, is a large old brick building, which has nothing re-
•So 15 is a number oddly-odd, because the odd number markable except some costly monuments of a private
3 measures it by the odd number 5. Danish family. The church, which formerly belonged
ODE, in Poetry, a song or composition proper to be to the convent of Recolets, contains the sepulchre of
eung. See Poetry. John king of Denmark, and of his son Christian II.”
ODED, a prophet of the Lord, who being at Sa- E. Long. 10. 27. N. Lat. 55. 28.
maria when the Israelites of the ten tribes returned ODENATUS, a celebrated prince of Palmyra, who
from the war with their king Pekah, together with very early inured himself to bear fatigues, and by hunt-
200,000 of the people of Judah captives, he went out ing leopards and wild beasts, accustomed himself to the
to meet them, and said, “ You have seen that the Lord labours of a military life. He was a faithful friend to
God of your fathers was in wrath against Judah; he the Romans ; and when Aurelian had been taken pri-
has therefore delivered them into your hands, and you soner by Sapor king of Persia, Odenatus warmly inte-
have slain them inhumanly; so that your cruelty has rested himself in his cause, and solicited his release, by
ascended up into heaven; and more than this, you would writing to the conqueror, and by sending him presents,
make slaves of the children of Judah, who are your bre- The king of Persia was offended at this libertv of Oden-
thren, and would add this sin to the many others you atus, he tore the letter, and ordered the presents that
have committed: therefore, hear the counsel that I were offered to be thrown into a river, and in order to
give you; send back these captives, lest the Lord should punish Odenatus, who had the impudence, as he called
pour out his fury upon you.” Oded having done speak- it, to pay homage to so great a monarch as himself, he
ing, some of the chiefs of Samaria seconded him, and commanded him to appear before him, on pain of be-
by their remonstrances prevailed with the Israelites to ing devoted to instant destruction with all his family if
set the captives at liberty (2 Chron. xxviii). See he dared to refuse. Odenatus despised this haughty
Ahaz. summons of Sapor, and opposed force by force. He ob-
The enlargement of the captives being obtained, the tained some considerable advantages over the troops of
! principal men of Samaria took care of them, gave them the Persian king, and took his wife prisoner, with a
clothes and food and other necessary assistance. After great and rich booty. These services were observed
which they furnished them with horses, because the with gratitude by the Romans ; and Gallienus, the then
I greatest part of them were so tired and exhausted that emperor, named Odenatus as his colleague on the
they were not able to walk. Thus they conducted them throne, and gave the title of Augutsus to his children,
y to Jericho, which was in the confines of the land of Ju- and to his wife the celebrated Zenobia. Odenatus in-
dah. This is all that is come to our knowledge con- vested with new power, resolved to signalize himself
ceming the prophet Oded. more conspicuously by conquering the barbarians of the
ODENSEE, the capital of the isle of Funen, a north : but his exulting was of short duration : he pe-
place of such high antiquity, that some Danish writers rished by the dagger of one of his own relations, whom
derive its foundation and name from Odin the god and he had slightly offended at a domestic entertainment.-r-
hero of the Gothic nations. “ Its name certainly occurs He died at Emessa about the 267th year of the Chri-
!(says Mr Coxe) in the earliest ages of the Danish his- stian ex-a. Zenobia succeeded to his titles and ho-
tory ; and it was a town of great note long before Co- nours.
penhagen existed. Odensee stands upon a small river, ODER, a river of Germany, which has its source
Vol, XV. Part J. 4 Q near
Oder
II
Odin.
O D I [12
near a town of the same name in Silesia, and on the
confines of Moravia. It runs north through that pro¬
vince, and then into the marche of Brandenburg and
Pomerania, where it forms a large lake, afterwards fall¬
ing into the Baltic sea by three mouths *, between which
lie the islands Usedom and Wolin. It passes by several
towns *, as liatibor, Oppelen, Breslau, Glogau and Gros-
sen, in Silesia-, I'ranclort, Bobus, and Custrin, in Bran¬
denburg-, and Gartz, Stetin, Cammin, Wallin, Usedom,
and Wolgast, in Pomerania.
ODESSA, a seaport town in the government of
Cherson in southern Russia. It is situated on the
Black sea, between the embouchures of the Dneiper
and the Dneister, and has inci’eased with wonderful ra¬
pidity. In 1795 there were but a few houses. In
1804, the number ol inhabitants was 15,000, and in
1816 they have been stated to be 35,000. It is now
the great entreport for the commerce of southern Rus¬
sia. In the first six months of 1816, 498 vessels en¬
tered the port, and 246 departed, the latter carrying
away Russian produce to the amount of 15,220,000
roubles. The port was naturally only an open road,
but has been improved by wmrks at a great expence,
and rendered capable ot holding 600 vessels. I he
principal exports consist of corn, salt beef, timber,
&c. This port promises to become as important lor
the southern provinces as Petersburg!! for the northern.
The improvements made in the navigation of the
Dneister, have induced the Poles to send a consider¬
able portion of their produce down that river, whence
it is conveyed by lighters to Odessa, and then shipped
for the various markets in the Levant and the south of
Europe.
ODEUM, in Grecian antiquity, a music theatre
built by Pericles -, the inside of which was filled with
seats and ranges of pillars, and on the outside the roof
descended shelving downwards from a point in the cen¬
tre, with many bendings, in imitation of the king of
Persia’s pavilion. Here the musical prizes were con¬
tended for} and here also, according to Aristophanes,
was a tribunal.
ODIN (see Ere a), in Mythology, called also in the
dialect of the Anglo-Saxons, IF'jden or IFidan, a name
given by the ancient Scythians to their supreme god,
and assumed, about 70 years before the Christian era,
by Sigge, a Scythian prince, who conquered the northern
nations, made great changes in their government, man¬
ners, religion, and enjoyed great honours, and had even
divine honours paid him. According to the account
given of this conqueror by Snorro, the ancient historian
of Norway, and his commentator Torfaeus, Odin was a
Scythian, who withdrew himself, with many others in
his train, by flight, from the vengeance of the Romans,
under the conduct of Pompey j and having officiated as
a priest in his own country, he assumed the dii-ection of
the religious worship, as well as the civil government,
of the nations which he conquered. Having subdued
Denmark, Sweden, and Norway, he retired to Sweden,
where he died. There is nothing certain in this ac¬
count -, but it is probable, that the god, whose prophet
or priest this Scythian pretended to be, was named
Odin, and that the ignorance of succeeding ages con¬
founded the deity with his priest, composing out of the
attributes of the one, and the history of the other, the
2 ] O D I
character of the northern conqueror. He deluded the odin.
people by his enchantments and skill in magic: having^-—v—-
cut oft’ the head of one Mimer, who in his lifetime was
in great reputation for wisdom, he caused it to be em¬
balmed, and persuaded the Scandinavians that he had
restored it to the use of speech 5 and he caused it to pro¬
nounce whatever oracles he wanted. The Icelandic
chronicles represent Odin as the most eloquent and per¬
suasive of men j they ascribe to him the introduction of
the art of poetry among the Scandinavians, and likewise
the invention of the Runic characters. He had also the
address to persuade his followers, that he could run
over the world in the twinkling of an eye j that he
had the direction of the air and tempests ; that he could
transform himself into all sorts of shapes, could raise
the dead, could foretel things to come, deprive his
enemies, by enchantment, of health and vigour, and
discover all the treasures concealed in the earth. They
add, that by his tender and melodious airs, he could
make the plains and mountains open and expand with
delight; and that the ghosts thus attracted, would
leave their infernal caverns, and stand motionless about
him. Nor was he less dreadful and furious in battle ;
changing himself into the shape of a bear, a wild bull,
or a lion, and amidst ranks of enemies committing the
most hoi-rid devastation, without receiving any wound
himself.
Dr Henry gives this account of him : “ Odin is be- jjenrys
lieved to have been the name of the one true God Hist, of
among the first colonies who came from the east and Britain,
peopled Germany and Scandinavia, and among their'0^-11-
posterity for several ages. But at length a mighty
conqueror, the leader of a new army of adventurers
from the east, overrun the north of Europe, erected
a great empire, assumed the name of Odin, and claim¬
ed the honours which had been formerly paid to that
deity. From thenceforward this deified mortal, un¬
der the name of Qdin or JFodin, became the chief ob¬
ject of the idolatrous worship of the Saxons and Danes
in this island, as well as of many other nations. Hav¬
ing been a mighty and successful warrior, he was be¬
lieved to be the god of war, who gave victory, and
revived courage in the conflict. Having civilized in
some measure, the countries which he conquered, and
introduced arts formerly unknown, he was also wor¬
shipped as the god of arts and artists. In a word, to
this Odin his deluded worshippers impiously ascribed
all the attributes which belong only to the true God :
to him they built magnificent temples, offered many
sacrifices, and consecrated the fourth day of the week,
which is still called by his name in England and in all
the other countries where he was formerly worshipped.
Notwithstanding all this, the founders ot all the king¬
doms of the Anglo-Saxon heptarchy pretended to be de¬
scended from Wodin, and some of them at the distance
only of a few generations.”
Odin's Fire. We have this account of it in Gough’s
Camden. “ In Evie parish, in the Orkneys, near the
sea, are some rocks, which frequently in the night ap¬
pear on fire; and the church of St Michael there was
often seen full of lights, called fires sent by St Odm to
guard their tombs, but now ceased. This may be a.
meteor, or some inflammable matter on the cliffs, as at
Charmouth, Dorset.”
Lie
O D O [
OJio Omo et Alia. Sec False Imprisonment.
|| The writ de odio et atia was anciently used to be di-
■Odoacer. rected to the sheriff, commanding him to inquire whe¬
ther a prisoner charged with murder was committed
upon just cause of suspicion, or merely proper odiiwi et
atium, for hatred and ill will j and if upon the inqui¬
sition due cause of suspicion did not then appear, then
there issued another writ for the sheriff to admit him
to bail. This writ, according to Bracton, ought not
to be denied to any man ; it being expressly ordered
to be made out gratis, without any denial, by magna
charta, c. 26. and statute VVestm. 2. 13 Edw. I. c. 29.
But the statute of Glocester, 6 Edw. I. c. 9. restrain¬
ed it in the case of killing by misadventure or self-de¬
fence, and the statute 28 Edw. III. c. 9. abolished it
in all cases whatsoever : but as the stat. 42 Ed. III. c.
I. repealed all statutes then in being, contrary to the
great charter, Sir Edward Coke is of opinion that the
writ de odio et atia was thereby revived. See Habeas
Corpvs.
CEO, St, second abbot of Cluny in France, was
illustrious for learning and piety in the 10th century.
Ihe sanctity ol his life contributed greatly to enlarge
the congregation of Cluny 5 and he was so esteemed,
that popes, bishops, and secular princes, usually chose
him the arbiter of their disputes. He died about the
year 942, and his works are printed in the Bibliotheque
of Cluny.
Obo Cantianus, so called as being a native of Kent
in England, was a Benedictine monk in the 12th cen¬
tury, in which order his learning and eloquence raised
him to the dignity of prior and abbot. Archbishop
Becket was his friend ; and his panegyric was made by
Jclm of Salisbury. He composed Commentaries on the
Pentateuch, and the Second Book of Kings ; Moral
Reflections on the Psalms; treatises entitled, jQe Onere
Philistmi; De Monbus Ecclesiasticis; De Vitiis et
Virtutibus Aninue, &c.
ODOACER, according to Ennodius, was meanly
born, and only a private man in the guards of the
emperor Augustulus, when (A. D. 476, under the con¬
sulship of Basilicus and Armatus) the barbarians chose
him for their leader. The barbarians thought, as they
often defended Italy, they had a right at least to part of
it; but upon demanding it they were refused, and the
consequence was a revolt. Odoacer is said to have been
a man of uncommon parts, capable alike of commanding
an army or governing a state. Having left his own
country when he was very young, to serve in Italy, as
he was of a stature remarkably tall, he was admitted
among the emperor’s guards, and continued in that sta¬
tion till the above year ; when, putting himself at the
head of the barbarians in the Roman pay, who, though
of different nations, had unanimously chosen him for
their leader, he marched against Orestes, and his son
Augustulus, who still refused to share any of the lands
m Italy. The Romans were inferior both in numbers
and valour, and were easily conquered: Orestes was or¬
dered to be slain ; but the emperor Augustulus was spa¬
red, and, though stripped of his dignity, was treated with
humanity, and allowed a liberal sum for his own support
and for that of his relations. Odoacer was proclaimed
kmg of Italy; but assumed neither the purple nor any
other mark of imperial consequence. He was afterwards
]
O D Y
C)str^og ^ n^odoric ‘he Ostrogoth. See 0J„Me,
. ODOME1ER, an instrument for measuring the Odyssey.
distance passed over in travelling. See Pedometfr '   
ODONTALGIA, the Too?hach. See M™.
CINE, N° 210.
ODONTOIDE, in Anatomy, an appellation given
to the process of the second vertebra of the neck, from
its resemblance to a tooth.
ODOROUS, or Odoriferous, appellations given
to whatever smells strongly, whether they be fetid or
agreeable ; but chiefly to things whose smell is brisk
and pleasant.
0D\ SSEA, the name of an epic poem composed by
Homer, which, when compared with the Iliad, exhibits
its author as the setting sun, whose grandeur remains
without the neat of his meridian beams.
The poet’s design in the Odyssey was to paint the
miseries of a kingdom in the absence of its supreme
governor, and the evil consequences resulting from a dis¬
regard of law, and of that subordination without which
society cannot exist. With this view he sets before his
countrymen the adventures of a prince who had been
obliged to forsake his native country, and to head an
army of his subjects in a foreign expedition; and he art¬
fully contrives, without interrupting the narrative, to
make the reader acquainted with the state of the coun¬
try in the absence of its sovereign. The chief having
gloriously finished the enterprise in which he was en¬
gaged, was returning with his army ; but in spite of all
his eagerness to be at home, he was detained on the w av
by tempests for several years, and cast upon several
countries differing from each other in manners and in
government. In these dangers his companions, not
strictly obeying his orders, perish through their own
fault. In the mean time the grandees of his country
abuse the freedom which his absence gave them ; con¬
sume his estate ; conspire to destroy his son; endeavour
to compel his queen to accept one of them for her hus¬
band ; and indulge themselves in every species of vio¬
lence, from a persuasion that he w'ould never return.
In this they were disappointed. He returns ; and dis¬
covering himself only to his son and some others who
had maintained their allegiance, he is an eye witness of
the insolence of his enemies, punishes them according
to their deserts, and restores to his island that tranquil¬
lity and repose to which it had been a stranger during
th» many years of his absence.
Such is the fable of the Odyssey, in which there
is no opportunity of displaying that vigour and sub¬
limity which characterize the Iliad. “ It descends
from the dignity of gods and heroes*, and warlike * flair's
achievements; but in recompense we have more plea-Hctures,
sing pictures of ancient manners. Instead of that fe¬
rocity which reigns in the other poem, this presents us
with the most amiable images of hospitality and hu¬
manity ; entertains us with many a wonderful adven¬
ture ; and instructs us by such a constant vein of mo¬
rality and virtue which runs through the poem,”
sometimes in precepts, and always in the conduct of
the hero, that we should not wonder if Greece, wdiich
gave the appellation of wise to men who uttered single
sentences of truth, had given to Homer the title of
the father,of virtue, for introducing into his work such
Q 2
O E D
a number of moral maxims. As a
[
Odvssev a numDer 01 ,uulil1 " P06*11’ l!0'veve,>
, y the Odyssey has its faults. The last twelve books are
Oedipus, tedious and languid 5 and we are disappointed by the
' v  calm behaviour of Penelope upon the discovery oi her
long lost husband. .
OECONOMICS, the art of managing the affairs
of a family or community j and hence the person who
takes care of the revenues and other affairs oi churches,
monasteries, and the like, is termed oeconomus.
OECONOMISTS, a sect of French philosophers,
who obtained this name in consequence of directing their
attention and researches to objects of political economy,
and in particular to the improvement of the departments
of finance. The views of those philosophers, among
whom are reckoned the celebrated names of Voltaire,
d’Alembert, Diderot, and Condorcet, have been vari¬
ously represented } by some as directly hostile to all regu¬
lar Government, and by others as unfriendly to religion.
OECONOMY, denotes the prudent conduct, or dis¬
creet and frugal management, whether of a man’s own
estate or that of another.
Animal Oeconomy, comprehends the various opera¬
tions of nature in the generation, nutrition and preser-
* See Gene- vation of animals*. The doctrine of the animal eco-
ration. TNu- nomy is nearly connected with physiology, which ex-
trition, &c. p]ams the operation and action ol the several paits o
the human body, their use, &c. See Anatomy and
Physiology. . .. .
OECUMENICAL, signifies the same with general
or universal; as, oecumenical council, bishop, &.c.
OEDEMA, or Phlegmatic Tumour, m Medi¬
cine and Surgery, a sort of tumour attended with pale¬
ness and cold, yielding little resistance, retaining the
print of the finger when pressed with it, and accompa¬
nied with little or no pain. ....
This tumour obtains no certain situation in any par¬
ticular part of the body, since the head, eyelids, hands,
and sometimes part, sometimes the whole body, is afflict¬
ed with it. When the last mentioned is the case, the
patient is said to be troubled with a cachexy, leuco-
phlegmatia, or dropsy. But if any particular part is
more subject to this disorder than another, it is certain¬
ly the feet, which are at that time called swelled or (zde-
matousfeet.
OEDERA, in Botany, a genus of plants belonging
to the syngenesia class. See Botany Index.
OEDIPUS, the unfortunate king of Thebes, whose
history is partly fabulous, flourished about 1266 B. C.
It is said he was given by bis father to a shepherd,
who was ordered to put him to death, in order to
prevent the misfortunes with which he was threatened
L an oracle. But the shepherd, being unwilling to
kill him with his own hands, tied him by the feet
to a tree, that be might he devoured by wild beasts.
The infant was however found in this situation by
another shepherd named Phorbas, who carried him to
Polybus king of Corinth j where the queen, having
no children, educated him with as much care as it he
had been her own son. When he was grown up, he
was informed that he was not the son of Polybus ; on
which, by order of the oracle, he went to seek for his
father in Phocis •, but scarce was he arrived in that
country, when he met his father on the road, and
killed him without knowing him. A short time alter,
having delivered the country from the monster called
24 1 O E N
the Sphinx, he married Jocasta, without knowing that Oedipus
she was his mother, and had tour children by her j but QenoptJSi
afterwards, being informed of his incest, he quitted the   
throne, and, thinking himself unworthy of the light, put
out his eyes. Eteocles and Polynices, who were cele¬
brated among the Greeks, were born of this incestuous
marriage. c .
OEGWA* a town on the Gold coast oi Airicaf
situated, according to Artus, on the brow of an emi¬
nence, raising itself by a gentle ascent to a considerable
height, and defended by rocks, against which the waves
beat with the utmost violence, the noise ol which is
heard at a great distance. .
Barbot affirms, that Oegwa qontains above 500
houses disjoined by narrow crooked streets $ and that
from the sea it has the appearance of an amphitheatre.
Des Marchias reduces the number ot houses to 200,
in the centre of which stands a large square building,
the repository of their gold dust and other com¬
modities. The houses are built of earth and clay, but
convenient and well furnished with chairs, stools, mats,
carpets, earthen pots, and even looking-glasses, which
last they purchase from the Europeans. No part ot the
coast is better provided with all kinds ot eatables, which
are sent in from the adjacent cantons, and sold m public
markets. Every thing is bought and sold with gold
dust, which is the standard of all other commodities,
and brought hither in great abundance from all quar¬
ters of Fetu, Abrambo, Assiento, and Mandmgo. Ihe
gold is sold by weight, and the quantity determined by
nice scales, made in the country before it was frequent¬
ed by the Europeans: a proof that those negroes are
not wholly ignorant of the more refined principles ot
mechanics. Next to gold, the chief commerce ot ihe
place consists in the sale ot fish, ot which they catch,
prodigious quantities on the coast. Although the na¬
tives are brave and warlike, yet in time of peace no
people are more industrious, their whole time being em¬
ployed in catching fish or cultivating the trmts ot the
earth They are extremely expert m throwing the line,
and fishing by the hook j nor is their intrepidity in com¬
bating the elements, and pursuing their employments in
all kinds of weather, less astonishing. Every day in the
week, except Wednesday, which is sacred to the fe¬
tiche, they employ in their several occupations, and no
season of the year is exempted from fishing. I heir
canoes weather storms which would endanger the
largest shipping-, and the negroes have the dexterity
of making their advantage of those seasons, which
oblige others to discontinue their labours, by throwing
their lines with the same success in tempestuous as m
calm weather. A 1
OELAND, an island of Sweden, seated in the Bal¬
tic sea, between the continent of Gothland and the
isle of Gothland. It lies between 56 and 57 of north
latitude, and between 17“ and 18° of east longrtude.
It is about 60 miles in length, and 15 in breadth ,
having a wholesome air, and a fertile soil, with rising
hills, and several castles. It has no town ol any great
10 OEN ANTHE, Water Drop wort, a genus of
plants belonging to the pentandria class -, and m the
natural method rankingunder the 45th order Umbellat*.
See Botany Index. _ . .
OFNOPTiE, in Grecian antiquity, a kind oi cen-
sors
O E T [I
Oeneptw sors at Athens, who regulated entertainments, and took
|| care that none drank too much, nor too little.
Oeting. OENOS, in Ornithology, the name used by authors
for the stock-dove, or wood pigeon, called also by some
innago, somewhat larger than the common pigeon, but
of the same shape and general colour. Its neck is of a
fine changeable hue, as differently opposed to the light $
and its breast, shoulders, and wings, are of a fine pur¬
plish hue, or red wine colour, from whence it has its
name vinago.
OENOTHERA, Tree-primrose, a genus of plants
belonging to the octandria class ; and in the natural
method ranking under the 17th order, Calycanthemcr.
See Botany Index.
OENOTR1A, an ancient name of Italy j so called
from the Oenotri, (Virgil); inhabiting between Psestum
and Tarentum, (Ovid). Originally Arcadians, (Dio¬
nysius Halicarnassseus), who came under the conduct of
Oenotrus son of Lycaon, 17 generations before the war
of Troy, or 459 years, at 27 years each generation, and
gave name to the people. Cato derives the name from
Oenotrus, king of tlie Sabines and Etruscans j but Var-
ro from Oemtrm, king of the Latins j and Servius from
the Greek name for wine, for which Italy was famous $
of which opinion is Strabo.
OENOTRIDES (Strabo, Pliny), two small islands
in the Tuscan sea, over against Velia, a town of Lu-
cania, called Pontia and Iscia ; now Penza and Ischia,
on the coast of the Principato Citra, or to the west of
Naples. So called from the Oenotri, an ancient people
of Italy.
OESEL, an island of the Baltic sea, at the entrance
of the gulf of Livonia. It is about 70 miles in length,
and 50 in breadth, and contains 10 parishes. It is de¬
fended by the fortresses of Airensburg and Sonneburg.
It lies between 220 and 240 of east longitude, and be¬
tween 58° and 590 of north latitude.
OESOPH AGUS, m Anatomy, the Gula, or Gullet,
is a membranaceous canal, reaching from the fauces to
the stomach, and conveying into it the food taken in
at the mouth. See Anatomy, N° 92.
OESTRUS, a genus of insects belonging to the order
of diptera. See Entomology Index.
OETA, in Ancient Geography, a mountain of Thes¬
saly, extending from Thermopylae westward to the Si¬
nus Ambracius, and in some measure cutting at right
angles the mountainous country stretching out between
Parnassus to the south, and Pindus to the north. At
Thermopylae it is very rough and high, rising and ending
in sharp and steep rocks, affording a narrow passage
between it and the sea from Thessaly to Locris (Stra¬
bo), with two paths over it $ the one above Trachis, very
steep and high the other through the country of the
-/Enianes, much easier and readier for travellers j by
this it was that Leonidas was attacked in rear by the
Persians (Pausanias). Here Hercules laid himself on
the funeral pile (Silius Italicus, Ovid) j the spot thence
called Pyra (Livy), who says that the extreme moun¬
tains to the east are called Oeta ; and hence the poets
allege, that day, night, sun, and stars, arose from Oeta
(Seneca, Statius, Silius Italicus, Catullus, Virgil’s Cu-
lex)—circumstances which show the height of this
mountain.
OETING, a town of Germany, in Upper Bavaria,
under the jurisdiction of Buckhausen. It is divided
25 ] OFF
into the upper and the lower town, and seated on the oeting
river Inn, eight miles West of Buckhausen. E. Long. |]
12. 47. N. Lat. 48. o» There is a great resort of pii- Offering?,
grims to the old chapel. y—
Oeting, or Oetingen, a town of Germany, in the
circle of Suabia, and capital of a county of the same
name, seated on the river Wirnitz. E. Long. 10. 45.
N. Lat. 48. 52.
Oeting, a county of Germany, in the circle of Sua¬
bia, bounded on the north and east by Franconia ; on
the south by the duchy of Neuburg j and on the west
by that of Wirtemberg. It is about 40 miles from east
to west, and 20 from north to south.
OFFA’s Dyke, an intrenchment cast up by Ofla,
a Saxon king, to defend England against the incur¬
sions of the Welsh. It runs through Hertfordshire,
Shropshire, Montgomeryshire, Denbighshire, and Flint¬
shire.
OFFANTO, a river of Italy, in the kingdom of
Naples. It rises in the Apennine mountains, in the
Farther Principato : and passing by Conza, and Monte
Verde, it afterwards separates the Capitanata from the
Basilicata and the Terra-di-Bari, and then it falls into
the gulf of Venice, near Salpe.
OFFENCE, n\Law, an act committed against the
law, or omitted where the law requires it.
OFFERINGS. The Hebrews had several kinds
of offerings, which they presented at the temple. Some
were free-will offerings, and others were of obligation.
The first fruits, the tenths, the sin offerings, were of
obligation j the peace offerings, vows, offerings of wine,
oil, bread, salt, and other things, which were made to
the temple or to the ministers of the Lord, were offer¬
ings of devotion. The HebreAvs called all offerings in
general corban. But the offerings of bread, salt, fruits
and liquors, as wine and oil, which were presented to
the temple, they called tnincha. The sacrifices are not
properly offerings, and are not commonly included under
that name. See Corban and Sacrifice.
The offerings of grain, meal, bread, cakes, fruits,
wine, salt, and oil, were common in the temple. Some¬
times these offerings were alone, and sometimes they
accompanied the sacrifices. Honey was never offered
with the sacrifices j but it might be offered alone in
the quality of first fruits. Now these were the rules
that were observed in the presenting of those offerings,
called in Hebrew mincha, or kerbon mine ha; in the Sep-
tuagint, offerings of sacrijice; and the same by St Je¬
rome, oblationan sacrijicii; but by our translators, meat
offerings (Lev. ii. 1, &e.). There were five sorts of
these ofierings: 1. Fine flour or meal. 2. Cakes of se¬
veral sorts, baked in an oven. 3. Cakes baked upon
a plate. 4. Another sort of cakes, baked upon a grid¬
iron, or plate with holes in it. 5. The first fruits of
the new corn, which were offered either pure and with¬
out mixture, or roasted or parched in the ear or out of
the ear.
The cakes were kneaded with oil olive, or fried with
oil in a pan, or only dipped in oil after they w^ere baked.
The bread offered to be presented upon the altar, was
to be without leaven ; for leaven was never oflered up¬
on the altar, nor with the sacrifices. But they might
make presents of common bread to the priests and mi¬
nisters of the temple. See Cake, &c.
The offerings now mentioned were appointed on ac¬
count
OFF [ 126 ] OFF
OB'omJG’S.
count of tlie poorer sort, who could not gc to the charge
of sacrificing animals. And even those that offered
living victims were not excused from giving meal, wine,
and salt, which was to go along with the greater sa¬
crifices. And also those that offered only oblations of
bread or of meal, offered also oil, incense, salt, and wine,
which were in a manner the seasoning of it. The priest
in waiting received the offerings from the hand of him
that offered them ; laid a part of them upon the altar,
and reserved the rest for Ids ow n subsistence : that was
his right as a minister of the Lord. Nothing was burnt
quite up hut the incense, of which the priest kept back
nothing for his own share.
When an Israelite offered a loaf to the priest, or a
whole cake, the priest broke the loaf or the cake into
two parts, setting that part aside that he reserved to
himself, and broke the other into crumbs ; poured oil
upon it, salt, wane, and incense 5 and spread the whole
upon the fire of the altar. If these offerings be accom¬
panied by an animal for a sacrifice, it was all thrown
upon the victim, to be consumed along with it.
If these offerings were the ears of new corn, either of
wheat or barley, these ears were parched at the fire or
in the flame, and rubbed in the hand, and then offered
to the priest in a vessel; over which he put oil, incense,
wine, and salt, and then burnt it upon the altar, first
having taken as much of it as of right belonged to him¬
self.
The greatest part of these offerings were voluntary,
and of pure devotion. But when an animal was offered
in sacrifice, they wTere not at liberty to omit these offer¬
ings. Every thing was to be supplied that was to ac¬
company the sacrifice, and which served as a seasoning
to the victim. There are some cases in which the law
requires only offerings of corn, or bread : for example,
when they offered the first fruits of their harvest, whether
they were offered solemnly by the whole nation, or by
the devotion of private persons.
As to the quantity of meal, oil, wine, or salt, which
was to go along with the sacrifices, wre cannot easily
see that the law had determined it. Generally the
priest threw an handful of meal or crumbs upon the
fire of the altar, with wine, oil, and salt in proportion,
and all the incense. All the rest belonging to him, the
quantity depended upon the liberality of the offerer.
We observe in more places than one, that Moses ap¬
points an assaron, or the tenth part of an ephah of
meal, for those that had not wherewithal to ofl’er the
appointed sin offerings (Lev. v. 11. xiv. 21.). In the
solemn offerings of the first fruits for the whole nation,
they offered an entire sheaf of corn, a lamb of a year
old, two tenths or two assarons of fine meal mixed with
oil, and a quarter of a hin of wine for the libation.
(Lev. xxiii. 10, 11, 12, &c.)
In the sacrifice of jealousy (Numb. v. 15'.), when a
jealous husband accused his wife of infidelity, the hus¬
band offered the tenth part of a fatnm of barley-meal,
without oil or incense, because, it was a sacrifice of jea¬
lousy, to discover whether his wife was guilty or not.
The offerings of the fruits of the earth, of bread,
of wine, oil, and salt, are the most ancient of any that
have come to our knowledge. Cain offered to the
Lord of the fruits of the earth, the first fruits of his
labour (Gen. iv. 3, 4.). Abel offered the firstlings of
his flocks, and of their fat. The heathen have nothing Offerings
more ancient in their religion, than these sorts of of- 11
ferings made to their gods. They oflered clean wheat, Officers.
flour, and bread. *
OFFICE, a particular charge or trust, or a dignity
attended with a public function. See Honour.—The
word is primarily used in speaking of the offices of ju¬
dicature and policy 5 as the office of secretary of state,
the office of a sheriff, of a justice of peace, &c.
Office also signifies a place or apartment appoint¬
ed for officers to attend in, in order to discharge their
respective duties and employments •, as the secretary’s
office, ordnance office, excise office, signet office, paper
office, pipe office, six clerks office, &c.
Office, in Architecture, denotes all the apartments
appointed for the necessary occasions of a palace or great
house ; as kitchen, pantries, confectionaries, &c.
Office, in the canon law, is usual for a benefice,
that has no jurisdiction annexed to it.
Duty upon Offices and Pensions, a branch of the
king’s extrordinary perpetual revenue, consisting in a
payment of is. in the pound (over and above all other
duties) out of all salaries, fees, and perquisites of of¬
fices and pensions payable by the crown. This highly
popular taxation was imposed by stat. 31 Geo. II. c. 22.
and is under the direction of the commissioners of the
land tax.
OFFICER, a person possessed of a post or office.
See the preceding article.
The great officers of the crown, or state, are, The
lord high steward, the lord high chancellor, the lord
high treasurer, the lord president of the council, the
lord privy seal, the lord chamberlain, the lord high con¬
stable, and the earl marshal 5 each of which see under
its proper article.
Non-commissioned Officers, are serjeant majors,
quartermaster Serjeants, serjeants, corporals, drum and
fife majors 5 who are nominated by their respective
captains, and appointed by the commanding officers of
regiments, and by them reduced without a court-mar¬
tial.
Orderly non-commissioned Officers, are those who
are orderly, or on duty for that week •, who, on hearing
the drum beat for orders, are to repair to the place ap¬
pointed to receive them, and to take down in writing,
in the orderly-book, what is dictated by the adjutant,
or serjeant major : they are then immediately to show
these orders to the officers of the company, and after¬
wards warn the men for duty.
Flag Officers. See Flag Officers, and Admirals.
Commission Officers, are such as are appointed by
the king’s commission. Such are all from the general
to the cornet and ensign inclusive. They are thus called
in contradistinction to non-commissioned officers. See
Non-commisioned Officers.
General Officers, are those whose command is not
limited to a single company, troop, or regiment •, but
extends to a body of forces composed of several regi¬
ments ; such are the general, lieutenant general, major
general, and brigadier.
Officers of the Household. See the article House¬
hold.
Staff Officers, are such as, in the king’s presence,
bear a white staff or wand ; and at other times, on
their
O G I
Officers their going abroad, have it carried before them by „
|j footman bare-headed : such are the lord steward, lord
Osdve. chamberlain, lord treasurer, &c. The white staff is
v taken for a commission 5 and, at the king’s death, each
of these officers breaks his staff over the herse made
for the king’s body, and by this means lays down his
commission, ami discharges all his inferior officers.
Subaltern Officers, are all who administer .justice in
the name of subjects j as those who act under the earl
marshal, admiral, &c. In the army, the subaltern of¬
ficers are the lieutenants, cornets, ensigns, serjeants,
and corporals.
011ICIAL, in the canon law, an ecclesiastical
judge, appointed by a bishop, chapter, abbot, See. with
charge of the spiritual jurisdiction of the diocese.
Official, is also a deputy appointed by an archdea¬
con as his assistant, who sits as judge in the archdeacon’s
court.
OFFICINAL, in Pharmacy, an appellation given
to such medicines, whether simple or compound, as are
required to be constantly kept in the apothecaries shops.
The officnial simples are appointed by the College of
Physicians j and the manner of making the composi¬
tions directed in their pharmacopoeia. See Materia
Medic a
OFFING, or Offin, in the sea language, that part
of the sea a good distance from shore, where there is
deep water, and no need of a pilot to conduct the
ship : thus, if a ship from shore be seen sailing out to
seaward, they say, she statids for the offing ; and if a
ship, having the shore near her, have another a good
way without her, or towards the sea, they say, that ship
is in the offing.
01F-SETS, in Gardening, are the young shoots
that spring from the roots of plants 5 which being care¬
fully separated, and planted in a proper soil, serve to pro¬
pagate the species.
Off-sets, in Surveying, are perpendiculars let fall,
and measuring from the stationary lines to the hedge,
fence, or extremity of an enclosure.
OGEE, or O. G. in Architecture, a moulding con¬
sisting of two members, the one concave and the other
convex j or like an S. See Architecture.
OGHAMS, a particular kind of stenography, or
writing in cypher practised by the Irish ; of which there
were three kinds : The first was composed of certain
lines and marks, which derived their power from their
situation and position, as they stand in relation to one
principal line, over or under which they are placed, or
through which they are drawn ; the principal line is
horizontal, and serveth for a rule or guide, whose upper
part is called the left, and the under side the right;
above, under, and through which line, the characters
or marks are drawn, which stand in the place of vowels,
consonants, diphthongs, and triphthongs. Some au¬
thors have doubted the existence of this species of
writing in cypher, called Ogham among the Irish ; but
these, doubts are perhaps ill founded : for several MSS.
in this character still exist, from which Mr Astle has
given a plate of them.
OGIVE, in Architecture, an arch or branch of a
Gothic vault; which, instead of being circular, passes
diagonally from one angle to another, and forms a
cross with the other arches. The middle, where the
ogives cross each other, is called the key ; being cut in
O I L
form of a rose, or a cul de lumpe. '1 lie members or
mouldings of the ogives are called nerves, branches, or
reins; and the arches which separate the ogives, double
arches.
OGAGES, king of the Thebans, or, according to
others, of Ogygia and Act®, afterwards called Bczotia
and Attica. He is recorded to have been the first founder
of Thebes and Eleusis. The famous deluge happened
in bis time, in which some say he perished with all his
subjects, 1796, B. C.
OGYGIA (Homer), the island of Calypso; placed:
by Pliny in the Sinus Scylaceus, in the Ionian sea,
opposite to the promontory Lacinium ; by Mela in the
strait of Sicily, calling it JEcea; which others place
at the promontory Circeium, and call it the island of
Circe. Also the ancient name of Thebes in Boeotia.
OHIO, a river of North America. It is formed
by the junction of the Alleghany and Monongahela
rivers, which unite at Pittsburg, and take the name of
Ohio- After a course of 1188 miles, it falls into the
Mississippi in lat. 37. receiving fifteen rivers in its
progress.. During the high water of spring and au¬
tumn it is navigated by ships of 300 tons, and at all
seasons by boats. The rapids at Louisville are the
only obstruction ; but the navigation will be continued
here by a canal.
Ohio, the name of one of the United States of North
America. It has the river Ohio on the south, Lake
Erie and the Michigan territory on the north, Penn¬
sylvania on the east, and Indiana on the west. It
covers an area of 40,000 square miles. The surface is
generally undulating, and towards the middle of the
state is broken by low hills. The soil, which rests on
limestone, has generally a great depth, and is remarka¬
bly fertile. It is watered by many large rivers, which
are well stored with fish, and nearly all navigable.
There are several salt springs, and coal is abundant.
The mean heat of the climate at Cincinnati is 54J of
Fahrenheit. The population in 1800 was only 42,156 ;
but in 1810 had increased to 230,760, and in 1816
was estimated at 450,000. There are besides about
3000 Indians in the north-western parts. Slavery does
not exist in this state. The average crop of Indian
corn is reckoned 45 bushels an acre," of wheat 22, of
rye 25, of oats 35, and of barley 30. Flax and hemp
are cultivated, and a little tobacco, but cotton does not
thrive. Vines, however, have been found to succeed.
The price of good cleared land varies from two dollars
to forty, according as it is near market towns. In
1810 there were three millions of pounds of maple su¬
gar made in this state ; a single tree yielding about 10
pounds. This territory was formed into a state and ad¬
mitted into the Union in 1802. See United States,
Supplement.
OHETEROA, one of the South sea islands late¬
ly discovered, is situated in W. Long. 150. 47. S.
Lat. 22. 27- It is neither fertile nor populous, nor
has it any harbour or anchorage fit for shipping; and
the disposition of the people is hostile to such as visit,
them.
OIL, an unctuous inflammable substance, drawn from
several natural bodies, as animal and vegetable substan¬
ces. See Chemistry and Materia Medica Index..
For the construction of an oil mill, see Gray’s Ex¬
perienced Millwright; and for an account of a very
5 simp! a;
t 127 1
O L D f 128
simple apparatus for expressing oils from different seeds
at Bangalore in the East Indies, see Phil. Mag. vol.
XXX. p. 329- r ,
Rock Oil. See Petroleum, Mineralogy Index.
OINTMENT, in Pharmacy. See Unguent, Ma¬
teria Medica Index. .. .
OISE, a department of France, comprising the nor¬
thern part of what was formerly the Isle of France.
The surface is diversified, the soil fertile, producing
corn and fruits, but not the vine. There are numerous
manufactures of cloth, linen, flannel, &c. The terri¬
torial extent of the department is 2294 square miles,
or 1,139,190 arpents. The population in 1800 was
460,086 , and the amount of contributions for the year
1802 was 4,714,895 francs. It is divided into four
subprefectures, 35 cantons, and 738 communes. Beau¬
vais is the chief town. .
OKEHAM, the capital of Rutlandslnfe, in Ung¬
land, seated in a rich and pleasant valley, called the
vale of Catmus. It is well built, contained 1111 inha¬
bitants in 1811, has a good church, a free-school, and
an hospital. W. Long. o. 45. N. Lat. 52. 40.
OKINGHAM, or Woxingham, a town ot Berk¬
shire, in England, containing 1419 inhabitants, and
noted for the manufacture of silk stockings. VV. Long.
]
o l r>
try to think more of the living and less of the dead 5
for the dead belong to a world of their own. To live t
within one’s income, be it large or little. Not to let
passion of any sort run away with the understanding.
Not to encourage romantic tapes nor fears. Not to
drive away hope, the sovereign balm of Me, though
he is the greatest of all flatterers. Not to be under
the dominion of superstition or enthusiasm. Not wil¬
fully to undertake any thing for which the nerves of
the mind or the body are not strong enough. Not to
run the race of competition, or to be in another’s way.
To avoid being jostled too much in the street, being
overcome by the noise of the carriages, and not to be
carried even by curiosity itself into a large crowd, lo
strive to embody that dignified sentiment, “ to write
injuries in dust, but kindnesses in marble.” Not tor
*nve the reins to constitutional impatience, ior it is
apt to hurry on the first expressions into the indecen¬
cy of swearing. To recollect, that he who can keep
his own temper may be master of another’s. If one
cannot be a stoic, in bearing and forbearing, on every
trying occasion, yet it may not be impossible to pull
the check-string against the moroseness of spleen or
the impetuosity of peevishness. Anger is a short mad¬
ness. Not to fall in love, now on the precipice ot
O. co. N. Lat. 51. 26. _ . , .
OKRA, the fruit of a species of hibiscus, which is
employed in the West Indies in making soups. See
Botany Index.
OLAUS magnus. See Magnus.
OLAX, a genus of plants, belonging to the triandna
class. See Botany Index.
OLD age. See Longevity. Many methods have
been proposed for lengthening life, and rendering old
age comfortable. Cornaro’s Treatise on this subject is
known to every body, and needs not be quoted. 10
some of our readers the following set of resolutions will
perhaps be new, and may certainly be useful.
The old men should resolve, except the reasons for a
change be invincible, to live and to die in the public
profession of the religion in which they were born and
bred. To avoid all profane talk and intricate debates
on sacred topics. To endeavour to get the better of the
intrusions of indolence of mind and body, those certain
harbingers of enfeebling age. Rather to wear out, than
to rust out. To rise early, and as often as possible to go
to bed before midnight. Not to nod in company, nor
to indulge repose too frequently on the couch in the day.
To waste as little of life in sleep as may be, for we shall
have enough in the grave. Not to give up walking j
nor to ride on horseback to fatigue. Experience, and
a late medical opinion, determine to ride five miles
every day : Nothing contributes more to the preserva¬
tion of appetite, and the prolongation of life. Cheyne’s
direction to the valetudinary, “ to make exercise a part
of their religion,” to be religiously observed, lo con¬
tinue the practice of reading, pursued for more than titty
years, in books on all subjects •, for variety is the salt
of the mind as well as of life. Other people’s thoughts,
like the best conversation of one’s companions, are ge¬
nerally better and more agreeable than one’s own.
Frequently to think over the virtues of one’s acquaint¬
ance, old and new. To admit every cheerful ray ot
sunshine on the imagination. To avoid retrospection
on a past friendship, which had much of love in it*,
for memory often comes when she is not invited, lo
threescore" nor expect to be fallen in love with. A
eonnexion between summer and winter is an impro¬
per one. Love, like fire, is a good servant, but a
bad master. Love is death, when the animal spirits
are gone. To contrive to have as few vacant hours
upon one’s hands as possible, that idleness, the nm-
therof crimes and vices, may not pay its visit, lo
be always doing of something, and to have something
to do. To fill up one’s time, and to have a good deal
to fill up : for time is the materials that life is made
of If one is not able by situation, or through the
necessity of raising the supplies within the year, or by
habit (for virtue itself is but habit), to do much osten¬
tatious good, yet do as little harm as possible. lo make
the best and the most of every thing. Not to in¬
dulge too much in the luxury of the table, nor yet to
underlive the constitution. The gout, rheumatism,
and dropsy, in the language of the Spectator, seem
to be hovering over the dishes. Wine, the great pur¬
veyor of pleasure, and the second in rank among the
senses, offers his service, when love takes his leave.
It is natural to catch hold of every help, when the
spirits begin to droop. Love and wine are good cor¬
dials, but are not proper for the beverage of common
use. Resolve not to go to bed on a full meal. A
light supper and a good conscience are the best re¬
ceipts for a good night’s rest, and the parents of un¬
disturbing dreams. Not to be enervated by the flatu¬
lency of tea. Let the second or third morning s
thought be to consider of the employment tor the day j
and one of the last at night to inquire what has been
done in the course of it. Not to let one’s tongue run at
the expence of truth. Not to be too communicative
nor unreserved. A close tongue, with an open counte¬
nance, are the safest passports through the journey of the
world. To correct the error of too much talking, and
restrain the narrativeness of the approaching climacteric.
Not to like or dislike too much at first sight. Not to won¬
der for all wonder is ignorance that possession tabs shoi t
of expectation. The longing of twenty years may ^
disappointed in the unanswered gratification of a smg e
OLD
l
Old hour. Whilst we are wishing, we see the best side ;
II alter we have taken possession, the worst. Resolve to
Oldcastle ^ attend to the arguments on both sides, and to hear every
body against every body. The mind ought not to be
made up, but upon the best evidence. To be affection¬
ate to relations, which is a kind of self-love, in pre¬
ference to all other acquaintance. But not to omit
paying the commanding respect to merit, which is su¬
perior to all the accidental chains of kindi-ed. Not to
debilitate the mind by new and future compositions.
Tike the spider, it may spin itself to death. The mind,
like the field, must have its fallow season. The leisure
of the pen has created honourable acquaintance, and
pleased all it has wished to please. To resolve not to be
too tree of promises, for performances are sometimes very
difficult things. Not to be too much alone, nor to read,
nor meditate, or talk too much on points that may
awaken tender sensations, and be too pathetic for the
soul. To enjoy the present, not to be made too unhappy
by reflection oil the past, not to be oppressed by invin¬
cible gloom on the future. To give and receive com¬
fort, those necessary alms to a distressed mind. To be
constantly thankful to providence for the plenty hitherto
possessed, which has preserved one from the dependence
on party, persons, and opinions, and kept one out of
debt:.. The appearance of a happy situation, and oppor¬
tunities of tasting many wordly felicities (for content
has seldom perverted itself into discontent), has induced
many to conclude, that one must be pleased with one’s
lot in life j and it occasions many to look with the
eye of innocent envy. To resolve more than ever to
shun every public station and responsibility of conduct,
lo be satisfied with being master of one’s self, one’s
habits, now a second nature, and one’s time. Deter¬
mined not to solicit, unless trampled upon by fortune,
to live and die in the harness of trade, or a profession.
To take care that pity (humanity is not here meant)
does not find out one in the endurance of any calami¬
ty. When pity is within call, contempt is not far off.
Not to wish to have a greater hold of life, nor to quit
that hold. I he possible tenure of existence is of too
short possession for the long night that is to succeed :
therefore not a moment to be lost. Not to lose sight
even for a single day, of these good and proverbial
doctors—diet—merryman—and quiet. Resolved to re¬
member and to recommend, towards tranquillity and
longevity, the three oral maxims of Sir Hans Sloane
—“ Never to quarrel with one’s self—one’s wife or
one’s prince.” Lastly, Not to put one’s self too much
in the power of the elements, those great enemies to
the human frame ; namely, the sun—the wind the
rain—and the night air.
Old Man of the Mountain. See Assassins.
OLDCAS1LE, Sir John, called the Good Lord
i^obham, was born in the reign of Edward HI. and
v<as the first author as well as the first martyr among
the English nobility : he obtained his peerage by mar-
lying the heiress of that Lord Gobham who with so
much virtue and patriotism opposed the tyranny of
Richard II. By his means the famous statute against
provisors was revived, and guarded against by severer
penalties ; he was one of the leaders of the reforming
party ; was at great expence in procuring and dispers¬
ing copies of Wiekliffe’s writings among the people,
as well as by maintaining a number of his disciples as
v ol. XY. Part I.
29 ] O L D
itinerant preachers. In the reign of Henry V. he was oidcastle
accused of heresy; the growth of which was attributed Oldenburg;
to his influence. Being a domestic in the king’s court, v—nr—^
the king delayed his prosecution that he might reason
with him himself; but not being able to reclaim him
to the cnurch of Rome, he in great displeasure resigned
him to its censure. He was apprehended and condemned
for heresy ; but escaping from the Tower, lay concealed
for four years in W ales, until the rumour of a pretend¬
ed conspiracy was raised against him, and a price set
upon.his head : he was at last seized and executed in
St Giles’s Fields; being hung alive in chains upon a
gallows, and burned by a fire placed underneath. He
wrote “ Twelve Conclusions, addressed to the Parlia¬
ment of England,”
^-k^T.NBURG, a duchy in the north-west of Ger-
many., with a capital of the same name. It lies within
the kingdom of Hanover. The royal house of Den¬
mark derived its origin from the family to which this
territory belonged, and retained the title. The account
given by historians is as follows.
On the death of Christopher king of Denmark, &c.
in 1448, without issue, there was a great contest about
the succession ; and a variety of factions were raised,
particularly in Sweden and Norway, for the promotion
of different persons ; and various animosities and numer¬
ous discords were excited by the several parties, in or¬
der each to obtain their own ends.
As soon as these intrigues were known in Denmark,
the senate resolved to proceed to the election of a king;
for it did not appear expedient to commit the govern¬
ment of affairs to the queen dowager, at a time when
they had every thing to fear from the two neighbouring
crowns. At this time a lord of great weight, property,
and ambition, sought the queen in marriage, tl}£ more
easily to pave his way to the throne. But as for a great
number of years there was no precedent for electing a
king out of the body of nobility, though agreeable to
law, the queen entered into the views of the senate,
and declared she would give her hand to no prince who
should not be judged deserving of the crown by the su¬
preme council of the nation.
The advantages which would have accrued from an¬
nexing the duchy of Sleswick and Holstein to the
crown, made the senate first cast their eyes on Adol¬
phus. This matter required no long deliberation ; all
saw the conveniences resulting from such an union,
and gave their assent. Immediately an embassy was
despatched with the offer to Adolphus ; but that prince
consulting the good of his subjects, whose interest
would have been absorbed in the superior weight of
Denmark, declined it, with a moderation and disinte¬
restedness, altogether uncommon among princes. How¬
ever, that he might not be wanting in i-espect to
the senate, he proposed to them his nephew Christian,
second son to Theodoric, count of Oldenburg, a pripqe
bred up at the court of Adolphus from his infancy.
The proposition was so agreeable to the senate, that,
without loss of time, the ambassadors were sent to
Iheodoric, to demand either of his sons he should
pitch upon for their king. Theodoric’s answer to the
ambassadors was remarkable : 44 I have three sons,
says he, of very opposite qualities. One is passion¬
ately lend of pleasure and women ; another breathes
nothing but war, without regarding the justice of the
f R cause;
OLD
[ IS® ]
OLE
Oldenburg
Oldham.
cause but the third is moderate in his disposition,
prefers peace to the din of arms, yet stands unrivalled
, in valour, generosity, and magnanimity.” He said
he painted these characters for the senate’s informa*
tion, desiring they would choose which of the young
princes they believed would render the kingdom hap¬
piest. It was a matter which would admit of no he¬
sitation : with one voice the senate declared for that
prince whose panegyric the father had so warmly
drawn •, and under these happy auspices commenced
the origin of the grandeur ot the house of Oldenburg,
at this day seated on the throne of Denmark.
Oldenburg, Henry, a learned German of the 17th
century, was descended from the noble family of his
name, who were earls of the county of Oldenburg, in
the north part of Westphalia, for many generations.
He was born in the duchy of Bremen in the Lower
Saxony •, and during the long English parliament in
King Charles I.’s time, was appointed consul for his
countrymen, at London, after the usurpation of Cromwell
but being discharged of that employ, he was made tutor
to the lord Henry O’Bryan, an Irish nobleman, whom
he attended to the university of Oxford, where he \vas
admitted to study in the Bodleian library in the begin¬
ning of the year 1656. He was afterwards tutor to
William lord Cavendish, and was acquainted with Mil-
ton the poet. During his residence at Oxford, he be¬
came also acquainted with the members of that body
there, which gave birth to the lloyal Society •, and upon
the foundation of this latter, he was elected fellow •, and
when the society found it necessary to have two secre¬
taries, he was chosen assistant secretary to Dr Wilkins.
He applied himself with extraordinary diligence to the
business of his office, and began the publication of the
Philosophical Transactions with N° I. in 1664. In
order to discharge this task with greater credit to him¬
self and the society, he held a correspondence with more
than seventy learned persons, and others, upon a vast
variety of subjects, in different parts of the world.
This fatigue would have been insupportable, had not
he, as he told Dr Lister, managed it so as to make one
letter answer another •, and that to be always fresh, he
never read a letter before he had pen, ink, and paper,
ready to answer it forthwith j so that the multitude of
his letters cloyed him not, nor ever lay upon his hands.
Among others, he was a constant correspondent of Mr
Robert Boyle, with whom he had a very intimate
friendship *, and he translated several of that ingenious
gentleman’s works into Latin.
Mr Oldenburg contintied to publish the Transactions,
as before, to N° xxxyi. June 25. 1677. After which
the publication was discontinued till the January fol¬
lowing, when it was again resumed by his successor in
the secretary’s office, Mr Kehemiah Grew, who car¬
ried it on till the end of February 1678. Our author
dying at his house at Charleton, near Greenwich in
Kent, in the month of August that year, was interred
OLDENLANDIA, a genus of plants belonging to
the tetrandria class. See Botany Index.
OLDHAM, John, an eminent English poet in the
17th century, son of a Nonconformist minister, was edu¬
cated under his father, and then sent to Edmund hall in
Oxford. He became usher to the free-school at Croy¬
don in Surry; where he received a visit from the earls
of Rochester and Dorset, Sir Charles Sedley, and other Oldham
persons of distinction, merely upon the reputation ot jl
some verses of his which they had seen in manuscript. Oieay‘'10US,
He was tutor to several gentlemen’s sons successively j
and having saved a small sum of money, came to Lon¬
don, and became a perfect votary to the bottle, being
an agreeable companion. He was quickly found out
here by the noblemen who had visited him at Croydon,
who brought him acquainted with Mr Dryden. He
lived mostly with the earl of Kingston at Holme Pier-
point in Nottinghamshire, where he died of the small¬
pox in 1683, in the 30th year of his age. His acquaint¬
ance with learned authors appears by his satires against
the Jesuits, in which there is as much learning as wit
discovered. Mr Dryden esteemed him highly. His
works are printed in 2 vols 12mo. They chiefly consist
of satires, odes, translations, paraphrases of Horace and
other authors, elegiac verses, imitations, parodies, fami¬
liar epistles, &c.
OLD-HEAD, a promontory situated in the county
of Cork, and province of Munster, four miles south of
Kinsale, in the barony of Courcies, Ireland, which runs
far into the sea, and on which is a lighthouse for the
convenience ol shipping. A mile from its extremity is
an ancient castle of the lords of Kinsale, built from one
side of the isthmus to the other, which defended all the
lands towards the head : this place was formerly called
Huncearma, and was the old seat of the Irish kings.
The isthmus, by the working of the sea, was quite pe¬
netrated through, so as to form a stupendous arch, un¬
der which boats might pass from one bay to the other.
Among the rocks of this coast there are aviaries of good
hawks : also the sea eagles or ospreys build their nests
and breed there.
OLDMIXON, John, was descended from an an¬
cient family in Somersetshire : he -was a violent party-
writer and malevolent critic, ■who would scarcely have,
been remembered, if Pope, in resentment of his abuse,
had not condemned him to immortality in his Dun-
ciad. His party-writings procured him a place in the
revenue at Liverpool, where he died at an advanced
age in the year 1745. Besides his fugitive temporary
pieces, he wrote a History of the Stuarts, in folio ; a
Critical History of England, 2 vols 8vo j a volume of
Poems, some dramatic pieces, &e. 5 none of them wor¬
thy of notice, his principal talent being that ot falsify¬
ing history.
Old-wife, or JFrasse. SeeLABRus,") Ichthyolo-
Old-wife Fish. See Balistes, j gy Index.
Old-woman’s island, a narrow slip of land, about
two miles long, separated from Bombay in the East In¬
dies by an arm of the sea, which, however, is passable
at low water. It terminates at one extremity in a small
eminence, on which a look-out house is kept for vessels.
Near the middle are three tombs kept constantly white
as land marks into the harbour. From the end of the
island a dangerous ledge of rocks shoots forth, which
ai’e not very easily cleared. It produces only pasture
for a few cattle.
OLEA, the olive-tree; a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the. diandria class j and in the natural method
ranking under the 44th order, Sepicridi. See Botany
Index. ' , , .
OLEAGINOUS, something that partakes 01 the
nature of oil, or out of which oil may be expressed.
OLEANDER*
o L 1 ft
Oleander OLEANDER, or Rose Bay, nerium ; a genus of
II plants belonging to the pentandria class. See Botany
0110- Index.
OLECRANUM, or Olecranon, in Anatomy, the
protuberance ot the ulna, which prevents the joint of
the elbow from being bent back beyond a certain
length. See Anatomy, N° 51.
OLENUS, a Greek poet, older than Orpheus, came
from Xanthe, a city of Lycia. He composed several
hymns, which were sung in the island of Delos upon fe¬
stival days. Olenus is said to have been one of the
founders of the oracle at Delphi; to have been the first
who filled at that place the office of priest of Apollo;
and to have given responses in verse j but the truth of
these assertions is very doubtful.
OLERON, an island of France, on the coast of Au-
nis and Saintogne, about five miles from the continent.
It is 12 miles in length, and five in breadth ; and is
very fertile, containing about 12,000 inhabitants, who
aie excellent seamen. It is defended by a castle, which
is well fortified j and there is a lighthouse placed there
for the direction of ships. It is 14 miles south-east of
Rochelle. W. Long. 1. 26. N. Lat, 46. 3.
Sea laivs of Oleron, certain laws relative to mari¬
time affairs, made in the timeot Richard I. when he was
at the island of Oleron. rl hese laivs, being accounted
the most excellent sea laws in the world, are recorded
m the black book of the admiralty. See Selden's
Mare Clausum.
OLEUM palmar christi, commonly called castor
oil, is extracted from the kernel of the fruit produced
by the Ricinus Atncricanus. See Ricinus, Botany
and Materia Medic a Index.
OLFACTORY nerves. See Anatomy, N° 139
and 143.
OLGA, queen of Igor, the second monarch of Rus¬
sia, who flourished about the year S80, having succeed¬
ed his father Rune, who died in 878. Olga was born
in Plescow, and was of the best family in that city. She
boie him one son, called Swetosluw. Igor being mur¬
dered by the Drewenses, or Drewliani, Olga revenged
his death. She went afterwards, for what reason we
know not, to Constantinople, where she was baptized,
and received the name of Helena.
^he emperor John Zimisces was her godfather, and
fell in love with her as we are told; but she, alleging
their spiritual alliance, refused to marry him. Her ex¬
ample made some impression upon her subjects, a good
number ot whom became converts to Christianity ; but
none upon her son, who reigned for a long time after
her death, which happened at Pereslaw, in the 80th
year of her age, 14 years after her baptism. The Rus¬
sians to this day rank her among their saints, and com¬
memorate her festival on the nth of July.
OLIBANUM, in Pharmacy, a gummy resin, (the
product of thejuniperus lycia Lin.), brought from Tur¬
key and the East Indies, usually in drops or tears. See
Materia Medica Index.
OLIGARCHY, a form of government wherein the
administration of affairs is confined to a few hands.
or Oglio, a savoury dish, or food, composed
or a great variety of ingredients; chiefly found at Spa¬
nish tables. J ^
The forms of olios are various. To give a notion of
;r ] O L I
tins strange assemblage, we shall here add one from an olio
approved author. jj
Take rump of beef, neats tongues boiled and dried, °iivarcz-
and Bologna sausages; boil them together, and, after ' v_
boiling two hours, add mutton, pork, venison, and ba¬
con, cut in bits; as also turnips, carrots, onions and
cabbage, borage, endive, marigolds, sorrel, and spi¬
nach ; then spices, as saffron, cloves, mace, nutmeg,
&c. 1 his done, in another pot put a turkey or goose,
with capons, pheasants, wigeons and ducks, partridges,
teals, and stock-doves, snipes, quails, and larks, and
boil tnein in water and salt. In a third vessel, prepare
a sauce of white wine, strong broth, butter, bottoms of
artichokes, and chesnuts, with cauliflowers, bread, mar¬
row, yolks of eggs, mace, and saffron. Lastly, Dish
the olio by first laying out the beef and veal, then the
venison, mutton, tongues, and sausages, and the roots
over all; then the largest fowls, then the smallest, and
lastly pour on the sauce.
OLISIPO, (Pliny, Antonine, Inscriptions) ; a town
of Lusitania, situated on the north side of the frith of
the lagus; of such antiquity, that Solinus thought it
was built by Ulysses ; and Mela, probably to favour
this opinion, writes, according to the common copies,
L lyssipo; both of them perhaps deceived by the simila-
rity of sound. It was a municipium, with the surname
Iclicitas Julia, a privilege granted by the munificence
of Augustus (Inscriptions, Pliny). Now Lisbon, ca¬
pital of Portugal, situated on the north bank of the
Tagus, distant about ten miles from its mouth. See
Lisbon.
OLIVAREZ, Count de, by name Bon Caspar de
Gwzman, favourite and minister to Don Philip IV. of
Spain, about 1620 ; a man of great parts and boundless
ambition. Philip no sooner became king, than he be¬
came the subject of this his favourite. The king" had
abilities, it is true, but they lay dormant; and whilst
he spent his time in listless inactivity, the whole govern¬
ment was under the direction of Olivarez. The count’s
management, indeed, was sufficiently dexterous in ac¬
complishing his own designs; for by the best framed
excuses, and on the most plausible pretexts, he removed
all such as he thought stood in his way ; nor did he stop
there, but sometimes persecuted his rivals even to death,
of which Don Rodrigo Calderona was a melancholy in¬
stance, an instance which at that time excited universal
compassion. This minister, in short, had a genius of
no common kind; added to which, he had a disposition
which spurned all controul.
_ He had persecuted the late ministry for their pusilla¬
nimity in the management of affairs; he therefore
thought it necessary, and it was certainly prudent, to
pursue new measures. His self-sufficiency, though un¬
bounded, was concealed under the veil of assumed mo¬
desty, and he was careful to make it appear that he was
wholly taken up with the things of his own province.
His politics were of a refined perhaps, but not of a very
useful, tendency ; for his imprudence, or his wrong no¬
tions on the subject, made him renew a war with Hol¬
land, contrary to the universal opinion of the council
and the people. By the same imprudence, or by some¬
thing worse, he provoked England, and obliged her to
endeavour to humble the pride and lessen the authority
of the house of Austria. Thus far he had been of little
R 2 service
Olivarez.
0 L I [ i32
service to his Country, having only provoked the resent-
1 ment of the most powerful states, particularly England,
France, Holland, &c. to conspire for its ruin. It is re¬
markable that Olivarez, notwithstanding this, never lost
his credit 5 and indeed things so turned about in the
end, that though Spain for a whole year was put to the
severest trials, it acquired a degree of lame which sum-
ciently, in the general opinion, overbalanced some lit¬
tle loss. Olivarez too was particularly fortunate in
making the peace j in which transaction he gained a
very considerable advantage over Richelieu, so that
things appeared to be st;ll in a very favourable train.
Fortune, however, was not always quite so indulgent to
the schemes of this minister : he again drew Spain into
a war with Mantua, contrary to the sentiments of the
wisest men *, from which is justly dated its declension,
if not its ruin.
On the whole, Olivarez seems to have been always
averse to peace j and with such a restless disposition, it
is undoubtedly wonderful that he held his place so long
and with so few complaints as he did.
It was certainly owing to his ambition and obstinacy,
that an almost general war was excited about the year
1627, and which, as we have said, proved so fatal to
Spain. So averse, indeed, does he appear to have been
to peace, that he used every means in Ins power to pre¬
vent the restoration of it in Italy j and for this very pur¬
pose he sent Feria into Milan, whom he knew to be a
man of such a temper and abilities as suited his purposes*,
for he was naturally averse to quiet. He endeavoured
to break the alliances of the duke of Mantua by various
stratagems; but they did not succeed : the schemes of
Olivarez and the intrigues of Feria being totally defeat¬
ed. Our minister had soon after this another cause of
mortification, on Richelieu’s being created a duke and
peer of France, and unanimously admitted among the
Venetian nobility *, which could not fail to be a severe
stroke on Olivarez, who considered him as Ins implaca¬
ble enemy. ,
The people at length began to see and be displeased
with his conduct j and with reason, had they known it
all for it was in many instances cruel and detestable.
Indeed the differences which at that time had so long
subsisted between France and Spain were the effect of
the private animosity between him and Richelieu.
Things, however, so turned about, and Spain was so
unusually successful, that the faults of the minister were
overlooked for the time *, but this unexpected good for¬
tune had no other effect than that of making him tar
more insolent than ever. He was, in every instance,
one of the most headstrong and obstinate men m the
world : he had set his heart on the reduction of Casal in.
Italy and he was determined on it at whatever ha¬
zard* this foolish enterprise was, however, unaccount¬
ably defeated, and the Spanish army experienced a
total defeat. • , . . ,
The revolt of the Catalans, whom he wished to de¬
prive of their privileges, was the next consequence of
his folly : he had privately employed the marquis de
)os Velez to extinguish this rebellion *, but the cruelty
of the measures used for this purpose only inflamed
it the more. The revolution of Portugal, another dis¬
astrous event, was also the result of his obstinacy and
]
O L I
rigour
This series of ill fortune, which ought to have opened
the eyes of the Catholic king and his ministers, seemed Olivarez
to infatuate both. The great secret by which Olivarez U
had governed his master was being the companion, or at
least the confidant, of his pleasures. While he affected
to deceive the world with a specious appearance of reli¬
gion and piety, he was not only immersed in vice him¬
self, but encouraged and promoted it in his prince, to
the scandal of his subjects, and the prejudice of his af¬
fairs. At this time, of all others the most impropei,
Olivarez produced a bastard of his, hitherto called J11
lian ; he had taken so little care of this son, that, not
able to subsist in Spain, he had passed over to the Indies,
where, in very mean stations, he had scarely got bread.
On him he now bestowed the name of Don Henrico de
Guzman; and bringing him with great pomp and
splendour to court, either flattered or forced the con¬
stable of Castile to give him his daughterj in,considera¬
tion of which alliance he was to devolve upon him his
duchy of St Lucar. In the beginning of his administra¬
tion, by some accident or other, he presented to the
king a memorial, in relation to an affair upon which his
majesty had already received one from Don Balthasar
de Zuniga : upon comparing them, they contradicted
each other flatly. The king ordered a person of great
qualitv to inquire thoroughly into this business 5 in con¬
sequence of which Don Balthasar’s memorial appeared
to be the truth, and that of Olivarez the reverse of it.
The king was very angry j but the count regained his
favour, by procuring for him the fair actress Calderona.
By this woman he had a son, of whom no great notice
was taken 5 but now, to obscure the folly of the count
duke, this youth, scarce in the 14th year ol his age,
was produced, with the title of Don Juan of Austria
and declared generalissimo of the army against Portugal j
while the heir apparent to the crown, Don Balthasar,
was left under the tuition, or rather in the custody of
the countess of Olivarez 5 at which conduct the queen
was chagrined, the people enraged, and the world in
general astonished. . • ,
His schemes now began to be entirely broken and
defeated everywhere and in every kind j he fell undei
the displeasure of the queen, the emperor, the grandees,
and the people all at once, and experienced the disgrace
he had long merited. His ill fortune, which came up¬
on him with the force of a torrent, did not, however,
wholly overpower him ; he was indeed obliged to con¬
ceal himself, in order to avoid the rage of the populace :
but he had still confidence enough to offer an apo ogy
for his conduct, which possessed no inconsiderable share
of wit and humour, well tempered with spirit and ma¬
sterly reasoning. It was not, however, ot any conse¬
quence to him j for he was banished to loro, where,
worn out by infirmities, or overcome by despair, he end¬
ed his days about the year 1645.
OLIVE, the fruit of the olive tree, bee UlEA,
Botany Index. , . ,
Olive Press. In order to obtain the olive oil, the
olives are first bruised in a rough trough, under a mill-CCGL*
stone, rolling perpendicularly over them*, and when
sufficiently mashed, put into the maye or trough, m,
of an olive press, where co are the upright beams, or
cheeks : b, the female, and c, the male screw j /, the
board on which the screw passes *, g, a cubical piece ol
wood, called a block; h, the peel, a circular board to
be put under the block. By turning the screw, all the
Plate
O L I [ 133 ] O L Y
Olive liquor is pressed out of the mashed olives, and is called
Press virgin oil; after which, hot water being poured upon
II the remainder in the press, a coarser oil is obtained.
0‘ivetan. Qjjve 0j} keepS oniy about a year, after which it dege¬
nerates.
Olive Colour, a yellow mingled with black.
OLIVET, or Mount of Olives, in Ancient Geogra¬
phy, was situated to the east of the city of Jerusalem,
and parted from the city only by the brook Kidron, and
by the valley of Jehoshaphat, which stretches out from
the north to the south. It was upon this mount that
Solomon built temples to the gods of the Ammonites
(x Kings xi. 7.) and of the Moabites, out of complai¬
sance to his wives, who were natives of these nations.
Hence it is that the mount of Olives is called the moun¬
tain of corruption (2 Kings xxiii. 13.). Josephus says,
that this mountain is at the distance of five stadia, or
furlongs, from Jerusalem, which makes 625 geometrical
paces, or the length of a Sabbath-day’s journey, says St
Luke (Acts i. 12.). The mount of Olives had three
summits, or was composed of three several mountains,
ranged one after another from north to south. The
middle summit is that from whence our Saviour ascend¬
ed into heaven. It was upon that towards the south
that Solomon built temples to his idols. The summit
which is most to the north is distant two furlongs from
the middlemost. This is the highest of the three, and
is commonly called Galilee.
In the time of King Uzziah, the mount of Olives
was so shattered by an earthquake, that half of the
earth that was on the western side fell down, and rolled
four furlongs or 500 paces from thence, towards the
mountain which was opposite to it on the east j so that
the earth blocked up the highways, and covered the
king’s gardens.
Mr Maundrell tells us that he and his company going
out of Jerusalem at St Stephen’s gate, and crossing the
valley of Jehoshaphat, began immediately to ascend the
mountain 5 that being got above two-thirds of the way
up, they came to certain grottoes cut with intricate
windings and caverns under ground, which were called
the sepulchres of the prophets j that a little higher up
were twelve arched vaults under ground, standing side
by side, and built in memory of the apostles, who are
said to have compiled their creed in this place j that 60
paces higher they came to the place where Christ is
said to have uttered his prophecy concerning the final
destruction of Jerusalem *, and a little on the right hand,
to another, where he is said to have dictated a second
time the Lord’s prayer to his disciples 5 that somewhat
higher is the cave of a saint called Pelagia; a little
above that, a pillar denoting the place where an angel
gave the Blessed Virgin three days warning of her
death j and at the top of all, the place of our blessed
Lord’s ascension.
OLIVETAN, Robert, related to the famous Cal¬
vin, printed at Neufchatel in 1535, in folio, a version of
the Bible into French, the first which had been transla¬
ted from the original Hebrew and Greek. It is writ¬
ten in an uncouth and barbarous style, and is far from
being faithful. The characters in which it is printed
are Gothic, and the language of it is no less so. It is
valued only because it is rare. Calvin is thought to
have had a very considerable share in this translation.
Olivetan survived his publication but a short time 5 for
he was poisoned at Rome the year after, of which his 01iveta»
translation is alleged to have been the cause. Olivetan’s |]
Bible, revised by John Calvin andN. Malinger, was , Olympia-
reprinted at Geneva, in 1540, in quarto. This edition 'r~“
is still rarer than the former. It is called the Bible de
PEpee, because the printer had a sword for his sign.
OLIVIER, Claude Matthieu, advocate of the
parliament of Aix, was born at Marseilles, in 1701, and
appeared at the bar with eclat. He had a chief hand
in the establishment of the academy of Marseilles, and
was one of its original members. He possessed a quick
and lively genius. A few hours retirement from society
and from his pleasures were frequently sufficient to en¬
able him to speak and write, even on important causes j
but his works commonly bore marks of haste. Given
to excess in every thing, he would employ a fortnight
in studying the Code and the Digest, or in storing his
mind with the beauties of Demosthenes, Homer, Cice¬
ro, or Bossuet: and then abandon himself for another
fortnight, frequently a whole month, to a life of frivo¬
lity and dissipation. He died in 1736, at the age of 35.
He published, 1. L'Histoire de Philippe roi de Ma¬
cedoine, et pere d'Alexandre le Grand, 2 vols 1 2mo.
No writer has so ably handled the history of the age of
Fhilip, the interests of the different nations of Greece,
and their manners and customs : but the conduct of the
work is extremely defective. The digressions are too
frequent, and often tedious. The style is in no respect
suitable to a history. It is in general dry, unconnected,
and like the style of a dissertation. Sometimes, howr-
ever, we find in it passages full of fire and beauty, and
turns of expression truly original. A disease of the
brain, with which Ire was attacked, and under which
lie laboured several years, preventing him from putting
his last hand to the work. 2. Memoire sur les secoui's
donnes aux Romains par les Marseillais pendant la 2de
Guerre Punique. 3. Memoire sur les secours donnes
aux Rornains par les Marseillais clurant la Guerre
centre les Gaulois,.
OLMUTZ, a town of Germany, in Moravia, with a
bishop’s see, and a famous university, and containing
X 1,000 inhabitants. The public buildings are very hand¬
some, particularly the Jesuits college. It is a trading
place and very strong $ and yet it was taken, with the
whole garrison, by the king of Prussia in 1741 • In J uly
X758 he besieged it again j and when he had almost
taken the place, he was obliged to raise the siege, to go
and meet the Russian army. It is seated on the river
Morava. E. Long. 17. 35. N. Lat. 49. 30.
OLYMPIA, Maldachxni Donna, a woman of a
very uncommon character. She flourished about the
middle of the 17th century. She was sister-in-law to
Pope Innocent X. and had the address to acquire an un¬
limited power over this vain, weak, and injudicious
ecclesiastic. Her son Camillo was promoted to the car-
dinalate, under the title of Pamphilioj but falling in love
with the princess Rossana, a beautiful young widow, he
laid aside his hat, and married. The crime, if it was
one, was esteemed by the Romans in general at least ve¬
nial. The pope, however, was displeased ; and Olym¬
pia procured their banishment, being afraid lest her
daughter-in-law should lessen her authority in the sacred
court. This authority, equally unnatural and uncom¬
mon, reflected neither honour on her who held it, nor
on the man who allowed her to hold it. Such elevated
situations*
O L Y [ 13+ ] O L Y
Olympia, situations, however, whether they are the reward ct
merit, the effect of chance, or acquired by cunning,
are seldom very secure. Olympia, who had procured
the disgrace of many who did not deserve it, and who
had herself long merited such a fate, at length experi¬
enced both disgrace and banishment. This was obtain¬
ed by means of Cardinal Panzirollo, a great favourite of
the pope’s. The immediate cause of it was this : 1 he
pope had determined, in order to lessen his own trouble,
to adopt a nephew, and to make him a Cardinal Pa¬
tron, in order to give audience to ambassadors and mi¬
nisters, and in his absence to preside at the council. For
this purpose, at the recommendation of his favourite,
his holiness make choice of Astalli, brother of the mar¬
quis Astalli, who had married a niece of Olympia.
Olympia indeed was slightly consulted on the affair, and
showed no disapprobation of the appointment. Ihe
pope, however, no sooner got him fixed in his new of¬
fice, than he showed his own weakness by repenting of
it. Olympia too was displeased, and by her solicitations
procured the disgrace of Astalli, before he had enjoyed
either the honours or emoluments of his office. Panzi¬
rollo, however, soon managed matters so as to turn the
scales : he prevailed on the pope again to countenance
and honour Astalli; and, what was more, had influence
sufficient to persuade him to disgrace Olympia, and to
banish her the court. She had indeed abused her au¬
thority in a most scandalous manner, and had gained
such an absolute ascendant over the pope, that in every
thing his will had been subservient to her dictates.-—
Her avarice and ambition were unbounded: she disposed
of all benefices, which were kept vacant till she^ fully
informed herself of their value: she rated an office of
1000 crowns for three years, at one year’s revenue, and
if for life, at 12 years purchase, one half of which sum
she required to be paid in advance : she gave audience
upon public affairs, enacted new laws, abrogated those
of former popes, and sat in council with Innocent, with
bundles of memorials in her hands. It was generally
said that they lived together in a criminal correspond¬
ence, and that she had charmed him by some secret in¬
cantation. In the Protestant countries the loves and
intrigues of Innocent and Donna Olympia were repre¬
sented upon the stage ; and severe sarcasms were daily
put into the hands of Pasquin at Rome.—As she had
usurped such an absolute authority, the new cardinal
nephew saw the necessity of ruining her credit; he
therefore seconded the endeavours of Panzirollo.—He
insinuated to the pope, that his reputation had suffered
greatly among the Catholics by her scandalous proceed¬
ings, and that his nuncios were treated with disrespect
and contempt at the courts of the emperor, France, and
Spain. Upon these representations, Innocent at length,
but with great reluctance banished Olympia, and was
reconciled to Prince Camillo and the princess Rossana j
though some authors affirm that her banishment was no
more than a political retreat, and that she still in pri¬
vate directed the affairs of the pope. A woman of O-
lympia’s character, however, with such unbounded am¬
bition, such an extravagant lust for power, and such an
ambitious desire of wealth, and who had once possessed
so great an ascendancy over such a man as Innocent,
was not so easily to be put off. She was banished in
1650 ; but in 1653, she again assumed the supreme di¬
rection of affairs just as before her disgrace. She again Olympia,
accomplished the disgrace of Astalli, and procured the v ~
promotion of Azzolini to the office ot secretary ot the
briefs. In 1654, his holiness resigned himsell entirely
into the hands of this assuming woman ; who, observing
his infirmities daily increasing, redoubled her rapacity,
disposing of benefices to the highest bidders in all parts
of Italy. She was again, however, in hazard ot being
displaced by a new favourite, viz. the cardinal de Retz j
and had not the pope’s dissolution prevented it, it would
in all probability quickly have taken place. During
his last illness he received nothing but from the hands
of Donna Olympia, who was at great pains to prolong
his life, watched continually at his bed side, and pre¬
vented the ambassadors or others from disturbing him
with discourses upon business. She is said, during the
last ten days of his life, when he continued without the
use of reason, to have amassed about half a million of
crowns. She did not find the succeeding pope (Alex¬
ander VII.) so easy to be played upon as his weak pre¬
decessor : a number of memorials were sent in against
her, and his holiness was well disposed to attend to
them: he ordered her to retire from Rome, and at the
same time began to examine witnesses respecting her
^conduct. She was cut off, however, before the trial
was finished, by the-plague, which, in 1636, afflicted
Rome and its neighbourhood. Her estate was not con¬
fiscated as was generally expected j and the prince
Pamphilio was allowed to succeed her. The pope
only reserved for his own relations about million of
crowns.
Olympia, in Ancient Geography, with the surname
Pisatis (Strabo) ; so called from the territory of Pisa in
Elis ; described by Strabo, “ as the temple of Jupiter
Olympius, before which stands a grove of wild olive
trees, in which is the stadium, or foot-course, so called
because the eighth part ot a mile j and by whicn the
Alpheus, coming down from Arcadia, runs.” Olym¬
pia, however, was famous not merely for the temple
of Jupiter, but also for a temple of Juno, 63 feet long,
with columns round it of the Doric order; and a
Metroum or temple of the mother ot the gods, a large
Doric edifice 5 with holy treasuries. These, and the
porticoes, gymnasium, prytaneum, and many more
buildings, chiefly in the enclosure, with the houses of
the priests and other inhabitants, made Olympia no in¬
considerable place. The stadium was in the grove of
wild olive trees, before the great temple j and near it
was the hippodrome or course for the races ot horses
and chariots. The Alpheus flowed by from Arcadia
with a copious and very pleasant stream, which was re¬
ceived on the coast by the Sicilian sea.
The temple of Jupiter was of the Doric order, 68
feet high to the pediment, 95 wide, and 230 long 5 the
cell encompassed with columns. It was erected with
the country stone; the roof not of earth baked, but of
Pentelic marble ; the slabs disposed as tiles •, the way
to it up a winding staircase. The two pedunents were
enriched with sculpture •, and one had over the centre
a statue of Victory gilded; and underneath a votive
buckler of gold. At each corner was a gilded vase.
Above the columns were fixed 21 gilded bucklers, of¬
fered at the conclusion of the Achaean war by the Ro¬
man general Mummius. The gates in the two fronts
were
2
o h Y [ 135 ] O L Y
Olympia, ^cre °f ^rass, and over them were carved the labours of
Olympiad. Hercules. Within the cell were double colonnades, be-
tween which was the approach to the image.
The Jupiter of Olympia was accounted alone suffi¬
cient to immortalize its maker, Phidias. It was of
ivory and gold, the head crowned with olive. In the
right hand was a statue of Victory j in the left a
flowered sceptre, composed of various metals, on which
was an eagle. The sandals were of gold, as also the
vestment, which was curiously embossed with lilies and
animals. The throne was gold inlaid with ebony and
ivory, and studded with jewels, intermixed with paint¬
ings and exquisite figures in relievo. The pillars be¬
tween the feet contributed to its support. Before it
were walls, serving as a fence, decorated principally
with the exploits of Hercules j the portion opposite to
the door of a blue colour. It wTas the office of a fa¬
mily descended from Phidias, called phcedi'untce or the
polishers, to keep the work bright and clean. The
veil or curtain was cloth rich with the purple dye of
Phoenicia and with Assyrian embroidery, an offering
of King Antioch us, and was let down from above by
loosening the strings. The image impressed on the spec¬
tator an opinion that it was higher and wider than it
measured. Its magnitude is such, that though the tem¬
ple was very large, the artist seemed to have erred in the
proportions. The god, sitting, nearly touched the ceil¬
ing with his head; suggesting an idea, that if he were
to rise up, lie would destroy the roof. A part of the
pavement before it was of black marble, enclosed in a
rim of Parian or white, where they poured oil to pre¬
serve the ivory.
The altar of Jupiter Olympius was of great antiqui¬
ty, and composed of ashes from the thighs of the vic¬
tims, which were carried up and consumed on the top
with wTood of the white poplar tree. The ashes also of
the prytaneum, in which a perpetual fire was kept on
a hearth, were removed annually on a fixed day, and
spread on it, being first mingled with water from the
Alpheus. The cement, it w'as affirmed, could be made
with that fluid only ; and therefore this river w’as much
respected, and esteemed the most friendly of any to the
god. On each side of the altar were stone steps. Its
height wTas 22 feet. Girls and women, when allowed
to be at Olympia, were suffered to ascend the base¬
ment, which was 125 feet in circumference. The peo¬
ple ot Elis sacrificed daily, and private persons as often
as they chose.
Religion flourished at Olympia, and many deities were
worshipped besides Jupiter. Pausanius has enumerated
above 60 altars of various shapes and kinds. One of
the unknown gods stood by the great altar. The people
of Elis offered on all these monthly ; laying on them
boughs of olive ; burning incense, and wheat mixed
with honey ; and pouring libations of such liquors as the
ritual prescribed. At the latter ceremony sometimes a
form of prayer was used, and they sung hymns composed
in the Doric dialect.
Olympia was situated on an eminence, between two
mountains called Ossu and Olympus. Though its ancient
splendour is gone, the place reminds the traveller of
what it once was. It is in the Morea, being now a small
place called Longinico, 50 miles south of Lepanto, in
E. Long. 2 2. o. N. Lat. 37. 40.
OLYMPIAD, the space of four years, whereby
the Greeks reckoned time—The first Olympiad fell, Olympiad
according to the accurate and learned computation of II
some of the moderns, exactly 776 years before the first Ob"1?10
year of Christ, or 775 before the year of his birth, in. Ga^es' ,
the year of the Julian period 3938, and 22 years before
the building of the city of Rome. The games were
exhibited at the time of the full moon next after the
summer solstice ; therefore the Olympiads were of un¬
equal length, because the time of the full moon difters
11 days every year, and for that reason they sometimes
began the next day after the solstice, and at other times
four weeks after. The computation by Olympiads
ceased, as some suppose, after the 304th, in the year 440
of the Christian era. It wras universally adopted not
only by the Greeks, but by many of the neighbouring
countries; though still the Pythian games served as an
epoch to the people of Delphi and to the Boeotians ; the
Nemaean games to the Argives and Arcadians ; and the
Isthmian to the Corinthians and the inhabitants of the
Peloponnesian isthmus. To the Olympiads history is
much indebted. They have served to fix the time of
many momentous events ; and indeed before this method
of computing time was observed, every page of history
is mostly fabulous, and filled with obscurity and contra¬
diction, and no true chronological account can be pro¬
perly established and maintained with certainty.
OLYMPIAS, a celebrated woman, who w'as daugh¬
ter of a king of Epirus, and who married Philip king
of Macedonia, by whom she had Alexander the Great.
Her haughtiness, and more probably her infidelity, obli¬
ged Philip to repudiate her, and to marry Cleopatra,
the niece of King Attalus. Olympias was sensible of
this injury, and Alexander showed his disapprobation of
his father’s measures, by retiring from the court to his
mother. The murder of Philip, which soon followed
this disgrace, and which some have attributed to the in¬
trigues of Olympias, was productive of the greatest ex¬
travagances. The queen paid the greatest honour to
her husband’s murderer. She gathered his mangled
limbs, placed a crown of gold on his head, and laid his
ashes near those of Philip. The administration of Alex¬
ander, w ho had succeeded his father, was in some instan¬
ces offensive to Olympias ; but when the ambition of
her son was concerned, she did not scruple to declare
publicly that Alexander was not the son of Philip, but'
that he was the offspring of an enormous serpent who had
supernaturally introduced himself into her bed. When
Alexander was dead, Olympias seized the government
of Macedonia; and, to establish her usurpation, she
cruelly put to death Aridaeus,' with his wife Eurydiee,
as also Nicanor the brother of Cassander, with 100 lead¬
ing men of Macedon, who were inimical to her interest.
Such barbarities did not long remain unpunished: Cas¬
sander besieged her in Pydna, where she had retired with
the remains of her family, and she was obliged to sur¬
render after an obstinate siege. The conqueror ordered
her to be accused, and to be put to death. A body of
200 soldiers were ordered to put the bloody commands
into execution, but the splendour and majesty of the
queen disarmed their courage ; and she was at last mas¬
sacred by those whom she had cruelly deprived of their
children, about 316 years before the Christian era.
OLYMPIC games, wese solemn games among the
ancient Greeks, so called from Olympian Jupiter, to
whom they were dedicated ; and by some said to be
first
O L Y r 13^ ] ° L Y
Olympic frrst instituted by him, after his victory over the sonsot
Games. Titan j others ascribe their institution to Hercules, not
  vr—' the son of Alemena, but one of much greater antiqui¬
ty 5 others to Pelops ; and others to Hercules the son
of Alcmena. By whomsoever they were instituted, we
know that, at a period rather early, they had fallen into
disuse. The wars which prevailed among the Greeks,
for a while, totally interrupted the religious ceremonies
and exhibitions with which they had been accustomed to
honour the common gods and heroes ; but the Olympic
games were restored on the following occasion. Amidst
the calamities which afflicted or threatened Peloponne¬
sus, Iphitus, a descendant of Oxylus, to whom the pro-
* GWies's vince of Eleia* had fallen in the general partition of the
History of peninsula, applied to the Delphic oracle. The priests of
Greece. Apollo, ever disposed to favour the views of kings and
legislators, answered agreeably to his wish, that the fe¬
stivals anciently celebrated at Olympia, on the Alpheus,
must be renewed, and an armistice proclaimed for all the
states willing to partake ot them, and desirous to avert
» the vengeance of heaven, lortified by this authority,
and assisted by the advice of Lycurgus, Iphitus took
measures, not only for restoring the Olympic solemnity,
but for rendering it perpetual. The injunction ol the
oracle was speedily diflused through the remotest parts
of Greece by the numerous votaries who frequented the
sacred shrine. The armistice was proclaimed in Pelo¬
ponnesus, and preparations were made in Eleia for ex¬
hibiting shows and performing sacrifices. In the heroic
ages, feats of bodily strength and address were destined
to the honour of deceased warriors •, hymns and sacrifices
were reserved for the gods i but the flexible textuie of
Grecian superstition, easily confounding the expressions
of respectful gratitude and pious veneration, enabled
Iphitus to unite both in his new institution.
The festival, which lasted five days, began and end¬
ed with a sacrifice to Olympian Jove. The intermediate
time was chiefly filled up byr the gymnastic exercises, in
which all freemen of Grecian extraction were invited
to contend, provided they had been born in lawful wed¬
lock, and had lived untainted by any infamous immoral
stain. The preparation for this part ot the entertain¬
ment was made in the gymnasium ot Elis, a spacious
edifice, surrounded by a double range of pillars, with an
open area in the middle. Adjoining were various apart¬
ments, containing baths, and other conveniences for the
combatants. The neighbouring country was gradually
adorned with porticoes, shady walks and groves, inter¬
spersed with seats and benches j the whole originally
destined to relieve the fatigues and anxiety of the can¬
didates for Olympic fame ; and frequented in later
times, by sophists and philosophers, who were fond to
contemplate wisdom, and communicate knowledge, in
those delightful retreats. The order of the athletic
exercises, or combats, was established by Lycurgus, and
corresponded almost exactly to that described by Ho¬
mer, in the 23d book of the Iliad, and eighth of the
Odyssey. Iphitus, we are told, appointed the other ce¬
remonies and entertainments •, settled the regular return
of the festival at the end of every fourth year, in the
month of July, and gave to the whole solemnity that
form and arrangement, which it preserved with little va¬
riation above a thousand years *, a period exceeding the
duration of the most famous kingdoms and republics of
,4
antiquity. Among the benefactors of Olympia, at a Olympic
much later period, was reckoned Herod, who was af- Games,
terwards king of Judiea. Seeing, on his way to Rome,1 v—*
the games neglected or dwindling into insignificance
from the poverty of the Eleaus, he displayed vast muni¬
ficence as president, and provided an ample revenue lor
their future support and dignity".
The care and management ol the Olympics belong¬
ed for the most part to the Eleans •, who on that account
enjoyed their possessions without molestation, or fear of
war or violence. They appointed a certain number of
judges, who were to take care that those who offered
themselves as competitors should perform their prepara¬
tory exercises ; and these judges, during the solemnity,
sat naked, having before them a crown of victory, lorm-
ed of wild olive, which was presented to whomsoever
they adjudged it. Those who were conquerors were
called Olympionices, and were loaded with honours by
their countrymen. At these games women were not
allowed to be present; and if any woman was found,
during the solemnity, to have passed the river Alpheus,
she was to be thrown headlong from a rock. This,
however, was sometimes neglected ; for we find not only'
women present at the celebration, but also some among
the combatants, and some rewarded with the crown.
The preparations for these lestivals were great. No
person was permitted to enter the lists, if he had not re¬
gularly exercised himself ten months before the celebra¬
tion at the public gymnasium of Elis. No unfair deal¬
ings were allowed ; whoever attempted to bribe his ad¬
versary was subjected to a severe fine j and even the fa¬
ther and relations were obliged to swear that they would
have recourse to no artifice which might decide the vic¬
tory in favour of their friends. No criminals, nor such
as were connected with impious and guilty persons, were
suffered to present themselves as combatants. The
wrestlers were appointed by lot. Some little balls su¬
perscribed with a letter were thrown into a silver urn,
and such as drew the same letter were obliged to contend
one with the other. He who had an odd letter remain¬
ed the last; and he often had the advantage, as he was
to encounter the last who had obtained the superiority
over his adversary. In these games were exhibited run¬
ning, leaping, Avrestling, boxing, and the throwing of
the quoit, which was called altogether TrsiraffAcv, or quin-
quertium. Besides these, there were horse and chariot
races, and also contentions in poetry, eloquence, and the
fine arts. The only reward that the conqueror obtain¬
ed was a crown of olive. This, as some suppose, was in
memory of the labours of Hercules, which were accom¬
plished for the universal good of mankind, and for which
the hero claimed no other reward but the consciousness of
having been the friend of mankind. So small and trifling
a reward stimulated courage and virtue, and was the source
of greater honours than the most unbounded treasures.
The statues of the conquerors, called Olymptcnicce, were
erected at Olympia in the sacred wood of Jupiter.
Their return home was that of a warlike conqueror j
they were drawn in a chariot by four horses, and
every where received with the greatest acclamations.
Their entrance into their native city was not through
the gates: to make it more grand and more solemn, a
breach was made in the walls. Painters and poets were
employed in celebrating their names; and indeed the
victories
O L Y f I
Olympic, victories severally obtained at Olympia are the subjects
■ of the most beautiful odes of Pindar. The combatants
were naked. A scarf was originally tied round their
vyaste; but when it had entangled one of the adversa¬
ries, and been the cause that he lost the victory, it was
laid aside, and no regard was paid to decency. The
Olympic games were observed every fifth year, or, to
speak with greater exactness, after a revolution of four
years, and in the first month of the fifth year, and they
continued for five successive days. As they were the
most ancient and most solemn of all the festivals of the
Greeks, it will not appear wonderful that they drew so
many people, not only inhabitants of Greece, but of the
neighbouring islands and countries.
Such is the account of Grecian writers, who have,
doubtless, often ascribed to positive institution many in¬
ventions and usages naturally resulting from the progres¬
sive manners of society. W hen wrc come to examine the
Elean games in their more improved state, together
with the innumerable imitations of them in other pro¬
vinces of Greece, there will occur reasons for believing,
that many regulations, referred by an easy solution to
the legislative wisdom of Iphitus or Lycurgus, were in-
tioduced by time or accident, continued through custom,
. , improved by repeated trials, and confirmed by :a sense of
imorTof their Util!ty*- Yet Such an institution as the Olympi-
&reece. a<^’ eye‘i in i^s least perfect form, must have been attend¬
ed with manifest advantages to society. It is sufficient
barely to mention the suspension of hostilities which
took place, not only during the celebration of the festi¬
val, but a considerable time both before and after it.
Considered as a religious ceremony, at which the whole
Grecian name was invited, and even enjoined to assist,
it was well adapted to facilitate intercourse, to promote
knowledge, to soften prejudice, and to hasten the pro¬
gress of civilization and humanity. Greece, and parti¬
cularly Peloponnesus, was the centre from which the ad¬
venturous spirit of its inhabitants had diffused innumer¬
able colonies through the surrounding nations. To
these widely separated communities, which, notwith¬
standing their common origin, seemed to have lost all
connexion and correspondence, the Olympiad served as
a common bond of alliance and point of re-union. The
celebrity of this festival continually attracted to it the
characters most distinguished for genius and enterprise,
whose fame would have otherwise been unknown and
lost in the boundless extent of Grecian territory. The
remote inhabitants, not onlyr of European Greece, but
of Asia and Africa, being assembled to the worship of
common gods, were formed to the sense of a general
interest, and excited to the pursuit of national honour
and prosperity. Strangers of similar dispositions might
confirm in Elis the sacred and indissoluble ties of hospi¬
tality If their communities were endangered by any
barbarous power, they might here solicit assistance from
their Grecian brethren. On other occasions they might
explain the benefits which, in peace or war, their respec-
lives countries were best qualified to communicate. And
the Olympic festival might thus serve the purpose of
resident ambassadors, and other institutions alike un¬
known to antiquity.
OLYMPUS, the name of several mountains.—One
bounding Bithynia on the south.—Another in the
island of Cyprus, on whose top was a temple of Venus,
which women were not permitted either to enter or to
Vol. XV. Part I. i
37 J O M A
—A(r„urrti,‘>)onA •i,!r<\?lympT, of (W). Olympa*
- loin tb, of Lycia, with a noble cognomina I town, 11
near the sea coast (Strabo, Cicero . extinct in Pliny’s °mar*
fime, there remaining only a citadel ; the town was de'- ' 
stroyed by P. Servihus Isauricus (Florus), having been
the retreat of pirates. From this mountain there was
an extensive prospect of Lycia, Pamphilia, and Pisidia
(Strabo). A fifth, Olympus of Mvsia Ptolemy);
thence surnamed Olympena, ardently Minor; one of
the highest mountains, and surnamed Mysius (Theo¬
phrastus ;) situated on the Propontis, and thence extend¬
ing more inland.—A sixth, on the north of Thessaly or
on the confines of Macedonia; famous for the fable5 of
the giants (Virgil, Horace, Seneca); reckoned the
highest in the whole world, and to exceed the flight of
birds (Apuleius), which is the reason of its being called
heaven, than which nothing is higher: the serenity and
calmness which reign there, are celebrated by Homer
Lucan, and Claudian.
OLYKA, a genus of plants belonging to the mo*-
noecia class ; and in the natural method ranking under
the 4th order, Gramma. See Botany Index.
OMAIUEbn Al Khattab, successor of Abu Beer.
- I he Mohammedan imposture, like every other false-
hood of its kind, copies after the truth as far a- was
thought convenient or proper; and miracles being the
giand proof of revelation, it was to be expected that
all pretences to that should assume at least the ap¬
pearances of them. Few systems of faith are more,
absurd than Mohammed’s; yet, though he disclaimed
miracles, it was supported, as we are told by later wri¬
ters, by a variety of them, which, however, unfortunate¬
ly for the creed they were contrived to support, are too
trifling, absurd, and contradictory, to deserve the small¬
est attention.
Ihey teli us, but upon grounds too vague and in¬
determinate to command belief, that Omar was mira¬
culously converted to this faith : a man he is report¬
ed to have been, before this event, truly respectable,
and in particular a violent opposer of the Arabian
prophet. Mohammed, it seems, felt this opposition,
and regretted it; he therefore, with the fervour, and
as it happened, with the success of a true prophet, ac¬
cording to his followers account, prayed for the conver¬
sion of this his dangerous antagonist. Omar, it is said,
had no sooner read the 20th chapter of the Koran than
he was convinced : upon which he instantly repaired to
Mohammed and his followers, and declared his conver¬
sion. It is said, that at one time he intended to
murder the prophet ; and various causes are assigned for
the prevention of this shocking piece of sacrilege. Af ter
his wonderful conversion, the Mohammedan writers
inform us that he was surnamed Al Furuk, or the
“ divider;” because, say they, when a certain Moslem
was condemned by Mohammed for his iniquitous treat¬
ment of a Jew, and appealed afterwards from the sen¬
tence of the prophet to Omar, he cut him in two
with his scimitar for not acquiescing in the decision
of so upright a judge: which circumstance when
Mohammed heard, he gave him the surname of Al
Faruk, or “ the divider;” because, by this action,
he had shown himself capable of perfectly distinpnfth-
ing between truth and falsehood*. Al Kodai affirms,
that 39 of Omar’s adherents followed his example the
same day he professed himself a votary of Mohammed,
S The
O-inav.
O M A [I
The conversion of Hamza and Omar Tbn Ai Khattab
happened in the year preceding the first flight <d the
tv i i _ • rw flip fourth vear oi Moham-
Moslems into Ethiopia, or the fourth year of Moham¬
med’s mission, according to Abulteda. He was un-
onestionably a great acquisition to the prophet, and
enabled him to carry on Ins schemes to far more pur¬
pose than he could possibly have done without him,
or if he had continued his enemy. Omar at length
found his services in the cause he had undertaken suf¬
ficiently honoured and amply rewarded • for on the
death of Abu Beer, who had succeeded the impostor
himself, he was promoted to the regal and pontifical
d'urnitv. The title first assigned him was the cal/p/i oj
ihe caliph of the apostle of God; or in other words the
successor of the successor of Mohammed: but the Arabs
considering that this title, by the addition to be an¬
nexed to it at the accession of every future caliph,
wild be too long, they, by universal consent, sa¬
luted him the emperor of the believers; Much illustrious
title, at this juncture conferred on Omar, descende
afterwards to all the successors of that prince. Our
readers will not expect us to follow the cahph with
minute exactness through the transactions of Ins reign.
This would indeed swell our article beyond all propor¬
tion. We shall therefore confine ourselves to some of the
leading facts. , . .
His arms appear to have been particularly success-
ful i the Persians he conquered, and Jerusalem sub¬
mitted to his power; nor does he appear to have been
checked in a single instance. In consequence, however,
of his success, an attempt was made to assassinate him.
The fact is thus related: Wathek Ebn Mosater, a re¬
solute young Arab, was procured by the king ol Ghal-
fan and sent to Medina for this very purpose, some
time after his arrival, observing Omar to fall asleep
under a tree on which he had placed himself, so as
not to be discovered by any person, he drew his dag¬
ger, and was upon the point of stabbing him, when,
lifting up his eyes, he saw a lion walking round about
him, and licking his feet. Nor did the lion cease to
guard the caliph till he awoke ; but then instantly went
away This phenomenon struck Wathek with a pro¬
found reverence for Omar, whom he now revered as the
peculiar care of heaven. He therefore came down from
the tree, on which the lion had forced him to remain,
kissed the caliph’s hand, confessed his crime, and em¬
braced the Mohammedan religion ; being so strongly
affected with the wonderful deliverance he had been
an eye witness of. His life, however, was at length
-ended by assassination ; for about two years after the
conclusion of the Nohawandian war, in which the Arabs
probably still farther extended their conquests, though
no account of their military operations during that pe¬
riod has reached us, that is in the 23d year o the lie-
cira, according to Abu Jaafar A! Tabarj, the caliph
Omar Elm A1 Khattah was assassinated by a Persian
slave ; of which horrid fact the Arab writers have hand¬
ed down the following particulars: Abu Lulua, a i er-
gian of the Magi an sect, whose name was Firux, one ot
A1 Mogheira Ebn A1 Shaabah’s slave, was obliged by
his master to pay daily two dirhems, in conformity to
the Mohammedan custom, for tire free exercise of this
religion. Firuz resenting this treatment, complained ot
it to the caliph, and desired that some part at least of
the tribute exacted of him might be remitted ; but this
5
38 ] O M B
favour being refused by Omar, the Persian threatened
his destruction ; which he soon alter effected, by. stab- t
bing him thrice in the belly with a dagger, while he
was in the mosque at Medina performing his morning
devotions. The Arabs then present perceiving that the
villain had imbrued his hands in the blood of their sove¬
reign, immediately rushed upon him; but he made so
desperate a defence, that he wounded 13 of the assailants,
and seven of them mortally. At last one of the caliph s
attendants threw his vest over him, and seized him ;
upon which he stabbed himself and soon after expired.
According to Theophanes, this Firuz was an apostate
or renegade, and consequently had before embraced the
Mohammedan religion : but this assertion is by no means
probable; because on his becoming a convert tolslamism,
he must have been manumitted by his master, and on his
relapsing into Magiism, he would have been put to death
by the caliph’s order: neither of which particulars are
consistent with what we find related by the Arab histo¬
rians, and even by our Greek chronographer himself.
Omar languished three days and then died, in the month
of Dhu’lhajja, and the 23d year of the Hegira, which
began in the year of our Lord 643. Authors are not
agreed with regard to the duration of his caliphate.
The Arab historians, whom we are inclined to follow,
say that he reigned between 10 and 11 years, iheo-
phanes affirms, that he was murdered in the 12th year
of his caliphate, and Dionysius Telmarensis extends the
length of his reign to 12 complete years. Only one of
the°wounds given him by Firuz was mortal, and that he
received under his navel. At his death he was 63 years
old ; which, as we are told by an Arab author, was the
age of Mohammed himself, Abu Beer, and Ayesha,
one of the prophet’s wives, when they died. When
Omar fell in the mosque, Abd’alrahman Ebn Awf,
one of Mohammed’s first converts, supplied his place
during the remainder of the service ; and three days be¬
fore his death, Sahib Ebn Tarsib, at his command, offi¬
ciated for him. His body was interred in Ayesha’s
apartment, near that of the prophet Mohammed. We
are informed by Eutychius, that during his caliphate he
performed the pilgrimage to Mecca nine times. His
extensive conquests made the Moslem empire one of the
most powerful and formidable monarchies in the world.
His disposition is represented to us, with evident par¬
tiality indeed, as one of the best possible, and his tem¬
perance has always been highly extolled.
OMB I, a city of ancient Egypt, afterwards called
Arsinoe and Crocodilopolis, was the capital of one of the
nomes into which that country was divided, and is re¬
markable, in the annals of idolatry, for the hatred of its
inhabitants to the religion of their neighbours the citi¬
zens of Tentyra.
The genius of paganism was so complying with re¬
spect to the objects of religious worship, that although
each nation, each city, and almost every family, had its
own tutelar god, we know not a single instance, out of
Egypt of one tribe of Pagans persecuting another tor
worshipping gods different from theirs. The Jews and
Christians were indeed persecuted by the Romans, not
however for worshipping the true God, but because, to¬
gether with him, they would not worship Jupiter, Juno,
and all the rabble of heathen divinities.
The reason of the almost universal tolerance ol ido¬
laters to one another, and of the intolerance of all to,
the
Omar,
Omlii-
O M B [ 139 ] O M B
Ombi,
Ombre.
* Prep.
Evang.
P-32-
Stepli. ed.
the Jews and Christians, is very obvious. Not a single
Pagan, a very tew philosophers perhaps excepted, ever
J thought of paying his adoration to the Supreme and
self-existent Being, but to inferior divinities, to whom
it was supposed that the care of particular persons, fa¬
milies, cities, and nations, was consigned by the God of
the universe. The consequence w as, that, as no person
denied the divinity of his neighbour’s object of wor¬
ship, an intercommunity of gods was everywhere ad¬
mitted, and all joined occasionally in adoring the gods
of the various nations. By the Jews and Christians
this communion was rejected as in the highest degree
impious j and it could not well be maintained between
the citizens of Ombi and those of Tentyra.
That brutes were worshipped in Egypt is universally
known (see Polytheism) j and Diodorus the Sicilian
informs us, in a passage quoted by Eusebius *, that “ the
cities and nomes of Egypt being at one time prone to
rebellion, and to enter into conspiracies against monar¬
chical government, one of their most politic kings con¬
trived to introduce into the neighbouring nomes the
worship of different animals •, so that while each reve¬
renced the deity which itself held sacred, and despised
that which its neighbours had consecrated, they could
hardly be brought to join cordially in one common de¬
sign to the disturbance of the government.”
In this distribution of gods he conferred upon Ombi
the crocodile, and upon Tentyra, the mortal enemy of
that monster, the ichneumon. The consequence of which
was, that while the Ombites worshipped the crocodile,
the Tentyrites took every opportunity of slaughtering
him, insomuch that, according to Strabo, the very voice
of an inhabitant of Tentyra put the crocodile to flight.
This, we confess, is a very improbable fact; but it is
certain that the mutual hatred of those cities, on ac¬
count of their hostilq gods, rose to such a height, that
whenever the inhabitants of the one were engaged in
the more solemn rites of their religion, those of the o-
ther were sure to embrace the opportunity of setting fire
to their houses, and rendering them every injury in
their power to inflict. And what may, to a superficial
thinker, appear extraordinary, though it will excite no
wonder in the breast of him who has studied mankind,
this animosity continued between the inhabitants of the
two cities long after the crocodile and ichneumon had
lost their divinity.
The conduct of the Egyptian monarch was admi¬
rably calculated for preventing the nation from com¬
bining against the government j and it extended its
influence over the whole kingdom. Dtodorus informs
us, that he assigned to each nome an animal to wor¬
ship, which wras hated, killed, and sometimes fed up¬
on by the inhabitants of the neighbouring nome ; and
we know, upon higher authority than his, that the
Israelites could not offer sacrifices in Egypt, because
the bullock was deemed sacred over the whole coun¬
try.
OMBRE, a celebrated game at cards, borrowed
from-the Spaniards, and played by two, by three, or
by five persons, but generally by three. W hen three
play at this game, nine cards are dealt to each party $
the whole ombre pack being only 40: because the
eights, nines, and tens, are thrown out of the pack.
There are two sorts of counters for stakes, the greater
and the lesser ; the last having the same proportion to
the other as a penny to a shilling: of the greater coun¬
ters each man stakes one for the game; and one of the
lesser for passing for the hand, when eldest, and for
every card taken in. As to the order and value of the
cards, the ace of spades, called spadillo, is always the
highest trump, in whatsoever suit the trump be ; the
manille, or black duce, is the second ; and the hasto,
or ace of clubs, is always the third: the next in order
is the king, the queen, the knave, the seven, the six”,
the five, four, and three. Of the black there are 11
trumps j of the red, 12. The least small cards of the
red are always* the best, and the most of the black;
except the duce and red seven, both of which are called
the manille a, and are always second when the red is a
trump. The red ace, when a trump, enters into the
fourth place, and is called ; otherwise it is only
called an ace. The three principal cards are called
matadores; which have this privilege, that they are not
obliged to attend an inferior trump when it leads ; but
for want of a small trump, the person may renounce
trumps, and play any other card ; and when these are
all in the same hand, the others pay three of the great¬
er counters a-piece; and with these three for a foun¬
dation, he may count as many matadores as he has
cards in an uninterrupted series of trumps ; for all which
the others are to pay one counter a-piece. He who
hath the first hand is called ombre, and has his choice
of playing the game, of naming the trump, and of ta¬
king in as many and as few cards as he pleases ; and
after him the second, &c. But if he does not name
the trump before he looks on the cards he has taken in,
any other may prevent him, by naming what trump
he pleases. He that has the first hand should neither
take in, nor play, unless he has at least three sure tricks
in his hand : for, as he wins the game who wins most
tricks, he that can win five of the nine has a sure game:
which is also the case if he wins four, and can so divide
the tricks as that one person may win two, and the
other three.
If a person play without discarding or changing
any cards, this is called playing sans prendre ; and it
another win more tricks than he, he is said to win co-
dille. The oversights in the course of the game are
called beasts. And if the ombre wins all the nine
tricks, it is called winning the vole.
In ombre by five, which many, on account of its not
requiring so close an attention, prefer to that by three,
only eight cards a-piece are dealt; and five tricks must
be won, otherwise the ombre is beasted. Here the per¬
son who undertakes the game, after naming the trump,
calls a king to his assistance ; upon which the person in
whose hand the king is, without discovering himself, is
to assist him as a partner, and to share his fate. If,
between both, they can make five tricks, the ombre wiqs
two counters, and the auxiliary king only one; but
when the counters are even, they divide them equally.
If the ombre venture the game without calling in any
king, this too is called playing sans prendre ; in which
case the other four are all against him, and he must win
five tricks alone, or be beasted. The rest-is.much.the
same as by three
Ombre de soldi, “ Shadow ot the sun,” in Herald¬
ry, is when the sun is borne in armory, so as that the
S 2 eyes,
Ombre.
O M E [ 140- ] o M E
Oi^bre eyes, nose, anti mouth, which at other times are repre
|| seiited, do not appear j and the colouring is thin, so
°nien that the field can appear through it.
OMBRIA, the ancient name of a province of Italy,
in the territory of the pope, now called Spoletto and
Perugia.
OMBRO, or Lombro, a town of Italy, in the duchy
of Tuscany, and territory of the Siennois, situated near
the Tuscan sea, a little south ol the lake ol Castiglione,
45 miles south-west of Sienna.
OMBROMETER, an instrument to measure the
quantity of rain that falls. We have the description
and figure of one in Phil. Trans. N° 473. p. 12. It
consists of a tin funnel, whose surface is an inch square,
with a flat board, and a glass tube set into the middle
of it in a groove. The rise of the water in the tube,
whose capacity at different times must be measured and
marked, shows the quantity of rain that has fallen.
OMELET, or Amlet, a kind of pancake or fri¬
cassee of eggs, with other ingredients, very usual in
Spain and France. It may be made as follows : The
eggs being beaten, are to be seasoned with salt and
pepper, and then fried in butter made boiling hot 5
this done, gravy is to be poured on, and the whole
stewed with chives and parsley shred small: when one
side is fried enough, it is to be turned on the other.
OMEN, is a word which, in its proper sense, signi¬
fies a sign or indication of some future event, taken from
the language of a person speaking without any intent
to prophecy. Hence Tully says, “ Pythagorei non solum
voces deorum observarunt, sed etiam hominum, quae vo-
cent omina;'1'1 “ the Pythagoreans attend to the discourse
not only of gods, but also of men, which they call omensi1'
This sort of omen rvas supposed to depend much upon the
will of the person concerned in the event ; whence the
phrases accepit omen, arripmt omen. Such were the ori¬
ginal omens; but they were afterwards derived from
things as well as from words. Thus Paterculus, speaking
of the head of Sulpicius on the rostrum, says it was velut
omen imminentis proscriptionis, “ the omen of an im¬
pending proscription.” Suetonius says of Augustus, that
he believed implicitly in certain omens •, and that, si
mane sibi calceus perperam, ac sinister pro dextero indu-
ceretur ut dirum, “ If his shoes were improperly put on
in the morning, especially if the left shoe was put upon
his right foot, he held it for a bad omen.” Omen was
used in a still larger sense, to signify an augury; as in
the following line of Tully. “ Sic aquiloe clarum fir-
mavit Jupiter omen?' “ thus Jove confirmed the bright Ontfn.
omen of the eagle.” It was lastly used, in the most' ——
generic sense of all, for a portent or prodigy y as in
the third book of the iEneid, where a myrtle torn up
by ./Eneas dropped blood. Upon this appearance, says
the hero,
—  Mihi frigidus horror
Membra quatit, gtlidusque coit formidine sanguis.
And the same thing being repeated upon his breaking,
a branch from another tree, he prayed to the gods to -
avert the omen.
Malta movens animo Nvmphas venerabar agrestes,
Gradivumque patrem, Geticis qui prsesidet arvis,
Rite secundarent visus, omenopxe levarent (a.)
The portentous or supernatural omens were either
external or internal. Of the former sort were those
showers of blood so frequently occurring in the Roman
history, which were much ol the same nature with this
adventure of ./Eneas, which he calls monstra deum.
Of the second sort were those sudden consternations,
which, seizing upon men without any visible cause,
were imputed to the agency of the god Pan, and hence
called panic fears. But indeed there was hardly any¬
thing, however trivial, from which the ancients did not
draw omens. That it should have been thought a
direful omen when any thing beiel the temples, altars,
or statues of the GODS, need excite no wonder 5 but
that the meeting of a eunuch, a negro, a bitch with
whelps, or a snake lying in the road, should have been
looked upon as portending bad fortune, is a deplorable
instance of human weakness, and of the pernicious in¬
fluence of superstition on the mind.
It is more than probable that this practice of making
ordinary events ominous ol good or had fortune took its
rise in Egypt, the parent country of almost every su¬
perstition of paganism} but wherever it may have
arisen, it spread itself over the whole inhabited globe,
and at this day prevails in a greater or less degree
among the vulgar of all nations.
In England, it is reckoned a good omen, or a sign
of future happiness, if the sun shines on a couple com¬
ing out of the church after having been married. It
is also esteemed a good sign if it rains whilst a corpse
is burying :
Happy is the bride that the sun shines on ;
Happy is the corpse that the rain rains on.
(a) Instead of translating those short quotations, we shall here give Dryden’s version oi the whole of this
portentous adventure, as we are persuaded that the mere English reader, who alone can wish for a translation,
will he glad to have the fullest account of the bleeding myrtle, together with its effects on the mind ol the
hero. It is as follows :
Not far, a rising hillock stood in view j
Sharp myrtles on the sides and corners grew.
There, while I went to crop the sylvan scenes,
And shade our altar with their leafy greens,
I pull’d a plant (with horror I relate
.A prodigy so strange, and full of fate):
The rooted fibres rose ; and from the wound
Black bloody drops distill’d upon the ground.
Mute and amaz’d, my hair with terror stood $
Fear shrunk my sinews, and congeal’d my blood.
Maim’d once again, another plant I try 5
That other gush’d with the same sanguine dye.
Then, fearing guilt for some offence unknown,
With prayers and vows the Dryads I atone,
With all the sisters of the woods, and most
The god of arms, who rules the Thracian coast:
That they, or he, these omens would avert,
Release our fears, and better signs impart.
o M E [ HI ] O M E
t>men- 10 weak a looting glass js extreracly milucky j the
—V—party to whom it belongs will lose his best friend.
It, going a journey on business, a sow cross the road,
you will probably meet with a disappointment, if not
a bodily accident, before you return home. To avert
this you must endeavour to prevent her crossing you ;
and if that cannot be done, you must ride round on fresh
ground. If the sow is attended with her litter of pigs,
it is lucky, and denotes a successful journey.
It is unlucky to see first one magpye, and then more 5
Cut to see two denotes marriage or merriment 5 three,
a successful journey ; four, an unexpected piece of good
news j five, you will shortly be in a great company. To
kill a magpye, will certainly be punished with some ter¬
rible misfortune.
If in a family, the youngest daughter should be mar¬
ried before her elder sisters, they must all dance at her
wedding without shoes: this will counteract their ill
luck, and procure them husbands.
If you meet a funeral procession, or one passes by
you, always take olf your hat : this keeps all evil spirits
attending the body in good humour.
If, in eating, you miss your mouth, and the victuals
fall, it is very unlucky, and denotes approaching sick¬
ness.
It is lucky to put on a stocking the wrong side out¬
wards : changing it alters the luck.
When a person goes out to transact any important
business, it is lucky to throw an old shoe after him.
It is unlucky to present a knife, scissars, razor, or
any sharp or cutting instrument, to one’s mistress or
friend, as they are apt to cut love and friendship. To
avoid the ill effects of this, a pin, a farthing, or some
trifling recompense, must he taken. To find a knife
or razor, denotes ill luck and disappointment to the
party.
In the Highlands of Scotland, it is thought unlucky
if a person setting out upon a journey stumble over the
threshold, or he obliged to return for any thing forgot¬
ten. If a sportsman see any person stepping over his
gun or fishing rod, he expects but little success in that
day’s diversion. Sneering is also deemed ominous. If
one sneeze when making a bed, a little of the straw or
heath is taken out and thrown into the fire, that no¬
thing may disturb the rest of the person who is to sleep
in the bed. Among the same people, success in any
enterprise is believed to depend greatly upon the first
creature that presents itself after the enterprise is under¬
taken. Thus, upon going to shoot, it is reckoned lucky
to meet a horse, but very unfortunate to see a hare, if
she escape 5 and upon meeting anv creature deemed un¬
lucky, the best means of averting the omen is to roll a
stone towards it. The Greeks attributed the same ef¬
ficacy to the rolling of a stone, though they greatly pre¬
ferred killing the ominous animal, that the evil portend-
* See Pof- ed might fall on its own head*.
ter s Anti- The motions and appearances of the clouds were
n°t long ago considered ascertain signs by which the
skilful Highlander might attain to the knowledge of
futurity. On the evening before new year's day, if a
black cloud appeared in any part of the horizon, it was
thought to prognostic a plague, a famine, or the
death of some great man in that part of the country
over which it should appear to set ; and in order to
ascertain the place threatened by the omen, the mo-
l
turns of this cloud were often watched through the whole Omen,
nignt, it it happened to continue so long visible above *' 1 y—~
the horizon.
By the believers in this superstition there are days,
as well as words and events, which are deemed ominous
ot good or bad fortune. The first day of every quarter,
midsummer, and new year’s day, are reckoned the
most fortunate days in the year for accomplishing anv
design. In the isle of Mull, ploughing, sowing, and
reaping, are always begun on Tuesday% though the most
favourable weather for these purposes be in this way
frequently lost. That day of the week on which the
third of May falls, is deemed unlucky throughout the
whole year. In Morven, none will upon any account
dig peat or turf for fuel on Friday ; and it is reckon¬
ed unlucky to number the people or cattle belonging to
any family, and doubly so if the number he taken
on 1 riday. rl he age of the moon is also much at¬
tended to by the vulgar Highlanders. It is aileged,
that during the increase things have a tendency to
grow and stick together: and hence, in the isle of kky,
fences which are there made of turf, are built only at
that time ; whilst turf or peat for fuel are never, even
in the most favourable weather, either made or stacked
up hut while the moon is in its wane. An opinion pre¬
vails in some places, that if a house take fire during
the increase of the moon, the family to which it belongs
will prosper in the world : but that if the fire happen
while the moon is in the decrease, the family will horn
that time decline in its circumstances, and sink into
poverty.
In attributing such influence to the moon, the super¬
stitious Highlanders have the honour to agree with the
philosophic Virgil, who in his Georgies gives the follow¬
ing sage instructions to the husbandman :
Ipsa dies alios alio dedit ordine Luna
Felices, operum. Quintam fuge;
* * * *
Septima post decimam felix et ponere vilem.
Ft prensos domitare boves, et liciu tela;
Addere : nona fugee mclior, contraria furtis.
The lucky days in each revolving moon
lor labour choose : the fifth be sure to shun.
•* # * *
The seventh is, next the tenth, the best to join
Young oxen to the yoke, and plant the vine.
Then weavers stretch your stays upon the weft:
The ninth is good for travel, bad for theft.
JDryden.
From this coincidence of the superstition of tne Ro¬
man poet with that of the natives of Mull and Mor¬
ven, we are strongly inclined to adopt the hypothe¬
sis of the gentlemen who favoured us with this accu¬
rate account of Highland omens. He justly observes,
that this superstitious practice of auguring good or ill
from trifling events, and from the particular phases of
the moon, has no connexion whatever with popish
priestcraft: he shows that the Romish clergy, even in
the darkest age, were at pains to eradicate it as idle
and impious; and he therefore infers that it must be
a relick of Dnudism handed down by tradition from
an era prior to the introduction of Christianity into
the Highlands and isles of Scotland. That the Druids
were
Omen
II
Omoa.
O M O [i
were acquainted with the particular doctrines of Pytha¬
goras has been shown elsewhere (see Druids) } that
, Virgil was no stranger to the Pythagorean philosophy
is known to every scholar j that Pythagoras and his fol¬
lowers were addicted to the dotages of Magic has
been made apparent in that article ^ and therefore it
appears to us probable at least, that the attention paid
to pretended omens, not only in the Highlands, but
also in the low country of Scotland, and indeed among
the vulgar in evei"y country of Durope, is a remnant of
one of the many superstitions which the Druids imposed
•upon their deluded followers, lhat it is contrary to
every principle of sound philosophy, all philosophers will
readily acknowledge } and whoever has studied the wri¬
tings of St Paul must be convinced that it is inconsist¬
ent with the spirit of genuine Christianity.
OMENTUM, or Epiploon, the Cawl, in Anatomy,
• a membranaceous part, usually furnished with a large
quantity of fat 5 being placed under the peritonaeum,
and immediately above the intestines. See Anatomy,
N0 90.
OMER, in Jewish antiquity. See Corus.
St OMER’s, a strong, fortified, large, town of
France, in the department of the Straits of Calais, with
a castle and a bishop’s see, and containing 20,109 in¬
habitants in 1800. It is a fortress of considerable im¬
portance, surrounded on one side with a large morass ;
and about it there are many sluices, which serve to car¬
ry the water off when it is overflowed. In the midst
of the morass there is a sort of floating islands covered
with verdure and trees. The cathedral is a handsome
structure *, and there are other fine buildings, with a
rich Benedictine abbey. The French became masters
of this place in 1679. It is seated on the river Aa,
and on the side of a hill, eight miles north-west of Aire,
and 135 north of Paris. E. Long. 2. 20. N. Lat. 54. 45.
OMOA, a Spanish town and fortification on the
south side of the bay of Honduras, N. Lat. 15. 50.
W. Long. 89. 50. from London. It is the key to the
bay and such is the depth of the water, that ships of
any burden may ride in the harbour with safety. It
is a place of the utmost importance to Spain, as the
register ships to and from Guatimala are sent to it in
the time of war. The town was first established in
1751, under the command of Don Joseph Antonio
de Palmo. At that period the inhabitants were about
20 wnite men, 60 mulattoes and free negroes, and 200
slaves to the king of Spain ; and the military force con¬
sisted of about 30 soldiers, besides officers. The fort
was originally composed of sand confined in boarded
coffers, and faced with half-burnt bricks. It was de¬
fended by 12 fine brass 24 pounders mounted, four or
five iron guns of different bores, and some field-pieces.
The Spaniards, sensible of the importance of the place,
afterwards fortified it at an incredible expence, the stone
of which the walls are built having been raised from
the sea, and brought from the distance of 20 leagues.
The outworks were not completely finished in the year
1779, though 1000 men had then been employed upon
them for 20 years.
Towards the end of that year an expedition was un¬
dertaken against this fortress, in consequence of one
formed by the Spaniards against the British logwood
cutters iii the bay of Honduras and on the Mosquito
42 ] O M O
shore. The latter, finding themselves hard pressed by Omoa.
their enemies, applied to General Dulling governor of 'Cm'
Jamaica for assistance j who accordingly sent a detach¬
ment to their relief under Captain Dalrymple, with
necessary supplies of arms, ammunition, and artillery.'
Before their arrival, however, the Spaniards had taken
possession of St George’s Key, the chief settlement of
the British in these parts, which they plundered, and
took a number of prisoners } but those who escaped,
being joined by a body of their countrymen, retook
it, and forced the enemy to retire. In the mean time
Captain Dalrymple, who had been informed of the
loss of the place, was hastening to the relief of ^the
inhabitants, and in his way fell in with Admiral 1 ar-
ker, who was in quest of some register ships; but which,
retreating into the harbour of Omoa, were too strongly
protected by the fort there to be attacked by sea. As
the Spaniards, however, had now been compelled to
abandon St George’s Key, it was proposed to unite the
British forces by sea and land, and to attempt the con¬
quest of this fortress. As the force under C aptain Dal¬
rymple was too inconsiderable to attempt the fort by
land, it was augmented by the marines of the squadron
and a strong party of the settlers ; though, after all, it
did not exceed the number of the garrison who opposed
them.
The troops wrere landed at about nine miles distance
from the fort in the dusk of the evening, with a design
to march directly forward, in order to surprise and car¬
ry it by escalade in the nighttime. No roads, however,-
being found, they were obliged to explore their way
through narrow foot-paths, morasses, and over moun¬
tains so beset with precipices, that they were obliged, in
order to avoid them, to make use of lights made ol the
cabbage tree. In consequence of these impediments
they were yet at a considerable distance from the fort,
when the approach of day discovered them to the ene¬
my. An engagement ensued, in which the Spaniards
were quickly routed and driven into the town : from
whence as they continued to fire upon the British, it
was found necessary to set fire to it, though very much
against the inclination of the assailants.
In the mean time the squadron took the opportu¬
nity, while the town was in flames, to come into the
bav, and approach the fort with an intention to batter
it; but the garrison returned the fire so briskly, that
no impression could be made by that of the squadron,
which was detained by want of wind from approach¬
ing sufficiently near. The troops then, being masters
of the ground adjacent to the fort, erected several
batteries in such situations as were most proper for an¬
noying it ; but though they carried on their operations
with great vigour, it was still found that heavier artil¬
lery than any they possessed w'ould be requisite, the
walls being no less than 18 feet in thickness; in conse¬
quence of which they resolved still to attempt the place
by escalade.
The attempt was made on the 2ist of October, early
in the morning. The troop- entered the ditch, which
fortunately for them happened to be dry, and fixed their
scaling ladders against the walls, which were near 30
feet high. Two seamen mounted first; and, with aumi-
rabie courage and presence of mind, stood by tne ladder
which they had mounted, to guard it till others ascend-
O M o [ u
Omoa. ed j alK^ boldly presented their pieces against a large
—v—^ party drawn up to receive them, though they prudently
retained their tire till their comrades came up.
The squadron, now dravying near, kept up a heavy
and continual fire upon the fort, while the Spaniards
were struck with such surprise at the excessive celerity
and boldness of the assailants, that they remained mo¬
tionless and unable to oppose their enemies, notwith¬
standing the exhortation and example of their officers.
From this panic they never recovered ; and while the
seamen and soldiers continued to scale the walls with
amazing quickness, the Spaniards never made any ef¬
fort to defend themselves. About loo of them escap-
ed over the walls on the opposite side of the fort; the
remainder surrendered at discretion.
The whole of this transaction reflected the highest
lustre both on the conduct and courage of the British;
and aq instance of heroism is related in a British sailor
to which history afibrds nothing superior. This man,
having scaled the walls, had armed himself with a cut¬
lass in each hand. Thus armed, he met with a Spa¬
nish officer unarmed, and just roused from sleep. The
generous tar scorned to take advantage of his condition,
and therefore presented him with one of his own cut¬
lasses saying, “ You are now on a footing with me !”
The officer, however, was too much struck with ad¬
miration at his conduct to accept the offer, and took
care to make the circumstance sufficiently known.—
The value of the booty taken on this occasion amounted
t© three millions of dollars ; but the loss most sensibly
felt by the Spaniards was that of 250 quintals of quick¬
silver, a commodity indispensably necessary in extract¬
ing the precious metals from their ores. They offered
therefore to ransom it at any price : but though the
retention of it was far from affording a profit equal to
that offered by the Spaniards, the British commanders
absolutely refused to part with it, on account of the ad¬
vantages the enemy would derive from having the metal
in their possession.' For the same reason they refused to
accept of any ransom for the fort, though the governor
offered to lay down 300,000 dollars for it. The Spa¬
nish military and the inhabitants were treated with the
utmost humanity j their personal effects remaining un¬
touched *, and this generosity must have appeared to
greater advantage, when contrasted with the beha¬
viour of their own countrymen at Honduras, where
the British were treated with remarkable severity. The
church plate and ornaments were restored, on condi¬
tion that the terms of capitulation should be faithfully
kept. ^
In a short time, however, it appeared that it would
have been better to have accepted of a ransom for the
fort, as from circumstances at that time it could not
be retained in the possession of Britain. A garrison
was indeed left for its defence on the departure of the
British squadron *, but as it was very inconsiderable, on
account of the small number of men that could be spa¬
red, the Spaniards quickly determined to make an at¬
tempt to regain the fort. For this purpose a body of
2000 men were collected, who invested it on the 2jth
of November. The British defended it with the ut¬
most bravery j keeping up a constant fire on the ene-
my, and obliging them to retire for shelter, and take
up their quarters behind a hill. Here they made pre¬
parations for an assault, in which the’iv numbers left
-3 ] O M P
the success, as they supposed, by no means dubious. Omoa
I he garrison was therefore summoned to surrender, |j
with a promise of the honours of war and a safe con- Om phale.
veyance to Great Britain, denouncing at the same time v
the utmost vengeance in case of a refusal; which being
refused, the necessary preparations were made for an
escalade.
I he condition of the garrison was now such as could
afford very little hope of being able to make any ef¬
fectual resistance. They were but 85 in number, most
of whom were become incapable of duty either from
illness or excessive fatigue. They were now also ob¬
liged to make one centinel answer for five, by shifting
his place, and challenging as many times. There was
no surgeon to attend the sick and wounded j nor had
they even any water but what came from a sloop of war
that lay abreast of the fort. In this desperate situation,
they resolved, notwithstanding the menaces of the
Spanish commander to render the place as unserviceable
as they could. For this purpose they spiked up all the
guns j destroying the stores and ammunition that could
not be carried off: they even locked the gates of the
fort, after which they embarked without the loss of a
single man. All this was performed in defiance of the
large force that besieged them j and the exploit,
when duly considered, must appear not less a matter
of astonishment than the extraordinary manner in which
the fort had been taken. The officer who command¬
ed in this remarkable retreat was Captain Hulke of the
navy.
OMOPHAGIA, an ancient Greek festival, in ho¬
nour of Bacchus, surnamed Omophagos, i. e. eater of
raw flesh. This festival was observed in the same man¬
ner with the other festivals of Bacchus, in which they
counterfeited madness. What was peculiar to it, was,
that the worshippers used to eat the entrails of goats,
raw and bloody, in imitation of the god, who was sup¬
posed to do the same thing.
OMPHACINE oil, a viscous brown juice extract¬
ed from green olives. With this oil the ancient at/i-
letce, when going to wrestle, anointed themselves 5 and
when that gymnastic exercise was over, they rolled
themselves in the sand, which, mixing with the oil and
sweat on their bodies, constituted the strigmenta so high¬
ly esteemed in the cure of several diseases. This precious
medicine was carefully scraped oil the body of the ath-
leta with a kind of instrument something like a comb,
which was called strigilis; and such was the demand
for the scrapings, that they were a very lucrative article
of trade.
OMPHALE, in fabulous history, a queen of Ly¬
dia, daughter of Jardanus. She married Tmolus, who
at his death left her mistress of his kingdom. Omphale
had been informed of the great exploits of Hercules,
and wished to see so illustrious a hero. Her wish was
soon gratified. After the murder of Eurytus, Hercules
fell sick, and was ordered to he sold as a slave, that he ■
might recover his health and the right use of his sen¬
ses. Mercury was commissioned to sell him, and Om¬
phale bought him, and restored him to liberty. The
hero became enamoured of his mistress, and the queen
favoured his passion, and had a son by him, whom some
call Agelaus and others Lamon. From this son were
descended Gyges and Croesus ; but this opinion is dif¬
ferent from the account which makes these Lydian
monarch^
ON [H4] O N A
naonarclis spring from Alcaeus, a son of Hercules, by
one of the female servants of Omphale. Hercules is
represented by the poets as so desperately enamoured
of the queen, that, to conciliate her esteem, he spurs by
her side among her women, while she covers herself
with the lion’s skin, and arms her sell with the club ol
the hero, and often strikes him with her sandals, lor
the uncouth manner with which he holds the distall,
&.c. Their fondness was mutual. As they once tra¬
velled together, they came to a grotto on Mount I mo-
lus, where the queen dressed herselt in the habit oi lier
lover, and obliged him to appear in a female garment.
After they had supped, they both retired to rest in
different rooms, as a sacrifice on the morrow to l>ac-
chus required. In the night Faunus, or rather t an,
who was enamoured of Omphale, introduced himself
into the cave. He went to the bed of the queen, but
the lion’s skin persuaded him that it was the dress of
Hercules $ and therefore he repaired to the bed ot Her¬
cules, in hopes to find there the object of Ins affec¬
tions. The female dress of Hercules deceived him, and
he laid himself down by his side. The hero was awa¬
kened, and kicked the intruder into the middle ot the
cave. The noise awoke Omphale, and Faunas was dis¬
covered lying on the ground, greatly disappointed and
ashamed.
OMPHALEA, a genus of plants belonging to the
monoccia class; and in the natural method ranking with
those of which the order is doubtful. See Botany In¬
dex.
OMPHALQ-mesenteric, in Anatomy. All foe¬
tuses are wrapped up in at least two coats or mem¬
branes; most ot them have a third, called allantoides,
or urinary.
Some, as the dog, cat, hare, &c. have a fourth,
which has two blood-vessels, viz. a vein and an ar¬
tery, called omphalo-mesenterics, because passing along
the string to the navel, and terminating in the mesen¬
tery.
OMRAH, a man of the first rank in the Mogul
empire; a nobleman. It is the plural of the Arabic
ameer.
ON, in Ancient Geography, a city of Egypt sacred to
the sun, and by the Greeks, on that account, called He¬
liopolis. (See Heliopolis). It was remarkable for
the wisdom and learning of its priesthood, and for the
spacious building in which they cultivated the studies
of philosophy and astronomy. The priests of On were
esteemed more noble than all the other priests of Egypt.
They were always privy counsellors and ministers of
state ; and therefore, when Pharaoh resolved to make
.1 osephprime minister, he very wisely gave him in mar¬
riage a daughter of the priest of On, thereby incorpo¬
rating him into the most venerable cast in Egypt. Bi¬
shop Warburton thinks that the superior nobility of the
priests of On was chiefly owing to their high antiquity
and great learning. That they were much given to the
study of astronomy, we know from the testimony of
Strabo; and indeed nothing is more probable than that
they should be attached to the study of that system over
which their god, the Sun, presided, not only in his wo¬
rn/but also in his w/torn/capacity. The learned prelate
affirms, that “ whether they received the doctrine from
original tradition, or invented it at hazard (which last
supposition he thinks more probable, though we are of a
very different opinion), it is certain they taught that the Qn,
Sun is in the centre ot its system, and that all the other Onrnia.
bodies move round it in perpetual revolutions. This J r" 'T—“j
noble theory (he continues) came with the rest of the
Egyptian learning into Greece (being brought thither
by Pythagoras, who received it from Oenuphis *, a * Plut. de
priest of On); and after having given the most distin-Is- et 0sir4
guished lustre to his school, it sunk into obscurity, and J’^ e(j
suffered a total eclipse throughout a long succession of
learned and unlearned ages; till these times restored its
ancient splendour, and immoveably fixed it on the uner¬
ring principles of science.”
If it be true, as some philosophers allege, that
Moses appears from the first chapter of Genesis to
have been acquainted with the true solar system, this ac¬
count of the origin of that system is extremely proba¬
ble. As it is of no importance to the civil or religious
constitution of a state whether the system of Ptolemy
or that of Copernicus be admitted by tlie people, we can¬
not reasonably suppose that the Jewish lawgiver was
taught astronomy by a revelation Irom Heaven. But
there can be no doubt of his knowing as much of that
science as the priests of On; for we know that he was
instructed in all the wisdom of the Egyptians; and
therefore, if he held the sun to be in the centre of the
system, it is morally certain that the same thing was
held by that priesthood.
ONAN1A, or Onanism, terms employed to denote
the crime of self-pollution, mentioned in Scripture to
have been committed by Onan, and punished in him
with death.
This practice, however common, hath among all na¬
tions been reckoned a very great crime. In Scripture,
besides the instance of Onan above mentioned, we find
self-polluters termed effeminate, unclean, filthy, and
abominable. Even the heathens, who had not the ad¬
vantage of revelation, were of the same opinion, as ap¬
pears from the following lines of Martial.
Hoc nihil esseputes! scelusest, mihicrede; sed ingens
Quantum vix animo concipis ipse iuo.
You think "tis nothing! ’tis a crime, believe !
A crime so great you scarcely can conceive.
Dr Tissot has published a treatise on the pernicious
effects of this shameful practice, which appears to he
no less baneful to the mind than to the body. He be¬
gins with observing, that, by the continual waste of the
human body, aliments are required for our support.
These aliments, however, require certain preparations
in the body itself; and when by any means we become
so altered that these preparations cannot be effected,
the best aliments then prove insufficient for the support
of the body. Of all the causes by which this morbid
alteration is brought on, none is more common than
too copious evacuations; and of all evacuations, that
of the semen is the most pernicious when carried to ex¬
cess. It is also to he observed, that though excess in
natural venery is productive of very dangerous disor¬
ders, yet an equal evacuation bv self-pollution, which
is an unnatural way, is productive of others still more
to he dreaded. The consequences enumerated by Dr
Tissot are as follow:
1. All the intellectual faculties are weakened; the
memory fails; the ideas are conlused, and the patient
sometimes
ONE
Onania
if
Oneclioura
sometimes even falls into a slight degree of insanity.
They are continually under a kind of inward restless-
ness, and feel a constant anguish. They are subject to
giddiness j all the senses, especially those of seeing and
hearing, grow weaker and weaker, and they are sub¬
ject to frightful dreams.
2. The sti’ength entirely fails, and the growth in
young persons is considerably checked. Some are af¬
flicted with almost continual watching, and others dose
almost perpetually. Almost all of them become hy¬
pochondriac or hysteric, and are afflicted with all
the evils which attend these disorders. Some have
been known to spit calcareous matters ; and others
are afflicted with coughs, slow fevers, and consumptions.
3. The patients are affected with the most acute
pains in dift'erent parts of the body, as the head, breast,
stomach, and intestines j while some complain of an
obtuse sensation of pain all over the body on the slight¬
est impression.
4. There are not only to be seen pimples on the face,
which are one of the most common symptoms j but
even blotches, or suppurative pustules, appear on the
face, nose, breast, and thighs j and sometimes fleshy
excrescences arise on the forehead.
5. The organs of generation are also affected $ and
the semen is evacuated on the slightest irritation, even
that of going to stool. Numbers are afflicted with an
habitual gonorrhoea, which entirely destroys the vigour
of the constitution, and the matter of it resembles a
fetid sanies. Others are affected with painful pria-
pisms, dysuries, stranguries, and heat of urine, with
painful tumours in the testicles, penis, bladder, and
spermatic cord j and impotence in a greater or less de¬
gree is the never-failing consequence of this detestable
vice.
6. The functions of the intestines are sometimes to¬
tally destroyed j and some patients complain of costive¬
ness, others of diarrhoea, piles, and the running of a fe¬
tid matter from the fundament.
With regard to the cure, the first step is to leave
off those practices which have occasioned the disease j
which our author asserts is no easy matter j as, accord¬
ing to him, the soul itself becomes polluted, and can
dwell on no other ideas ; or if she does, the irritability
of the parts of generation themselves quickly recal ideas
of the same kind. This irritability is no doubt much
more to be dreaded than any pollution the soul can
have received 5 and by removing it, there will be no oc¬
casion for exhortations to discontinue the practice. The
principal means for diminishing this irritability are, in
the first place, to avoid all stimulating, acrid, and spi¬
ced meats. A low diet, however, is improper, because
it would further reduce the body, already too much
emaciated. The food should therefore be nutritive, but
plain, and should consist of flesh rather roasted than
boiled, rich broths, &c. 1
ONCA and Once. See Felis, Mammalia Indexi
ONEEHOURA and ONEEHOW, two small
islands of that cluster which was discovered by Captain
Cook, and by him called the Sandwich Islands. (See
Sandwich Islands). Oneehoura is very small, and
its chief produce is yams. Oneehow is considerably
larger, being about ten miles over. It is remarkable
for the great quantity of excellent yams which it pro-
Vol. XV. Part I. J *
[ H5 ]
ONE
ties.
duces, and for a sweet root called tee or tea, which is Oneehoura
generally about the thickness of a man’s wrist, though jj
sometimes much larger. This root, which the natives Oneirocri-
commonly bake previous to their bringing it to market,
is of a wet clammy nature, and with proper manage¬
ment makes excellent beer.
ONEGA, a river and lake of the Russian empire,
between Muscovite Carelia, the territory of Cargapol,
and Swedish Carelia. It is 100 miles in length and 40
in breadth, having a communication ivith the lake La¬
doga, and consequently with Petersburg!!. The river,
which has its source in Cargapol, and gives its name to
a country full of woods, falls into the White sea.
ONEGLIA, a sea-port town of Italy, in the terri¬
tory of Genoa, with the title of a principality ; but be¬
longing to the king of Sardinia, as ivell as the province,
which abounds in olive trees, fruit, and wine. It has
often been taken and retaken in the wars of Italy,
being an open place. It was taken by the French in
1794, and united to the republic, forming a part of the
department of Stura. In 1814 it was restored to Sar¬
dinia. E. Long. 7. 51. N. Lat. 43. ^8.
ONEIROCRll ICA, the art of interpreting dreams.;
or a method of foretelling future events by means of
dreams. See Dream, Divination, &c The word
is formed from the Greek eteiguj, “ dream,” and
of Kpoytts, judgment.” Some call it oneirocratica ; and
derive it from owgcf and “ I possess, I com¬
mand.”
It appears from several passages of Scripture, that
there was, under the Jewish dispensation, such a thin*-
as foretelling future events by dreams j but then there
was a particular gift or revelation required for that
purpose.
Hence it has been inferred, that dreams are really
significative, and do forebode something to come; and
all that is wanting among us is the oneirocritica, or the
art of knowing what; yet it is the opinion of many,
that dreams are mere chimeras; bearing indeed some
relation to what has passed, but none to what is to
Come. As to the case of Joseph, it was possible for
God, who knew all things, to discover to him what was
in the womb of fate ; and to introduce that, he might
take the occasion of a dream.
ONEIROCRITICS, a title given to interpreters of
dreams, or those who judge of events from the circum¬
stances of dreams.
There is no great regard to be had to those Greek
books called oneirocritics i nor do we know why the
patriarch of Constantinople, and others, should amuse
themselves with writing on so pitiful a subject.
Rigault has given us a collection of the Greek and
Latin works of this kind ; one attributed to Astramp-
sichus ; another to Nicephorus, patriarch of Constanti¬
nople ; to which are added the treatises of Artemidorus
and Acbmet. But the books themselves are little else
than reveries ; a kind of waking dreams, to explain and
account for sleeping ones.
The secret of oneirocriticism, according to them all,
consists in the relation supposed to be between the
dream and the thing signified: but they are far from
keeping to the relations of agreement and similitude ;
and frequently have recourse to others of dissimilitude
and contrariety. Concerning oneirocritics and onei-
T rocritica;
O N K [I
©mirocri- rocritica, the unlearned reader will find much informa¬
tics tion in War burton’s Divine Legation of Moses, and
II the books to which he refers.
_ Onkelos. QNESIiE THERMS, were, according to btrabo,
' ' ' excellent baths, and salutary waters, at the foot of the
Pyrenees in Aijuitania. Near the river Aturus stands
at this day the town Bagneres, famous for its waters,
which appear to be the Onesiee of Strabo: situated in
the county of Bigorre in Gascony, near the river
^ ONIiE oppidum and Templum (Josephus) •, so
called from Onias, the high-priest of the Jews m
Egypt; who built a temple in imitation of that at Je¬
rusalem, by permission of the king of Egypt, on the
spot where stood the temple of Diana Agrestis in Le-
ontopolis : it was encompassed with a brick wall, and
had a large tower like, that at Jerusalem (Josephus) j
it was the metropolis of the Nomos Heliopohtes, (Pto¬
lemy) •, because in Strabo’s time Heliopohtes was fallen
10 ON GLEE, in Heraldry, an appellation given to the
talons or claws of beasts or birds when borne of a dil-
ferent colour from that of the body of the animal.
ONION. See Allium, Botany Index ; and tor
the mode of its cultivation, see Gardening Index.
ONISCUS, a genus of insects belonging to the or¬
der of aptera. See ENTOMOLOGY Index.
ONKELOS, surnamed the Proselyte, a famous rabbi
of the first century, and the author of the Chaldee
Targum on the Pentateuch. He flourished m the time
of Jesus Christ, according to the Jewish writers j who
all agree that he was, at least in some part o his Hie,
contemporary with Jonathan Ben Uzziel, author of the
second Targum upon the prophets. Dean 1 rideaux
thinks he was the elder of the two, for several reasons.
the chief of which is the purity of the style in his J ar-
gUm therein coming nearest to that part of Dame
and Ezra which is in the Chaldee, and is the trues
standard of that language, and consequently is the mos^
ancient •, since that language, as weU as others, w..a
in a constant flux, and continued deviating in every age
from the original : nor does there seem to be any rea¬
son why Jonathan Ben Uzziel, when he undertook his
Targum, should pass over the law, and begin with the
prophets, but that he found Onkelos had done this
work before him, and with a success which he could
Azarias, the author of a book entitled Meor Enmni,
or the light of the eyes, tells us, that Onkelos was a
proselyte in the time of Hillel and Samnai, and lnet
Jo see Jonathan Ben Uzziel one of the prime scholars
of Hillel. These three doctors flourished 12 yeais be¬
fore Christ, according to the chronology of Gauz •,
who adds, that Onkelos was contemporary with Ga¬
maliel the elder, St Paul’s master, who was the gram-
son of Hillel, who lived 28 years after Christ, and did
not die till 18 years before the destruction of Jerusalem.
However, the same Gauz, by his calculation, places
Onkelos 100 years after Christ j and to adjust his opi¬
nion with that of Azarias, extends the ife of Onkelos
to a great length. The Talmudists tell us that he as¬
sisted at the funeral of Gamaliel, and was at a prodi¬
gious expence to make it most magnificent. I can
.Prideaux observes, that the Targum of Onkelos is
rather a version than a paraphrase j since it renders the
46 ] O N T
Hebrew text word for word, and for the most part ac¬
curately and exactly, and is hy much the best of all
• ‘ sort: and therefore it has always been held in
Cnke’os
11 .
Ontario.
this sort; aim nmitmiv, ...   j
esteem among the Jews much above all the other I ar-
gums : and being set to the same musical notes with the
Hebrew text, is thereby made capable of being read
in the same tone with it in their public assemblies.—
From the excellency and accuracy of Onkelos s lar-
gum, the dean also concludes him to have been a native
Jew, since without being bred up from lus birth in the
Jewish religion and learning, and long exercised in all
the rites and doctrines thereof, and being also thorough¬
ly skilled in both the Hebrew and Chaldee languages,
as far as a native Jew could be, he can scarce be thought
thoroughly adequate to that work which he performed v
and that the representing him as a proselyte seems to
have proceeded from the error of taking him to have been
the same with Akilas, or Aquila, of Pontus, author of
the Greek Targum or version of the prophets and lia-
giographia, who was indeed a Jewish proselyte.
ONOCLEA, a genus of plants belonging to the
cryptogamia class and order of Filices. See Botany
ONOMANCIA, or rather Onomantia, a branch
of divination, which foretels the good or bad fortune
of a man, from the letters in his name. See the article
Divination and Name.
From much the same principle the young Eomans
toasted their mistresses as often as there were letters in
their names : Hence Martial says,
Nee via sex cyathis, septem Justina Jnbatur.
ONOMATOPOEIA, in grammar and rhetoric, a
figure where words are formed to resemble the sound
made by the things signified j as the buzz of bees, the
cackling of hens, &c. Resemblances of this kind are
often fancied when they are not real, though, no doubt,
there are in every language some words of which the
sound is very like to that which those words are em¬
ployed to express. Yet, to the mortification of gram¬
marians and rhetoricians, conjunctions which ha%e
been iustly pronounced no parts of speech, are the only
sounds uttered by men that are wholly natural, and
these are fewer than is commonly supposed, bee GRAM¬
MAR and Language. . ,
ONONIS, a genus of plants, belonging to the dia-
delphia class. See Botany Index. .
ONOPORDUM, a genus of plants belonging to the
syngenesia class-, and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 49th order, Composite. See Lot any Index.
ONOSANDER, a Greek author and 1 latonic phi¬
losopher, who wrote Commentaries on Plato’s Politics,
which are lost: but his name is particularly famous for
a treatise entitled S-rgamyi**?, °f .th* am
virtues of the general of an army which has been
translated into Latin, Italian, Spanish and Irencb.
The time when he lived is not precisely known; but
is imagined to be in the reign of the emperor Clau-
'"oNOSMA, a genus of plants, belonging to tlie
pentandria class; and in the natural method ranking
under the 41st order, Asperifolue. See Botany Index.
ONTARIO, a lake of North America, in the coun¬
try of the Iroquois, 160 miles in length, and from 60
to 70 in breadth. Many rivers run into this lake: and
f i-47 1 OPE
tfbout seven leagues, anil the moiluce of both much the
O O N
Ontario the great river St Lawrence passes through it. It is
H the lowest of the great chain of American lakes, and
'Qoneila. , contains 19 islands, most of them small.
' ONTOLOGY. See Metaphysics, N° 3.
ONYCOMANCY, or, as some write it, Onyman-
CY ; a kind of divination by means of the nails of the
lingers. The word is formed from the Greek e;y|,
“ nail,” and pxflux, “ divination.”
The ancient practice was to rub the nails .of a youth
with oil and soot, or wax ; and to hold up the nails
thus smeared against the sun.—Upon them were sup¬
posed to appear fig-ures or characters, which showed
the thing required.
:QNYX, a mineral substance ranked among gems,
which derives its name from the colour resembling that
of the nail of the finger. See Carnelian, under Mi¬
neralogy, p. 167.
OONALASHKA, one of the islands of the Nor¬
thern Archipelago, visited by Captain Cook in his last
voyage. The native inhabitants of this island are, to all
appearances, a very peaceable people, having been much
polished by the Russians, who now keep them in a state
f«f subjection. As the pdand furnishes them with sub¬
sistence, so it does, in some measure, with clothing, which
is chietly composed of skins. The upper garment,
which is made like a waggoner’s frock, reaches dowm to
the knees. Besides this, they wear a waistcoat or two,
a pair of breeches, a fur cap, and a pair of boots, the
legs of which are formed of some kind of strong gut}
but the soles and upper-leathers are of Russia leather.
Fish and other sea animals, birds, roots, berries, and
even sea weed, compose their food. They dry quantities
of fish during the summer, which they lay up in small
huts for their use in winter. They did not appear to be
very desirous of iron, nor to want any other instrument,
except sew ing needles,, their own being formed of bone.
With these they sew their canoes, and make their
clothes, and also work their curious embroidery. They
use, instead of thread, the fibres of plants, which they
split to the thickness required. All sewipg is per¬
formed by the females, who are shoemakers, tailors, and
boat-builders. They manufacture mats and baskets of
grass, which are both strong and beautiful. There is
indeed a neatness and perfection in most of their works,
that shows they are deficient neither in ingenuity nor
perseverance.
Though tfie climate is sometimes severe, Captain
Cook did not observe a fire-place in any of their ha¬
bitations. They are lighted as well as heated by
lamps; which, though simple, effectually answer the
purpose for which they are intended. They consist
of a flat stone, hollowed on one side like a plate ; in
the hollow part they put the oil, mixed with some
dry grass, which serves for a wick. Both sexes often
warm themselves over one of these laipps, by placing
it between their legs, under their garments, and sit¬
ting thus over it for several minutes. W. Long. 163.
29. N. Lnt. S3- 5-
OONELLA, and OONEMAH, two islands of the
same archipelago with Oonalashka; the former of
which lies to the north-east of that island, being se¬
parated from it by a navigable strait; the other is more
to the westward, being in W. Long. 168. 30. and
N. Lat. 54. 30. The circumference of Oonella is
same with that of Oonalashka.
OPACITY, in Philosophy, a quality of bodies which
renders them impervious to the rays of light.
OPAH, commonly called the ki/ g fish. See Zeus,
Ichthyology Index.
OPAL, in Natural History, a species of gems. Sec
Mineralogy, p. 169.
OP ALIA, in Antiquity, feasts celebrated at Rome
.in honour of the goddess Ops. Varro says they were
held on the 19th id December, which was one of the
days of the Saturnalia : these two feasts were celebrated
in the same month, because Saturn and Ops were hus¬
band and wife : the vows offered to the goddess were
made sitting on the ground.
OPARO, or Oparro, a small island in S. Lat. 270
36', and in E. Long. 2150 49', which was discovered bv
Vancouver. This island was supposed to be about six
miles and a half long, and it was out of sight of any other
land. It is composed of craggy mountains, forming in
several places perpendicular cliffs from their summits to
the sea, having narrow valleys or chasms interposed.
On some of the highest hills were observed some kind
of works, resembling fortified places; but as the dis¬
coverers did not land on the island, they could not
learn their nature and use. In their language and ap¬
pearance the natives resembled those of the Friendly
islands ; they seemed acquainted with the use of iron,
preferring it to heads and other trinkets, and showed
a hospitable disposition. There appeared to be an¬
choring ground near the north-west end of the island.
OPERA, a dramatic pomposition set to music, and
sung on the stage, accompanied with musical instru-
xnents, and enriched with magnificent dresses, machines
and other decorations.—This species of drama is of
modern invention. In its present state it was not
known even in Italy before the beginning of the last
century ; and at its introduction into England, a cen¬
tury afterwards, it divided the wits, literati, and mu¬
sicians of the age. By those who were esteemed the
best judges of the art, the English language was con-
sidered as too. rough and inharmonious for the music
of the opera; and, on the other hand, critics, whose
taste was built 011 the basis of common sense, looked
upon a drama in a foreign and unknown tongue as tbe
greatest of all absurdities. Many of them, however,
pleaded for operas i» the English language; and it is
well known that Addison, who was one of the oppos-
ers of the Italian opera on the London stage, wrote in
his native tongue the opera of Rosamond. This is con¬
fessedly, a beautiful poem; but, in the opinion of Dr
Burney, it adds nothing to Addison’s fame, as it shows
Jus total ignorance of the first principles of music, and
of course his unfitness for the task he had undertaken.
In questions, respecting the fine arts there is no appeal
from the general taste ; and therefore, as the French
opera, which is in the language of the country where it
is acted, has always been admired by persons of liberal
education, it doubtless has merit considered as a drama ;
but bow the dramas of this kind which are composed in
Italian should find admirers in England among persons
who understand not a word of the language, it is to us
a matter of astonishment. The music of them may
deserve and command the admiration of every one who
T 2 has
Ocneila
11
Opera.
OPE [148] O P H
Opera. ear j ant^ ^ie acti°n ^ie s“1SerS niay ^)e.
-—v "" 1 perfectly suitable to the subject represented j but ot
this suitableness the majority of the audience can be no
judges.
Even when the language is thoroughly understood,
we shsuld imagine, that, to make an opera agreeable
to good sense, much would depend upon the choice of
thesubject j for it is surely absurd to have persons of all
ranks, and on every occasion, perpetually accompanied
with the regular responses of symphony. 1 o hear Cyesar,
Scipio, or Macbeth, when forming plans to ensure vic¬
tory, or hatching plots of treason and murder, talking
in recitative and keeping time with fiddles, would surely
disgust every person whose sense had not all evaporated
in sound j but when the subject represented naturally
admits of music in real life, we can suppose an opera to
afford to persons of taste one of the most exquisite and Opera
refined entertainments of which human nature is ca- 11
pable. For a further account of the opera, see Music, °'” !
page 497* and Poetry, N° 133, &c. <   
OPERATION, in general, the act of exerting or
exercising some power or faculty, upon which an effect
follows.
Operation, in Surgery and Medicine, denotes a
methodical action of the hand on the human body, in
order to re-establish health.
OPHIDIUM, a genus of fishes belonging to the or¬
der of apodes. See Ichthyology Index.
OPHIOGLOSSUM, Adder’s Tongue, a genus
of plants, belonging to the cryptogamia class, and to
the order Filiccs. See Botany Index.
O P H I O L O G Y.
■Definition.
Historical
notices of
ophiologi-
cal writers
3
Ancient.
4
Modern.
5
Seba.
6
Catesby.
7
CJronuvius,
INTRODUCTION.
THE term ophiology is composed of two Greek words,
namely a serpent, and Asya?, a discourse, and
consequently denotes that branch of zoology which
treats of serpents. The latter constitute an order in
the class of amphibious animals. I hey are covered.
with scales, breathe by means of lungs, and are desti¬
tute of feet and fins.
The hideous aspect of some of the species, and the
poisonous properties of others, long contributed to pre¬
vent any deliberate investigation ot their structure, con-
titution, and modes of existence. Hence the ancients,
who at best had very imperfect notions of classification,
sometimes indicate different species under the samp
name, or bestow different appellations on the. same
species, and moreover blend their vague descriptions
with the embellishments or absurdities of fable.
Among the moderns, few naturalists have directed
their researches to the history of serpents. “ It must be
acknowledged,” observes Dr Russel, “ that it offers no
attractive allurements *, and that those who, from other
avocations, can only spare transient attention to subjects
of natural history, are more likely to prefer objects less
disgusting, and experiments accompanied with less
cruelty and personal danger. Even the eager and re¬
solute naturalist has to contend with many difficulties
in this path of research. He cannot at once divest
himself of the abhorrence, next to innate, of these rep¬
tiles j nor can he soon acquire a dexterity in handling
them, with that calmiyess requisite for his own safety.
The search for plants, for birds, or even insects, is com¬
paratively pastime, or pleasurable occupation j but in
the actual pursuit of the disgusting race of serpents, he
stands in need of assistants, who are not at all times to
be procured v and if he rely solely on the diligence of
such as he may Cmplov, he will find himself exposed to
the chagrin of incessant disappointment.”
‘ Seba has indeed presented us with a numerous .cata¬
logue ’, but his species are too multiplied, and his de¬
scriptions, too co.i dse. Catesby was more solicitous to
design and colour his serpents, than to unfold their dis¬
criminating characters. The descriptions of Gronovius
are for the most part well and accurately detailed j but
they are unprovided with the specific names. 8
Linnaeus, availing himself of the works to which we Liameus,.,
have just alluded, of the discoveries of Garden, and of
his own discernment, published his method of distin¬
guishing the species by the number of scaly plates on the
abdomen, and beneath the tail. Experience has indeed
proved, that these do not always constitute an infallible
criterion, and that more obvious marks, such as the
relative size of the head, the length of the body and tail,
&c. must sometimes be resorted to: it must, however,
be allowed, that the celebrated Swedish naturalist paved
the way to a far more accurate nomenclature of serpents
than had yet appeared, and that the value of his scien¬
tific distinctions is greatly enhanced by the interesting
notices on the same subject, which are inserted in his
Amouiitates Academiccs, and in the first and second vo¬
lumes of his Adolphian Museum. 9
The count de la Cepede has in some respects improved La Lepecte,
the Linntean arrangement, and exhibited a more com- ^ 10
plete catalogue than any of his predecessors. Dr Shaw Shaw,
has likewise displayed his usual sagacity in the second
part of the third volume of his General Zoology, which
is allotted to his exposition of the serpent tribes. To 11
these we may add, Owen on the natural history J™’ &C/,
serpents, Klein’sTentamenHerpetologife,Blumenb.ach’s
Beytrag zurNaturgeschichte der Schlangen, Schneider s
AUgemeine Betrochtungen uber die Eintlieilung und
Kennzeichen der Schlangen, Merian’s Beytrage zur
geschichte der Amphibien, Laurenti’s Specimen Medi-
cum, continens Synopsin Reptilium, Bonaterre’s Ophi-
ologie, in the Encyclopedic Methodique, Latreille’s
Histoire Naturelle des Reptiles, Russel’s Account of
Indian Serpents, &c. &c.
Anatomy and Physiology of Serpents.
12 j
The body of serpents is very long when compared Body,
with its thickness j and is sometimes quite cylindrical,
or rounded, sometimes compressed on the sides, some¬
times flat on the under surface, and sometimes attenuated
towards the tail. It is usually covered with scales; but
sometimes naked, either rough, or slippery to the touch,
and
O P H I O L O G Y.
Anatomy
of Serpents,
13
Head.
H
Mouth.
15
Snout.
16
Jaws.
Lips.
iS
Teeth.
19
Tangs.
Tono
21
Syes,
•'estrils.
and banded, syotted, ox’reticulated ; the skin exhibiting
great varieties in the tints and distribution of the co¬
lours.
The head is either distinct from the trunk, or con¬
founded with it, and is convex, or flattened, oval, trian¬
gular, or heart-shaped, and furnished with plates, or im¬
bricated scales. It includes the mouth, snout, jaws, lips,
teeth, tongue, eyes, and nostrils. There is no visible
external ear 5 though animals of this order doubtless
possess the faculty of heaxdng.
The mouth is that cavity which is situated between
the jaws. It is very large in proportion to the size of
the head, and is capable of being widely extended.
The snout is the anterior part of the head : it is slanting,
elongated, obtuse, truncated, or reflexed. The jaws,
which are either of equal or unequal length, are com¬
posed of two bones, which do not, as ours, open in. the
manner of a pair of hinges, but are held together at the
roots, by a stretching muscular skin, so as to open as
widely as the animal chooses to stretch them. By this
contidvance serpents are enabled to swallow animals
thicker than themselves. The lips are entire, notched,
or reflexed. The teeth, in the jaws, are generally
sharp-pointed, and, in serpents not poisonous, are disposed
in three rows in the upper jaw, one row exterior and two
interior. The under jaw is sometimes provided with a
single row. The noxious species are furnished with ca¬
nine teeth, or fangs, of a tubular structure, situated in
the projecting part of the upper jaw, commonly of a
much larger size than the other teeth, and frequently
accompanied by smaller or subsidiary fangs, apparently
destined to supply the principal ones, when lost either by
age or accident. The fangs are situated in a peculiar
bone, so articulated with the rest of the jaxv, as to ele¬
vate or depress them at the pleasure of the animal. In
a quiescent state they are recumbent, with their points
directed inwards or backwards ; but, in the moment of
irritation, their position is altered by the mechanism of
the above-mentioned bone, in which they are rooted,
and they become almost perpendicular. The tongue is
usually straight and slender, composed of two long and
rounded fleshy substances,which terminate in sharp points,
and are very pliable. They unite at about two thirds
length, and the root is connected to the neck by two
tendons, which give the whole organ a great variety and
facility of motion. In most species, the tongue is al¬
most wholly inclosed in a sheath, ci* integumept, from
which the animal can dart it out of its mouth, without
opening its jaws ; the upper mandible having a small
notch, through which it can pass. Some of the viper
kinds have tongues a fifth part of the length of their
bodies, and, as they are constantly darting them out,
terrify those who are ignorant of the real situation of
the poison. The eyes are small, when compared with
the length of the body, and greatly vary in respect of
liveliness and colour. In some species the upper eyelid
is wanting, while others have a nictitating membrane,
or skin, which keeps the organ clean, apd preserves the
sight. In all, the substance of the eye is hard aqd
horny, the crystalline humour occupying a great part
of the globe. The pupil is susceptible of considerable
contraction and dilatation, and the iris Js pftep of a
golden or fine red colour. The nostrils are two open¬
ings at the extremity pf {he snout, for receiving the
sensation of smell.
149
rIhe trunk is that part of the body which reaches Anatomy
from the nape to the vent. It is scaly, annulated, tu-of Serpents,
berculated, or wrinkled *, and comprehends the back,
sides, belly, anus, organs of generation, and scales. The
hack is the upper part of the trunk, commencing at the
nape and terminating immediately above the vent. In Back,
most species it is rounded, but in some carinated or fur- . 25
rowed. The sides are the lateral portions of the trunk,
from the extremity of the jaws to the vent. The belly,
or abdomen, is the lower part of the body, from the
head to the tail, the want of a diaphragm precluding
a breast. The anus is an opening, usually transverse, Anus,
placed at the extremity of the lower surface of the
trunk, forming the line of demarcation between the lat¬
ter and the tail, and affording a passage to the liquid
and solid excrements. The penis of the male, and the
ovary of the female, are also situated in this common
vent, from which they are extended only during the 28
season of pairing. The scales, properly so called, are Scales,
round, oval, oblong, and attenuated at the extremities,
rhoniboidal, smooth, or carinated. The broad undivid¬
ed plates on the belly and head, ai'e termed scuta, and
the smaller or divided plates beneath the tail, are cal¬
led squama subcaudalcs or scutella, subcaudal scales or
platelets. 2^
The tail is attenuated, obtuse, square, in the form ofTail.
a triangular pyramid, flattened or compressed at the
sides. . 30
As serpents have neither limbs nor breast, the struc- Skeleton,
tore of their skeleton is much less complex than that of
quadrupeds. The bones of the head are from eight to
ten. The skull, which is sometimes flat and sometimes
convex, is very hard and compact, and exhibits four
principal sutui'es, which are with difficulty sepai-ated.
The bones of the trunk consist of a series of vertebra,
incased in one another*, and articulated with the ribs.
The caudal vertebrae are disposed in the same manner,
and provided with similar processes ; but they are un¬
connected with ribs, and gradually diminish in size as
they approach to the end of the tail. In most quadru¬
peds, the joints in the back-bone seldom exceed thirty
or forty ; whereas in serpents they often amount to 145,
from the head to the -vent, and ? $ mqre from that to
the tail. The ninpber of these joints must give the
back-bone a surprising degree of pliancy, which is still
increased by the manner in which one is locked into
the othei*. In man and quadrupeds, the flat surfaces of
the bones axe laid oqp against tlie other, and bound
tight by sinews j but in serpents the bones play one
within the other, like hall and socket, so that they have
free motion in every direction. 31
The remarkable strength and agility, manifested by Muscles,
serpents, depend on the vigorous muscles with which
they are provided. Sevex*al of these are iqserted along
and beneath the skull, and about the upper and lower
jaws. Foqf> which are denominated lateral, have their
oi'igjn behind the head, and descend, by each side, to
the extremity of tjie tail. Each vertebra has also its
corresponding intercostal muscle, which serves the same
pufposes as in other animals. . 32
The internal organs, or viscera of iinlividuals of this Viscera*
order of animals, nearly correspond to those of others,
and, consequently, nee.d not Ipng detain us.. > 33
The brain is divid'd into five small portions, which Brain,
are round, and somewhat elongated. The two first are
olaced
15°
34
Tracheal
arterj-.
35
Lungs.
36
Oesopha¬
gus.
, 37l
Momacht
33
Heart.
O P H I O
Anatomy, p^ced between the eyes, amt give oi-igin to t!ic olfac-
of Serpents, tory nerves ; other two are situated in the middle region
1 — v"““ ^ of the skull ) and the last, which is a little farther back,
appears to be the commencement of the spinal marrow.
The tracheal artery, composed of distinct and cartilagi¬
nous rings, has its origin at the top of the gullet, ^and
communicates with the lungs, under the heart. Ihe
lungs are not lobed, but consist of a cellular and mem¬
branous substance, abundantly furnished with blood ves¬
sels. The oesophagus is formed of a single membrane,
extends to the orifice of the stomach, is of an equal di¬
ameter throughout, and susceptible of an extract dm ary
degree of dilatation. Ihe stomach,..winch is of a laigei
capacity, is formed of two .concentric tunics, which
closely adhere, and which are internally covered with
folds or wrinkles. The heart has two ventricles, and is
small in proportion to the size of the'body. As the cir¬
culation of the blood is independent of the lungs, the
animal is enabled to remain for a considerable time un¬
der water. It cannot, however, make this element its
constant residence ; because occasional supplies of fresh
air are necessary to preserve in its blood those qualities
which are necessary to motion and vitality. In serpents,
therefore, as well as in viviparous quadrupeds, respira¬
tion is essential to life. This function they do not per¬
form by a rapid succession of alternate dilatations and
contractions of the lungs 5 but, having thisviscus remark¬
ably large in proportion to their bodies, they are able to
fill it with a considerable provision of air *, and as they
expire very slowly, some time will elapse before they are
obliged to inspire again. The intestinal canal is nar¬
row, sinuous, and internally divided by many transverse
partitions. The kidneys are particularly large, and
composed of small continuous glands, blended with ex¬
cretory vessels. *
' That anirfials of the serpent kind possess the use ot
the five external senses, can scarcely admit of dispute.
We have indeed, remarked, that most of the species ap¬
pear to want an external auditory passage j but it is
certain that they are often directed to birds, by listen¬
ing to their notes j and many indicate a degree of sensi¬
bility to the sounds of musical instruments. Their sense
of smell, with a few remarkable exceptions, is neither
very active nor acute } but,m most, that 61 sight is quick
and penetrating. The soft and nervous texture of the
tongue and palate would induce a suspicion, that they
enjoy the sense of taste in a pre-eminent degree y yet, as
they generally swallow their food in large portions, they
seldom avail themselves of the delicacy of these organs.
Being unprovided with feet, hands, or feelers, their sense
of touch is probably very imperfect 5 and even when
they twine very closely round an object, the interposi¬
tion of their scales willrender their feeling of its surface
. - vague and obtuse.
Sexual u- The sexual-union of serpents usually takes place in the
niou. sunny days of spring, is very close and ardent, and varies
in duration from an hour to several days, according to
the species, but terminates without any permanent at-
Oviparous. tachmeiit. The females of some are oviparous, and of
others viviparous. The eggs of the former vary in re¬
spect of size, colour, and number, according to the species
and constitution of the individual and they are depo¬
sited, not in continuous succession, but at intervals, and
sometimes with the appearance of much suffering on the
L O G Y.
39
Intestinal
canal.
40
Kidneys.
41
External
senses.
42
part of the female. Sevgerus relates, that he saw a fe- pfiysiVogy
male snake, after twisting herself, and rolling on the of Set pent*
ground in an unusual manner, bring forth an egg. lie 1 v 1 ■'
immediately took her up, and facilitated the extrusion
of thirteen more, the laying of all which consumed an
hour and a half 5 for, after depositing each, she rested
for some time. When he remitted his assistance, the
process was more slew and difficult •, and the poor ani¬
mal seemed to receive his good offices with gratitude,
which she expressed by gently rubbing her head against
jiis hands. The mother never hatches these eggs, but
leaves them exposed in some warm situation, as in holes
with a southern aspect, on dry sand, under moss or fo¬
liage, on a dunghill, near an oven, Sic. The outer co¬
vering of the egg is a thin compact membrane, and the
young serpent is spirally rolled .in its albuminous liquid. ^
The viviparous species differ considerably, both with re- Yiviparou;
spect to their periods of gestation, and the number of
their offspring. Thus, vipers which go about three months
with young, generally breed twice a-year, and produce
from twenty to twenty-four, while the blind-worm, which
is pregnant about a month, brings forth sometimes seven,
and sometimes ten at a birth. When young serpents are
hatched or produced, they are abandoned to the resources
of their own instinct, and often perish' before they have
acquired sufficient experience to shun the snares which
are laid for them by quadrupeds,'birds, and reptiles. 45
In regard to the different stages of growth of the dif- Growtli.
•ferent species, little precise information seems to have been
obtained : and, though some arrive at a very large size,
their dimensions have, no doubt, been much exaggera- ^
ted. The young of the viper, at the moment of partu-sizc#
rition, measures from twelve to fifteen lines j and two
or three years elapse before they are capable of repro¬
ducing their kind. Adanson however concludes, from
ocular observation, that the largest serpent in Senegal
may measure from forty to fifty feet in length, and from
a foot to a foot and a half in breadth. Leguat assures
us, that he saw one in Java, that was fifty feet long.
Carli asserts, that they grow to upwards of forty feet.
Mr Wentworth, a,gentleman who had large concerns in
the Berhices, informs us, that he one day sent out a sol¬
dier, with an Indian, to kill wild fowl for the table ; and
they accordingly went some miles from the fort. In
pursuing their game, the Indian, who generally marched
before, beginning to tire, went to rest himself on the
fallen trunk of a tree, as he supposed it to be ; but, when
he was just going to sit down, the huge monster began
to move, and the poor savage, perceiving that he had
approached a Boa, dropped down in an agony, fhe
soldier perceiving what had happened, levelled at the
serpent’s head, and by a lucky aim shot it dead. He
continued his fire, however, until he was assured that the
animal was killed ; and then going up to rescue his com¬
panion, he found him killed by the fright. The animal
was brought to the fort, and was found to measure
' thirty-six feet. Mr W. caused the skin to be stuffed,
and sent it as a present to the Prince of Orange. We
are told, that when Regulus led his army along the
- banks of the Bagrada, in Africa, an enormous serpent
disputed his passage across the river. If we can give
credit to Pliny, this reptile was 120 feet long, and had
destroyed many of the soldiers, when it was overcome
in turn by the battering engines. Its spoils were carried
O P H I O L O G Y.
physfolo^y
of Sepents.
. .47
■Voice.
48
Masses of
iooil.
49.
Capability
of absti¬
nence.
5°
A-e. j
51
Hyberna¬
tion.
v, S?
Renewal
of skin.
to Rome, anil the general was decreed an ovation for his
success. The skin was preserved for years after in the
capitol, where Pliny says that he saw it.
In regard to voice, some serpents are apparently
silent, and others have a peculiar cry *, but hissing
is the sound which they most commonly utter, either
as a call to their kind, or a threat to their enemies.
In countries where they abound, they are generally si¬
lent in the middle of the day' hut, in the cool of the
evening, they issue from their-retreats with continued
hissings.
The masses of food which serppnts are enabled to
swallow, would appear quite mii*aculous, did we not re¬
flect on the lax structure of their jaws, their power of
crushing their victims, and the viscid humour, or saliva,
which lubricates the crude morsel in its passage down an
extensile oesophagus. In spite of all these circumstances,
the quantity of aliment is sometimes so voluminous, that
it sticks in the gullet, when only partly immersed in the
stomach, and the animal lies stretched and nearly mo¬
tionless, in its x'etreat, till the swallowed portion be di¬
gested, and the extruded half introduced, to undergo the
same process. But, though serpents thus occasionally
gorge themselves with food, as their blood is colder than
that of most other terrestrial animals, and circulates
slowly, their powers of digestion are feeble and tardy,
so that they can endure weeks, and even months of ab¬
stinence. Nay, so tenacious are they of the vital prin¬
ciple, that they exist and grow in mephitic marshes,
continue to breathe, for a considerable time, in the ex¬
hausted receiver of an air-pump, and frequently exhibit
symptoms of life after one part of the body has been
severed from the other. Vipers are often kept in boxes,
for six or eight months, without any food whatever 5 and
there are little serpents sometimes sent to Europe from
Cairo, which live for several years in glasses, and never
eat at all.
The natural term of the existence of serpents, is not
accurately known ; but it has been conjectured, that
some of the larger kinds may complete a century. The
first failure of their strength is the almost immediate
forerunner of their dissolution •, for, when deprived of
the requisite elasticity of frame to spring on their prey,
and of the requisite force to combat their enemies, they
shrink into their recesses, and die of hunger, or are easi¬
ly devoured by the ichneumon, stork, and other power¬
ful assailants.
In the more northerly and temperate regions of the
globe, the serpent tribes, towards the end of autumn,
fall into a state of torpor, more or less profound,
according to the greater or less intensity of the
cold ; and in this condition they remain, nearly life¬
less, till the approach of spring reanimates their stif¬
fened frame.
Soon after its resuscitation, the serpent works itself
out of its old epidermis, by rubbing itself against the
ground, or by wedging itself between any two substan¬
ces that are sufficiently close to each other. The exu-
viai come off entire, being loosened first about the
head; and are always found turned inside out. It is
some time before the scales acquire a sufficient degree
of hardness to defend the animal against external in¬
jury and, during this interval, it generally confines
itself to its retreat.
Generic and Specific Exposition of the Order.
Gen. 1. Crotalus. Eattle-Snake.
Scuta on the abdomen, scuta and squamae beneath the Generic
tail, rattle terminating the tail. characters.
The animals of this genus inhabit America, where
they prey on the smaller birds, lizards, and insects.
They are furnished with poisonous fangs, and have a
broad head, covered with large scales. Their snout is
obtusely rounded. ^
Banded Rattle-Snake, Common Rattle-Snake, or Rot- Horridu?.
qnira.—rrhc characters are, 167 abdominal, and 23 sub-
caudal scuta. The ordinary length of this species is
from three to four or five feet, and the greatest thick¬
ness that of a man’s arm. The prevailing colour is a
yellowish brown, marked with cross and irregular bands
of a deeper shade, and two or three longitudinal stripes
from the head down the neck *, the under parts are of
a dingy brown, with many dusky variegations and frec¬
kles. The mouth is capable of great distension. The
tongue is black, slender, bipartite, and inclosed in a kind
of sheath, from which the snake darts forth the double
point, and vibrates it with great velocity. The rattle¬
snake is viviparous, producing in June about twelve
young, which, by September, acquire the length of
about twelve inches. These, it is said to preserve front
danger, like the viper in Europe, by receiving them in¬
to its mouth, and swallowing them. In confirmation of
this assertion, we shall quote the words of M. de Beau-
vois, who, during his residence in America, bestowed
particular attention on the history of amphibious rep¬
tiles.
“ Among the information which I endeavoured id
obtain in my travels with respect to serpents in general,
there was one point which greatly excited my curiosity.
Several persons, and one among the rest to whom I owe
a debt of gratitude for civilities and marks of friendship^
which will for ever rest engraven on my heart, had in¬
formed me, that the female rattle snake concealed its
young ones in its body ; that when they were alarmed
by any noise, or by the approach of man, they took re¬
fuge in the body of their mother, into which they en¬
tered by her mouth. This fact had been already ascer¬
tained with respect to the viper df Europe •, but in con¬
sequence of the unfavourable and repulsive dispositions
inspired by this kind of reptile, and in order to render
it still more hideous, an absurd interpretation was given
to this fact. It was pretended, that this serpent eats
its little ones after having given them birth. Curious
to verify this fact related of the boiquira, I was constant¬
ly occupied with this idea, and began to despair of ever
making the observation, when, at a moment in which
I thought the least of it, accident furnished me the
means. Having fallen sick among the Indians, I found
myself obliged to remain a few days with one of them
in the neighbourhood of Pine-log. During my conva¬
lescence, t took a walk every morning in the neigh¬
bourhood, and one day when I was following a pretty
broad path, I perceived, at a distance, a serpent lying
across the road in the sun. I had a stick in my hand,
and drew near to kill it; but what was my surprise,
when, in the moment that I was about to give the blow,
the
the reptile perceived me, coiled up itselt, ami opened
its laroe mouth, into which five serpents, winch 1 had
not till then observed, because they were lying along
its body, rushed into the gulf which I had conceived
opened for myself. I retired to one side, and hid my¬
self behind a tree. The reptile had crawled a levy paces,
but hearing no further noise, and not perceiving me,
stretched itself out afresh. In a quarter ot a hour the
young ones came out again. Satisfied with tlm observa¬
tion, 1 advanced anew towards the animal, with intention
to kill it and examine the interior of its stomach : but
it did not permit me to approach so near as it did the
first time, the young ones entered with still greater pre¬
cipitation into their retreat, and the boiquira fled into
the grass. My satisfaction and astonishment were so
great, that I did not think of following it.” _
The rattle consists of a number of pieces, inserted in¬
to each other, all alike in shape and size, hollow, and
of a thin, elastic, brittle substance, similar to the exte¬
rior part of the scuta. Their form is nearly that of an
inverted quadrilateral pyramid, with the corners round¬
ed off. The first piece, or that nearest the body, may
be considered as a kind of case, which contains the three
last vertebrae of the tail, on which it appears to be
moulded, and has three convex, circular elevations cor¬
responding with them ; the two last of these elevations
are fitted into the two first of the next piece j so that ot
every piece except the last, the first only of the e eva-
tions is exposed to view, the two others being inclosed
in those of the following, in which they have room to
play from side to side. These several pieces have no
muscles, nerves, nor ligaments, nor are they connected
either with each other, or with the body of the serpent
any otherwise than by the mode of insertion already de¬
scribed. 1l'hus they derive no nourishment from the
animal’ and are merely an appendage which can have
no other motion than what is communicated to it by
that of the tail. These several pieces of which the rat¬
tle consists, appear to have been separately formed.
Dr Van Meurs imagines them to be no other than the
old epidermis of the tail, which, when its nourishment is
intercepted by the new skin formed beneath it, grows
hard and brittle. Hence, he supposes, that whenever
this part acquires a new skin, a tlevv piece of the ratt e
is added to the former, which is thus detached from the
vertebrae, and shoved farther from the tail. The num¬
ber of these pieces, however, affords no certain criterion
of the animal’s age, because those which are most re-
mote from the tail, become so dry and brittle, that they
are very liable to be broken off and lost
The two principal fangs are placed without the jaws,
on a separate bone, and the smaller ones attached to
muscles and tendons. These fangs may be couched, or
raised, at the pleasure df the animal, and are furnished
with an opening near the root, and a slit towards the
point, so that on pressing gently with the finger on the
side of the gum, the poison, which is yellowish, is per¬
ceived to issue from the hollow of the tooth, through the
slit. The vesicle which contains the poison, is external¬
ly of a triangular form, and of a tendinous texture ;
internally, it is cellular j and its interior part termi¬
nates in "a small duct, communicating with the sacculus
which covers the perforated teeth. It is furnished with
a constrictor muscle, for the purpose of expressing its
contents. The virulence of the latter may be inferred
O P H I O L O G Y.
from various experiments reported in the Philosophical Crotaks.
Transactions, and other publications. A rattle-snake of1 r—*
about four feet long, being fastened to a stake, bit three
dogs, the first of which died in less than a quarter ol a
minute j the second, which was bitten a short time
afterwards, in about two hours, and the third, which
was bitten about half an hour afterwards, showed the vi¬
sible effects of the poison in three hours, and likewise
died. Other experiments were instituted j and lastly,
in order to try if the snake could poison itself, it was
provoked to bite a part of its own body, and actually
expired in less than twelve minutes. Our limits will
not permit us to enumerate various other instances ot
the almost instantaneous effects of this poison, which is
most to be dreaded in hot weather, and when the animal
is much irritated. The rattle-snake, however, is rather
afraid of man, and will not venture to attack him un¬
less provoked. It moves slowly, for the most part with
its head on the ground, but if alarmed, it throws its
body into a circle, coiling itself with the head erect in
the centre, and with its eyes flaming in a terrific man-
In cases of slight bites, the Indians usually suck
ner.
the wound. They have likewise recourse to the juices
of various herbs, and to the root ot polygala seneka ; but
these applications produce little effect, without scarifica¬
tion and Hgatures. According to Dr Barton, the rude and
simple practice of the western settlers, is, first, to throw
a tight ligature above the part into which the poison
has been introduced, at least as often as the circum¬
stances of the case admit of such an application. The
wound is next scarified, and a mixture of salt and gun¬
powder, or either of these articles, separately, laid on
the part. Over the whole is put a piece of the bark ot
juglans alba, or white walnut-tree, which acts as a
blister. At the same time, a decoction or infusion ot
one or more stimulant vegetables, with large quantities
of milk, are administered internally : the doctor is,
nevertheless, of opinion, that the beneficial effects of
this mode of treatment are chiefly to be ascribed to the
external applications. If the fang has penetrated a vein
Or artery, or attacked the region of the throat, the bite
commonly proves fatal, and the patient expires in dread¬
ful agony. “ Where a rattle-snake, (says Cateshy),
with full force, penetrates with his deadly fangs, and
pricks a vein, or artery, inevitable death ensues j and
that, as I have often seen, in less than two minutes.
“The Indians, (he continues), know their destiny the
minute they are bit j and, when they perceive it mor¬
tal, apply no remedy, concluding all efforts in vain.
Dr Barton, however, inclines to think, that this asser¬
tion should be received with considerable limitation, and
that the application of ligatures, &c. even in cases ap¬
parently the most desperate, should not be neglected.
According to Clavigero, the most effectual method is
thought to be, the holding of the wounded part some time
in the earth. But if 'the poison be once received into
the general mass of the blood, it is almost needless to
have recourse to medicines. A considerable degree oi
nausea is usually the first alarming symptom ; the pulse
becomes full, strong, and greatly agitated 5 the whole
body swells j the eyes are suffused with blood j a he¬
morrhage frequently proceeds froiii the eyes, nose, ami
ears • larcre quantities of blood are sometimes thrown out
on the surface of the body, in the form of sweat j the
teeth vacillate in their sockets ; and the pains and groans
ot
O P H I
Crotalas. of unhappy sufierer too plainly indicate, tliat the mo-
t—-v—/nient of dissolution is near at hand.
The following remarkable case is related by Mr
Hector St John. A farmer was one day mowing with
his negroes, when he accidentally trod on a rattle-snake,
which immediately turned on him, and hit his boot. At
night, when he went to bed, he was attacked with sick¬
ness, his body swelled, and before a physician could he
called in, he died. All his neighbours were surprised
at his sudden death 5 but the body was interred without
examination. A few days after one of the sons put on
the father s boots, and, at night, when he pulled them
oft', he was seized with the same symptoms, and died on
the following morning. The physician arrived, and,
unable to divine the cause of so singular a disorder, se-
j iously pronounced both the father and son to have been
bewitched. At the sale of the effects a neighbour
purcuased the boots, and on putting them on, experien¬
ced the like dreadful symptoms with the father and son.
A skiltul physician, however, being sent for, who had
heard of the foregoing accidents, suspected the cause,
and by applying proper remedies, recovered the patient.
The fatal boots were now carefully examined, and the
two fangs ol the snake were discovered to have been left
in the leather, with the poison-bladders adhering to them.
They had penetrated entirely through, and both the fa¬
ther and son had imperceptibly scratched themselves
with their point in pulling oft' the boots.
We are informed by Dr Barton, that a gentleman of
Philadelphia had a large rattle-snake brought to him
alive, which he so managed by a string, that he could
easily lead it into, or out of a close cage. On the first
day, he suffered this snake to bite a chicken, which had
been allured to the mouth of the cage by crumbs of
bread. In a few hours, the bird mortified, and died.
On the second day, another chicken was bitten in the
same manner, and survived the injury much longer than
the first. On the third day, the experiment was made
on a third chicken, which swelled much, but, neverthe¬
less, recovered. On the fourth day several chickens
wei e. suffered to be bitten, without receiving any injury.
These simple experiments enable us to assign a reason,
why persons who have actually been bitten by the rat¬
tle-snake, have sometimes experienced very inconsider¬
able, or no bad consequences from the wound ; they
shew in what manner many vegetables have acquired a
reputation for curing the bites of serpents, without our
being obliged to impeach the veracity of those from
whom our infonnation is derived ; and lastly, they teach
us the physiological fact, that the poison of this'reptile
is secreted very slowly.
It has been observed by M. Gauthier, that the poison
stains linen with a green hue, which is deeper in propor¬
tion as the linen has been impregnated with lixivium.
. pretended fascinating power of the rattle-snake
is now generally discredited j and Dr Barton, professor
of natural history in the university of Pensylvannia, re-
duces the whole to the fluttering of old birds in defence
of their young, and too near an approach to the formi-
ablc enemy. In confirmation of this opinion, he ob¬
serves, that he can trace no allusion to the alleged fas¬
cinating faculty, in the ancient writers of Greece and
Borne ; that he doubts if it is credited by the American
Indians ; that Linnaeus was extremely credulous ; that
the enchanting power of the rattlesnake is nuestioned
Vol. XV. Part I. 1 f
O L O G Y.
by some eminent European naturalists 5 that the breath c
of this reptile is not remarkably infectious or pestif'er-
ous ; that it often fails in catching birds •, that the latter,
and squirrels, are not its principal food ; and that it is
even devoured by some of the larger kinds of birds.
Mr Peale, an intelligent and zealous naturalist, kept
a rattle-snake alive for five years and a half. “ Curious
to inquire, (says M. Beauvois), how this animal seizes
his prey, he (Mr Peale) has confined several birds in
the same cage with him, and the hungry reptile has
made many attempts to take hold of thelbird. This ex¬
periment has been repeated many times, and every time
with the same effect. I have seen, myself, one of these
biids in the cage 5 but whether the reptile was not
hungry, or was sensible of its want of power, it remain¬
ed perfectly tranquil, while the bird was perfectly at
ease. It gave no indication which could make it be
believed that it was either enchanted or aflirighted ; and
the air did not appear different, if we might judge front
its behaviour from that which is found 111 an ordinary
close cage. The bird remained two days in the same
situation, without the least attention paid to it by the
reptile, who, in the mean time, ate a dead one which
was presented to him.
“ Another living bird was put into the cage with
the serpent: far from being alarmed, it amused itself
w ith pecking in the bottom, and picking up a few grains
w !iich it found there : often changing place m its ac¬
customed manner, and even resting itself on’the back of
the boiquira, which made no extraordinary movements.
Ibis experiment was made several times.
“ Mr Peale, his children, and myself, have often
examined the reptile. We never perceived it to send
out the slightest suffocating odour. It is in vain to ob¬
ject, that the living birds thus given it were not of the
kind fitted lor its nourishment; for it has eaten the same
birds, when presented to it dead, and it is not useless to
remark, that it never refused one of them.”
Catesby mentions an individual of this species, which
was about eight feet long, and weighed from eight to
nine pounds. It was seen gliding into a gentleman’.*)
house, and terrified all the domestic animals.
Mr St John, whom we have quoted above, once saw
a tamed rattle-snake, as gentle as it is possible to con¬
ceive a reptile to be. It went to the water, and swam
wherever it pleased , and when the boys to whom it be¬
longed called it back, their summons was readily obey¬
ed. They often stroked it with a soft brush : and this
friction seemed to cause the most pleasing sensations j
for it would turn on its back to enjoy it, as a cat does
before the fire. We need scarcely add, that it had been
deprived of its fangs.
Rattle-snakes abound in America,from Brazil to near
Lake Champlain : but they are gradually disappearing
in the more populous districts. According to Pen¬
nant, they affect woods and lofty hills, especially where
the strata are rocky or chalky, as at the pass near Nia¬
gara. They particularly frequent the sides of rills, to
prey on such small animals as resort thither to quench
their thirst. In summer, they are generally found in
pairs; in winter, they collect in multitudes, and retire
under ground, beyond the reach of frost. Tempted by
the warmth of a spring-day, they often creep out, weak
and languid. A person has seen a piece of ground
covered with them, and killed with a rod between sixty
U and
rota'll'.
OPHIOLOGY.
S6
Durissus.
57
Dryinas.
. 58.
Milians.
.59
Atricauda
tus.
60
Boa.
61
Characters
and seventy, till, overpowered with the stench, he was
obliged to retire. They are most easily dispatched by
a blow with a stick on the spine.
The American Indians often regale on the rattle¬
snake. When they find it asleep, they put a small
forked stick over its neck, which they keep numove-
ably fixed to the ground, giving the snake a piece ot
leather to bite ; and this they pull back several times
with great force, until they perceive that the poison
fangs are torn out. They then cut off the head, skin
the body, and cook it, as we do eels. The flesh is said
to be white and excellent. Hogs also sometimes de¬
vour the rattle-snake ; but horses, dogs, and most othei
animals, regard it with antipathy and horror.
Strived Rattlesnake, or ttlnte Rattlesnake.- 17 2 ab¬
dominal, and 21 subcaudal scuta, i’rom a foot and a
half, to four feet and a half long. Distinguished Irom
the preceding by a pattern of pale yellow streaks, iorm-
ing a series of large rhombs, or lozenges, down the
back. Has often been confounded with the tormer,
on account of the same general aspect, constitution, and
habits. . , 1 1
Wood Rattlesnake.—165 abdominal, and 30 subcau¬
dal scuta. Of a lighter tinge than the two preceding,
and marked with yellowish variegations on the back.
This species has been hitherto very imperfectly de¬
scribed 5 and Seba erroneously quotes it as a native ot
\liliary or Small Rattlesnake.— 13 2 abdominal , and
02 subcaudal scuta. Gray, with a triple row of black
spots, and a red spot between each ot the dorsal ones.
The smallest of the genus •, its ordinary length being
about eighteen inches. From this circumstance, and
the faint sound of its rattle, it is more dangerous than
the larger species. It is also alleged that its bite is
more active. Its poison, according to Lebeau, is most
successfully combated by the volatile alkali. It is con¬
fined to the temperate regions of North America, parti¬
cularly to Carolina, Louisiana, and Florida.
Black-tailed Rattlesnake.— 1 70 abdominal, and 2D
subcaudal scuta. The head greenish-gray, r';ith
brown and oblong spots on the hinder part. I he body
of a reddish gray, speckled with brown points, and
crossed by 24 lengthened patches, or bands brown, and
irregular, and accompanied, on each side, by two spots
of a brighter colour. The back is marked by a longi¬
tudinal, fawn-coloured stripe Scales very numerous
xhomboidal, and carinated.—From three to four feet
long-, a very venomous species ^discovered by Lose,
i„ Carolina, and described in Daudin’s Natural History
of Reptiles.
Gen. 2. Boa.
Scuta on the abdomen, and under the tail y but no rat¬
tle.
Boa.
The boa tribe of serpents is very numerous, and con¬
tains some species which are remarkable for their huge
dimensions. Their head is covered, like that of the
crotali; but their tail terminates in a point. I hen im¬
mense size has rendered them the objects of terror rather
than of observation to mankind while the quantity o
food requisite for their sustenance, has precluded their
multiplication within a limited range of country Hence
a considerable degree of confusion attaches to their hi¬
story j and a rational suspicion arises, that, with the pio- ^
gress of culture and population, some ot the more tor- 1 v
midable sorts have either been exterminated, or driven
from the haunts of men. Some naturalists have ass cited,
that individuals belonging to this genus have been found
in Spain, Italy, and the south of France j but they ap¬
pear to have mistaken some of the larger sorts ot colu¬
ber for the boa, which last is a native of Asia, Africa,
and America. , . , , s n 6R-
Great or Constrictor Boa.—240 abdominal, and 60 Comtnc-
subcaudal scuta. The more ordinary disposition ot its
colouring is yellowish gray with a large, chesnut colour¬
ed, chain-like pattern down the back, and triangular
spots on the sides. A considerable degree ot variety,
however, is occasioned by the circumstances of age, sex,
and climate ; and even the number of scuta is by no
means constant. Nature has bestowed on this celeorat-
ed reptile, uncommon strength and beauty, but has
wisely withholden from it the poisonous properties of
some of the smaller species. It Irequently attains to
twenty, or even thirty feet in length. Except, however,
when stimulated by the calls of hunger, it is a sluggish
and harmless animal, affecting moist and shady situations,
and, occasionally, devouring large animals, which it
crushes in its contorted folds. In the German Lp e-
merides, we have an account of a combat between one
of these huge serpents and a buflalo, by a person who
assures us, that he was himself a spectator. The serpent
had for some time, been waiting near the brink ot a
pool, in expectation of prey, when a buflalo was the
first animal that appeared. Having darted on the af¬
frighted beast, it instantly began to wrap him round m
its voluminous twistings, and, at every twist, t le ones
of the buffalo were heard to crack almost as loud as the
report of a gun. It was in vain that the quadruped
struggled and bellowed j its enormous enemy twined it.
so closely, that at length all its bones were crushed to.
pieces, like those of a malefactor on the wheel, and
the whole body reduced to one uniform mass. Ihe ser¬
pent then untwined its folds, to swallow its prey at lei¬
sure. To prepare for this, and also to make it slip down
more smoothly, it licked the whole body over, and
smeared it with a mucilaginous matter. It then began
to swallow it at the end that offered the least resistance,
the throat dilating to such an extraordinary degree, as
to admit a substance which was thrice its own thick¬
ness. •
In the Bombay Courier, of August 31. I799> 18
stated, that as a Malay prow anchored for the night,
close under the island of Celebes, one of the crew went
on shore, in quest of betel nut in the woods, and on Ins
return, laydown to sleep, as it is supposed, on the
beach. In the course of the night, he was heard by Ins
comrades, to scream out for assistance. 1 hey imme¬
diately went on shore ; but an immense snake of this
species bad already crushed him to death. L he attent on
of the monster being entirely occupied with Ins p;ey
the people went boldly up to it, cut oft its head, and
took both it and the body of the man on board then
boat. The snake had seized the poor fellow by the
right wrist, where the marks of the teeth were very di¬
stinct ; and the mangled corpse bore evident signs of
being crushed. The length of the snake was about
thirty feet, its thickness equal to that of a moderately
sized man j and, on extending its jaws, the gap® was
Boa,
Scytale.
Ceiichrts,
<>5
Canina.
66 '
Phrygia.
O P H I O
found wide enough to admit a body of the size of a
—J man’s head.
The female deposits a considerable number of eggs,
which seldom exceed three inches in their greatest d?a-
meter, on the sand, or under leaves exposed to the
•sun’s rays.
In some districts of Africa, the great boa is regard¬
ed as an object of veneration, and on the coast ofMo¬
zambique, is worshipped as a god.
In a very interesting notice ot this species, communi¬
cated to us by John Corse Scott, Esq. mention is made
of a live individual, which Was discovered in a field,
neai the cattle, by some labourers, in the province of
Tipperah in Bengal. Jhis snake, which measured
fifteen feet and three inches in length, and eighteen
inches in circumference, was stunned by repeated blows,
before it could be secured, and tied with cords to a
long bamboo. It was pretty active after it was untied,
and made frequent darts at any person coming near it.
C)n presenting a long stick, it repeatedly seized and bit
it with great fierceness. On dissection, the heart was
found to be of the size of a sheep’s, with the communi¬
cation open between the two ventricles. The liver was
small in proportion, being about the size of the human
pancreas, and, like it, divided into several lobes. The
oesophagus, from the mouth to the pylorus, measured
nine feet three inches, and its width was sufficient to
admit a man’s head with ease. The head was small, in
proportion to the size of the animal, the eyes were dark
and heavy, and the nostrils large; but there was no per¬
ceptible organ of hearing. I rom the mechanism of
the javvs, they were capable of being distended so as
to admit a substance or animal much thicker than the
snake itself. Phis mechanism, and the absence of grin¬
ders, obviously prove, that the food is swallowed entire,
without mastication. In a gorged individual of this
species, Mr S. found an entire guana, and in another,
a fawn, of a year old 5 but the bones of these quadru¬
peds were unbroken.
Spotted Tfoa.—2jo abdominal, and jo subcaudal
scuta. Cinereous, with large, round, black spots
on the back, and smaller ones, with white centres,
on the sides, and oblong markings, interspersed with
smaller variegations on the abdomen. Of a size
scarcely inferior to the preceding, and of similar man¬
ners. It is a native of several parts of South America,
and, like other snakes, occasionally eaten by the In¬
dians.
Ringed Boa.—265 abdominal, and 57 subcaudal scu¬
ta. General cast ferruginous, with large dark rings
on the back, and blackish kidney-shaped spots, w'ith
white centres on the sides. The aboma of several
writers. Grows to a large size, and is a native of
South America, where it is treated with divine ho¬
nours.
Canine or Green Boa.—203 abdominal, and 77 sub¬
caudal scuta. Green, with cross, waving, and white
dorsal bands. It has its specific name from the form of
its head, which resembles that of a dog. Though des¬
titute ot poison fangs, it inflicts a severe bite, when
provoked. It measures from four to twelve feet in
length, inhabits South America, and is celebrated for
its beauty.
Rmbroidercd Boa.—A remarkably elegant species,
0 0
LOGY.
native of the East Indies, and omitted by Linnaeus. E0ii
White, with a cinereous tinge on the back, and the1 v—•
body marked with black lace-like variegations.
GordteB^apo abdominal, and'123 subcaudal/foni,.
scuta. Yellowish gray, with brown variegations, re¬
sembling in form the parterres of an old-fashioned gar¬
den, the body somewhat compressed, and the sides
marked with cuneiform spots. From two to three or
lour feet long, and native of South America.
seJr'vl ^•“233 abdominal, and 36 subcaudalPaJL.
‘ uta* cellow, with dusky blue transverse bands.
J he body somewhat triangular, upwards of five feet in
length, and five inches in ttie thickest part. Native
of India, and very poisonous.
. individual of this species was sent to Dr Russel
in a very languid and extenuated state. Being set at
liberty, it remained for some time without moving, but
soon began to crawl slowly towards a dark corner. A
chicken being presented, it seemed not to regard it
though the bird fluttered about it, and even rested a’
toe on its head. The chicken was then put on the
snake’s back, and clung so fast with its toes, that when
attempted to be separated, the snake was dragged a lit¬
tle way, without offering to resent the insult. °An hour
after, the chicken was again presented ; but the snake
shewing no disposition to bite, its jaws were forced asun-
dir,.and the naked thigh of the chicken so placed, that
the jaws closed on part of it. The chicken, when disen-
gaged, shewed immediate symptoms of poison : it couch¬
ed, purged once or twice,‘and was not able to stand.
In the course of the first ten minutes, after several inef¬
fectual efforts to rise, it rested its beak on the ground ;
and the head was seized with paralysis. After 15 mi-
imtes, it showed a frequent disposition to lie down > but
remained couched some minutes longer. In 20 minutes
it lay dorvn on one side, and, convulsions supervening
soon after, it expired within 26 minutes.
Viperine Boa.—209 abdominal, and 19 snbcaudal VhJnna.
scuta. Gray, with a black waving dorsal band, edged
with white; the sides spotted with black. About a
foot and a half in length, including the tail, which is
only one inch and a half long. Native of India, where
its bite is said to produce a slow wasting of the fingers
and toes. As, however, it has no fangs, and produces
no deleterious effects on brute animals: the truth of
the report seems to be very questionable.
Lineated Boa.—209 abdominal, and 47 subcaudal Line]ya
scuta. Blackish line, with white dotted, transverse,
arched lines, and whitish abdomen. Slender, native of
India, and highly poisonous.
Annulated Boa.—About two feet in length, some- Annulata
what ferruginous, with black rounded spots, included
in rings on the back, reniform oceliated spots on the
sides, and waving dusky variegations on the abdomen.
Native of South America, figured by Madame Merian,
and preserved in the Hunterian Museum, at Glasgow.
The other species belonging to this genus are, emj-
dris, ophryas, regia, marina, horatta, hipnale, contor-
trix, and palpebrosa.
Gen. 3. Coluber, Snake (properly so called).
Scuta, or undivided plates, under the abdomen ; squama:, r, ?3
or broad alternate scales, under the tail. The lat- ^ftaractels'
U 2 ter
72
Coluber.
73
,56 O P H I O L O G Y.
Coluber. *er, althougli alternate, are reckoned by pairs ; but,
in many instances, the number is still undetermined,
74
Bents.
IS
Cacodce-
ich greatly
difier from one another in size and habit. The poison¬
ous sorts, which constitute about one-filth of the whole,
are generally distinguished from the rest by their large,
flattish, subcordate heads, and. rather short bodies and
tails •, whereas most of the harmless species have small
heads, with longer bodies and tails in proportion. Lau-
renti and Latreille have ranged the former under the
genus Vipera, and the latter under that oi Coluber', but
Linnaeus, Daubenton, La Cepede, &c. include both
sorts under Coluber. This family of serpents is widely
diffused over various quarters of the world.
Common Viper.—146 abdominal scuta, 39 subcaudal
scales. Attains to the length of two, or even of three
feet. The ground colour oi the body is a dingy yellow,
deejper in the female than in the male. The back is
marked with rhomboidal, as the sides are with triangu¬
lar, black spots. Its black belly, the greater thickness
of the head, and the more abrupt termination of the
tail, sufficiently distinguish it from the common snake,
with which it has been often confounded.
The viper arrives at maturity in six or seven years,
and produces 10 or 12 live young at the end of the se-
cond or third. Mr White of Selborne killed and cut
up a pregnant female, and found in the abdomen 15
voung ones, about the size of full grown earth-worms.
No sooner were they freed from confinement, than they
twisted and wriggled about, set themselves up, and
gaped very ivide when touched with a stick, exhibiting
manifest tokens of menace and defiance, though as yet
no fangs were visible, even with the help of glasses.——
That the young, for some time after birth, retreat,
when alarmed, into the mouth of the mother, seems to
be a fact satisfactorily ascertained.
Vipers are capable of supporting long abstinence, feed
on reptiles, worms, and young birds, and become tor¬
pid in winter. Their poison rarely proves fatal to man,
and is most successively counteracted by olive oil, tho¬
roughly rubbed on the wounded part. They are usual¬
ly caught by wooden tongs, at the end of the tail, as,
in that position, they cannot wind themselves up to in¬
jure their enemy. Their flesh was formerly in high
esteem, as a remedy for various diseases, particularly as
a restorative. Of late years, however, it has lost much
of its ancient credit, and is rarely prescribed by modern
practitioners.
The common viper inhabits Europe and Siberia, and
is by no means uncommon in Great Britain, being the
only poisonous animal in the island, frequenting dry
and stony districts, and especially the chalky countries.
It abounds in some of the Hebrides, and is called adder
by the Scots.
This species is subject to several varieties, which we
cannot stop to enumerate. The prester, or black viper,
resembles the berus, in almost every particular but co¬
lour } though Linnaeus, and other eminent naturalists,
rank it as a distinct species.
American Black Viper.—About the length of the
preceding, but much thicker, black, and remarkable
for the largeness of its head, which it distends, with a
torrid hiss, when irritated. Its bite is reckoned as dan¬
gerous as that of the rattlesnake. It is a native of Ca- Coluber,
rolina, chiefly frequenting higher grounds. r——
Egyptian Viper.—118 abdominal scuta, and 22 sub- 76
caudal scales. Somewhat ferruginous, spotted with
brown ; whitish beneath, with a short mucronated tail.
Rather smaller than the common species. Imported in
considerable quantities to Venice, for the use of the apo¬
thecaries in the composition of theriaca, &c. Native
of Egypt, and supposed by some to be the asp of Cleo¬
patra j but it is very difficult to ascertain the true asp
of the ancients. 77
Charasian Viper.—Rufous, with the snout acuminated Charasii.
above, and the body marked with short, subconfluent,
dusky, and transverse streaks. Nearly allied to the
common species, and described by Charas, a celebrated
anatomist of serpents in his day, but who contended,
in opposition to Redi, that the symptoms caused by the
vipcrinc bite, proceeded from what he termed the enra-_
ged spirits of the creature, and not from the supposed
poisonous fluid. 78
RedPs Viper.—152 abdominal scuta, and 32 subcau-Tfrrfi.
dal scales. Of an iron brown colour with a quadruple
transverse series of short, subconfluent, brown streaks on
the back. In other respects nearly allied to the com¬
mon viper, but said to be more poisonous. It occurs in
Austria and Italy, and is the sort which Redi chiefly
employed in his experiments relative to animal poi¬
son. 79
Asp,—15 5 abdominal scuta, and 37 subcaudal scales,
Somewhat rufous, with roundish, alternate, dusky spots
on the back, and subconfluent ones near the tail. A-
bout three feet long, the head rather large, and cover¬
ed with small carinated scales. Native of France, par¬
ticularly of the northern provinces of that country. It
is very doubtful if this be the genuine coluber aspis
(Lin.) j and still more so if it be the asp of the an¬
cients. 80
Greek Viper.—155 abdominal scuta, and 46 subcau- Lebetimis.
dal scales. Gray, with a fourfold series of transverse
spots, those on the middle yellowish, and those on the
sides dusky. Nearly a cubit in length, very thick to¬
wards the middle, and the head large and depressed.
Inhabits Greece and the Grecian islands. According
to Forskal, its bite proves fatal by inducing insuperable
sleep. _ 8r
Cerastes, or Horned Viper.—150 abdominal plates, Cerastes,
and 25 subcaudal scales. Pale yellowish, or reddish
brown, with a few round, distant, or oblong spots, of
a deeper tinge, scattered along the upper parts of the
body, and the belly of a pale leaden hue. The two
curved processes, situated above the eyes, give the ani¬
mal a more than ordinary appearance of malignity. Its
length varies from about 15 inches to two feet. It is
found in many parts of Africa, especially affecting dry
places and sandy deserts, and inflicting a dangerous
wound on those who happen to approach it. 82
Horn-nose Snake.—127 abdominal plates, 3 2 subcau- Nadcomii-
dal scales. Olive brown, with blackish variegations, a
row of pale dorsal spots, surrounded by black, and a
waving pale band on the sides. This fierce and forbid¬
ding species, which has its denomination from two large
and pointed processes on the tip of the nose, is supposed
to inhabit the interior part of Africa. _ 83
Megeera, or Spear-headed, Snake.-—224 abdominal Megor*-
plates,
OPHIOLOGY.
Coluber, plates, and 68 subcaudal scales. Brown, with yellow
——v   variegations, flat cordate head, and a large orifice on
each side, between the eyes and nostrils. Native of
Martinico, whence it is frequently called ijellow Mar-
'tinico snake. Measures, when full grown, five or six
feet, has very large fangs, and inflicts a dangerous
$4 wound.
\a]a. Spectacle Snake, or Cobra de Capello.—193 abdominal
plates, 60 subcaudal scales. “ Its general length (says
Dr Shaw), seems to be three or four feet, and the dia¬
meter of the body about an inch and a quarter: the
head is rather small than large, and is covered on the
fore part with large smooth scales 5 resembling, in this
respect, the majority of innoxious serpents: the back
part, sides, and neck, with smaller ovate scales j and
the remainder of the animal, on the upper parts, with
small, distinct, oval scales, not iil resembling the gene¬
ral form of a grain of rice. At a small distance beyond
the head is a lateral swelling or dilatation of the skin,
which is continued to the distance of about four inches
downwards, where the outline gradually sinks, into the
cylindric form of the rest of the body. This part is ex¬
tensile at the pleasure of the animal; and, when view¬
ed from above, while in its most extended state, is of a
somewhat cordated form, or wider at the upper than
at the lower part: it is marked above by a very large
and conspicuous patch or spot, greatly resembling the
figure of a pair of spectacles j the mark itself being
white, with black edges, and the middle of each of the
rounded parts black. This mark is more or less distinct
in different individuals, and also varies occasionally in
size and form, and in some is even altogether wanting.
The usual colour of the animal is a pale ferruginous
brown above, the under parts being of a bluish white,
sometimes slightly tinged with pale brown or yellow:
the tail, which is of a moderate length, tapers gra¬
dually, and terminates in a slender sharp-pointed extre-
mity.
This formidable reptile has obtained its Portuguese
title of cobra de capello, or hooded snake, from the ap¬
pearance which it presents when viewed in front in an
irritated state, or when prepared to bite ; at which time
it bends the head rather downwards, and seems hooded,
as it were, in some degree, by the expanded skin of
the neck. In India it is everywere exhibited publicly
as a show, and is, of course, more universally known in
that country than almost any other of the race of rep¬
tiles. It is carried about in a covered basket, and so
managed by its proprietors as to assume, when exhibit¬
ed, a kind of dancing motion 5 raising itself up on its
lower part, and alternately moving its head and body
from side to side for some minutes, to the sound of some
musical instrument which is played during the time.
The Indian jugglers, who thus exhibit the animal, first
deprive it of its fangs, by which means they are secured
from the danger of its bite.”
The cobra de capello is one of the most formidable
and dangerous of the serpent tribe, though it is devour¬
ed with impunity by the vivfirra ichneumon. Dr Rus¬
sel describes ten varieties of this species, and enters into
many curious details relative to the effects of its poison
on dogs and other animals. He never knew it prove
mortal to a dog in less than 27 minutes, nor to a chick¬
en, in less than half a minute. Hence its poison, fatal
iS7
as it is, seems to be less speedy in its operation than that Coluber,
of the rattlesnake. »
Bussellian Snake.—168 abdominal plates, 59 subcau- 85
dal scales. Brownish yellowj spots on the back acutely ^usse n‘
ovate, blackish, and edged with white j those on the
sides smaller. About four feet long ; native of India,
and very poisonous. A chicken bitten in the pinion,
by an individual of this species, was instantly infected,
seized with convulsions, and expired in 38 seconds.
Immediately after the chicken, a stout dog was bitten
in the thigh. Within less than five minutes he appear¬
ed stupified ; the thigh was drawn up, and he frequent¬
ly moved it, as if in pain. He remained, however,
standing, and ate some bread that was offered to him.
In about 10 minutes the thigh became paralytic j in 15
minutes he entirely lost the use of it, and lay down
howling in a dismal manner, frequently licking the
wound, and making, at intervals, ineffectual attempts
to rise. In 19 minutes, after a short cessation, he again
began to howl, moaned often, and breathed laboriously,,
till his jaws closed. The fewr succeeding minutes were
passed, alternately, in agony and stupor; and, in 26
minutes after the bite, he expired. A second dog, of
much smaller size, was next bitten, and expired in the
space of six hours. A rabbit was next exposed to the
bite, and died in less than an hour. After this, another
chicken was bitten in the pinion, and expired in less
than six minutes. These experiments were all made
with the same snake, in the course of the same morm-
ing. S<5
Crimson-sided Snake.—188 abdominal, and 7 analPorphy-
plates, 45 subcaudal scales. Violet black, with the ab-riacm‘
domen and sides of a beautiful crimson, the plates mar¬
gined with black. A singular and elegant species, with
the proportions nearly those of the common English
snake $ poisonous ; and a native of New Holland.
Hcemachate Snake.—132 abdominal plates, 43 sub-Ifewna-
caudal scales. Red, clouded with white above, yellow-
ish white beneath. Two feet or more in length ; tail
extremely short, and tapering to a point. Native of
India; elegant, and poisonous. 88
Water Viper.—Brown above, banded with black and Aquations.
yellow beneath. “ This serpent (says Catesby) is call¬
ed, in Carolina, the water rattlesnake ; not that it hath
a rattle, but it is a large snake, and coloured not much
unlike the rattlesnake, and the bite said to be as mortal.
This snake frequents the water, and is never seen at any
great distance from it: the back and head are brown ;
the belly transversely marked with black and yellow
alternately, as are the sides of the neck; the neck is
small, the head large, and armed with the like destruc¬
tive weapons as the rattlesnake. It is very nimble, and
particularly dexterous in catching fish. In summer
great numbers are seen lying on the branches of trees
hanging over rivers, from which, at the approach of a
boat, they drop down into the water, and often into
the boat on the men’s heads. They lie in this manner
to surprise either birds or fish, after which last they
plunge, and pursue them with great swiftness, ind catch
some of a large size, which they carry on shore, and
swallow whole. One of these 1 surprised swimming
ashore, with a large catfish in its mouth. Ihe tail is
small towards the end, and terminates in a blunt horny-
point,, about half an inch in length, and which, though
harmless,,,
IS«
Coluber.
89 _
Elegantis-
simus.
go
Argus.
91
Javanicus.
9?
"Natrix.
O P H I 0
harmless, is considered as of dreadful efficacy by the
credulous vulgar, who believe, that the animal is able,
with this weapon, not only to kill men and other ani¬
mals, but even to destroy a tree by wounding it with it-,
the tree withering, turning black, and dying.”
Superb Snake.—White, the head variegated with
black, and the body marked above by a quintuple series
of ocellated red spots. About two feet long, and poi¬
sonous.
Argus Snake.—Chesnut brown, yellow beneath, and
banded above, by transverse rows of ocellated red spots.
Above five feet in length; native of Arabia and Brazil,
and very poisonous.
Java Snake.—312 abdominal plates, 93 subcaudal
scales. Gray, the head striped with blue, and the bo¬
dy crossed by blue stripes, with gold-coloured edges.
Frequent in the rice fields of Java, where it grows to
the length of nine feet j but, in the more elevated and
wooded situations, it attains to a still greater size, and
is capable of devouring some of the larger animals.
Splendid and innoxious.
Common or Hinged Snake.—170 abdominal plates,
60 subcaudal scales. Olive brown, with a black patch,
accompanied by a yellow one, on each side ot the neck,
a row of narrow black spots down each side, and dusky
abdomen.
This species is pretty generally diffused over Europe,
and is not uncommon in our own island, aflecting moist
and warm woods, basking or sleeping in the sunshine,
and becoming torpid in winter. The female deposits a
chain of from 12 to 20 eggs, about the size of those of
the blackbird, connected by bunches of a gluey matter
in dunghills, or warm recesses, near stagnant waters.
The young come forth in the following spring. The
common snake reappears in March or April, when it
casts its skin so completely, that the spoil exhibits even
the exterior pellicle of the eye. To adopt the language
of Mr White, in his Naturalist’s Calendar, “ It would
be a most entertaining sight, could a person be an eye¬
witness to such a feat, and see the snake in the act of
changing his gai’mcnt. As the convexity of the eyes
in the slough is now inward, that circumstance alone is
a proof that the skin has been turned j not to mention
that now, the present inside is much darker than the
outer. If you look through the scales of the snake’s
eye from the concave side, viz. as the reptile used them,
they lessen objects much. Thus it appears, that snakes
crawl out of the mouth of their own sloughs, and quit
the tail part last, just as eels are skinned by a cookmaid.
While the scales of the eyes are growing loose, and a
new skin is forming, the creature, in appearance, must
be blind, and find itself in a very awkward and uneasy
situation.”
This species occasionally frequents the water, and
preys chiefly on frogs, mice, small birds, insects, worms,
Stc It is not only perfectly harmless, but even capa-
: hie of being domesticated. Mr White mentions, that
he knew a gentleman who had one in his house quite
tame. Though usually as sweet as any other animal,
yet, whenever a stranger, or a dog or cat entered, it
would begin to hiss, and soon filled the room with an
plmost insupportable odour. Mr Revett Shepphard of
Caius college, Cambridge, had a common snake in his
. rooms near three months. “ He kept it (says Mr Bing-
ley) in a box of branj and, during all that time, he
4
LOG Y.
never could discover that it ate any thing, although he Coluber, j
frequently put both eggs and frogs, the favourite food —y——|
of this species, into tiie box. Whenever he was in the
room he used to let the animal out ot its prison; it
W'ould first crawl several times round the floor, appa¬
rently with a desire to escape j and when it found its at¬
tempts fruitless, it would climb up the tables ana chairs,
and not unfrequently even up the chair ot its owner as
he sat at his table. At length it became so familiar as
to lie in a serpentine form on the upper bar of his chair j
it would crawl through his fingers, if held at a little di¬
stance before its head, or lie at full length upon his
table, while he was writing or reading, for an hour or
more at a time. When first brought into the room, it
used to hiss and dart out its forked tongue j but in no
instance emitted any unpleasant vapour. It was, in all
its actions, remarkably cleanly. Sometimes it was in¬
dulged with a run upon the grass, in the court of the
college 5 and sometimes with a swim in a large bason of
water, which it seemed to enjoy very much. When
this gentleman left the university, he gave his bed-
maker orders to turn it out into the fields, which, he
believes, was done.” 93
BlacJc Snake.—186 abdominal plates, 92 subcaudal ComtricU
scales. Glossy black, with a very long slender body.
Five or six feet long, and not venomous, though often
confounded by the ignorant and the timid with the rat¬
tlesnake. Native of North America. Its speed and
activity, according to Brickell, are astonishing. Some¬
times it will climb trees in quest of the tree-frog, or,
for other prey, glide at full length along the ground:
on other occasions it presents itself halt erect, and ap¬
pears to great advantage. It is so fond of milk, that
it has been seen eating it out of the same dish with chil¬
dren, though they often gave it blows with their spoons
on the head when it was too greedy. It persecutes rats
with wonderful agility, pursuing them even to the roofs
of barns and outhouses, and is therefore a great favour¬
ite among the Americans. 94 »
Fasciuted or Wampum Snake.— Blue above, paler, Fasdatus,;
and variegated with brighter blue beneath. Its colours
resemble those of the strings of Indian money, called
wampum, composed of shells cut into regular pieces,
and strung with a mixture ot blue and white Native
of Carolina and Virginia, sometimes growing to the
length of five feet, and perfectly innocent. 9<;
Blue Green Snake.—217 abdominal plates, 122 sub- Viridissv
caudal scales. Bright blue green, with a purple tinge wus,
on the back, and wdutish abdomen. A very beauti¬
ful species, about three feet long, harmless, and a native
of Surinam. 96
Coach-whip Snake.—Brown, with pale abdomen j flagellum
very long and slender, inoffensive, and native of North
America. It runs with extreme swiftness, in pursuit
of flies, &c. and is very easily tamed. 97
Ornamented Snake.—Habit long, and very slender; Ornatus.
colour jet black, with white flower-shaped spots, and
white abdomen. This very elegant species inhabits
some of the W7est India islands, and, according to Seba,
is also found in Java and Ceylon. 9$
Domietlla Snake.—118 abdominal plates, 60 subcau- Bomicei
dal scales. A very elegant and harmless species, of a
slender habit, with many jet-black cross bands, and a
blackish line on the abdomen. It is alleged that the
Indian ladies sometimes carry it in their bosoms.
Boaform.
;
Coluber.
99
[Bocefortnis.
100
Domesti¬
cs.
ioi
Fasciola-
tus.
102
Lincatus.
103
Elegans.
104
\lycteri-
I05
Ihcetulla.
O P H I O
Boaform Snake.—252 abdominal plates, 62 subcau-
dal scales. Whitish, with brown variegations j white
beneath, with very short scuta, the under part of the
tail variegated with black and white. Native of India,
and so strong, that it can numb the hand by wreathing
round the arm. Its bite, however, is not poisonous.
Domestic Snake.—245 abdominal plates, 94subcau-
dal scales. Gray, spotted with brown, and a double
black spot between the eyes. Native of Barbary, where
it is domesticated for the purpose of destroying the
smaller noxious animals.
Fasciolated Snake.—192 abdominal plates, 62 sub-
caudal scales. Cinereous, with whitish cross bands, and
glaucous abdomen. Native of India, and not poisonous,
as vulgarly believed.
Lineated Snake.—169abdominal plates, 84 subcaudal
scales. This beautiful and inoffensive species, though
subject to considerable variety of aspect, may be gene¬
rally distinguished by its bluish-green ground, and three
or five brown linear stripes, of which that in the middle
is broadest. It inhabits several parts of India, and is
from two to three feet long.
Elegant Snake.—202 abdominal plates, 146 subcau¬
dal scales. Yellowish gray, with three broad reticula¬
ted blackish bands, a broad fillet on the abdomen, and
the head freckled with brown. Length about two feet ;
tail very long and narrow. Native of South America.
Well figured by Seba.
Long-snouted Snake.—192 abdominal plates, i67sub-
caudal scales. Slender, with a sharp-pointed snout;
colour grass green, with a yellow line on each side of the
abdomen. About three feet and a half in length, and
half an inch in diameter. Native of North America,
where it is often seen on trees, runaing very quickly in
pursuit of insects.
Iridescent Snake.—163 abdominal plates, 150 subcau¬
dal scales. Tinge blue green, and gilded, accompanied
with iridescent hues, with pale abdomen, and black
streak across the eves. From three to four feet long.
Native of India. One of the most beautiful of the ser-
LOGY.
106
[ydrbs.
107
liaracters
toS
kubrims.
109
isciatus.
no
iralis.
pent tribe, and perfectly innocent.
To exhibit even short definitions of the other species
included in the genus Coluber, would extend this article
to a disproportionate length. Of most of the omitted
sorts, however, we may observe, that the history is ei¬
ther not particularly interesting, or too little known.
Gen. 4 Hydrus, Water-snake.
.Body slender in front, gradually thickening, scaled
tail compressed.—This is a genus of recent institu¬
tion, comprising those species of serpents which na¬
turally inhabit the water.
Colubrine Thjdrus.—Lead-coloured, with black sur¬
rounding bands. Ordinary length about two feet and a
half. The fangs are very small in proportion to the
size of the animal. It is the coluber laticaudatus (Lin.),
and inhabits the American and Indian seas.
Fasciated Hydrus.—Long and slender j black, longi¬
tudinally marked by yellowish white pointed bands;
upwards of two feet in length, poisonous, and native of
the Indian seas.
Spiral Hydrus.—Yellowish, with brown bands ; bo¬
dy spirally twisted* A rare and elegant species, thus
described by Dr Shaw.
- Its length is about two feet, and its habit slender;
the body much compressed throughout ; the back rising
into a very sharp Carina ; the abdomen being also cari-
nated, but having a flattened edge of scales somewhat
wider than the rest, and measuring about the fifteenth
of an inch in diameter ; the head is small, and covered
with large scales; the mouth wide ; the scales on the
whole animal moderately small, ovate, and slightly ca-
rinated ; the ground colour is yellow, barred in a beau-
tilul manner from head to tail with deep chesnut brown
or blackish fasciae, each widening on the abdomen, and
thus forming a highly distinct and handsome pattern
w len view ed on each side, seeming to constitute so ma¬
ny large, round, yellow spots on a blackish ground :
the back, at about the middle, is marked along its up¬
per part with a row of rather large, round, blackish
spots, situated between the fascice, and so placed as to
e in some parts on one side, and in others on the oppo¬
site side of the dorsal carina, while some few are seated
on the middle of the ridge itself: this variegation is
continued to the tail, which is about an inch and three
quarters long, black or deep brown, with a few yellow
patches towards its beginning ; it is remarkably broad
tor the size of the animal, and very thin on the edges,
so as to be semitransparent on those parts. The most
remarkable circumstance in this snake is the singular
obliquity of its form, the body in different parts being
alternately flatter on one side than the other, and the
pattern completely expressed on the flattened side only;
the other, or more convex side, being unmarked by the
round spots, and lying as it were beneath, thus consti¬
tuting several alternately spiral curves: this snake seems
of an unusually stiff and elastic nature, and the carina
on the back is so sharp as to surpass in this respect every
other species of serpent. This specimen is in the Bri¬
tish Museum ; but its particular history seems to be un¬
known.
Black-backcd Hydrus.—Hem] oblong, body black a-
bove, and yellowish beneath ; tail spotted. Anguisplat-
nia, Lin. Native of the Indian seas, and common a-
bout the coasts of Otaheite, where it is used as an ar¬
ticle of food.
Great Hydruswith brown bands, and hexa-
gonal scales abruptly carinated. Upwards of three feet
long. Native of the Indian seas. Its habits little
known.
The other hydri are, caspius, gracilis, coerulescens,
cul'tus, atrocezruleus, cinereus, piscator, and palustris,
Gen. 5. Langaya.
Abdominal plates, caudal rings, and terminal scales.
There is only one species known, viz.
Snouted Langaya.—4 abdominal plates, 42 caudal
rings ; but these numbers are subject to vary. Length
between tw^o and three feet, and diameter about seven
lines, in the thickest part of the body. Colour of the
upper parts reddish, or violet, of the under parts pale or
whitish. Teeth like those of the viper. Native of Ma¬
dagascar, where it is much dreaded.
116
Gen. 6. Acrochordus. Acro-
CHORDUS
Body completely covered with warts
T
•Langaya.
H4
Characters.
II7
Character.
Javan Acrochordus.—This reptile was discovered in
i6o
. h a pepper field, in the island of Java, in 1784. It mea-
duF. ‘ sured eight feet in length, and xo inches in diameter,
u——V'"—in the thickest part of the body. It was blackish
above, whitish beneath, and marked by dusk spots on
the sides. Five young ones, full formed, and each nine
inches long, were found in the belly. The Chinese
esteem it as a food.
The dubius and fasciatus are so nearly allied to the
preceding, that they may be regarded only as varie-
.ties.
o p H I O L O G Y.
Snouted Slow-ivorm.—218 abdominal, and 12 sub- Angak
caudal scales. Greenish black above, yellow beneath,' "
snout elongated, tail terminating in a horny tip. Length
about a foot. Native of Surinam. 12e
Jamaica Sfow-worm, or Silver Snake.—Pale brown, Jamaicen-
with a silvery gloss on the scales j the body, which sis.
rarely exceeds sixteen inches in length, gradually thick¬
ening, and the tail abruptly subacuminate.
The other species are, meleagris, atcr, maculata,
leucomelas, rifju, reticulata and chvioca.
119
Anguis.
120
Gen. 7. Anguis, Shiv-worm.
Characters Furnished with abdominal and subcaudal scales. ^Con¬
formation resembling that of some of the lizard
tribes, the body being composed of a series of move-
able rings, which are easily broken and easily repro¬
duced. A very harmless, and rather sluggish genus.
Fradlis. Common Slow-worm, Blind-worm, or Long Cripple.
j abdominal, and the same number of subcaudal
scales. Black, yellowish ash, or rufous graybelly
black, sides streaked tvith black and white, tail long
and obtuse, scales small, soft, and compact. The co¬
louring is subject to considerable variety. Length, from
10 to 12 inches, or more. Common in Europe and
Siberia, frequenting hollow ways, woods, paths, rubbish,
&c. Viviparous," subject to hybernation, living on
worms and" insects, and perfectly innoxious. It is ob¬
served of this species, as well as of some others, that, if
struck with any degree of violence, the body not only
breaks abruptly on the struck part, but even sometimes,
at different places, and that the fragments will live a
long while afterwards. Though of very gentle disposi¬
tions, the blind worm, like many of the family of ser¬
pents, refuses to eat m captivity', unless it be tamed. M.
Daudin mentions that he kept one two months and a
half, during all which time it constantly refused nou¬
rishment of every kind.—It is preyed on by various
birds, hedgehogs, snakes, frogs, and tods.
According to Er Shaw, the Blue-bellied Snake, 01
Aberdeen Slow-worm (A. Eryx Lin.) is only a variety
of the Fragilis. It occurs in Scotland and Noith
j 22 America.
Septate. Painted Slow-worm.—240 abdominal, and 13 sub¬
caudal scales. Varies much in colour, but is generally
orange, with black blotchessometimes black and white,
sometimes pale rose and black, paler beneath, and ele¬
gantly fasciated with bars of deep black. Native of
South America, particularly of Cayenne and Surinam.
In preserved specimens, the orange hue is very apt to
fade into white.
Coraltinus. Coral Slow-worm.—colour pale red, with
coral-red variegations. A very beautiful species, na-
I24 tive of Brazil.
Ventralis. Glass Slow-worm.—127 abdominal, 222 subcaudal
scales. Blackish green, speckled with yellow, with a
very short yellow abdomen, a deep furrow on each side
of the body, from the corners of the mouth to the vent,
and a tail more than twice the length of the abdomen.
Native of North America, and not uncommon in Caro¬
lina, where it is called the Glass Snake. A small
blow of a stick,’ says Catesby, ‘ causes the body to se¬
parate, not only at the place struck, but at txvo or three
other places, the muscles being articulated quite through
the vertebrae.’
Gen. 8. Amphisbjena.
127
Amfhis-
BJENA.
Body nearly cylindrical, with annular divisions round izS
the body and tail. The skin divided in a longitudi- Characters
nal direction, by straight lines, forming with the
wings so many square or parallelogrammic scales. A
harmless and oviparous genus, native of the warmer
regions of the new world, and not of Ceylon, as Seba
has erroneously asserted.
129
130
White Amphisbcena.—223 abdominal, and 16 caudal Alba.
scaly rings. Pale white, verging on yellowish, and
unspotted. Two feet or more in length, and of a con¬
siderable proportionate thickness. Is found in woods,
in Surinam, &c. where it preys chiefly on insects and
worms. -j-
Fuliginous Amphisbcena.—200 abdominal, and 30 Fuliginostt.
caudal, scaly rings. Differs from the preceding chiefly
by its black and white variegations. Common in
Cayenne, Surinam, and Brazil j but Linnaeus, and other
naturalists, misled by Seba, have falsely represented it
as a native of Libya, the island of Lemnos, &c.
131
Gen. o. CiEClLlA. Caxilia.
^ 132
Body cylindrical, wrinkles on the sides of the body Characters,
and tail. ,33
Eel-shaped Ccecilia.—Anguilliform, with distant Teniacu.
wrinkles, and a very small cirrhus beneath each nostril.lata-
The skin of the whole body, when closely inspected, is
found to be covered with very minute granules. About
18 inches long, native of South America, and destitute
of poison fangs. _ 134
White-sided Ccecilia.—340 wrinkles on the body, lOGlutinosa
on the tail. Brown, with very close wrinkles, and a
whitish lateral line. Native of South America. 135
Slender Ccecilia.—Brown, shaped like an earth-worm, Gracilis.
nearly 14 inches long, and one fifth of an inch in dia¬
meter. The upper jaw is longer than the lower, and
the teeth are so small, as not to be distinctly visible.
We cannot close our descriptive catalogue of the ser¬
pent tribe, without remarking, that the subject still re¬
quires elucidation •, that the Linnaean characters are not
always to be strictly interpreted 5 and that several spe¬
cies appear to have been overlooked, merely because
the number of their scales could not be ascertained.
Miscellaneous Observations.
. *36
The formidable aspect of some serpents, and the poison-Worship of
ous qualities of others, have probably inspired mankind, serpents,
in every age, with sentiments of terror and awe. In the
rude periods of society, fear is akin to devotion, and
Bartram informs us, that the rattlesnake is worshipped
bv several of the savage tribes in North America. On
the
O P H 1 o
Miscdla- the Gold and Slave coasts, a stranger, on entering the
■fleous Ob- cottages of the natives, is often surprised to see the roof
servations. SWarming with serpents, that cling there without mo-
Y lesting, and unmolested by, the natives. But his sur¬
prise will increase as he advances farther southward, to
the kingdom of Widah, when he finds that a serpent is
the god of the country. This animal, which travellers
describe as a huge overgrown creature, has its habita¬
tion, its temple, and its priests. These last impress the
vulgar with an opinion of its virtues 3 and numbers are
daily seen to offer, not only their goods, provisions, and
prayers, but even their wives and daughters at the
shrine of their hideous deity. The priests readily ac¬
cept the proffered females, and after some days of pe¬
nance, return them to their suppliants, much benefited
by the serpent’s supposed embraces.
The ancients seem to have been aware, that certain
species of serpents were attracted by musical sounds, and
have celebrated the Psylli and Marsi,
1.37
Enchant¬
ment of
serpents.
Ad quorum cantus mites jacuere cerastce.
At this day, there are jugglers in India, who train snakes
to move and gesticulate to the sound of the flute ; and
we have already mentioned, that they tame the Cobra de
Capello, and exhibit it to the populace. When the snake-
man first provokes the creature to attack him, he covers
his hand with an earthen jar, which he uses as a shield,
and thus hurts the animal’s mouth, and knocks it back¬
wards whenever it attempts to bite. He continues this
exercise for an hour, or longer, taking care, however,
not to fatigue the snake too much, nor to hurt it so as
to deter it from returning to the attack. Thus, the a-
nimal is gradually taught to raise itself, on presenting a
jar, a stick, or even the bare hand, the motions of which
it follows with its head, without daring to bite, lest it
should again wound its mouth. The juggler accompanies
this exercise with singing, so that what is really a defen¬
sive war on the part of the serpent, has- the appearance
of a dance. To render this exhibition less dangerous,
the fangs are sometimes removed 3 but more frequently
the snake is deprived of its poison, by being daily irri¬
tated to bite on a piece of cloth, or any soft spongy sub-
sance 3 nay, they have the address and courage to press
its head, and thus provoke it, while biting, to make it
seize the cloth with greater violence, and more effec¬
tually express its poison.
The Egyptian enchanters, however, appear to have
recourse to more ingenious and mysterious artifices.
“ They take the most poisonous vipers,” says Hassel-
quist, “ with their bare hands, play with them, put
them in their bosoms, and use a great many more tricks
with them, as I have often seen. I have frequently
seen them handle those that were three or four feet
long, and of the most horrid sort. I inquired and exa¬
mined if they had cut out the viper’s poisonous teeth 3
but I have with my own eyes seen they do not. We
may therefore conclude, that there are to this day Psylli
in Egypt 3 but what art they use is not easily known.
Some people are very superstitious, and the generality
believe this to be done by some supernatural art which
they obtain from invisible beings. I do not know whe¬
ther their power is to be ascribed to good or evil 5 but
I am persuaded that those who undertake it use many
'superstitions.
Vol. XV. Part. I. ' f
LOG Y.
I he circumstances relating to the fascination of ser¬
pents in Egypt, related to me,” he continues, “ were
principally, 1. I hat the art is on!\ known to certain
families, who propagate it to their oft'spring. 2. The
person who knows how to fascinate serpents, never
meddles with other poisonous animals, such as scorpions,
lizards, &c. There are different persons who know
how to fascinate these animals 3 and they again never
meddle with serpents. 3. I hose that fascinate serpents,
cat them both raw and boiled, and even make broth of
them, which they eat very commonly amongst them j
but in particular, they eat such a dish when they go out
to catch them. I have been told, that serpents fried or
boiled are frequently eaten by the Arabians both in
T-gypt ull<i Arabia, though they know not how to fas¬
cinate them, but catch them either alive or dead.
4. After they have eaten their soup, they procure a
blessing from their scheik (priest or lawyer), who uses
some superstitious ceremonies, and amongst others, spits
on them several times with certain,gestures. This man¬
ner of getting a blessing from the priest is pure supersti¬
tion, and certainly cannot in the least help to fascinate
serpents 3 but they believe, or at least persuade others,
that the power of fascinating serpents depends upon this
circumstance.”
On this subject, the celebrated Mr Bruce, in his Tra¬
vels to discover the Source of the Nile, is also minute
and explicit. Among other passages, we shall be con¬
tent to quote the following.
“ I will not hesitate to aver, that I have seen at
Cairo (and this may be seen daily without trouble or
cxpence) a man who came from above the catacombs,
where the pits of the mummy birds are kept, who has
taken a cerastes with his naked hand from a number of
others lying at the bottom of the tub, has put it upon
his bare head, covered it with the common red cap he
wears, then taken it out, put it in his breast, and tied
it about his neck like a necklace 3 after which it has
been applied to a hen, and bit it, which has died in a
few minutes 3 and to complete the experiment, the man
has taken it by the neck and beginning at his tail, has
eaten it as one would do a carrot or a stock of celery,
without any seeming repugnance.”
“ I can myself vouch, that all the black people in the
kingdom of Sennaar, whether Funge or Nuba, are per¬
fectly armed against the bite of either scorpion or viper.
They take the cerastes in their hands at all times, put
them in their bosoms, and throw them to one another
as children do apples or balls, without having irritated
them, by this usage, so much as to bite. The Arabs
have not this secret naturally 3 but from their infancy
they acquire an exemption from the mortal consequen¬
ces, attending the bite of these animals, by chewing a
certain root, and washing themselves (it is not anoint¬
ing) with an infusion of certain plants in water.”
The testimony of Savary is not less precise. At the
feast of Sidi Ibrahim, he saw a troop of people, seem-
ingly possessed, with naked arms and fierce looks, hold¬
ing in their hands enormous serpents, which twined
round their body, and endeavoured to escape. But
these enchanters avoided the bite, by grasping the ani¬
mals strongly by the neck, then tore them with their
teeth, and ate them alive, while the blood streamed
from their mouth.
X The
l6l
Miscella-
l62
OPHIOLOGY.
Miscclla Tlie circumstance of selling them fast by the neck,
neous Ob- accords with the concluding part of the ensuing relation
servations 0f Denon. , ,
' « Having been always curious to observe the means
bv which some men command the opinions of others,
regretted that I was not at Rosetta, at the procession ot
the feast of Ibrahim, in which the convulsions of the
Psylli form the most entertaining part, to the populace,
of this religious ceremony. To make up for my loss,
addressed myself to the chief of the sect, who was keeper
of the Okel or tavern of the Franks j I flatteied him ,
and he promised to make me a spectator of the exalta¬
tion of one of the Psylli, as soon as he should have «»-
spired him. From my curiosity he thought I was like-
ly to become a proselyte, and he proposed to initiate
me, which I acceptedbut when I learned that m the
ceremony of initiation, the grand master spits in the
mouth of the neophyte, this circumstance cooled my ar¬
dour, and I found that I could not prevai on myself to
submit to such a point of probation I therefore gave
my money to the chief, and the high priest promised to
let me see one of the inspired.
“ They had brought with them some serpents, which
they let loose from a large leather sack in which they
were kept, and by irritation made them erect their
bodies, and hiss. I remarked that the light was th
principal cause of their angerfor as soon as they were
returned into the sack, their passion ceased, and they no
longer endeavoured to bite. They had a particular
quality, which was that when angry, the neck for six
?nches below the head was dilated to the size of one s
hand. I soon saw, that I had no greater reason to
dread the bite of these serpents than their masters ha ,
for having well remarked that the Psylh, while they
were threatening the animal with one hand, seized it
on the back of the head with the other, I did the sam
with one of the serpents with equal success, though muc i
to the indignation of these mysterious quacks.
We have likewise heard of people m Furope who
allowed themselves to be bitten by vipers, with im¬
punity, to the great astonishment of the spectatois.
They first made the animal eat of a prepared paste,
which closed the apertures in the fangs, and thus pre¬
cluded the discharge of the poison.
Various and contradictory opinions, conjectures, a d
fictions, have been advanced relative to the nature,
action, and cure of serpentine poison. Among the vul¬
gar errors connected with this subject, we may reckon
the sting, fixed in the serpent’s tail, and the flowing of
venom from the black forked tongue, and from the teeth
10 Towards the end of the 17th century, Ferdinand II.
Grand Duke of Tuscany, invited Steno, Redi, and some
other eminent men of science, to his court, with a view
to investigate the history of this important phenomenon
in the animal economy. Redi, in particular instituted
a great variety of experiments, and arrived at some use¬
ful discoveries. When he either caused a living viper
to bite a dog, or wounded the latter with the t^lh ^
one newly dead, the event was the same. If the bite
was repeated, its effect became weaker, and at length
Was lost, the poison contained m the vesicle being ex¬
hausted. He observed, that when the teeth of serpents
were extended to bite, they were moistened over with a
certain liquor, and that when the vesicle at the base Micella,
was pressed, a drop of poison Sowed to the pomt of .the
fang. When the poison thus flowing from the vesicle v 
was received in soft bread, or a sponge, an animal bitten
by the serpent received no more harm from the wound
than from the pinch of a needle, till after a few days,
when the venom was secreted afresh } hut when an ani¬
mal was wounded with the point of a needle dipped m
the poison, it was tormented with the same pains as if
it had been bitten by the viper itself. Having prescived
some of this poison in a glass, and totally evaporated he
moisture in the sun, when the residuum was diluted
with water, Redi found, to his great surprise that it had
the same effect as when recent. But the boldness of
Jacob Sozzi, a viper charmer, excited the astonishment
of the learned. As they happened in the prince s pre¬
sence to talk of the certain death which would attend
the swallowing of viperine poison, Sozzi, confiding in
his art, drank a considerable portion of it without hesi¬
tation, and with the same safety as if he had drunk so
much water. This result, which so much startled the grand
duke and his philosophic associates, was not unknown to
the ancients, as may beinferred fiom these lines ,n Lucan.
F1.38
Serpentine
poison-
Noxia serpentum est admisto sanguine pestis :
Morsu virus habent ctjatnm dente minantur,
Pocula morte carent.
The ingenious and indefatigable Fontana made no
fewer than 6000 experiments on this interesting subject.
Of these, our limits will not permit us to enumerate the
results. In consequence, however, ot his multiplied and
persevering researches, we are enabled to state, that this
poison is not fatal to all animals-, that it kills nei her vi¬
pers, snakes, blind-worms, snails, nor leeches j that it acts
veiV slightly on tortoises; that it is neither an acid nor an
alkali; that it has nodetermined savour, andthat it leaves
in the mouth merely a sensation of astnngency and stu¬
por It long retains its virulence in the cavity ot the
tooth, whether the latter be separated or not from its
socket ; hut when dried and kept in an exposed situa¬
tion, it loses its deleterious qualities in less than a year,
Hence the propriety of caution m examining vipers that
are stuffed or preserved in spirits, and m making use of
clothes that have been bitten by them. Fontana has also
proved that the poison of the viper is not uniformly fa-
L except to very small animals, and that it is more dan¬
gerous to the larger sorts, according to the quantity of
virus secreted, the frequency of the bites, the <hrterent
parts of the body on which they have been inflicted and
probably also, the higher temperature ot the atmosphere.
A sparrow dies in five or eight minutes, a pigeon m
eight or twelve, a cat sometimes recovers, and a sheep
very often; so that a man has little reason to dread the
consequences of a single bite m the climate 0 y,
and still less so in France or Great Britain. 1 he n-
dredth part of a grain of poison applied to a nmsck will
kill a sparrow, whereas six times that quantity are 1 -
Wired to kill a pigeon. According to this estimate
about three grains should prove fatal to a man, and 12
to an ox. But the vesicles of an ordinarily sized viper
seldom contain more than two grains of poison, and
even that quantity is not exhausted till alter repeated
bites. The poison is of a gummy consistency, and seem
to act by destroying the-irritability of the macular
O P II I 0 L O G Y.
Miscella- fibre, ami introducing into ttie fluids a principle of pu-
neous Ob- trefaction. It may be swallowed with impunity, pro-
servation^ yj^ed there be no wound in the mouth j but if intro-
V,‘~v duced into the blood, the most violent and convulsive
agonies ensue, the sanguiferous system becoming coa¬
gulated, and the whole animal frame relaxed. lienee,
powerful sudorifics, as the flesh of the viper itself, of
snakes and lizards, which contain a large proportion of
ammoniacal soap, the volatile alkali, and its various
preparations, with numerous plants which excite copious
perspiration, have been recommended, and often suc¬
cessfully used as antidotes, especially when their ex¬
hibition has been preceded by a tight ligature imme¬
diately above the wound, and by scarification and cau¬
stics.
On the effects and cure of the poison of snakes, some
valuable observations and reflections occur in Dr Rus¬
sell’s splendid work on Indian serpents. The judicious
author remarks, that when the poison is applied to brute
animals, its progress is often so very rapid as hardly to
leave time for the operation of medicine, or the applica¬
tion of any means whatever, with a probability of suc¬
cess. When the progress is slower, should the remedy
be administered before unequivocal symptoms have re¬
moved all doubt of the poison having taken effect, re¬
covery may be ascribed to the medicine given, whilst,
in reality, no malady existed ; and if deferred till doubts
are removed, the remedy which, if applied in time
might have proved efficacious, may be unjustly regarded
as useless. Besides, it is well known that a bite of the
most noxious snake does not constantly prove fatal, and
that even some of the more tender animals, without the
use of any remedy, recover in cases where the symptoms
are apparently very formidable. These symptoms, in
the bodies of different animals, are very much alike, and
proceed nearly in the same order of progression, though
with difl’erent degrees of rapidity.
The American Indians either suck the wound, or ap¬
ply to it chewed tobacco, or make several incisions
around it, which they fill with gunpowder, and then
fire it off. During the progress of the cure they have
likewise recourse to several pounded and bruised plants,
as to some of the species of lactuca, the root oiprenan-
thes alba, the stems and leaves of a species of helianthus,
and in desperate cases the radical bark of the tulip-tree.
In general they are partial to the use of the syngenesi-
ous plants, and to the bark of the trunk and roots of
various trees.
The experiments of Bernard de Jussieu, Lebeau, Son-
nini, and Bose, seem to have established that, of all
known remedies for the bite of the viper and the rattle¬
snake, the most efficacious are, the volatile alkali, or
eau de luce, with suction and scarification of the recent
wound.
I n addition to these methods of cure, we shall quote
the prescription of Dr Moseley, who spent 12 years in
the West Indies.
“ The bites and stings of all venomous animals are
cured by the same local means, which are very simple
if they were always at hand. The injured part must be
instantly destroyed or cut out. Destroying it is the
most sale, and equally certain ) and the best application
for that purpose is the lapis infernalis, or butter of an¬
timony. These are preferable to a hot iron which the
ancients used, because a hot iron forms a crust, which
i63
acts as a defence to the under parts instead of destroying Miscella-
tliem. The lapis infernalis is much better than any neons Ob-
other, as it melts and penetrates during its application, seivuiions.
The bitten part must be destroyed to the bottom, and ^ v ‘
where there is any doubt that the bottom of the wound
is not sufficiently exposed, butter of antimony should be
introduced to it on the following day, as deep as pos¬
sible j and incisions should be made to lay every part
open to the action of these applications. Besides de¬
stroying, burning, or cutting out the part, incisions
should be made round the wound, to prevent the com¬
munication of the virus. The wound is to be dressed
for some time with poultices, to assuage the inflamma¬
tion caused by the caustics ; and afterwards with acrid
dressings and hot digestives to drain the injured parts.
“ Where the above-mentioned caustics cannot be
procured, corrosive sublimate, oil of vitriol, aquafortis,
spirit of salt, common caustic, or a plaster made of
quicklime and soap, may be applied to the wound.
Gunpowder laid on the part and fired, has been used
with success. When a person is bitten remote from
any assistance, he should make a tight ligature above
the part until proper application can be made. The
Spanish writers say, that the habilla de Cart/iagena, or
Carthagena bean, is a specific for poisonous bites taken
inwardly.
Dr Moseley then proceeds to state the ample testi¬
mony of Ulloa in favour of this bean, which is found in *
great abundance in the West India islands, under the
name of antidote or cocoon antidote. “ I have been in¬
formed (adds he) by some intelligent Indians, that any
of the red peppers, such as bird pepper or bell pepper,
or what is called Cayenne pepper, powdered, and taken
in a glass of rum, as much as the stomach can possibly
bear, So as to cause and keep up for some time great
heat and inflammation in the body, and a vigorous cir¬
culation, will stop the progress of the poison of serpents,
even after its effects are visible ; and that the bitten
part only afterwards mortifies and separates, and that
the patient, with bark, wine, and cordials, soon reco¬
vers.” r39
The naturalist who collects serpents for the purpose Preserve
of presei’ving them in his cabinet, should have recourse don ofser-
to various precautions, which, though several of them t*6"*8*
are sufficiently obvious, are, at the same time, too often
neglected. In general the hurtful sorts are caught with
the greatest safety and dexterity by natives of the coun¬
try in which they abound. The want of the head in
many of the lanrer stuffed specimens from Guiana, &c.
renders them of little value in a scientific point of view,
and is the result of superfluous trouble to travellers who
send them to Europe in this mutilated condition. Col¬
lectors, therefore, should carefully instruct their agents
to preserve this part of the animal. As these larger
specimens cannot easily be prepared without an incision
in the skin, it will be of consequence to make this inci¬
sion on the side, beginning at the termination of the
plates, and not cutting across them, as is too often, done,
to the great prejudice of distinct classification. IWhen
the skin is once stripped, it may be carefully rolled
up, and stuffed in the preparation room in the usual
manner.
The smaller species of serpents may be kept in pre¬
pared spirits. Pure alcohol and spirituous liquors,7 espe¬
cially when not reduced by water, frequently affect the
X 2 most
Jfi4 - O P H I O
'Miscella- most brilliant animal colours. Thus, in the ordinary
•neous Ob- cabinet liquors, the fine red of the hsemachate snake
nervations degenerates into a dark brown, scales of a bright green
v _ or blue become somewhat pale, yellow always whitens,
and orange changes to red or pale. White, brown,
black, purple, mother of pearl, and metal-coloured
scales are not liable to change. The following is an
approved recipe for preserving the various colours of
serpents entire.
Take very pure spring water, saturate it with alum,
then mix with it about one-fifth of its bulk ol very lim¬
pid spirit of wine, pass the mixture through a paper
strainer, and keep the liquor well corked up in bottles,
in some cool and shady situation. Immerse the animal
which you wish to preserve in a vessel filled with this
liquor, and allow it to remain in it 24 hours. The ves¬
sel and its included liquor should be reserved for this
preliminary process. Then remove the reptile into a.
cylindical vessel of fine glass, filled to three-fourths ol
its height with the liquor above described, and closed
EXPLANATION of PLATES CCCLXXI,
Fig. I. Carinated Scale.
— 2. Plain Scale.
  3. Tail of Coluber Snake.
— 4. Tail of Boa.
  j. Fang or Tooth through which the poison is
conveyed. . .
Fig. 6. The head of poisonous snake furnished with
fangs, a a a a. _ <
Fig. 7. The head of innoxious snake without langs.
  8. Crotalus Horn'dus, Banded Battle-Snake.
— 9. Boa Constrictor.
LOGY.
with a glass cover. Lute the latter with mastic and MisceUa-
hogs grease ; put the vessel on a shelf that is sheltered neons Ob-
from heat and the solar rays; and at the end of two ^'rvatioim
months, if the mastic be dry, and you wish the jar to
remain closed, paint the luting with an oil colour} but
if you intend to open it frequently, use only the hogs
grease.
Beptiles may also be conveniently preserved accord¬
ing to the method indicated by Chaussier, in the Bul¬
letin des Sciences, (for Prairial, year 10, N° 63.),
without the previous trouble of preparing the skin.
All that is required, is to stuft the cavities with cot¬
ton, and to immerse the body in distilled water, satu¬
rated with super-oxygenated muriate ol mercury j and
when it has sufficiently imbibed the saline solution in
all its parts, to allow it to dry slowly in a well aired
situation, screened from the sun and dust. All the
parts of the animal harden, and are thus defended
from the voracity of insects, and corruption of every
kind.
CCCLXXII, CCCLXXIII, and CCCLXXIV.
Fig. 10. Coluber Berus, Common Viper.
  ix. —— Cerastes.
  12.   Laticaudatus, Colubrine Hydrus.
— 13. Langaya Nasuta, Snouted Langaya.
— 14. Acrodiordus Javanicus, Javan Acrochor-
dus.
44g. 15. Anguis Corallinus, Coral Slow-worm.
__ 16. Amphisbcena Alba, White Amphisbtena.
   Fuliginosa, Fuliginous Am-
phisbaena.
Fig. 18. Ceecilia Tentaculata, Eel-shaped Csecxha.
INDEX.
A.
Acrochobdus, characters and
species of, N°Ii6
Anato?ny o( serpents, *2—41
Anguis, characters and species of, 119—126
imphisbeena, characters, &c. 127—*130
Asp, 79
B.
Banded rattle-snake, history of, 55
Boa, characters, species, and history
of, 60—71
Black snake, 93
Black-tailed rattle-snake, 59
Blue and green snake, 95
G.
Canine boa, ^5
Cerastes, t 81
Crotalus, characters and species of, 53 59
natural history of, ih*
Cobra de Capello ^4
Coluber, character, species, and history
of, 72—101
Constrictor boa, ^1
Coach-whip snake, N° 96
Ccecilia, characters, &c. 132 135
D.
Domestic snake, 100
E.
Embroidered boa, 66
Fasciated boa,
G.
Garden boa,
H.
68
67
Horn-nose snake, 82
Hydrus, characters and species of, 106— 112
Iridescent snake, I05
Langaya, characters and species, 114, 115
Lineated snake. 102
M.
Miliary rattle-snake, 5^
Ophiology, introduction to, 1
N° 2—n
ib.
Ophiology, history of,
writers on,
P.
Physiology of serpents, 42 5^ i
Poison of serpents, I3®
experiments on by Bedi, ib.
by Fontana, ib.
cure of,
B.
Rattlesnake, characters, species, and
history of, 53"”39
Ringed boa, 4
snake, 92
Russellian snake,
S-
Serpents, anatomy of, 12 41
physiology of, 42 5/
worship of, *30|
enchantment of, I37'
poison of, 12
preservation of, *39
Striped rattle-snake, 3
gSw;
OPHIOLOGY.
PLATE CCCLXSI.
OPHIOLiOGY.
PLATE CCCLXXn.
OPHIOLOG\
Roo°000-0 ou0s
io0oOn ° cenC
loV®V0c0°^
Eo 0 n a 0 nC 0
Ko^ooo^ooJ
"c 0 0 0 000afi
,oO0ceoOo0oo08|i
loo^ooo’l
ri n dll
l>^Po0S o°A0 r.
PoCrd oO^OCO ^1
o o 0° 0 CO£l/ji
omSVoVjMI
^siBm
'"0 0°G o®oYo0 M|
Jr,,?,., .*
Spectacle snake, 84
Spatted boa, 63
Slow-warm, characters anti species of
119—126
common,
painted,
coral,
glass,
121
122
123
124
OP BIOLOGY.
Slow-iwrm, snouted,
Jamaica,
V.
Viper, common,
American black,
Egyptian,
Charasian,
Redi’s,
N° 12.5
126
74
75
76
77
78
165
Viper, Greek, N° 80
horned, 81
water, 88
W.
Water-snake, characters and species of,
106—112
Wood rattle-snake, 57
{Jpliiomati-
cy
II.
Ophir.
Different
hypotheses
respecting
the situa¬
tion of
Dphir.
hypothesis
if Mr
Sruce.
x Kings,
:• 22.
1 Kings,
:• 22.
Chron.
c 21.
O P H
OPHIOMANCY, in antiquity, the art of making
predictions from serpents. Thus Calchas, on seeing
a serpent devour eight sparrows with their dam, fore-
, told the duration of the siege of Troy: and the seven
coils of a serpint that was seen on Anchises’s tomb,
were interpreted to mean the seven years that iEneas
wandered from place to place before he arrived at
Latium. •
OPHIORHIZA, a genus of plants belonging to the
pentandria class, and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 47th order, Stellatce. See Botany Index.
OPHIOXYLON, a genus of plants belonging to
the polygamia class, and in the natural method ranking
with those of which the order is doubtful. See Botany
Index.
OPHIR, a country mentioned in Scripture, from
which Solomon had great quantities of gold brought
home in ships which he sent out for that purpose ; but
where to fix its situation is the great difficulty, authors
running into various opinions on that head. Some
have gone to the West, others to the East Indies, and
the eastern coast of Africa, in search of it.—Mr Bruce
the celebrated Abyssinian traveller, has displayed much
learning and ingenuity in settling this question of Bi¬
blical history. To the satisfaction of most of his
readers, he has determined Ophir to be Sofala, a king¬
dom of Africa, on the coast of Mosambique, near Zan-
guebar (see Sofala). His reasons for this determi¬
nation are so generally known, that it would be im¬
proper to repeat them here at length ; because such
as are not already acquainted with them may con¬
sult bis book, which has been long in the hands of the
public. He justly observes, that in order to come to
a certainty where this Ophir was, it will be necessary
to examine what Scripture says of it, and to keep
precisely to every thing like description which wre
can find there, without indulging our fancy farther.
1st, Then, the trade to Ophir, was carried on from the
Elanitic gulf through the Indian ocean. 2dly, The
returns were gold, silver, and ivory, but especially
silver f. ylly, The time of the going and coming of
the fleet was precisely three years j, at no period more
or less.
Now, if Solomon’s fleet sailed from the Elanitic
gulf to the Indian ocean, this voyage of necessity
must have been made by monsoons, for no other winds
reign in that ocean. And what certainly shows this
was the case, is the precise term of three years in
which the fleet went and came between Ophir and
Ezion gaber.
These mines of Ophir were probably what furnished
O P H
the East with gold in the earliest times : great traces of Ophir.
excavation must therefore have appeared. * 'v—. i.»
But John dos Santos says, that he landed at Sofala
in the year 1586; that he sailed up the great river
Cuama as far as Tete, where, always desirous to be in
the neighbourhood of gold, his order had placed their
convent. Thence he penetrated for about two hundred
leagues into the country, and saw the gold mines then -
working at a mountain called Afura. At a consi- Arguments
derable distance from these are the silver mines of Chi - *ri support
coua ; at both places there is a great appearance ofot ^
ancient excavations j and at both places the houses
of the kings are built with mud and straw, whilst
there are large remains of massy buildings of stone
and lime.
Every thing then conspires to fix the Ophir of Solo¬
mon in the kingdom of Sofala, provided it would neces¬
sarily require neither more nor less than three years to
make a voyage from Ezion-gaber to that place and Tar-
shish and return. To establish this important fact, our
author observes, that the fleet or ship for Sofala, part¬
ing in June from Ezion-gaber (see Ezion-gaber),
would run down before the northern monsoon to Mo¬
cha (see Mocha). Here, not the monsoon, but the
direction of the gulf, changes; and the violence of
the south-westers, which then reign in the Indian ocean,
make themselves at times felt even in Mocha roads.
The vessel therefore comes to an anchor in the harbour
of Mocha) and here she waits for moderate weather
and a fair wind, which carries her out of the straits of
Babelmandel, through the few leagues where the wind
is variable.
Her course from this is nearly south-west, and she
meets at Cape Guardafui, a strong south-wester that
blow7s directly in her teeth. Being obliged to return
into the gulf, she mistakes this for a trade-wdnd ; be¬
cause she is not able to make her voyage to Mocha
but by the summer monsoon, which carries her no far¬
ther than the straits of Babelmandel, and then leaves
her in the face of a contrary wind, a strong current to
the northward, and violent swell.
The attempting this voyage with sails, in these cir¬
cumstances, w'as absolutely impossible, as their vessels
went only before the wind : if it was performed at all,
it must have been by oars 3 and great havock and loss
of men must have been the consequence of the several
trials.
At last, philosophy and observation, together with the
unwearied perseverance of man bent upon his own views
and interests, removed these difficulties, and showed
the mariners of the Arabian gulf, that these periodical
winds*,
O P H [
Ophir. winds, wliicli in the beginning they looked upon as in-
*-—-v"' *1 vincible barriers to the trading to Sotala, when once
understood, were the very means of performing this
voyage safely and expeditiously.
The vessel trading to Sofala sailed from the bottom
of the Arabian gulf in summer, with the monsoon at
north, which carried her to Mocha. There the mon¬
soon failed her by the change of the direction ol the
gulf. The south-west winds, which blow without Cape
Guardafui in the Indian ocean, force themselves round
the cape so as to be felt in the road of Mocha, and
make it uneasy riding there. But those soon changed,
the weather became moderate, and the vessel, we sup¬
pose in the month of August, was safe at anchor un¬
der Cape Guardafui, where tvas the port which, many
years aftenvards, was called Tl romontomum Aroma-
turn. Here the ship was obliged to stay all Novem¬
ber, because all these summer months the Avind south
of the cape Avas a strong south-wester, as hath been
before said, directly in the teeth of the Aroyage to So¬
fala. But this time Avas not lost j part of the goods
bought to be ready for the return was ivory, frankin¬
cense, and myrrh j and the ship Avas then at the prin¬
cipal mart for these.
Our author supposes, that in November the vessel
sailed Avith the wind at north-east, Avith which she
would soon have made her voyage : but off the coast
of Melinda, in the beginning of December, she there
met an anomalous monsoon at south-west, in our days
first observed by Dr Halley, Avhich cut oft her voyage
to Sofala, and obliged her to put into the small har¬
bour of Mocha, near Melinda, but nearer still to
Tarshish, Avhich avc find here by accident, and Avhicli
avc think a strong corroboration that Ave are right as
to the rest of the voyage. In the annals of Abyssinia,
it is said that Amda Sion, making Avar upon that
coast in the 14th century, in a list of the rebellious
Moorish vassals, mentions the chief of Tarshish as one
of them, in the very situation Avhere Ave have noAV pla¬
ced him.
Solomon’s vessel, then, was obliged to stay at Tar¬
shish till the month of April of the second year. In
May, the Avind set in at north-east, and probably carried
her that same month to Sofala. All the time she
spent at Tarshish Avas not lost, for part of her cargo
was to be brought from that place 5 and she probably
bought, bespoke, or left it there. I rom May of the
second year, to the end of that monsoon in October, the
vessel could not stir •, the wind Avas north-east. But
that time, far from being lost, Avas necessary to the
traders for getting in their cargo, which we shall sup¬
pose Avas ready for them.
The ship sails on her return, in the month of Novem¬
ber of the second year, with the monsoon south-west,
which in a very few weeks Avould have carried her into
the Arabian gulf. But off Mocha, near Melinda and
Tarshish, she met the north-east monsoon, and was obli¬
ged to go into that port, and stay there till the end of
that monsoon •, after Avhich a south-Avester came to her
relief in May of the third year. With the May mon¬
soon she ran to Mocha Avithin the straits, and was there
confined by the summer monsoon blowing up the Ara¬
bian gulf from Suez, and meeting her. Here she lay
till that monsoon Avhich in summer blows northerly
from Suez, changed to a south-east one in October or
2
166 ] O P H
November, and that very easily brought her up Info OpW.
the Elanitic gulf, the middle or end of December of1 v—J
the third year. She had no need of more time to com¬
plete her voyage, and it Avas not possible she could do
it in less. . „ , , c
Such is a very short and imperfect abstract ot our
author’s reasons for placing Ophir in Sofala. II it
excite the curiosity of our readers to consult his Avoik,
it Avill ansAver the purpose for which Ave have made
it. ... 4
We are now to give another ingenious conjecture Another
concerning the situation of Ophir and Earshish, with yp0tiea*-
which we have been favoured by Dr Doig, the learn¬
ed author of Letters on the Savage State, addressed to
Lord Karnes.
This respectable writer holds that Ophir Avas some-
Avhere on the Avest coast of Africa, and that Tarshish
Avas the ancient Bcetica in Spain. His essay is not
yet published ; but he authorizes us to give the follow¬
ing abstract of it: “ The first time that Op/nr, or ra¬
ther Aiifir, occurs in Scripture, is in Gen. x. 29. Avhere
the sacred historian, enumerating the sons ol Joktan,
mentions Aufir as one of them.” According to bin
account, the descendants of those 13 brothers settled
all in a contiguous situation, from Mesha (the Mocha
of the moderns) to Sepharah, a mountain of the east.
Moses, as every one knows, denominates countries, and
the inhabitants of countries, from the patriarch from
whom those inhabitants descended. In describing the
course of one of the branches of the river of paradise,
the same Moses informs us that it encompassed the
Whole land of Havilah, &c. which abounded with fine
gold, bdellium, and the onyx stone; and this land had
its name from Havilah, the 12th son of the patriarch
Joktan. Ophir or Aifir was Havilah’s immediate elder
brother ; and of course the descendants of the foimei,
in all probability, fixed their habitation in the neigh¬
bourhood of those of the latter. If, then, the land
of Havilah abounded with gold and precious stones,
the land of Ophir undoubtedly produced the very same
articles. . . 5
Here then avc have the original Ophir*, here Avas xie orlgi-
found the primary gold of Ophir*, and here lay the nal Ophir
Ophir mentioned in Job xi. 24. But as navigation not
Avas then in its infant state, the native land °* 1 suioni0n;
mentioned by Job must have been much nearer home
than that to which the fleets of Solomon and Hiram
made their triennial voyages. T-liat several countue^
on the south-east coast of Africa abounded a\ ith go.i
long after the era of Job, is evident from the testimony
of Herodotus, Strabo, Diodorus Siculus, Ptolemy, I om*
ponius Mela, &c.*, but that in these countries the Ophir
of Solomon could not be situated, is plain, because Ins
ships in the same voyage touched at Tarshish, which
lay in a very different quarter.
The Abyssinian traveller has placed this regio aun-
fera in Sofala on the eastern coast of Africa, nearly
opposite to the island of Madagascar. This hypothesis
tfas current a hundred years before he was born ; but
I am persuaded (says our author) that it is not tenable.
The Ophir of Solomon, in Avhatever part of Africa it
lay, must have been well known, prior to his reign, both
to the Phoenicians and the Edomites, These people na-
vigated that monarch’s fleet, and therefore could k® n0
strangers to the port whither they were bound. That
OPH [167] OPH
Ophir. it was In Afrrca is certain; and tiiat it was on the
v——■'west coast of that immense peninsula, will appear more
than probable, when we have ascertained the situation
of Tarshish, and the usual course of Phoenician naviga¬
tion. To these objects, therefore, we shall now direct
our inquiries.
“ Javan, the fourth son of the patriarch Japhet,
had four sons, Elisha, Tarshish, Kittim, and Dodanim
  or Kodanim ; among whose ‘ descendants were the isles
discovering of the Gentiles divided’ The city of Tarsus on the
that of coast of Cilicia, at once ascertains the region colonized
by the descendants of Tarshish. But as much depends
upon determining the position of this country, I shall
endeavour (says the Doctor) to fix it with all possible
precision.
i.he situa¬
tion must
he ascer¬
tained by
Tarsliish.
“ In the first place, I must beg leave to observe,
that there is not a single passage in any ancient author,
sacred or .profane, that so much as alludes to any city,
district, canton, or country, of the name of Tarshish in
the eastern parts of the world. The descendants of
Javan, of whom Tarshish was one, are agreed on all
hands to have extended their settlements towards the
north-west, i. e. into Asia Minor, Italy, and Spain.
The inhabitants of Tarshish are everywhere in Scrip¬
ture said to be addicted to navigation and commerce,
in which they seem to have been connected with the
Ps.xlriii. Tyrians and Phoenicians +, who were always said by
Ixxii. 10. the Jews to inhabit the isles of the sea. Indeed, in He¬
brew geography, all the countries towards the north
and west, which were divided from Judea by the sea,
Gen. ii. were called the isles of the sea|. Thus Isaiah : ‘ The
6- burden of Tyre. Howl ye ships of Tarshish, fov it is
laid waste, so that there is no house, no entering in :
from the land of Chittim it is revealed unto them. Be
still ye inhabitants of the isle, thou whom the merchants
of Zidon, that pass over the sea, have replenished.’ The
land of Chittim was Macedonia, and often Greece, from
which every one knows that the destruction of Tyre
came } and that Tarshish was not an unconcerned spec¬
tator of that destruction, is obvious from the same pro¬
fs, xxiii. phet, who proceeds to say [| : ‘ As at the report con-
xsrim. cerning Egypt, so shall they be sorely pierced at the
report concerning Tyre. Pass over to Tarshish j howl
ye inhabitants of the isle. Is this your joyous city ?’
It appears likewise from Ezekiel xxvii. 12. that Tar¬
sliish was the merchant with whom Tyre traded for sil¬
ver, iron, tin, and lead, and that this trade was carried
7 on in fairs.
UTar8*' <4 ^?lorn t^ese passages, it seems to be evident,
Lh ’ that the descendants of Tarshish settled on the western
here si- coast ol Asia Minor 5 that these people were addicted
' ated. to navigation and commerce j that in the course of
their traffic they were connected with the Tyrians and
Phoenicians 5 that the commerce they carried on con¬
sisted of silver, iron, tin, and lead $ that the people of
I arshish were connected with Kittim and the isles of
the Gentiles, which are confessedly situated toward the
north and west of Judea.
“ But lest, after all, a fact so fully authenticated
should still be called in question, I shall add one proof
more, which will place the matter beyond the reach of
doubt and controversy.
“ When the prophet Jonah intended to flee from the
presence of the Lord, in order to avoid preaching at
Nineveh, let us see where the peevish deserter embark¬
ed (Jonah i. 3.). “ And Jonah rose up to flee unto Ophir
1 arshish, from the presence of the Lord, and went down ■ , ' - ■
to Joppa : and he found a ship going to Tarshish, and he
paid the fare thereof, and went down into it, to go with
them into Tarshisb, from the presence of the Lord.’
Every body knows that Joppa or Japhah stood upon the
shore of the Mediterranean; of course the fugitive pro¬
phet had determined to go to some very distant region
westward, and by that means to get as far from Nineveh
as possible.”
Having thus proved to a demonstration, that the This not.
original Tarshish was a region on the western coast of the Tar-
Asia Minor, where either the patriarch of chat name,*^1 Sf>-
or some of his immediate descendants, planted a colo-lomofK
ny, it remains to determine whether this was actually
the country from which Solomon imported the vast
quantities of silver mentioned by the sacred historian.
1 hat it was not, our author frankly acknowledges 5 and
therefore, says he, we must look out for Solomon’s Tar¬
shish in some other quarter of the globe. 9
.To pave the way for this discovery,-, he very justly Tlie name
observes, that it has at all times been a common prac-of one
tice to transfer the name of one country to another, in transferred
consequence of some analogy or resemblance between to another,
them. ] t has likewise often happened, that when a
commodity was brought from a very distant country by
a very distant people, the people to whom it was import¬
ed have taken it for granted that it was produced in the
region from which it was immediately brought to them.
Of the truth of this position no man acquainted with
the Greek and Roman poets can for a moment entertain
a doubt. Hence the Assijrium amomvm of Virgil, and
the Assyrium malabathrum of Horace, though these •
articles were the product not of Assyria but of India.
The Jews, who were as little acquainted with foreign
countries as the Greeks and Romans, had very probably
the same notions with them respecting articles of com¬
merce 5 and if so, they would undoubtedly suppose, that
the silver sold by the merchants of Tarshish was the
product of that country. When this mistake came to
he discovered, they very naturally transferred the name
Tarshish from the country of the merchants to that
of the articles which they imported. Let us now, says
our author, try if we cannot find out where that country
was.
It has been already shown, by quotations from Isaiah
and Ezekiel, that the merchants of Tarshish traded in
the markets of Tyre with silver, iron, lead, and tin.
To these authorities, we shall add another from Jere¬
miah : “ Silver (says that prophet) spread into plates
is brought from Tarshish.” “ But in Spain (continues
our learned dissertator), all those commodities were
found in the greatest abundance. All the ancient au¬
thors who describe that region dwell with rapture on its
silver mines. This fact is too generally known to need
to be supported by authorities. Spain was then the re¬
gion which furnished Solomon’s traders with the im¬
mense mass of silver he is said to have imported. This
was, one might say, the modern Tarshish j and indeed
both Josephus and Eusebius are positive that the pos¬
terity of Tarshish actually peopled that country. If
this was an early opinion, as it certainly was, the Jews
would of course denominate Spain from the patriarch
in question.
I have shown above, that the inhabitants of Tar¬
shish
O P H
t
slush were strictly connected with the Kittim, or Gre-
I shall here produce an authority which will
cians . ^     i-  ,
prove to a demonstration that the Kittim had extended
their commerce into that part ol Africa now called
Barbary. . .
“ The prophet Ezekiel, (xxvii. 6.) describing the
splendour and magnificence of Tyre, tells us, ‘ that
the company of the Ashurites made her benches ol ivo¬
ry, brought from the isles of Kittim.’ In the first place,
x must observe, that there is probably a small error m
the orthography of the word Ashunm. I Ins teim is
everywhere in Scripture translated Assyrians, which
translation is certainly just. But how the Assyrians
could export ivory from the isles ol Kittim, and fa
shion it into benches for the lyrian mariners, is, in
my opinion, a problem of no easy solution. 1 he tact
is Ashurim should be Asherim, that is, the company
of the men of Asher. The tribe of Asher obtained its
inheritance in the neighbourhood of Tyre ; (see Josh,
xix. 28.). ‘ And Hebron, and Rehob, and Mammon
and Canah, unto Zidon the great.’ The companies of
the tribe of the Asherites then, and not the Ashurim,
were the people who manufactured the benches in
question. .
“ Be that as it may, the ivory of which the imple¬
ments were formed was imported from the isles of
Kittim, that is, from Greece and its neighbourhood.
These islands, it is certain, never produced ivory.
They must therefore have imported it from some other
country ; but no other country, to which the Greeks
and their neighbours could have extended their com¬
merce, except the north of Africa, produced that com¬
modity. The conclusion then is, that the maritime
states of Asia Minor, Greece, and probably the IXe-
truscans on the west coast of Italy, carried on a gain¬
ful commerce with Spain and Barbary at a very early
period.
u We have now seen that the original Tarshish on the
coast of Asia Minor did not produce the metals im¬
ported by Solomon’s fleet; that no Tarshish is to^ be
found in the eastern parts of the globe ; that the 1 ar-
shish we are in quest of was undoubtedly situated some¬
where towards the west of Judea: we have shown that
the mercantile people of Asia Minor, Greece, and pro¬
bably of Italy, actually imported some of those articles
from the coast of Africawe have hazarded a con-
iecture, that Spain was the modern Tarshish, and that
very country from which Solomon imported his silver,
and the Tyrians their silver, iron, tin, and lead. Let
us now make a trial whether we cannot exhibit some
Internal proofs in support of the hypothesis we hare
above adopted.
“ The ancients divided Spain into three parts, Bae-
tica, Lusitania, and Tarraconensis. Bsetica is the mo¬
dern Andalusia. It stretched along the Fretum Hercu-
jeum, or Straits of Gibraltar, to the mouth of the Gua-
dalquivcr. This region is thought by some to have
been the Elysian fields of the poets. The river Baetis,
which divides it, is called Tartessus by Aristotle, Stesi-
ehorus, Strabo, Pausanias, Steph. Byzant, and Avianus.
Here too we have a city and a lake of the same name.
But Tartessus is positively the very same with Tar¬
shish. The Phoenicians, by changing sc/ri» into lhm/t
made it Tartish. The Greeks manufactured the rest,
I
168 ] O P H
by changing Tartish into Tartis, and in process of time Opliir.
into T*gT»jff-ff-4s. That the Phoenicians actually changed 1——
schin into than is certain $ for Plutarch tells us, in the
life of Sylla, that in their language an ox was cal¬
led thor, which is, no doubt, the same with the Hebrew
shor. 10
“ From this deduction, it appears highly probable at’x,ars]1js]i
least, that the Spanish Baetica was originally called Tar- Spanish
shish. Indeed this similarity of names has operated so Bsetica.
powerfully on the learned Bochart, and on some other
moderns of no mean figure, that they have positively
affirmed, as Josephus had done before them, that the
patriarch Tarshish actually settled in that country.
This I should think not altogether probable j but that
his descendants who settled on the coast of Asia M i¬
nor colonized Bsetica, and carried on an uninterrupted
commerce to that country, along with the 1 hcenicians,
for many centuries after it was peopled, and that fiom
the circumstances above narrated, it was denominated
Tarshish, are facts too palpable to admit of contradic¬
tion.
“ Let us now see whether this Bietica, where I have
endeavoured to fix the situation of the I arshish of the
Scriptures, was actually furnished with those articles of
commerce which are said to have been imported from
that country. To enlarge on this topic would be alto¬
gether superfluous. Diodorus Siculus, Strabo, Polybius,
Pliny, Solinus, and, in one word, all the Greek and Ro¬
mm/ historians who have mentioned that region, have
unanimously exhibited it as the native land of silver,
iron, and tin: to these, contrary to the opinions of the
celebrated modern traveller, they likewise add gold in
very large quantities.”
Our author having thus ascertained the situation of
Tarshish, proceeds to prove, by a mass of evidence too
large for our insertion, that the Edomites and Ty¬
rians had doubled the Cape, and almost encompassed
Africa, long before the era of Solomon. Then refer¬
ring to 1 Kings, chap. ix. and x. 2 Chron. viii. ix.
2 Kings xxii. and 2 Chron. xx. he observes, that from
these authorities it appears indubitable, that the fleets
of Solomon and Hiram sailed from Eloth and Ezion-
geber j that the voyages to Ophir and Tarshish were
exactly the same, performed at one and the same time,
by the very same fleet; which must necessarily have en¬
compassed the peninsula of Africa before it could ar¬
rive at the country of Tarshish. This being the case,
the traders might easily enough collect the gold on the
coast of Guinea, or on what is now vulgarly called the
Gold Coast. The ivory they might readily enough pro¬
cure on the Barbary coast, opposite to Tarshish. In
Africa too, they might hunt apes, monkeys, baboons,
&c. and peacocks, or rather parrots, and parroquets,
they might surprise in the forests which abounded on the
coast. In Spain, silver, iron, lead, and tin, were, one
may say, the native produce of the soil. Even at this
early period, the Phoenician navigators had discovered
the Cassiterides or Scilly islands, and Cornwall •, and
from that region, in company with the merchants, may
have supplied them with that rare commodity.
“ I have supposed that the navy of Solomon and Hi¬
ram collected their gold in the course of their voyage
somewhere on the coa-t of Africa, beyond the Cape,
for the following reasons : Had they found the golden
fleece
O P H [ !
'Ophir. fleece at Sofala (a), or any part of the coast of Afri-
'—r—'ca, they would have chosen to return and unlade at
Eloth or Ezion-geber, rather than jruvsue a long and
dangerous course, quite round Africa, to Tarshish;
to which last country they might have shaped their
course much more commonly from Zidon, l yre, Jop¬
pa, &c. But being obliged to double the cape in
quest of some of those articles which they were en¬
joined to import, they pushed onward to Tarshish,
and returned by the Pillars of Hercules to Tyre, or
perhaps to Joppa, &c. Their next voyage commen¬
ced from one or other of these ports, from which they
directed their course to Tarshish j and having taken
in part of their lading there, they afterwards coasted
round Africa, and so arrived once more at Eloth or
Ezion-geber.
Let us now attend to the space of time in which
these voyages were performed. We are told express¬
ly (2 Chron. ix. 21.) that once every three years
came the ships of Tarshish, &c. This is exactly the
time one would naturally imagine necessary to per¬
form such a distant voyage, at a period when naviga¬
tion was still in its infancy, and mariners seldom ad¬
ventured to lose sight of the coast. Of this we have
an irrefragable proof in the history of a voyage round
the very same continent, undertaken and accomplish¬
ed in the very same space of time, about two centuries
after,
“ We learn from Herodotus, lib. ii. cap. 149. that
Nechus, one of the latter kings of Egypt, whom the
Scripture calls Pharaoh Necho, built a great number of
ships, both on the Red sea and the Mediterranean. The
same historian, lib. iv; cap. 42. informs us, that this en¬
terprising monarch projected a voyage round the conti¬
nent of Africa, which was actually accomplished in the
space of three years. In the conduct of this enterprise,
he employed Phoenician mariners, as Solomon had done
before him. These, we may suppose, were assisted in
the course ef this navigation by charts or journals, or at
least by traditional accounts derived from their ances¬
tors: ‘These navigators (says the historian) took their
departure from a port on the Red sea, and sailing from
thence into the southern ocean, and, in the beginning
of autumn, landing on the coast of Africa, there they
sowed some grain which they had carried out with them
on board their vessels. Ln this place they waited till the
crop was ripened j and, having cut it down, they pro¬
ceeded on their voyage. Having spent two years in this
navigation, in the third they returned to Egypt, by the
Pillars of Hei'cules. These mariners, adds the author,
reported a fact, which, for his part, he could by no
means believe to be true j namely, that in one part of
their course their shadows fell on their right; a circum¬
stance which gives considerable weight to the truth of
the relation.’
“ Let it now be observed that Phoenician mariners
navigated the fleet of Solomon : the same people con-
tlucted that of Necho: the fleet of Necho spent three
years in the course of its voyage; that of Solomon
did the same in its course about two centuries before:
Vol. XV. Part I. t
69 ]
O P H
the fleet of Necho sailed from a port on the Red sea ; Qpliir.
that ot Solomon took its departure from Eloth or ’-v  
Ezion-geber, situated on the same sea : the fleet of the
former returned by the Pillars of Hercules j that of
the latter, according to the hypothesis, pursued the
very same route. Such a coincidence of similar cir¬
cumstances united with those adduced in the preced-
ing part of this article, seem to prove almost to a
demonstration, that the navy of Hiram and Solo¬
mon performed a voyage round Africa, in that age, in
the same manner as that ot Necho did two centuries
after.
“Upon the whole, I conclude, that the original
Ophir, which is really Aufir or Aufr, was situated on
the south of Arabia Felix, between Sheba and Havilah,
which last was encompassed by one of the branches of
the river of Paradise : that the name Ophir, i. e. Aufr,
was, in consequence of its resemblance, in process of
time transferred to a region on the coast of Africa;
and that from it first Afer and then Africa was deno¬
minated : that the primitive Tarshish was Cilicia, and
that the Jews applied this name to all the commercial
states on the coast of Asia Minor, and perhaps of Italy,
there being strong presumptions that the Tyrrhenians
were colonists from Tarshish ; that Bietica, and per¬
haps some other regions of Spain, being planted with
colonies from Jarshish, likewise acquired the name of
Tarshish ; that the Tyrians were strictly connected with
the merchants of Jarshish in their commercial enter¬
prises ; that Tarshish was certainly situated westward
from Judea, Phoenicia, &c.; that no other country in
the western quarters produced the commodities import¬
ed by the two kings, except Spain and the opposite
coasts; that this country, in those ages, produced not
only silver, iron, tin, and lead, but likwise gold in
great abundance ; that the merchants of Kittim import¬
ed ivory, of which the Asherites made benches for the
J yrians; which commodity they must have purchased
on the coast of Barbary, where the Jews and Phosnici-
ans would find the same article ; that Tarshish being si¬
tuated in Spain, it was impossible for a fleet sailing from
Eloth, or Ezion-geber, to arrive at that country with- 1 *
out encompassing Africa; that of course the fleet in 0pjlu’ sit“*
question did actually encompass that continent; thatcolst°of1 ^
the Ophir of Solomon must have been situated some-Africa,
where on the coast of Africa, to the west of the Cape, west°f ^
because from it the course to Tarshish was more eligible ^aPe*
than to return the same way back to Ezion-geber.”
Our author supports this conclusion by many other
arguments and authorities, which the limits prescribed
us will not permit us to detail; but perhaps the ar¬
ticle might be deemed incomplete if we did not show
how he obviates an objection that will readily occur
to his theory. “ If the original Ophir was seated on
the coast of Arabia Felix, and the modern region of
the same name on the west coast of Africa, it may be
made a question, how the latter country came to be
denominated from the former; Nothing (says our au- 12
thor) can be more easy than to answer this question. 4n obJec‘
The practice of adapting the name of an ancient country 5^^^'
Y to
(A) That Sofala opposite to the island of Madagascar was Ophir, was an ancient conjecture. See Bo chart*
chan< 1. ii. cap. 27. p. 160. 4to.
O P I
[ 17° ]
O P o
to a newly iliscovered one, icsemliling llic other m ap-
pearance, in situation, in figure, in distance, in the na¬
ture of the climate, productions, &c. has ever been so
common, that to produce instances would be altoge¬
ther superfluous. The newly discovered region on tie
coast of Africa abounded with the same species of com¬
modities by which the original one was distinguished j
and of course, the name of the latter was annexed to
the former. . -,-x ta •
"Whetlier Mr Bruce’s hypothesis, or Dr Doig s, re-
spectiiif the long-disputed situation of Solomon’s Opkir,
be the true one, it is not for us to decide. Both are
plausible, both are supported by much ingenuity and
uncommon erudition ; but we do not think that the
arguments of either writer furnish a complete con¬
futation of those adduced by the other. Sub judice
IrlSt CSt •
OPHIBA, a genus of plants belonging to the octan-
dria class. See Botany Index.
OPHITES, in Natural History, an old term em¬
ployed to denote a mineral, of a dusky green groum,
sprinkled with spots of a lighter green, otherwise called
serpentine. See MINERALOGY Index..
Ophites, in church history, Christian heretics, so
called both from the veneration they had for the serpent
that tempted Eve, and the worship they paid to a real
serpent: they pretended that the serpent was Jesus Christ,
and that he taught men the knowledge of good and evil.
They distinguished between Jesus and Christ: Jesus, they
said, was born of the Virgin, but Christ came down
from heaven to be united with him*, Jesus was crucihed,
but Christ had left him to return to heaven, ihey di¬
stinguished the God of the Jews, whom t >ey tei mei
Jaldabaoth, from the supreme God : to the former they
ascribed the body, to the latter the soul of man. Ihey
had a live serpent, which they kept in a kind oi cage j
at certain times they opened the cage door, and called
the serpent: the animal came out, and mounting upon
the table, twined itself about some loaves of bread j this
bread they broke and distributed it to the company,
who all kissed the serpent: this they called their Eu¬
charist. C 1 x 1 1
OPHRYS, Twyblade*, a genus ot plants belong¬
ing to the gynaudria class; and in the natural method
ranking under the 7th order, Orchideee. bee Botany
Index. •
OPHTHALMOSCOPY, a branch of physiogno¬
my, which deduces the knowledge of a man’s temper
and character from the appearance of his eyes.
OPHTHALMIA, in Medicine, an inflammation oi
the eye or of the membranes which invest it; especial¬
ly of the adnata, or albugineous coat. See Medicine,
N° 174. , . . w
OPIATES, medicines which are administered to
procure sleep, whether in the form of electuaries, drops,
OPINION is that judgment which the mind forms
of any proposition, for the truth or falsehood of which
there is not sufficient evidence to produce science or
absolute belief. ,
That the three angles of a plane triangle are equal to
two right angles, is not a matter of opinion, nor can it
with propriety be called an object ot the mathemati¬
cian’s belief: he does more than believe it; he knows
it to he true. "When two or three men, under no temp¬
tation to deceive, declare that they were witnesses ot an
uncommon, though not preternatural event, their testi¬
mony is complete evidence, and produces absolute be¬
lief in the minds of those to whom it is given ; but it
does not produce science like rigid demonstration. I he
fact is not doubted, but those who have it on report no
not know it to be true, as they know the truth of pro¬
positions intuitively or demonstrably certain. >> lien
one or two men relate a story including many circum¬
stances to a third person, and another comes who posi¬
tively contradicts it either in whole or in part, lie to
whom those jarring testimonies are given, weighs all
the circumstances in his own mind, balances the one
against the other, and lends an assent, more or less wa¬
vering, to that side on which the evidence appears to
preponderate. This assent is his opinion respecting
the facts of which he has received such different ac¬
counts. . .
Opinions are often formed of events not yet in being.
Were an officer from the combined armies, which are
just now * besieging Valenciennes, to come into the Ju‘yi7$3*
room where we are writing, and tell us that those armies
are in good health and high spirits ; that eveiy shot
which they fire upon the fortress produces some effect;
and that they have plenty of excellent provisions, whilst
the besieged are perishing by hunger ; we should abso¬
lutely believe every fact which he had told us upon the
evidence of his testimony; but we could only be of opi¬
nion that the garrison must soon surrender. In forming
opinions of this kind, upon which, in a great measure
depends our success in any pursuit, every circumstance
should be carefully attended to, and our judgments
(rinded by former experience. Truth is a thing of such
importance to man, that he should always pursue the
best methods for attaining it ; and when the object
eludes all his researches, he should remedy the disap¬
pointment, by attaching himself to that which lias the
strongest resemblance to it; and that which most re¬
sembles truth is called probability, as the judgment
which is formed of it is termed opinion. See Probabi-
L1TY.
OPIUM, in the Materia Medico, is an inspissated
juice, obtained from the capsule of the white poppy,
partly of the resinous and partly of the gummy kind,
and possessing also a narcotic principle. See Materia
Medica, N° 612. . „
OPOBALSAMUM, in the Materia Medica, Opo-
balsum, or balm of Gilead, a resinous substance obtain¬
ed from a species of Amyris. See Chemistry, N
2472, and Materia Medica, N 5^7*
OPOCALPASUM, OrocAkBASuM, or Apocal-
PASUM; a gummy resinous substance, winch has a strong
resemblance to liquid myrrh, and which in the time of
Galen was mixed with myrrh. It was difficult, accord-
imr to this writer, to distinguish the one from the other
unless by their effects, the former being ot a.poisonous
nature, which frequently produced lethargy.
OPOPONAX, in the Materia Medica, is a gummy
resinous substance brought from the East Indies. See
Materia Medica, N° 455.
OPORTO, or Porto, a flourishing city and sea¬
port of Portugal, in the province of Entre-Douero-e-
Minho, with a bishop’s see. Nature has rendered it al¬
most impregnable; and it is justly celebrated for the
strength of its wines, large quantities of which are ex-
O P O [ !7
Oporto ported to Britain, and on this account all red wines ei-
|| ther from Spain or Portugal are denominated port wines.
QP01"1* , After the earthquake at Lisbon in the year 1755, the
v trade of this city increased rapidly, before which memo¬
rable period its population did not exceed 20,000 •, but
it is now computed at upwards of 40,000. Oporto is
situated on the declivity ot a mountain, near the river
Douero, which forms an excellent and commodious har¬
bour •, and is about 147 miles north by east of Lisbon.
W. Long. 8. 21. N. Lat. 41. 10.
OPOSSUM, in Zoology, a species of didelphis. See
Didelphis.
OPOUN, one of the Navigators Islands, of which
there are ten in number, first discovered by Bougain¬
ville, and so called by him, because the inhabitants do
not pass from one village to another but in canoes.
This and the other islands lie in 140 south latitude, and
from 1710 to 173° longitude west from Paris, accord¬
ing to Perouse. Here the sugar cane is to be met with
growing spontaneously ; but it is said to contain less of
the saccharine substance than what is produced in the
West Indies. The men are possessed of uncommon
strength, and tatow their bodies in such a manner, that,
although almost naked, they have the appearance at a
little distance of being clothed. Ferocity and treachery
are characteristic marks of this people, of which the un¬
fortunate Perouse had but too soon a melancholy proof,
11 out of 60 ot his crew having been murdered by
them, although received at first with an air of good
humour. This ought to serve as a caution to future na¬
vigators, not to place implicit confidence in the appa-
O P T
1 ] . O P T
lent kindness of these savages, which is frequently the Oponu
dismal prelude of ruin and destruction. Among these II
tell the celebrated naturalist Lamanon: see Lama- Optic.
NON. -v—
OPPENHEIM, a town of Germany, in the lower
palatinate ot the Rhine, and capital ofJ a bailiwick of
the same name 5 seated on the declivity of a hill near
the Rhine. E. Long. 8. 20. N. Lat. 49. 48.
Of fRANUS, a poet and grammarian of Anazarba
in Cilicia, in the second century. He composed a poem
ot hunting, and another ot fishing, for which Antoni¬
nus Caracalla gave him as many golden crowns as there
weie verses in his poems j they were hence called Op-
pian s golden verses, fie died in the 30th year of his
age.
OPPILATION, in Medicine, the act of obstructing
or stopping up the passage ot the body, by redundant or
peccant humours. Ibis word is used chiefly for ob¬
structions in the lower belly.
01 IA11 \ E mood, in Grammar, that which serves
to express an ardent desire or wish for something.
In most languages, except the Greek, the optative is
only expressed by prefixing to the subjunctive an ad¬
verb of wishing ; as utinum, in Latin : pint a Dieu,
in French ; and would to God, in English.
OP 11C angle, the angle which the optic axes of
both eyes make with one another, as they tend to meet
at some distance before the eyes.
Optic Axis, the axis of the eye, or a line going
through the middle of the pupil and the centre of the
I C S.
History.
1
Definition.
/^VPTICS, from oKTOftsu, to sec, is that science which
considers the nature, the composition, and the
motion of light \—the changes which it suffers from the
action of bodies 5—the phenomena of vision, and the in¬
struments' in which light is the chief agent.
HISTORY.
Sect. I. Discoveries concerning the Refraction of
Light.
tefraction Though the ancients made few optical experiments,
! .nown to they nevertheless knew, that when light passed through
l 'ient^- media of different densities, it did not move in a straight
’ line, but was bent or infracted out of its original di¬
rection. This was probably suggested to them by the
appearance of a straight rod partly immersed in water ;
and accordingly we find many questions concerning this
and other optical appearances in the wxtrks of Aristotle.
Archimedes is said to have written a treatise on the ap¬
pearance of a ring or circle under water, and therefoi-e
could not have been ignorant of the common phenomena
of refraction. The ancients, however, were not only ac¬
quainted with these more ordinary appearances, but also
with the production of colours by refraction. Seneca
says, that if the light of the sun shines through an an¬
gular piece of glass, it will show all the colours of the
rainbow. 'Ihese colours, he says, are false, such as are History,
seen in a pigeon’s neck when it changes its position jv—■
and of the same nature, he says, is a speculum, which,
without having any colour of its own, assumes that of
any other body. It appears, also, that the ancients were
not ignorant of the magnifying poiver of glass globes
filled with water, though they do not seem to have
been acquainted with its cause; and the ancient engra-arid the
vers are supposed to have used a glass globe filled with magnifying-
water to magnify their figures. This indeed seems evi- Power °f
dent, from their lenticular and spherical gems of Tock f j^s.
crystal which are still preserved, the effect of which, in ^
magnifying at least, could scarcely have escaped the no¬
tice of those who had often occasion to handle them ;
if indeed, in the spherical or lenticular form, they
•were not solely intended for the purposes of burning.
One of these, of the spherical kind, of about an intji
and a half diameter, is preserved among the fossils pre¬
sented by Dr Woodward to the university of Cam¬
bridge.
The first treatise of any consequence written on the Refraction
subject of optics, was by the celebrated Ptolemy. The first treated
treatise is now lost; but from the accounts of others, we scientifical-
find that he treated of astronomical refractions. The ^tU
first astronomers were not aware that the intervals be¬
tween stars appear less near the horizon than near the
meridian ; but it is evident that Ptolemy was aware of
this circumstance, by the caution which he gives to allow
Y 2 something
572
OPTICS.
sun and
moon.
History- something for it, upon every recourse to ancient ohser-
v—vations. . .
5 Ptolemy also advances a very sensible hypothesis to
His hypo- account for tllfc greater apparent size of the sun and
'‘“““"hemoon when seen near the horizon. The mind, he says,
horizontal judges of the size of objects by means of a preconceived
 a ^iejr distance from us : and tins distance is lan¬
ded to be greater when a number of objects intervene ;
which is the case when we see the heavenly bodies mar
the horizon. In his Almagest, however, lie ascribes
this appearance to a refraction of the rays by vapours,
which actually enlarge the angle subtended by the lumi-
naries.
* The nature of refraction was afterwards considered
by Alhazen an Arabian writer; insomuch that, having
made experiments upon it at the common surface be-
f tween air and water, air and glass, water and glass ,
Discoveries and, being prepossessed with the ancient opinion ot
of Alhazen. crystalline orbs in the regions above the atmosphere, he
even suspected a refraction there also, and fancied he
could prove it by astronomical observations. Hence
this author concludes, that refraction increases the alti¬
tudes of all objects in the heavens 5 and be fast advan¬
ced, that the stars are sometimes seen above the horizon
by means of refraction, when they are really heldw it.
This observation was confirmed by \ itellio, B. YValthe-
rus, and by the excellent observations ol l ycho Brahe.
Alhazen observed, that refraction contracts the vertical
diameters and distances of the heavenly bodies, and that
it is the cause of the twinkling of the stars. But we do
not find that either he, or his follower \ itellio, subject¬
ed it to mensuration. Indeed it is too small to be
determined except by very accurate instruments, and
therefore we hear little more of it till about the year
1500, when great attention was paid to the subject by
Bernard Walther, Msestlin, and Tycho Brahe.
Alhazen supposed that the refraction of the ^uk)'
sphere did not depend upon the vapours, but on the dif¬
ferent transparency •, by which, as Montucla conjec¬
tures, he meant the density of the gross air contiguous
to the earth, and the ether or subtile air that lies be¬
yond it. We judge of distance, he says, by comparing
the angle under which objects appear, with their sup-
posed distance ; so that li these angles be nearly equal,
and the distance of one object be conceived greater than
that of the other, it will be imagined to be larger. He
also observes, that the sky near the horizon is always
imagined to be farther from us than any other, part of
the concave surface. Roger Bacon ascribes this account
of the horizontal moon to Ptolemy and as such it is
examined, and objected to by B. Porta.
In the writings of Roger Bacon, we find the first di¬
stinct account of the magnifying power of glasses j and
it is not improbable, that what he wrote upon this sub¬
ject gave rise to the useful invention of spectacles.
He says, that if an object be applied close to the base ot
the larger segment of a sphere of glass, it will appear
magnified. He also treats of the appearance of an ob¬
ject through a globe, and says that he was the first who
7 observed tire refraction of, rays into it.
OS Vitellio. Vitellio, a native of Poland, published a, treatise of
optics, containing all that was valuable in Alhazen.
He observes, that light is always lost by refraction ;
but he does not pretend to estimate the quantity of this
'loss. He reduced into a table the result of his experi¬
ments on the refractive powers of air, water, and glass, History,
corresponding to different angles of incidence. In his v
account of the horizontal moon he agrees exactly with
Alhazen. He ascribes the twinkling of the stars to
the motion of the air in which the light is refracted }
and to illustrate this hypothesis, he observes, that they
twinkle still more when viewed in water put in motion.
He also shows, that refraction is necessary as well as re¬
flection, to form the rainbow j because the body which
the rays fall upon is a transparent substance, at the sur¬
face of which one part of the light is always reflected
and another refracted. But he seems to consider re¬
fraction as serving only to condense the light, thereby
enabling it to make a stronger impression upon the eye.
This writer also makes many attempts to ascertain the
law of refraction. He likewise considers the foci of glass
spheres, and the apparent size of objects seen through
them : though upon these subjects his observations are
inaccurate. It is sufficient indeed to show the state of
knowledge, at that time, to observe, that both V itellio,
and his master Alhazen, account for objects appearing
larger when seen under water, by the circular figiue of
its surface 5 since, being fluid, it conforms to the figiue
of the earth. nf8 „
Contemporary with Vitellio was Roger Bacon, a man jiatoae'"
j3ac0ik
of extensive genius, who wrote upon almost every
branch of science 5 yet in optics he. does not seem to
have made any considerable advances. Even same of
the most absurd of the opinions of the ancients have had
the sanction of his authority. He believed that visual
rays proceed from the eye , because every thing-in na¬
ture is qualified to discharge its proper functions by its
own powers, in the same manner as the sun and other
celestial bodies. In his Specula Mathematica, he add¬
ed some observations ol little importance on the icfrac
tion of the light of the stars j the apparent size of ob¬
jects j the enlargement of the sun and moon in the ho¬
rizon. In his Opus Majus he demonstrates, what Al¬
hazen had done before, that if a transparent body inter¬
posed between the eye and an object, be convex to¬
wards the eye, the object will appear magnified. 9
From this time, to that of the revival of learning in ™ MuirnK
Europe, we have no treatise on optics. One of the
first who distinguished himself in this way was Mauro-
lycus, teacher of mathematics. at Messina. In two
works, entitled Thtoremata Lucis et limbi'a, and Tha-
phamrum Partes, &c. he demonstrates that the crystal¬
line humour of the eye is a lens that collects the rays of
light issuing from the object, and throws them upon the
retina, where is the focus of each pencil. From this
principle he discovered the reason why some people were
short-sighted and others long-sighted 5 and why the for¬
mer are relieved by concave, and the others by convex,
glasses. 10
While Maurolycus made such advances towards the Discoveries
discovery of the nature of vision, Baptista Porta of Na-of B. Porta,
pies invented the camera ob cura, which throws still^
more light on the same subject. His house was resorted
to by all the ingenious persons at Naples, whom he
formed into an academy of secrets ; each member being
obliged to contribute something useful and not general¬
ly known. By this means he was furnished with mate¬
rials for hisMagia Naturalis, which contains his account
of the cameraobscura, and which was published, as he in¬
forms us, when he. was not quite 15 years old.. He also
gave
O P T
History, gave the first hint of the magic lantern $ which Kircher
.—-v—-*.afterwards improved. His experiments with the camera
obsciira convinced him, that vision, as Aristotle suppo¬
sed, is performed by the intromission of something into
the eye, and not by visual rays proceeding from the eve
as had been formerly imagined by Empedocles 5 and he
was the first who fully satisfied himself and others upon
this subject. The resemblance indeed between experi¬
ments with the camera obscura and the manner in which
vision is performed in the eye, was too striking to
escape the observation of a less ingenious person. But
when he says that the eye is a camera obscura, and the
pupil the hole in the window shutter, he was so far
mistaken as to suppose that it was the crystalline hu¬
mour that corresponds to the wall which receives the
images; nor was it discovered till the year 1604, that
this office is performed by the retina. He makes a va¬
riety of just observations on vision ; and explains se¬
veral cases in which we imagine things to be without
the eye, when the appearances are occasioned by some
affection of the organ itself, or some motion within it.
He remarks also, that, in certain circumstances, vision
will be assisted by convex or concave glasses ; and he
seems also to have made some small advances towards
the discovery of telescopes. He observes, that a round
and flat surface plunged into water, will appear hollow
as well as magnified to an eye above it; and he ex¬
plains by a figure the manner in which this effect is
jj produced.
lie law of The great problem concerning the measure of re¬
fraction fractions was still unsolved. Alhazen and Vitellio, in-
scovered, deed, had attempted it; but failed, by trying to mea¬
sure the angle instead of its sine. At last it was dis¬
covered by Snellius, professor of mathematics at Ley¬
den. This philosopher, however, did not perfectly un¬
derstand his own discovery, nor did he live to publish
any account of it. It was afterwards explained by Pro¬
fessor Hortensius before it appeared in the writings of
Descartes, who published it under a different form,
without making any acknowledgement of his obligations
to Snellius, whose papers Huygens assures us, were
seen by Descartes. Before this time Kepler had pub¬
lished a New Table of Angles of Refraction, determin¬
ed by his own experiments, for every degree of inci¬
dence. Kircher had done the same, and attempted a
theory of refraction, on principles, which, if Conducted
with precision, would have led hint ta the law disco-
i2 vered by Sriellius.
'inions of Descartes undertook to explain the cause of refraction
d Le'bS ^ ^ie resolution of forces. Hence he was obliged to
z on this suPPose that light passes with more ease through a dense
meet.. medium, than through a rare one. The truth of this
explanation was first-questioned by M. Fermat, who as¬
serted, contrary to tire opinion of Descartes, that light
suffers more resistance in water than air, and more in
glass than in water ; and maintained, that the resistance
of different media with respect to light is in proportion
to their densities. M. Leibnitz adopted the same gene¬
ral idea, upon the principle that nature accomplishes her
ends by the shortest methods, and that light therefore
ought to pass from one point to another, either by the
shortest road, or that in which the least time is re¬
quired.
At a meeting of the Royal Society, Aug. 31. 1664,
it was found, with a new instrument prepared for that
I c s.
*73
puipce, that the angle of incidence being 40 degrees, History
that of refraction is 30. About this time also we find 1 
the first mention of media not refracting the light in an J3
exact proportion to their densities. For Mr Boyle in Dlscove.ries
a letter to Mr Oldenburgh, dated Nov. 3. 1664,’oh-thTrefS-
serves, that in spirit of wine, the proportion of the sines tion of dif-
ot the angles of incidence to the sines of the angles 0fferent sub-
refraction was nearly the same as 4 to 3 ; and that, asstances-
spirit of wine occasions a greater refraction than common
w-ater, so oil of turpentine, which is lighter than spirit
of wine, produces not only a greater refraction than
common water, but a much greater than salt water.
And at a meeting held November 9. the same year, Dr
ilooke mentioned, that pure and clear salad oil produ¬
ced a much greater refraction than any liquor which he
had tried ; the angle of refraction that answered to an
angle of incidence of 30° being no less than 400 30'.
and the angle of refraction that answered to an angle
of incidence of 20° being 290 47'.—M. de la Hire also
made several experiments to ascertain the refractive
power of oil, and found the sine of the angle of inci¬
dence to that of refraction as 60 to 42 ; yvhich, he ob¬
serves, is a little nearer to that of glass than to that of
water, though oil is much lighter than water, and glass
much heavier.
The members of the Royal Society finding that the
refraction of salt water exceeded that of fresh, pursued
the experiment farther with aqueous solutions of vitriol,
saltpetre, and alum. They found the refraction of the
solution of vitriol and saltpetre a little more, but that of
alum a little less, than common water.
Dr Hooke made an experiment before the Royal So¬
ciety, Feb. 11. 1663, which clearly proves that ice re¬
fracts the light less than water. M. de la Hire also
took a good deal of pains to determine whether the re¬
fractive power of ice and water were the same ; and he
found, as Dr Hooke had done before, that ice refracts
less than water.
By a most accurate experiment made in 1698, in.
which a ray of light was transmitted through a Torri¬
cellian vacuum, Mr Lowthorp found, that the refrac¬
tive power of air is to that of water as 36 to 34.400.
He observes, that the refractive power of bodies is not
proportioned to the density, at least not to the specific
gravity, of the refracting medium. For the refractive
power of glass to that of water is as 55 tn 34, whereas
its specific gravity is as 87 to 34; that is, the squares
of their refractive powers are very nearly as their re¬
spective gravities. And there are some fluids, which,
though they are lighter than- water, yet have a greater
power of refraction. Thus the refractive power of spi¬
rit of wine, according to Dr Hooke’s experiment, is to
that of water as 36 to 33, and its gravity reciprocally
as 33 to 36, or 36J. But the refractive powers of air
and water seem to observe the simple direct proportion
of their gravities.
The Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris endeavour¬
ed to repeat this experiment in 1700 ; hut they did not
succeed.—For, as they said, beams of light passed
through the vacuum without suffering any refraction.
The Royal Society being informed of this, ordered Mr
Hawksbee to make an instrument for the purpose, under
the direction of Dr Halley, for the purpose of repeating
the experiment. It consisted of a strong brass prism*
two sides of which had sockets to receive two plane
glasses.,
OPT
Masses, whereby the air in the prism might either he
exhausted or condensed. The prism had also a mei ci -
rial gage fixed to it, to discover the density of the con¬
tained air j and turned upon its axis, m order to make
the refractions equal on each side when it was fixed to
the end of a telescope. The refracting angle was near
64° ; and the length of the telescope, having a fine hair
in its focus, was about 10 feet. The event of this ac¬
curate experiment was as follows :-Having cWn a
proper object, whose distance was 2588 feet, Jm e 5.
O. S. 1708, in the morning, the barometer being then
at 2Q nh and the thermometer at 60, they first ex¬
haust the prism, and then applying it to the telescope
the horizontal hair in the focus covered a mark on the
object distinctly seen through the vacuum, the two
classes being equally inclined to the visual ra>. Ihen
admitting the air into the prism, the object was seen to
rise above the hair gradually as the air entered and
when the prism was full, the hair was observed to hide
a mark 10^ inches below the former mark.
After this they applied the condensing engine to the
prism-, and having forced in another atmosphere, so
that the density of the included air vyas double to that
' of the outward, they again placed it before the te:
scope, and, letting out the air, the object, which be¬
fore seemed to rise, appeared gradually to descend,
and the hair at length rested on an object higher than
before by the same interval of loj inches I hey then
forced in another atmosphere-, and upon discharging
the condensed air, the object was seen near 21 inches
lower than before. 00 r * T^t
Now the radius in this case being 2588 feet, 10^
inches will subtend an angle of T 8", and the angle o
incidence of the visual ray being 32 degrees (because
the angle of the glass planes was 64 ), it follows liom
the known laws of refraction, that as the sine ol 39 is
to that of 310 59' 26", differing from 32° by 34 t'1.6
half of T 8" j so is the sine of any other angle ot inci¬
dence, to the sine of its angle of refraction ; and so is
radius, or 1000000, to 999736 i w.hic.h» theretore> 13
the proportion between the sine of incidence in vacuo
and the sine of refraction from thence into common air.
Refractive It appears, by these experiments, that the refractive
“of power of the air is proportional to its dens.ty. And
the air de- since the density of the atmosphere is as its weig it c 1-
termined. rectiy? and its temperature inversely, the ratio ot its
density, at any given time, may be had by comparing
the heights of the barometer and thermometer j and
thence he concludes that this will also be the ratio ot
the refraction of the air. But Dr Smith observes,
that before we can depend upon the accuracy ot this
conclusion, we ought to examine whether heat and cold
alone may not alter the refractive power of air, while
its density continues the same.
The French academicians, being informed ot the re¬
sult of the above-mentioned experiment, employed M.
De 1’Isle the younger to repeat the former experiment
with more care : He presently found, that the opera¬
tors had never made any vacuum at all, there being
chinks in their instrument, through which the air had
insinuated itself. He therefore annexed a gage to his
instrument, by which means he was sure ol his vacuum j
and then the result of the experiment was the same with
that of the Royal Society. The refraction was always
ICS.
proportional to the density of the air, excepting when History,
the mercury was very low, and consequently the air
very rare ; in which case the whole quantity being
very small, he could not perceive much difference in
them. Comparing, however, the refractive power of
the atmosphere, observed at Pans, with the resu.t oi
his experiment, he found, that the best vacuum fie
could make was far short of that of the regions above
the atmosphere.
Dr Hooke first suggested the idea ot making allow¬
ance for the effect of the refraction of light, in passing
from the rarer to the denser regions of the atmosphere,
in the computed height of mountains. lo this he
ascribes the different opinions of authors concerning the
height of several very high hills. He could not ac¬
count for the appearance ot very high mountains, at &o
great a distance as that at which they are actually seen,
but upon the supposition ot the curvature of the visual
ray, that is made by its passing obliquely through a
medium of such different density, trom the top of them
to the eye, very far distant in the horizon. AH cal¬
culations of the height of mountains that are made up¬
on the supposition that the rays of light come from the
tops of them, to our eyes, in straight lines, he con¬
siders very erroneous.
Dr Hooke ascribes the twinkling of the stars to the
irregular and unequal refraction of the rays of light,
which is also the reason why the limbs of the sun,
moon, and planets, appear to wave or dance. That
there is such an unequal distribution of the atmospnere,
he says, will be evident by looking upon distant ob¬
jects, over a piece of hot glass, which cannot be sup¬
posed to throw out any kind of exhalation fiom itself,
as well as through ascending steams of water. 15
About this time Grimaldi first observed that the co-
loured image of the sun refracted through a prism is al- to arise
ways oblong, and that colours proceed from refraction. from re_
 The way°in which he first discovered this was by ^ i-fraction,
tellio’s experiment already mentioned, in which a piece
of white paper placed at the bottom of a glass vessel
filled with water, and exposed to the light of the sun,
appears coloured. However, he observed, that in case
the two surfaces of the retracted medium were exactly
parallel to each other, no colours were produced. But
of the true cause of those colours, he had not the least ^
suspicion. This discovery was reserved for Sir Isaac New- Different
ton. Having procured a triangular glass prism to sa-
tisfy himself concerning the phenomena of colours j he of
was surprised at the oblong figure of the coloured spec- qoJit disco-
trum, and the great disproportion betwixt its length and vered by
breadth j the former being about five times the measure Sir baae
of the latter. After various conjectures respecting the
causes of these appearances, he suspected that the colours
might arise from the light being dilated by some un¬
evenness in the glass, or some other accidental irregula¬
rity j and to try this, he took another prism like the for¬
mer, and placed in such a manner, that the light, pas¬
sing through them hoth, might be refracted in opposite
directions, and thus be returned by the latter into the
same course from which it had been diverted by the for¬
mer. In this manner he thought that the regular ef¬
fects of the first prism would be augmented by the mul¬
tiplicity of refractions. The event was, that the light,
diffused bv the first prism into an oblong form, was
],y
History.
T7
fr Dol-
nd’s dis-
)very of
;e method
scopes.
OPT
by the second reduced into a circular one, with as much
' regularity as if it had not passed through either of them.
He then hit upon what he calls the experimentum cru¬
ris, and found that light is not similar, or homogeneous 5
but that it consists of rays, some of which are more re¬
frangible than others: so that, without any difference
in their incidence on the same medium, some of them
shall be more refracted than others ; and therefore, that,
according to their particular degrees of refrangibility,
they will be transmitted through the prism to different
parts of the opposite wall.
Since it appears from these experiments that differ¬
ent rays of light have different degrees of refrangibili¬
ty, it follows, that the rules laid down by preceding
philosophers concerning the refractive power of water,
glass, &c. must be limited to the mean rays of the spec¬
trum. Sir Isaac, however, proves, both geometrically
and by experiment, that the sine of the incidence of
every kind of light, considered apart, is to its sine of
refraction in a given ratio.
The most important discovery concerning refraction
since the time of Sir Isaac Newton is that of Mr Dol-
lond, who found out a method of remedying the defects
correct-1 re^'act^ng telescopes arising from the different re-
t]ie frangibility of light. Sir Isaac Newton imagined that
tors of re-the different rays were refracted in the same proportion
acting te-by every medium, so that the refrangibility of the ex¬
treme rays might be determined if that of the mean
ones were given. From this it followed, as Mr Dollond
observes, that equal and contrary refractions must not
only destroy each other, but that the divergency of the
colours from one refraction would likewise be corrected
by the other, and that there could be no possibility of
producing any such thing as refraction without colour.
Hence it was natural to infer, that all object glasses of
telescopes must be equally affected by the different re¬
frangibility of light, in proportion to their apertures, of
whatever materials they may be formed.
For this reason, philosophers despaired of bringing re¬
fracting telescopes to perfection. They therefore ap¬
plied themselves chiefly to the improvement of the re¬
flecting telescope; till 1747, when M. Euler, improv¬
ing upon a hint of Sir Isaac Newton’s, proposed to make
object glasses of water and glass; hoping, that by their
difterence of refractive powers, the refractions would ba¬
lance one another, and thereby prevent the dispersion of
the rays that is occasioned by their difference of refran-
gibiiity. This memoir of M. Euler excited the atten¬
tion of Mr Dollond. He went over all M. Eulex'’s cal¬
culations, substituting for his hypothetical laws of re¬
fraction those which had been ascertained by Newton ;
and found, that it followed from Euler’s own principles,
that there could be no union of the foci of all kinds of
colours, but in a lens infinitely large.
Euler did not mean to controvert the experiments of
Newton : but asserted, that, if they were admitted in all
their extent, it would be impossible to correct the diffe¬
rence of refrangibility occasioned by the transmission of
the rays from one medium into another of different den¬
sity ; a correction which he thought was very possible,
since he supposed it to be effected in the, eye, which he
considered as an achromaticinstrument. To this reasoning
Mr Dollond made no reply, but by appealing to the ex¬
periments of Newton, and the circumspection with which
it was known that he conducted all his inquiries.
4
I c s.
This paper of Euler’s was particularly noticed by M.
Ivlingenstierna of Sweden, who found that, from New¬
ton’s own principles, the result of his 8th experiment
could not answer his description of it. Newten found,
that when light passes out of air through several media,
and thence goes out again into air, whether the refract¬
ing surfaces be parallel or inclined to one another, this
light, as often as by contrary refractions it is so correct¬
ed as to emerge in lines parallel to those in which it
was incident, continues ever after to be white; but if
the emergent rays be inclined to the incident, the white¬
ness of the emerging light will, by degrees, become
tinged at its edges with colours. This he tried by re¬
fracting light with prisms of glass, placed within a,
prismatic vessel of water.
By theorems deduced from this experiment he infers,
that the refractions of the rays of every sort, made out
of any medium into air, are known by having the re¬
fraction of the rays of any one sort; and also that the
refraction out of one medium into another is found as
often as we have the refractions out of them both into
any third medium.
On the contrary, the Swedish philosopher observes,
that, in this experiment, the rays of light, after passing
through the water and the glass, though they come out
parallel to the incident rays, will be coloured; but
that the smaller the glass prism is, the nearer will the
result of it approach to Newton’s description.
This paper of M. Klingenstierna being communica¬
ted to Dollond, made him entertain doubts concerning
Newton’s report, and induced him to have recourse to
experiment.
He therefore cemented together two plates of glass
at their edges, so as to form a prismatic vessel, when
stopped at the ends ; and the edge being turned down¬
wards, he placed in it a glass prism, with one of its
edges upwards, and filled up the vacancy with clear wa¬
ter ; so that the refraction of the prism was contrary to
that of the water, in order that a ray of light, transmit¬
ted through both these refracting media, might be af¬
fected by the difference only between the two refrac¬
tions. As he found the water to refract more or less
than the glass prism, he diminished or increased the an¬
gle between the glass plates, till he found the two con¬
trary refractions to be equal; which he discovered by
viewing an object through this double prism. For
when it appeared neither raised or depressed, he was
satisfied that the refractions were equal, and that the
emergent and incident rays were parallel.
But according to the prevailing opinion, the object
should have appeared of its natural colour; for if the
difference of refrangibility had been equal in the two
equal refractions, they would have rectified each other.
This experiment, therefore, fully proved the fallacy of
the received opinion, by showing the divergency of the
light by the glass prism to be almost double of that by
the water; for the image of the object was as much in¬
fected with the prismatic colours, as if it had been seen
through a glass wedge only, whose refracting angle was
near 30 degrees.
Mr Dollond was convinced that if the refracting an¬
gle of the water vessel could have admitted of a suffi¬
cient increase, the divergency of the coloured rays would
have been greatly diminished, or entirely rectified; and
that there would have been a very great refraction with¬
out
OPTICS.
out colour} but the inconvenience of so large an an¬
gle as that of the prismatic vessel must have been, to
bring the light to an equal divergency with that of the
glass prisnl whose angle was about 60 degrees, made it
necessary to try some experiments of the same kind with
smaller angles.
He, therefore, got a wedge of plate glass, the angle
nf which was only nine degrees ; and using it in the
same circumstances, he increased the angle of the water
wedge, in which it was placed, till the divergency of the
light by the water was equal to that by the glass ; that
is, till the image of the object, though considerably re¬
fracted by the excess of the refraction of the water, ap¬
peared quite free from any colours proceeding from the
different refrangibility of the light j and as near as he
could then measure, the refraction by the water was
about | of that by the glass.
As these experiments proved, that different substances
caused the light to diverge very differently in proportion
to their general refractive power, Mr Dollond began to
suspect that such a variety might possibly be found m
different kinds of glass.
His next object, therefore, was to grind wedges ot
different kinds of glass* and apply them together •, so
that the refractions might be made in contrary direc¬
tions, in order to discover whether the refraction and
the divergency of the colours w'ould vanish together. .
From these experiments, which were not made till
J757» discovered a difference far beyond his hopes in
the refractive qualities of different kinds of glass, with
respect to the divergency of colours. The yellow or
straw coloured kind, commonly called Venice glass, and
the English crown glass, proved to be nearly alike in
that respect j though, in general, the crown glass seem¬
ed to make light diverge less than the other. The com¬
mon English plate glass made the light diverge more 5
and the white crystal, or English flint glass, most of
all.
He then examined the particular qualities of every
kind of glass that he could obtain, to fix upon two kinds
in which the difference of their dispersive powers should
be the greatest*, and he soon found these to be the
crown glass and the white flint glass. He theiefore
ground one wedge of white flint, of about 25 degrees j
and another of crown glass, of about 29 degrees 5
which refracted very nearly alike, but their power of
making the colours diverge was very different. He
then ground several others of crown glass to different
angles, till he got one which was equal, with respect to
the divergency of the light, to that in the white flint
glass *, for when they were put together so as to refract
in contrary directions, the refracted light was entirely
free from colours. Then measuring the refraction of
each wedge with these different angles, he found that of
the white glass to be to that of the crown glass nearly
as two to three : so that any two wedges made in this
proportion, and applied together, that they might refract
in a contrary direction, would transmit the light without
any dispersion of the rays. He found also, that the sine
of incidence in crown glass is to that of its general re¬
fraction as I to 1.53, and in flint glass as I to 1.583.
In order to apply these discoveries to the construction
»of telescopes, Mr Dollond considered, that in order to
make two spherical glasses that should refract the light
3
in contrary directions, the one must be concave and the History,
other convex 5 and as the rays are to converge to a leal1 r ’' v ■
focus, the excess of refraction must be in the convex
lens. Also, as the convex glass is to refract the most,
it appeared from his experiments, that it must be made
of crown glass, and the concave ot white flint glass.
Farther, As the refractions of spherical glasses are in the
inverse ratio of their local distances, it lollows, that the
focal distances of the two glasses shall be inversely as
the ratios of the refractions of the wedges *, for being
thus proportioned, every ray of light that passes through
this combined glass, at whatever distance it may pass
from its axis, will constantly be refracted, by the dif¬
ference between two contrary refractions, in the propor¬
tion required 5 and therefore the different refrangibility
of the light will be entirely removed.
The difficulties which occurred in the application of
this reasoning to practice, arose from the following cir¬
cumstances. In the first place, The focal distances, as
well as the particular surfaces, must be very nicely pro¬
portioned to the densities or refracting powers of the
glasses, which are very apt to vary in the same sort of
glass made at different times. Secondly, The centres
of the two glasses must be placed truly in the common
axis of the telescope, otherwise the desired effect will
be in a great measure destroyed. And, thirdly, The
difficulty of forming the four surfaces of the lenses ex¬
actly spherical. At length, however, after numerous
trials, he was able to construct refracting telescopes,
with such apertures and magnifying powers, under li¬
mited lengths, as far exceeded any thing that had been
produced before, representing objects with great di¬
stinctness, and in their natural colours.
As Mr Dollond did not explain the method by which
he determined the curvatures of his lenses, the celebrated
M. Clairaut, who had begun to investigate this subject,
endeavoured to reduce it to a complete theory, from
which rules might be deduced, for the benefit of the
practical optician.
With this view, therefore, he endeavoured to ascer¬
tain the refractive power of dift'erent kinds of glass, and
also their property of dispersing the rays of light. For
this purpose he made use of two prisms, as Mr Dollond
had done : but, instead of looking through them, he
placed them in a dark room $ and when the transmitted
image of the sun was perfectly white, he concluded that
the different refrangibility of the rays was corrected.
In order to ascertain more easily the true angles that
prisms ought to have in order to destroy the effect of the
difference of refrangibility, he constructed a prism which
had one of its surfaces cylindrical, with several degrees
of amplitude. By this means, without changing his
prisms, he had the choice of an infinity ot angles *,
among which, by examining the point of the curve
surface, which, receiving the solar ray, gave a white
image, he could easily find the true one. He also ascer¬
tained the proportion in which different kinds ot glass
separated the rays of light, by measuring, with proper
precautions, the oblong image of the sun made by trans¬
mitting through them a beam of light.
In these experiments M. Clairaut was assisted by M.
de Tournieres, and the results agreed with Mr Dol-
lond’s in general *, but whereas Mr Dollond had made
the dispersion of the rays in glass and in water to be as
five
OPT
History, five to four (acknowledging, however, that lie did not
—v -'pretend to do it with exactness), these gentlemen, who
took more pains, found it to be as three to two. For
the theorems and problems deduced by M. Clairaut from
these new principles of optics, with a view to the per¬
fection of telescopes, we must refer the reader to Mem.
Acad. Pai\ 1756, 1757.
The subject of achromatic telescopes was also investi¬
gated by the illustrious D’Alembert. This excellent
mathematician proposed a variety of new constructions,
the advantages and disadvantages of which he distinctly
notes; at the same time that he points out several
methods of correcting the errors to which these telescopes
are liable : as by placing the object glasses, in some
cases, at a small distance from one another, and some¬
times by using eye glasses of different refractive powers ;
which is an expedient that does not seem to have occur¬
red to any person before .him. He even shows, that
telescopes may be made to advantage, consisting of only
one object glass, and an eye glass of a different refractive
power. Some of his constructions have two or more
eye glasses of different kinds of glass. This subject he
considered at large in one of the volumes of his Opuscules
Mathematiques. We have also three memoirs of M.
D’Alembert upon this subject, among those of the
French Academy; in the years 1764, 1765,31^ 1767.
The investigations of Clairaut and D’Alembert do not
seem to have assisted the exertions of foreign artists.
Ihe telescopes made in England, according to no exact
rule, as foreigners supposed, were greatly superior to
any that could be made elsewhere, though under the
immediate direction of those able calculators.
M. Euler who first gave occasion to this inquiry,
having persuaded himself, both by reasoning and calcula¬
tion, that Mr Dollond had discovered no new principle
in optics, and yet not being able to controvert Mr
Short’s testimony in favour of the achromatic telescopes,
concluded that this extraordinary effect was partly
owing to the crown glass not transmitting all the red
light, which would have otherwise come to a different
focus, and have distorted the image ; but principally to
his giving a just curvature to his glass, which he did not
doubt would have produced the same effect if the lenses
had all b^en made of the same kind of glass. At another
time he imagined that the goodness of Mr Dollond’s
telescopes might be owing to the eye glass. If my
theory, savs he, be true, this disagreeable consequence
follows, that Mr Dollond’s object glasses cannot be
exempt from the dispersion of colours : yet a regard to
so respectable a testimony embarrasses me extremely, it
being as difficult to question such express authority, as
to abandon a theory which appears to me well founded,
and to embrace an opinion which is as contrary to all
the established laws of nature as it is strange and seem¬
ingly absurd. He even appeals to experiments made in
a darkened room ; in which he says, he is confident that
Mr Dollond’s object-glasses would appear to have the
same defects to which others are subject.
Not doubting, however, but that Mr Dollond had
made some improvement in the construction of tele¬
scopes, by the combination of glasses, he abandoned bis
former project, in which he had recourse to different
media, and confined his attention to the correction of
the errors which arise from the curvature of lenses. But
while he was proceeding, as he imagined, upon the true
Vol XV. Fart I.
I c s.
principles of optics, he could not help expressing bis
surprise that Mr Dollond should have been led to so
important a discovery by reasoning in a manner quite
contrary to the nature of things. At length, however,
r iV nWaS con.Vi,,ced.°f tI,e reality and importance
oi i li Dollond’s discoveries ; and frankly acknowledges,
that perhaps he should never have been brought to assent
to it, had he not been assured by his friend M. Clairaut
that the experiments of the English optician might be
depended upon. The experiments of M. Zeiher^ how¬
ever, gave him the most complete satisfaction with re¬
spect to this subject. This gentleman demonstrated, that
it is the lead in the composition of glass which produces
the variation in its dispersive power ; and, by increasino-
the quantity of lead in the mixture, he produced a kind
ot glass, which occasioned a much greater separation of
the extreme rays than the flint glass which Mr Dollond
had made use of.
From these new principles M. Euler deduces theo¬
rems concerning the combination of the lenses, and,
in a manner similar to M. Clairaut and D’Alembert,’
points out methods of constructing achromatic tele¬
scopes.
While he was employed upon this subject, he informs
us, that he received a letter from M. Zeiher, dated
Petersburgh, 30th of January 1764, in which he gives
him a particular account of the success of his experi¬
ments on the composition of glass; and that, haviim
mixed minium and sand in different proportions, the xc-
suit of the mean refraction and the dispersion of the
rays varied according to the following table.
1 / /
Ilktorv.
iS
Different
composi¬
tions of
glass for the
purpose of
correcting
the imper¬
fection of
telescopes.
I.
II.
HI.
IV.
V.
VI.
Proportion
of minium
to flint.
Ratio of the mean
refraction from
air into glass.
2028
1830
1787
W32
I724
1664
1000
1000
1000
1000
1000
1000
Dispersion of
the rays in
comparison of
crown glass.
4800
3550
3259
2207
1800
I354
rooo
1000
1000
1000
1000
1000
From this table it is evident, that a greater quantity
of lead not only produces a greater dispersion of the
rays, but also increases the mean refraction. The first
of these kinds of glass, which contains three times as
much minium as flint, will appear very extraordinary ;
since, hitherto, no transparent substance has been known,
whose refractive power exceeded the ratio cf two to one,
and since the dispersion occasioned bythis glass is almost
five times as great as that of crown glass, which could
scarcely be believed by those who entertained any doubt
concerning the same property in flint glass, the effect
of which is three times as great as crown glass.
Here, however, M. Euler announces to us another
discovery of M. Zeiher, no less surprising than the for¬
mer, and which disconcerted all his schemes for recon¬
ciling the above-mentioned phenomena. As the six
kinds of glass mentioned in the preceding table were com¬
posed of nothing but minium and flint, M. Zerher hap¬
pened to think of mixing alkaline salts with them, in
order to give the glass a consistence more proper for
dioptric uses : This mixture, however, greatly diminish-
Z ' ed
OPT
ed the mean refraction, almost without making any
1 change in the dispersion. After many trials, he is said
to have obtained a kind of glass, which occasioned three
times as great a dispersion of the rays as the common
glass, at the same time that the mean refraction was only
as 1.61 to I.though we have not heard that this kind
of glass was ever used in the construction of telescopes.
Mr Dollond was not the only optician who had the
merit of discovering the achromatic telescope, as this
instrument appears to have been constructed by a private
gentleman—Mr Chester More Hall. He observed that
prisms of flint glass gave larger spectra than prisms ot
water, when the mean refraction was the same in both.
He tried prisms of other glass, and found similar ditter-
ences ; and he applied this discovery to the same pur¬
poses as Mr Dollond. These facts came out m a pro¬
cess raised at the instance of Watkins optician, as also
in a publication of Mr Ramsden. There is, however, no
evidence that Dollond stole the idea from Mr Hall, or
that they had not both claims to the discovery.
The best refracting telescopes, constructed on the
principles of Mr Dollond, are still defective, on account
of that colour which, by the aberration of the rays,
they give to objects viewed through them, unless the
obiect glass be of small diameter. This defect philoso¬
phers have endeavoured to remove by various contrivan¬
ces, and Boscovich has, in his attempts for this purpose,
displayed much ingenuity •, but the philosopher whose
exertions have been crowned with most success, and
who has perhaps made the most important discovery in
this science, is Dr Robert Blair professor of practical as¬
tronomy in the college of Edinburgh. By a judicious set
w ^vprv of experiments, he has proved, that the quality oi disper-
of m Ro, sing the rays in a greater degree than crown glass, is not
bel t Blair confined to a few media, but is possessed by agreat v ai u ty
for this 0f and by some of these in a most extraordinary de-
I c s.
purpose.
gree. He has shown, that though the greater refrangibih-
ty of the violet rays than of the red rays, when light passes
from any medium whatever into a vacuum, may be con¬
sidered as a law of nature j yet in the passage of light
from one medium into another, it depends entirely on
the qualities of the media which of these rays shall be
the most refrangible, or whether there shall he any
difference in their refrangibility. In order to correct
the aberration arising from difierence of refrangibiiity
among the rays of light, he instituted a set of expen-
ments, by which he detected a very singular and im¬
portant quality in the muriatic acid. In all the dis¬
persive media hitherto examined, the green rays, which
are the mean refrangible in crown glass, vyere found
among the less refrangible ; but in the muriatic acid,
these same rays were found to make a part oi the more
refrangible. This discovery led to complete success m
removing the great defect of optical instruments, viz.
that dissipation or aberration of the rays winch arises
from their unequal refrangibility, and has hitherto
rendered it impossible to converge all of them to one
point either by single or opposite refractions. A fluid,
in which the particles of marine acid and metalline par¬
ticles hold a due proportion, at the same time that it
separates the extreme rays of the spectrum much more
than crown glass, refracts all the orders of the rays in
the same proportion that glass does: and hence rays of
allcolours, riiade to diverge by the refraction cf the
glass, may either he rendered parallel by a subsequent History,
refraction in the confine of the glass and this fluid j or,1—-v——>
by weakening the refractive density of the fluid, the
refraction which takes place in the confine of it and
glass may be rendered as regular as reflection, without
the least colour whatever. rIhe doctor has a telescope,
not exceeding 15 inches in length, with a compound
object glass of this kind, which equals in all respects, it
it does not surpass, the best of Dollond’s 42 inches long.
See Phil. Trans. Edin. vol. iii. . 20
We shall conclude the history of the discoveries con-0f thc re.
cerning refraction, with some account of the refraction fracUon of
of the atmosphere.—-Tables of refraction have been cal- the^mo-
culated by Mr Lambert, with a view to correct inac¬
curacies in determining the altitudes of mountains geo¬
metrically. The observations of Mr Lambert go upon
the supposition that the refractive power of the atmo¬
sphere is invariable : But as this is by no means the
case, his rules must he considered as true only for the
mean state of the air. . ,
Dr Nettleton observed a remarkable variety in the
refractive power of the atmosphere, which demonstrates
how little we can depend upon the calculated heights 01
mountains, when the observations are made with an in¬
strument, and when the refractive power of the air is to
be taken into the account. Being desirous to learn, by
observation, how far the mercury would descend in the
barometer at any given elevation, be proposed to measure
the height of some of their highest hills; but when he
attempted it, he found his observation so much di¬
sturbed by refraction, that he could obtain no certain
result. Having measured one hill ol a considerable
height, in a clear day, and observed the mercury at the
bottom and at the top, he found, that about 19 feet or
more were required to make the mercury fall to1*1
an inch; hut afterwards, repeating the experiment,
when the air was rather gross and hazy, he found the
small angles so much increased by refraction as to make
the hill much higher than before. He afterwards fre¬
quently made observations at his own house, by point¬
ing a quadrant to the tops of some neighbouring hills,
and observed that they would appear higher in the
morning before sunrise, and also late in the evening,
than at noon in a clear day, by several minutes. In one
case the elevations of the same hill differed more than
30 minutes.
M. Euler considered the refractive power ot the
atmosphere, as affected by different degrees of heat and
elasticity *, in which he shows that its refractive power,
to a considerable distance from the zenith, is sufficiently
near the proportion of the tangent of that distance, and
that the law of refraction follows the direct ratio of the
difference marked by the thermometer ; but when stars
are in the horizon, the changes are in a ratio somewhat
greater than this, more especially on account of the va¬
riation in the heat. . . , . , vLp,
As the density of the atmosphere varies with
altitude, and as the irregular curvature ot the earth.p]obkjnof
causes a constant change in the inclination of the strata ast,.01,omi-
through which any ray of light passes to the eye, the cal ixtrac-
refraction cannot he obtained from the density of the tion.
atmosphere, and the angular direction of the refracted
ray. By comparing astronomical with meteorological
observatioi)?, however, the celebrated M. La Place, has
cienti.
History, given a complete solution of this very important pro-
“nena ^’lie phenomena known by the names of mirage,
and fata morgana, have been traced to irre-
lar refrac- gularities of retractions arising from accidental changes
lions. in the temperature of the atmosphere. From the rare¬
faction of the air near the surface of water, buildings, or
the earth itself, a distant object seen through this rare¬
fied air sometimes appears depressed instead of raised by
refraction ; at other times it appears both elevated anil
depressed, so that the object seems double, and some¬
times triple, one of the images being in an inverted
position. This subject is much indebted to the resear¬
ches of the ingenious Dr Wollaston, who has imitated
these natural phenomena by viewing objects through
the rarefied air contiguous to a red-hot poker, or through
a saline or saccharine solution with water and spirit of
wine floating upon its surface. This branch of optics
has also been well illustrated by Mr Vince and Mr
Huddart.
Sect. II. D iscovcries concerning the Reflection of
Light.
Discoveries The followers of Plato were acquainted with the
of the an- equality between the angles of incidence and reflection j
and it is probable that they discovered this, by observing
a ray of the sun reflected from standing water, or some
other polished body $ or from attending to the images of
objects reflected by such surfaces. If philosophers paid
any attention to this phenomenon, they could not but
perceive, that, if the ray fell nearly perpendicular upon
such a surface, it was reflected near the perpendicular j
and if it fell obliquely, it was reflected obliquely : and
observations upon these angles, the most rude and imper¬
fect, could not fail to convince them of their equality,
and that the incident and reflected rays were in the same
plane.
Aristotle rvas sensible that it is the reflection of light
from the atmosphere which prevents total darkness after
the sun sets, and in places where he does not shine in the
day-time. He was also of opinion, that rainbows, halos,
and mock suns, were occasioned by the reflection of the
sunbeams in different circumstances, by which an imper¬
fect image of his body was produced, the colour only
being exhibited, and not his proper figure. The image,
he says, is not single, as in a mirror 5 for each drop of
rain is too small to reflect a visible image, but the con¬
junction of all the images is visible.
Without inquiring any farther into the nature of light
pticsby or vision, the ancient geometers contented themselves
with deducing a system of optics from two facts, the
rectilineal progress of light, and the equality of the
angles of incidence and reflection. The treatise of optics
ascribed to Euclid is employed in determining the ap¬
parent size and figure of objects, from the angle which
they subtend at the eye, and the apparent place of the
image of an object reflected from a polished miror. This
place he fixes at the point where the reflected ray meets
a perpendicular to the mirror drawn through the object.
But this work is so imperfect and inaccurate, that it
does not seem to be the production of Euclid.
.It appears from Pliny and Lactantius, that burning
glasses were known to the ancients. In one of the plays
of Aristophanes, indeed, a person is introduced who pro¬
poses to destroy his adversary’s papers by means of this
optics.
24
treatise of
Euclid.
turning
lasses of
lie an-
ients.
Plate
CCCLXX V,
Fig. 1.
instrument ; and there is reason to believe that the
Homans had a method of lighting their sacred fire by
means of a concave speculum. It seems indeed to have
been known A. C. 433, that there is an increase of heat
in the place where the rays of light meet, after reflec¬
tion from a concave mirror. The burning power of con ¬
cave mirrors is noticed by the author of the work as¬
cribed to Euclid. If we give any credit to what some
ancient historians are said to have written concerning
the exploits of Archimedes, we shall be induced to think
that he constructed some very powerful burning mirrors :
but nothing being said of other persons making use of
his inventions, the whole account is very doubtful. It
is allowed, however, that this eminent geometer did
write a treatise on the subject of burning mirrors, which
has not descended to our times.
B. Porta supposes that the burning mirrors of the
ancients were parabolic and made of metal. It follows
from the properties of this curve, that all the rays which
fall upon it, parallel to its axis, will meet in the same
point at the focus. Consequently, if the vertex of the
parabola be cut off, as in fig. r. it will make a con¬
venient burning mirror. In some drawings of this in¬
strument the frustum is so small, as to look like a ring.
With an instrument of this kind, it is thought, that the
Romans lighted their sacred fire, and that with a similar
mirror Archimedes burnt the Roman fleet j using a lens,
to throw the rays parallel, when they had been brought
to a focus j or applying a smaller parabolic mirror for
this purpose, as is represented fig. 2. Fig. 2.
The nature of reflection was, however, very far from 2fl.
being understood. Even Lord Bacon, who made much ■ ,
greater advances in physics than his predecessors, sup-the air.
posed it possible to see the image reflected from a look¬
ing glass, ivithout seeing the glass itself; and to this
purpose he quotes a story of Friar Bacon, who is re¬
ported to have apparently Avalked in the air between
Iavo steeples, and which was thought to have been ef¬
fected by reflection from glasses Avhile he walked upon
the ground.
Vitellio had endeavoured to sIioav that it is possible,
by means of a cylindrical convex speculum, to see the
images of objects in the air, out of the speculum, when
the objects themselves cannot be seen. But from his
description of the apparatus, it Avill he seen that the eye
Avas to be directed toAvards the speculum placed Avithin »
a room, while the object and the spectator were with¬
out it. But as no such eftect can be produced by a
convex mirror, Vitellio must ha\Te been under some de- t
ception Avith respect to bis experiment.
B. Porta says, that this effect may be produced by ,
a plain mirror only; and also by the combination of a
plain and a concave mirror.
Kircber also speaks of the possibility of exhibiting .
these pendulous images, and supposes that they are re¬
flected from the dense air: But the most perfect and
pleasing deception, depending upon the images in the
air, is one of Avhich this writer gives a particular ac¬
count in his Ars Magna Lucis et Umhrce, p. 783* I*1 .:
this case the image is placed at the bottom of a hollow
polished cylinder, by Avhich means it appears like a
real solid substance, suspended within the mouth of the
vessel. 57
It was Kepler Avho first discovered, that the apparent Discover;es
places of objects seen by reflectiig mirrors depended of Kepler.
Z 3 uP<m
jSo OPT
History, upon the angle tvhicli the rays ol light, issuing from the
r.-—V". > extreme part ot an object, make with one another aitei
2 s reflection.
"Discoveries Mr Beyle trade some curious observations concern-
u ^fr ing the inflecting powers of differently coloured sub-
°' 6 stances, In order to shew that snow shines by a bor¬
rowed and not by a native light, he placed a quantit)
of it in a room, from which all foreign light was ex¬
cluded, and found that it was completely invisible. To
try whether white bodies ieffect more light than others,
he* held a sheet of white paper in a sunbeam admit¬
ted into a darkened room •, and observed that it reflect¬
ed much more light than a paper of any other colour,
a considerable part of the room being enlightened by it.
To show that white bodies reflect the rays outwards, he
adds, that common burning glasses require a long time
to burn or discolour white paper j that the image of the
sun was not so well defined upon white paper as upon
black •, that when he put ink upon the paper, the
moisture would be quickly dried up, and the paper,
which lie could not burn before, would presently take
fire • and that by exposing his hand to the sun, with
a thin black glove upon "it, it would be suddenly
and more considerably heated, than il he held his
naked hand to the rays, or put on a glove ol thin white
leather. . .
To prove that black is the reverse of white, with
respect to its property of reflecting the rays of the sun,
he procured a large piece oi black marble, ground into
the form of a large concave speculum, and found that
the image of the sun reflected from it was far from
offending or dazzling his eyes, as it vyould have done
from another speculum ; and though this was large, he
could not for a long time set a piece of wood on fire
with it} though a far less speculum, ol the same lorm,
and of a more reflecting substance, would presently
have made it flame.
To satisfy himself still farther with respect to this
subject, be took a tile ; and having made one half of its
surface white and the other black, he exposed it to the
summer sun. Having let it lie there some time, he
found, that while the whitened part remained cool, the
black part was very hot. He sometimes left part of
the tile of its native red •, and, after exposing the whole
to the sun, observed that this part grew hotter than the
white, but not so hot as the black part.
Of the in- A remarkable property of lignum nephriticum (a
fusion of species of guilandina) was first observed by Kircher.
lignum ne- y*jv Boy]e j,as described this lignum nephriticum as a
phiiticum. whitjsli klnd 0f wood> which was brought from Mexi¬
co, and which had been thought to tinge water of a
green colour only *, but he says that he found it to com¬
municate all kinds of colours. If an infusion of this
wood be put into a glass globe, and exposed to a strong
light, it will be as colourless as pure water} but if it be
carried into a place a little shaded, it will be a beauti¬
ful green. In a place still more shaded, it will incline
to red ; and in a very shady place, or in an opaque ves¬
sel, it will be green again.
Mr Boyle first distinctly noted the two very different
colours which this remarkable tincture exhibits by trans¬
mitted and reflected light. If it be held directly between
the light and the eye, it will appear tinged (excepting
the very top of it, where a sky-coloured circle some-
&mes appears) almost of a golden colour, except the in-
1 c s.
fusion be too strong j in which case it will be dark or History,
reddish, and requires to be diluted with water. But if v—
it be held from the light, so that the eye be between
the light and the phial, it will appear of a deep lively
blue colour, as will also the drops, it any lie on the
outside of the glass.
When a little of this tincture was poured upon a
sheet of white paper, and placed in a window where
the sun shone upon it, he observed, that if he turned ln=>
back upon the sun, the shadow ol any body projected
upon the liquor would not be all dark, like other sha¬
dows j but that part of it would be curiously coloured,
the edge of it next the body being almost of a lively
golden colour, and the more remote part blue.
Observing that this tincture, if it were too deep,
was not tinged in so beautiful a manner, and that the
impregnating virtue of the wood did, by frequent in¬
fusion in fresh water, gradually decay, he conjectured
that the tincture contained much of the essential salt of
the wood j and to try whether the subtle pai ts, on which
the colour depended, were volatile enough to be distil¬
led, without dissolving their texture, he applied some
of it to the gentle heat of a lamp furnace ; but he found
all that came over wras as limpid and colourless as rock
water, while that which remained behind was of so deep
a blue, that it was only in a very strong light that it
appeared of any colour.
Having sometimes brought a round long-necked
phial, filled with this tincture, into a darkened room,
into which a beam of the sun was admitted by a small
aperture j and holding the phial sometimes near the
sunbeams, and sometimes partly in them and partly out
of them, changing also the position of the glass, and
viewing it from several parts of the room, it exhibited
a much greater variety of colours than it did in an en¬
lightened room. Besides the usual colours, it was red
in some places and green in others, and within were in¬
termediate colours produced by the different mixtures
of light and shade. > . .
It was not only in this tincture of lignum nephriti¬
cum that Mr Boyle perceived the difference between
reflected and transmitted light. He observed it even
in gold, though no person explained the cause of these
appearances before Sir Isaac Newton. He took apiece
of leaf gold, and holding it betwixt bis eye and the
light, observed, that it did not appear of a golden colour,
but of a greenish blue. He also observed the same
change of colour by candle light j but the experiment
did not succeed with a leaf of silver.
The constitution of the atmosphere and of the sea,
we shall find, by more recent observations, to be simi¬
lar to that of this infusion j for the blue rays, and others
of a faint colour, do not penetrate so far into them as
the red, and others of a stronger colour. 30
The first distinct account of the colours exhibited by Mr Boyle’*
thin plates of various substances is to be found among account of
the observations of Mr Boyle. To show that co^ours^ya
may be made to appear or vanish, where there is no ac”piates.
cession or change either of the sulphureous, the saline,
or the mercurial principle of bodies, he observes, that
all chemical essential oils, as also good spirit of wine,
being shaken till they rise in bubbles, appear of various
colours * which immediately vanish when the bubbles
burst, so that a colourless liquor may be immediately
made to exhibit a variety of colours, ami lose them in a
moment,
History.
moment, without any change in its essential principles.
He then mentions the colours that appear in bubbles of
soap and water, and also in those ot turpentine. Tie
sometimes got glass blown so thin as to exhibit similar
colours ; and observes, that a feather, and also a black
ribbon, held at a proper distance, between his eye and
the sun, showed a variety of little rainbows, with very
vivid colours, none of which were constantly to he seen
31 in the same objects.
Dr Hooke’s This subject was more carefully investigated by Dr
iccoimt oi Hooke, who promised, at a meeting of the society on
ouer0- ^he 7th of March 1672, to exhibit, ‘at their next meet¬
ing, something which had neither reflection nor refrac¬
tion, and yet was diaphanous. Accordingly he produ¬
ced the famous coloured bubble of soap and water of
which such use was afterwards made by Sir Isaac New¬
ton, but which Dr Hooke and his contemporaries seem
to have overlooked in Mr Boyle’s treatise on colours,
though it was published nine years before. It is no
wonder that so curious an appearance excited the at¬
tention of that inquisitive body, and that they should
desire him to bring an account of it in writing at their
next meeting.
By the help of a small glass pipe, there were blown
several small bubbles, out of a mixture of soap and wa¬
ter. At first, they appeared white and clear ; but, after
some time, the film of water growing thinner, there ap¬
peared upon it all the colours of the rainbow : First, a
pale yellow j then orange, red, purple, blue, green,
&c. with the same series of colours repeated*, in which
it was farther observable, that the first and last series
were very faint, and that the middlemost series was very
bright. After these colours had passed through the
changes above mentioned, the film of the bubble5began
to appear white again ; and presently, in several parts
of this second white film, there were seen several holes,
which by degrees grew very large, several of them run¬
ning into one another.
Dr Hooke was the first who observed the beautiful
colours that appear in thin plates of Muscovy glass.
With a microscope he could perceive that these colours
were ranged in rings surrounding the white specks or
flaws in this thin substance, that the order of the colours
was the very same as in the rainbow, and that they were
often repeated ten times. But the colours were disposed
as in the outer rainbow. Some of them also were much
brighter than others, and some of them very much broader.
He also observed, that if there was a part where the co¬
lours were very broad, and conspicuous to the naked eye,
they might be made, by pressing the part with the finger,
to change places, and move from one part to another.
Lastly, He observed, that if great care be used, this
substance may split into plates of one-eighth or one-sixth
of an inch in diameter, each of which will appear through
a microscope to be uniformly adorned with some one vivid
colour, and that these plates will be found upon examina¬
tion to be of the same thickness throughout.
A phenomenon similar to this was noticed by Lord
Brereton, who at a meeting of the Royal Society in
1666, produced some pieces of glass taken out of a
church window, both on the north and on the soutli
side of it; they were all eaten in by the air, but the
piece taken from the south side had some colours like
those of the rainbow upon it, which the others on the
north side had not. It cannot be doubted, but that in
O P T 1 C S.
all these eases, the glass is divided into thin plates,
winch exhibit colours, upon the same principle with
those which Dr Hooke observed in the bubble of soap
ami water, and in the thin plate of glass, which we
shall find more fully explained by Sir Isaac Newton.
. ^ p ,1.n(lu‘r^es M. Bouguer concerning the reflec-
tion of light are worthy of particular notice. They are
ully detailed in h^Truile d'' Opticp/e, a posthumous work
published by La Caille in 1760.
In order to compare different degrees of light, he al-KscoJeries
ways contrived to place the radiant bodies or otherof M-Bo11'
bodies illuminated by them, in such a manner that hefiUCr’
could view them distinctly at the same time ; and he
either varied the distances of these bodies, or modified
their light in some other way, till he could perceive no
dmerence between them. Then, considering their dif-
erent distances, or the other circumstances by which
their light was aftected, he calculated the proportion
which they would have borne to each other at the same
distance, or in tne same circumstances.
To ascertain the quantity of light lost by reflection, Piate
he placed the mirror, or reflecting surface, B, on which cccL‘xxv.
the experiment was to be made, truly upright; and fig. 3..
having taken two tablets, of precisely the same colour,
or of an equal degree of whiteness, he placed them ex¬
actly parallel to one another at E and D, and threw
light upon them by means of a lamp or candle P
placed in a right line between them. He then placed
himself so, that with his eye at A he could see the
tablet E, and the image of the tablet D, reflected
from the mirror B, at the same time 5 making them
as it were, to touch one another. He then moved the
candle along the line ED, so as to throw more or less
light upon either of them, till he could perceive no
difference in the strength of the two lights that came to
Ins eye. After this, he had nothing more to do than
to measure the distances EP and DP^and then the in¬
tensity of the lights was as EP2 to DP2.
To find how much light is lost by oblique reflection -
he took two equally polished plates, D and E, and caused g' *
them to be enlightened by the candle P. While one of
them, D, was seen at A, by reflection from B, placed
m a position oblique to the eye, the other, E, was so
placed, as to appear contiguous to it 5 and removing the
plate I., till the light which it reflected was no stronger
than that which came from the image D, seen by reflec¬
tion at B, he estimated the quantity of light that was lost
by this oblique reflection, by the squares of the distances
of the two objects from the candle.
In order to ascertain the quantity of light lost by
reflection with the greatest exactness, M. Bouguer in- g‘ £"
troduced two beams of light into a darkened room, as
by the apertures P and Q; which he had so contrived,
that he could place them higher and lower, and enlarge
or contract them at pleasure ; and the reflecting sur¬
face (as that of a fluid contained in a vessel) was
placed horizontally at O, from which the light com¬
ing through the hole P, was reflected to R upon the
screen GH, where it was compared with another beam
of light that fell upon S, through the hole Q; which
he made so much less than P, as that the spaces S and
R were equally illuminated; and by the proportion that
the apertures P and Q bore to each other, he calcu¬
lated what quantity of light was lost by the reflection
at O.
It:
33
Ex peri
meat of
OPT
It was necessary, lie oWrvcs, tliat tlie two learns oj'
Hrtht PO and QS (whir'll lie usually made 7 or 8 teet
1„S„C) should he exactly parallel, that they might como
from two points of the sky of the same a Utude and
having precisely the same intensity of hght. ** ^as_
also necessary that the hole Q should be a itt.e >>g‘“
than P, in order that the two images should be at the
same height, and near one. another. It is no less neces¬
sary, he says, that the screen GH he exactly vertica , in
order that the direct and reflected beams may fall upon
it, with the same inclination; since, otherwise though
the two lights were perfectly equal, they would not il¬
luminate the screen equally, This disposition, le says,
<serves to answer another important condition m these
- experiments; for the direct ray QS must be of the same
length with the sum of the incident and reflected rays,
TO and OR, in order that the quantity of light intro¬
duced into the room may be sensibly proportional to the
sizes of the apertures. „ -a nc
Before we proceed to detail the other experiments ol
Bouguer, we shall notice some which were " Pre¬
vious to them by Buflbn on the diminution of light by
reflection, and the transmission of it to considerable di¬
stances through the air. . A
By receiving the light of the sun m a dark room, a
nieBt of comparing it with the -same light of the sun reflected
M. JJufi'on. by a mirror, he found that at small distances, as four
or five feet, about one half was lost by reflection.
When the distances were IOO, 200, and 300 teet, lie
could hardly perceive that-it lost any of its intensity by
•heino- transmitted through such a space ot air.
He afterwards made the same experiments with
candles, in the following manner : He placed himsel
-opposite to a looking glass, with a kmk 111 his Jian“»
n dark room; and having one candle lighted in the ne.
-room, at the distance of about 40 feet, he had it brought
nearer to him by degrees, till he could just distinguis 1
the letters of the hook, which was then 24 feet from
the caudle. He then received the light of the candle,
reflected by the looking glass, upon his book, caretuliy
excluding all the light that was reflected from any thing
else ; and he found that the distance ot the hook from
the candle, including the distance from the hook to the
looking glass (which was only half a foot) was in all 15
feet. He repeated the experiment several times, wntn
nearly the same result; and therefore concluded, that
the quantity of direct is to that of reflected light as 576
to 22? ; so that the light of five candles reflected from
a plain mirror is about equal to that of two candles.
From these experiments it appeared, that more light
was lost by reflection of the candles than of the sun,
which M. Buffon thought was owing to this circum¬
stance,that the light issuingfrom the candle diverges,and
therefore falls more obliquely upon the mirror than the
light of the sun, the rays of which are nea^y Pa^all®U
These experiments and observations of M. Builon,
though curious, are inferior to those ol M. Bouguer,
both in extent and accuracy.
34 In order to ascertain the difference m the quantity ot
Ws0diS- light reflected by glass and polished metal, he used a
coveries smooth piece ot glass one line in thickness, and fovm
concerning jbat when it was placed at an angle ot 15 degrees with
the reftec- the j^cident rays, it reflected 628 parts of 1000 which
3 polish-fell upon it; at the game time that a metallic mirror,
e-tl metal, which he tried in the same circumstances, reflected only
ICS.
coi of them. At a less angle hf incidence much more Hhtott.
light was reflected: so that at an angle of three degrees
the glass reflected 700 parts, and the metal something
less, as in the former case.
In the case of unpolished bodies, he found that a piece
of white plaster, placed at an angle of 75 , with the
incident rays, reflected ^ P^t of the light that is re¬
ceived from a candle nine inches from it. White paper,
in the same circumstances, reflected in the same propor¬
tion ; but at the distance of three inches, they both re¬
flected 150 parts out of IOOO. .11
Proceeding to make further observations on the sub-
iect of reflected light, he premises the two following
theorems, which he demonstrates geometrically. 1. When
the luminous body is at an infinite distance, and its light
is received by a globe, the surface of which has a per¬
fect polish, and absorbs no light, it reflects the ig 1
equally in all directions, provided it be received at a
considerable distance. He excepts the place where the
shadow of the globe falls : because this is no more than
a single point, with respect to the immensity ot the
spherical surface which receives the light.
2. The quantity of light reflected in one certain di¬
rection will always he exactly the same, whether it be
reflected by a very great number ot small pohshee he¬
mispheres, by a less number of large hemispheres, or by
a single hemisphere, provided they occupy the same
base, or cover the same ground plan.
The use lie proposes to make of these theorems is to
assist him in distinguishing whether the light reflected
from bodies be owing to the extinction ot it within
them, or whether the eminences which cover them have
not the same effect as the small polished hemispheres
above mentioned. ,
He begins with observing, that of the light reflected
from mercury, one fourth at least is lost, and that pro¬
bably no substances reflect more than this. 1 he rays
were received at an angle of degrees of incidence,
that is measured from the surface ot the reflecting body,
and not from the perpendicular, which, he says, is what
we are from this place to understand whenever he men¬
tions the angle of incidence. r , I rtfr, 3“\-f
With regard to the quantities of light reflected at Great di -
different angles of incidence, M. Bouguer found m ge-ferenc«
neral, that reflection is stronger at small angles inci_ tive power
dence, and weaker at large ones. The diilerence is ex- ot- su,)Slan-
cessive when the rays strike the surface of transparent Ces
substances, with different degrees of obliquity; hut it »sinS f-
    and it waS
substances, with inherent tiegrees m ) ”ieofia-
almost as great in some opaque substances, and it wa»
always more or less so in every thing that he tned.
He found the greatest inequality m black marble, which,
though not perfectly polished, yet with an angle ot 3
q c' of incidence, it reflected almost as well as quick¬
silver. Of 1000 rays which it received, it returned
600: but when the angle of incidence was 14 , it re¬
flected only 156; when it was 30°, it reflected 51*
and when it was 8o°, it reflected only 23. _
Similar experiments made with metallic mirrors al¬
ways gave the differences much less considerable. Ihe
greatest was hardly ever an eighth or a ninth part ot
it, but they were always in the same way.
The great difference between the quantity ot light
reflected from the surface of water, at different angles
of incidence, is truly surprising. M. Bouguer some¬
times suspected, that, when the angles of incidence were
OPT
voiy sn.-uii, tf’.p reflection ii'om Welter was even f’Teater
dian from quicksilver j tlmngh he rather thought that
it was scaicely so great. Jn very small angles, he says,
that water reflects nearly £ of the direct light.
'I he light reflected from a lake is sometimes -y- or
or even a greater proportion, of the light that comes di¬
rectly horn the sun, which is an addition to the direct
rays of the sun that cannot fail to be very sensible. The
direct light of the sun diminishes gradually as it ap¬
proaches the horizon, while the reflected light at the
same time grows stronger so that there is a certain al¬
titude of the sun, in which the united force of the di¬
rect and reflected light will be the greatest possible,
and this he says is 12 or 13 degrees.
, ^'l!e I’ght reflected from water at great angles of in¬
cidence is extremely small. ]\f. Bouguer eras assured,
that, when the light was / erpendicular, it reflected no
more than the 37th part that quicksilver does in the
same circumstances ; for it did not appear that water
reflects more than the 6otb, or rather the 55th, part of
perpendicular light. hen the angle of incidence was
50 , the light reflected from the surface of water was
aoout the 3-2d part ol that which mercury reflected j
and as the reflection from water increases as the angle
of incidence diminishes, it was twice as strong in pro¬
portion at 39° > f°r it was then the 16th part of the
quantity reflected from mercury.
In order to procure a common standard by which to
measure the proportion of light reflected from various
fluid substances, he selected water as the most commo¬
dious j and partly by observation and calculation be
drew up the following table of the quantity of light re¬
flected from its surface at different angles of incidence*
incidence
1
It
2
2t
5
7^-
10
12
15
'Vr
fleeted of
IOOO.
721
692
669
639
614
J°I
409
333
271
211
Angles of
incidence.
174
20
25
30
40
50
60
70
8o
90
Rays re¬
flected of
1000..
178
145
97
65
34
22
19
18
18
18
In the same manner, lie constructed the following
table containing the quantity of light reflected from the
►ookmg-glass not quicksilvered.
Angles of
incidence.
5
74
10
124
15
20
25
Rays re¬
flected of
JOOO.
584
543
474
412
356
299
222
i57
Angles of
incidence.
3°
40
5°
60
70
80
90
Rays re¬
flected of
1000.
112
57
34
27
25
25
25
I c s.
. ^ hen water floats upon mercury there will be two
images of any object seen by reflection from them, one
, ,1 p i* 1 * *vjiii Liit-iijj one?
at the surface of the water, and the other at that of th-
quicksilver. In the largest angles of incidence, the
image at the surface of the water will disappear, whielt
will happen when it is about a 60th or an 8otb part
less luminous than the image at the surface of the
quicksilver. Depressing the eye, the image on the wa-
ter will grow stronger, and that on the quicksilver
weaker in proportion ; till at last, (he latter will be in¬
comparably weaker than the former, and at an angle of
about 10 degrees they will be equally luminous. Ac¬
cording to the table, AoVo of the incident rays are re¬
flected from the water at this angle of 10 degrees. At
the surface of the mercury they were reduced to coo ;
and of these, part being reflected back upon it from the
under surface of the water, only 333 remained to make
the image from the mercury’.
It lias been frequently observed, that there is a re-lWcL,,.
markably strong reflection into water, with respect to rays of images
issuing from the water j and persons under water have I*16
seen images of things in the air in a manner peculiarly
distinct and beautiful. In order to account for these
tacts, M. Bouguer observes that from the smallest angles
of incidence, to a certain number of degrees, the greatest
part of the rays are reflected, perhaps, in as great a pro¬
portion as at the surface of metallic mirrors, or of quick¬
silver j-while the other partr which does not escape into
the air, is extinguished or absorbed j so that the surface
of the transparent body appears opaque on the inside. I f
the angle of incidence be increased only a few degrees,
the strong reflection ceases altogether, a great number of
rays escape into the air, and very few are absorbed. As
the angle of incidence is farther increased, the quantity ■
ot the light reflected becomes less and less ; and when
it is near 90 degrees, almost all the rays escape out of
the transparent body, its surface losing almost all its
power of reflection, and becoming nearly as* transparent
as when the light falls upon it from without.
This property belonging to the surfaces of transpa- Extinction
rent bodies, of absorbing the rays of light, is truly re-of the rays
markable, and, as there is reason to believe, had not light at
been noticed by any person before Bouguer. t,le s«rfeee-
That all the light is reflected at certain angles of in-rJnt bodies
cidence from air into denser substances, had frequently 38
been noticed, especially in glass prisms ; so that New- Strong rc-
ton made use of one of them, instead of a mirror, in the fiec,.ion by
construction of his reflecting telescope.* If a beam 0fa Pnsni*
light fall upon the-air from within these prisms, at an
angle of 10, 20, or 30 degrees, the eflect-will be nearly
the same as at the surface of quicksilver, one-fourth or
one-third of the rays being extinguished, and two-thirds
or three-fourths reflected. This property retains its
full force as far as an angle of-490 49', (the proportion of
the sines of the refraction being 31 and 20) ; but if the
angle of incidence he increased but one degree, the
quantity of light reflected inwards suddenly decreases,
and a great part of the rays escape out of the glass, sp
that the surface becomes suddenly transparent.
.AH transparent bodies have the same property, with
this difference, that the angle of incidence at which the
strong reflection ceases, and at which the light which
is not reflected is extinguished^ is greater in some than
in others. In water this angle is about 410 32'$ and
in every medium it depends so much on the invariable
proportion
184
OPTICS.
History.
nrcportidii of the sine of the angle of refraction to the
»sine of the angle of incidence, that tins law alone is
sufficient to determine all the phenomena ot this new
circumstance, at least as to this accidental opacity of
When M. Bouguer proceeded to measure the quanti-
Inclinations of
the small sur¬
faces v/ith re
spect to the
large one.
? ? 11 till Jr , 1 p ,
tv of light reflected by these internal surfaces at great
„LleS if incidence, he had to stn,gg|c cv.th rnany , ,f-
Acuities •, but by using a plate of crystal, he found that
at an angle of 75 degrees, this internal reflection dimi¬
nished the light 27 or 28 times; and as the external
reflection at the same angle diminished the light only
26 times, it follows that the internal reflection is a lit¬
tle stronger than the other.
Repeating these experiments with the same and dif¬
ferent pieces of crystal, he sometimes found the two re¬
flections to be equally strong; but, m general, the in¬
ternal was the stronger.
nr the Resuming his observations on the diminution 0 light,
quantity of occasioned by the reflection of opaque bodies obliquely
light re- situated, he compared it with the appearances of similar
The distribution of the small
planes that constitute the as¬
perities of the opaque surface
in the
o
3°
45
60
75
Silver. 1 Plaster. Paper.
History.
IOOO
777
554
333
161
53
1000
736
554
374
176
5°
xooo
937
545
358
166
52
39
Of the
ugju. srtuatea, ne compaieu it ivit.. -rr 
2tt,y the
substances Using pieces of silver made very white, he found, that
substance ^ of them ^ place(l at an angle of 75 degrees
with respect to the light, it reflected only 640 parts out
of 1000. He then varied the angle, and also used white
plaster and fine Dutch paper, and drew up the follow¬
ing table of the proportion of the light reflected from
each of those substances at certain angles.
Quantity of Light reflected from
j Angles of
iincidence.
90
75
60
45
3°
*5
Silver.
Plaster.
Dutch
Paper.
1000
802
640
455
3*9
209
1000
762
640
529
352
194
1000
971
743
5°7
332
203
Supposing the asperities of opaque bodies to consist
*6f very small planes, it appears from these observa¬
tions, that there are fewer of them in those bodies which
reflect the light at small angles of incidence than at
greater. None of them had their roughness equivalent
to small hemispheres, which would have dispersed the
Jight equally in all directions ; and, from the data in the
preceding table, lie deduces mathematically the number
of the planes that compose those surfaces, and that are
inclined to the general surface at the angles above men¬
tioned, supposing that the whole surface contains 1000
of them that are parallel to itself, so as to reflect the
fio-ht perpendicularly, when the luminous body is situat¬
ed at right angles with respect to it. His conclusions
reduced to a table, corresponding to the preceding, are
as follow :
These variations in the number of little planes, he ex¬
presses in the form of a curve ; and afterwards shows,
geometrically, what would be the effect if the bodies
were enlightened in one direction, and viewed in ano¬
ther. Upon this subject he has several curious theorems
and problems ; but for these we must refer to the work
itsel t# • 1 4®
Since the planets are more luminous at their edges observa-
than at their centres, he concludes, that the bodies lions con-
which form them are constitnted in a manner different «nung^
from ours ; particularly that them opaque surfaces con-^
sist of small planes, more of which are inclined to the
general surface than they are in terrestrial substances ;
and that there are in them an infinity of points, which
have exactly the same splendour.
M. Bouguer next proceeds to ascertain the quantity
of surface occupied by the small planes of each paiticu-
lar inclination, fr&m considering the quantity ot light
reflected by each, allowing those that have a greater in¬
clination to the common surface to take up proportion-
ably less space than those which are parallel to it. And
comparing the quantity of light that would be reflected
by small planes thus disposed, with the quantity ot light
that was actually reflected by the three substances above
mentioned, he found that plaster, notwithstanding its
extreme whiteness, absorbs much light; for that, ot
1000 rays falling upon it, of which 166 or 167 ought
to be reflected at an angle of 77*, only 67 are in lact
returned ; so that 100 out of 167 were extinguished, that
is, about three-fifths.
With respect to the planets, Bouguer concludes, that
of 300,000 rays which the moon receives, 172,000, or
perhaps 204,100, are absorbed. . . 41
Having considered the surfaces of bodies as consisting of the sur-
of planes only, he observes that each small surface, se-faces of
parately taken, is extremely irregular, some of them 01
really concave, and others convex; but, in reducing
them to a middle state, they are to be regarded as
planes. Nevertheless he considers them as planes only
with respect to the reception of the rays ; for as they
are almost all curves, and as, besides this, many of those
whose situation is different from others contribute to
the same effects, the rays always issue from an actual
or imaginary focus, and after reflection always diverge
from another. a
The experiments of Lambert, related in Ins I hatome-
tria, have laid open to us many curious observations
concerning the natural history of light. He was the
first who determined that a radiating surface emits its
fight with nearly the same intensity in all directions, so
0 that
History.
4 2
'Mr Mel-
irille’s ob-
iservations
jjn the
OPT
that every portion of it appears equally bright to an ob¬
server placed in any direction.
We are obliged to Mr Melville for some ingenious
observations on the manner in which bodies are heated
by light. He observes, that, as each colorific particle
of an opaque body must be somewhat moved by the
“hU11 reflection oftbe Panicles of light, when it is reflected
dies are backwards and forwards between the same particles,
heated by 11 ts manifest that they must likewise be agitated with
light. a vibratory motion, and the time of a vibration will
be equal to that which light takes up in moving from
one particle of a body to another adjoining. This
distance, in the most solid opaque bodies, cannot be
supposed greater than T^-fcroth of an inch, which space
light describes in the oircfo^rocroo-tli of a second.
With so rapid a motion, therefore, may the internal
parts of bodies be agitated by the influence of light, as
to perform 125,000,000,000,000 vibrations, or more, in
a second of time.
The arrival of different particles of light at the sur¬
face of the same colorific particle, in the same or dif¬
ferent rays, may disturb the regularity of its vibrations,
but will evidently increase their frequency, or raise
still smaller vibrations among the parts which compose
those particles j whence the intestine motion will* be¬
come more subtle, and more thoroughly diffused. Jf the
quantity of light admitted into the body be increased,
the vibrations of the particles must likewise increase in
magnitude and velocity, till at last they may be so
violent, as to make alf the component particles dash
one another to pieces by their mutual collision ; in
which case, the colour and texture of the body must
be destroyed.
Since there is no reflection of light but at the sur¬
face of a medium, the same gentleman observes, that
the greatest quantity of rays, though crowded into the
smallest space, will not of themselves produce anv heat.
Hence it follows, that the portion of air which lies in
the focus of the most potent speculum, is not at all af¬
fected by the passage of light through it, but continues
of the same temperature with the ambient air; though
any opaque body, or even any transparent body denser
than air, when put in the same place, would, in an in¬
stant, be intensely heated.
The easiest way to be satisfied of this truth experi-
nientally is, to hold a hair, or a piece of down, imme¬
diately above the focus of a lens or speculum, or to blow
a stream of smoke from a pipe horizontally over it ; for
if the air in the focus were hotter than the surrounding
fluid, it would continually ascend on account of its ra¬
refaction, and thereby sensibly agitate those slender bo¬
dies. Or a lens may be so placed as to form its focus
within a body of water, or some other transparent sub¬
stance, the heat of which may be examined from time
to time with a thermometer ; but care must be taken,
in this experiment, to hold the lens as near as jiossible
to the transparent body, lest the rays, by falling closer
than ordinary on its surface, should warm it more than
the common sunbeams. See Priestley on Vision,
j^experi a^emP^s Abbe Nollet to fire inflam-
nts with mab^e substances by the concentration of the solar rays,
iiing l,ave a near relation to the present subject. He attempt¬
ed to fire liquid substances, but he was not able to do it
either with spirit of wine, olive oil, oil of turpentine,
or ether ; and though he could fire sulphur, vet he could
Vol. XV. Part I. J
43
sses.
I c s.
not succeed with Spanish wax, rosin, black pitch, or suet,
lie both threw the focus of these mirrors upon the sub¬
stances themselves, and also upon the fumes that rose
from them ; but the only effect was, that the liquor
boiled, and was dispersed in vapour or very small drops.
♦ hen linen rags, and other solid substances, were moist¬
ened with any of these inflammable liquids, they would
not take fire till the liquid was dispersed in a copious
ume ; so that the rags thus prepared were longer in
burning than those that were dry.
M. Beaume, who assisted M. Nollet in some of these M. Beau-
expenments, observed farther, that the same substances me’s expe-
wlnch were easily fired by the flame of burning bodies,liments-
could not be set on fire by the contact of the hottest bo¬
dies that did not actually flame. Neither ether nor spi¬
rit of wine could be fired with a hot coal, or even red-
hot iron, unless they were ol a white heat.
By the help of optical principles, and especially by Bodies5
observations on tire reflection of light, Mr Melville de-which seem
monstrated that bodies which seem to touch one another10 toucl1
are not always in actual contact. Upon examining the oae aI,°-
volubility and lustre of drops of rain that lie on thenoTiiTac-
ieaves of colewort, and some other vegetables, he found tual con-
that the lustre of the drop is produced by a copious re-tact-
flection of light from the flattened part of its surface
contiguous to the plant. He found also, that, when the
drop rods along a part which has been rvetted, it imme¬
diately loses all its lustre, the green plant being then
seen clearly through it; whereas, in the other Case, it
is hard!yr to he discerned.
I torn these two observations, he concluded, that the
drop does not really touch the plant, when it has the
mercurial appearance, but is suspended in the air at some
distance from it by a repulsive force. For there could
not be any copious reflection of white light from its un¬
der surface, unless there were a real interval between it
and the surface of the plant.
If that surface were perfectly smooth, the under
surface of the drop wrould be so likewise, and would
therefore show an image of the illuminating body by
reflection, like a piece of polished silver; but as it is
considerably rough, the under surface becomes rough
likewise, and thus by reflecting the light copiously in
different directions, assumes the brilliant hue of unpo¬
lished silver.
It being thus proved by an optical argument, that the
drop is not really in contact with the leaf, it may easily
be conceived whence its volubility arises, and why it
leaves no moisture where it rolls.
Before we conclude the history of the observations Twolu-
Conoermng the reflection of light, we must not omit tonous mis¬
take notice of two singular miscellaneous observations.celIaneous
Baron Alexander Funk, visiting some silver mines in^‘va'
Sweden, observed, that, in a clear day, it was as dark as
pitch below ground, in the eye of a pit, at 60 or 7c fa¬
thoms deep ; whereas, in a cloudy or rainy day, he could
even see to read at the depth of ic6 fathoms. Pie ima¬
gined that it arose from this circumstance, that when
the atmosphere is full of clouds, light is reflected from
them into the pit in all directions, and that thereby a con¬
siderable proportion of the rays is reflected perpendicular¬
ly upon the earth 3 whereas, when the atmosphere is clear,'
there are no opaque bodies to reflect the light in this man¬
ner, at least in a sufficient quantify 3 and rays from the'
sun itself can never fall perpendicularly in that country,
t A a The
OPT
The other observation was that of the ingenious Mr
Grey. He took a piece of stiff brown paper, and prick¬
ing a small hole in it, he held it at a little distance be¬
fore him ; when, applying a needle to his 076, he was
surprised to sec the point of it inverted. J he nearer
the needle was to the hole, the more it was magnified,
but the less distinctand if it was so held, that its im¬
age was near the edge of the hole, its point seemed
crooked. From these appearances he concluded, that
these small holes, or something in them, produce the ef¬
fects of concave speculums •, and from this circumstance
he took the liberty to call them aerial speculums.
This method of accounting for the inverted image of
the pin is evidently erroneous j for the same effect is pro¬
duced, when the small aperture is formed of two semi¬
apertures at different distances from the eye, or when a
small opening is made in the pigment on a piece of
smoked glass. We have found indeed that the same
phenomenon will appear, if, instead of looking at a hole
in a piece of paper, we view a small luminous point so
that it is expanded by indistinct vision into a circular
image of light. The pin always increases in magnitude
in proportion to its distance from the luminous point.
Sect. III. n/scovfTzVs concerning the Inflection of Light.
This property of light was not discovered till about
the middle of the 17th century. The person who first
made the discovery was Father Grimaldi j at least he
first published an account of it in his treatise
minc, coloribus, et iride, printed in 1666. Dr Hooke,
however, laid claim to the same discovery, though he
did not make his observations public till six years after
47 Grimaldi. . . ,
Dr Hooke’s Dr Hooke having darkened his room, admitted a
discoveries. ]jeam 0f the sun’s light through a very small hole in a
brass plate. This beam spreading itself, formed a cone,
the vertex of which was in the hole, and the base was
on a paper, so placed as to receive it at some distance.
In the image of the sun, thus painted on the paper, he
observed that the middle was much brighter than the
edges, and that there was a kind of dark penumbra
about it, of about a 16th part of the diameter of the
circle j which he ascribed to a property of light, that
he promised to explain.—Having observed this, at the
distance of about two inches from the former he let in
another cone of light *, and receiving the bases of them,
at such a distance from the holes that the circles in-
fTCLXXV tersected each other, he observed that there was not on-
j-j 5. ly a darker ring, encompassing the lighter circle, but a
manifest dark line, or circle, as in fig. 6. which appear¬
ed even where the limb of the one interfered with that
of the other.
In the light thus admitted, he held an opaque body
fig. 7. so as to intercept the light that entered at a
7’ h0le’ in the window shutter O, and was received on the
screen AP. In these circumstances, he observed, that
the shadow of the opaque body (which was a round
piece of wood, not bright or polished) was all over
somewhat enlightened, but more especially towards the
edge. In order to show that this light was not produ¬
ced by reflection, he admitted the light through a hole
burnt in a piece of pasteboard, and intercepted it with
a razor which had a very sharp edge *, but still the ap¬
pearances were the very same as before j so that he con-
I c s.
eluded that they were occasioned by some new proper- < History.
ty of light. , , • 1
He diversified this experiment, by placing the razor
so as to divide the cone of light into two parts and
placing the paper so that none of the enlightened part
of the circle fell upon it, but only the shadow of the
razor 5 and, to his great surprise, he observed what he
calls a very brisk and visible radiation striking down
upon the paper, of the same breadth with the diameter
of the lucid circle. This radiation always struck per¬
pendicularly from the line of shadow, and, like the tail
of a comet, extended more than 10 times the breadth of
the remaining part of the circle. He found, wherever
there was a part of the interposed body higher than the
rest, that, opposite to it, the radiation of light into the
shadow was brighter, as in the figure j and wherever
there was a notch or gap in it, there would be a dark
stroke in the half-enlightened shadow. From all these
appearances, he concluded, that there is a deflection
of light, differing both from reflection and refraction,
and seeming to depend on the unequal density of the
constituent parts of the ray, whereby the light is dis¬
persed from the place of condensation, and rarefied, or
gradually diverged into a quadrant j that this deflection
is made towards the superficies of the opaque body per¬
pendicularly; that those parts of the diverged radiations
which are'deflected by the greatest angle from the
straight or direct radiations are the faintest, and those
that are deflected by the least angles are the strongest;
that rays cutting each other in one common aperture do
not make the angles at the vertex equal ; that colours
may be made without refraction ; that the diameter of
tlm sun cannot be truly taken with common sights; that
the same rays of light, falling upon the same point of
an object, will turn into all sorts of colours, by the va¬
rious inclinations of the object; and that colours begin
to appear when two pulses of light are blended so
well, and so near together, that the sense takes them
for one. . 4s
We shall now proceed to give an account of the dis-Gnmaldis
coveries of Father Grimaldi. Having introduced a ray Jiffies.
of light, through a very small hole, AE, fig. 8. into a
darkened room, he observed that the light was diffused in
the form of a cone, the base of which was CD; and that
if any opaque body, FE, was placed in this cone of light,
at a considerable distance from the hole, and the sha¬
dow received upon a piece of white paper, the boundaries
of it were not confined within GH, or the penumbra
IL, occasioned by the light proceeding from different
parts of the aperture, and of the disk of the sun, but
extended to MN : At this he was very much surprised,
as he found that it was broader than it ought to have
been made by rays passing in right lines by the edges
of the object.
But the most remarkable circumstance in this ap¬
pearance was, that upon the lucid part of the base,
CM and ND, streaks of coloured light were plainly
distinguished, each being terminated by blue on the
side next the shadow, and by red on the other;
and though these- coloured streaks depended, in some
measure on the size of the aperture AB, because they
could not be made to appear if it was large, yet he
found that they were not limited either by it, or by the
diameter of the sun’s disk.
He farther observed, that these coloured streaks
were
Fig. 9.
Fig, to.
History, ■wove not all of the same breadth, but grew narrower as
’ they receded from the shadow, and were each of them
broader the farther the shadow was received from the
opaque body, and also the more obliquely the paper
on which they were received was held with respect
to it. He never observed more than three of these
streaks.
To give a clearer idea of these coloured streaks, he
drew the representation of them, exhibited in fig. 9. in
which NMO represents the largest and most luminous
stieak, next to the dark shadow Xn the space in
which M is placed there was no distinction of colour,
but the space NN was blue, and the space 00 on the*
other side of it was red. The second streak QPR was
narrower than the former; and of the three parts of
which it consisted, the space P had no particular colour,
but QQ was a faint blue, and HR a faint red. The
third streak, TSV, was exactly similar to the two others,
but narrower than either of them, and the colour still
fainter.
These coloured streaks he observed to lie parallel to
the shadow of the opaque body j but when it was of an
’ angular form, they did not make the same acute an¬
gles, but were bent into a curve, the outermost being
rounder than those that were next the shadow, as is re¬
presented in fig. 10. If it was an inward angle, as
DCH, the coloured streaks, parallel to each other of the
two sides crossed without obliterating one another ;
only the colours were thus rendered either more intense
or mixed.
Within the shadow itself, Grimaldi sometimes per¬
ceived coloured streaks, similar to those above mention¬
ed on the outside of the shadow. Sometimes he saw more
of them, and sometimes fewer } but for this purpose it
was necessary to have strong light, and to make the
opaque body long and moderately broad. A hair, for
instance, or a fine needle, did not answer so well as a
thin and narrow plate : and the streaks were most dis¬
tinguishable when the shadow was taken at the greatest
distance j though the light grew fainter in the same pro¬
portion.
The numbers of these streaks increased with the
breadth of the plate. They were at least two, and
sometimes four, if a thicker plate were made use of.
But, with the same plate, more or fewer streaks appear¬
ed, in proportion to the distance at which the shadow
was received ; but they were broader when they were
few, and narrower when there were more of them ; and
they were all much more distinct when the paper was
held obliquely.
These coloured streaks, like those on the outside of
the shadow, were bent in an arch, round the acute an¬
gles ol the shadow, as they are represented in fig. 11.
At this angle also, as at D, other shorter lucid streaks
were visible, bent in the form of a plume, as they are
drawn betwixt I) and C, each bending round and meet-
ing again in D. These angular streaks appeared, though
the plate or rod was not wholly immersed in the beam
of light, but the angle of it only •, and they increased in
number with the breadth of the plate. If the plate was
very thin, the coloured streaks bent round from the op¬
posite sides, and met one another as at B.
In order to obtain a more satisfactory proof, that
fays of light really bend,4n passing by the edges of bo-
OPTICS.
187
£• 11.
dies, he admitted a beam of light into a dark room, as Histo.v.
v>e|?rei an®, at a.great distance from it, lit fixed a plate v—
TI, (fig. 12.) with a small aperture GH, which admit- Fig. 12.
ted only a part of the beam of Ugh*, and found, that
when the light transmitted through this plate was re¬
ceived at some distance upon a white paper, the base IK
was considerably larger than it could possibly have been
made by rays issuing in right lines through the two a-
pertures. Grimaldi generally made the aperture CD
To o' or ts^ Part of a foot, and the second aperture, GH,
Too' or too 5 and the distances, DG and GN, were at
least 12 feet. I he observation was made about mid¬
day in the summer time, when the atmosphere was free
from all vapours.
Grimaldi also made the same experiment that has
been recited from Dr Hooke, in which two beams of
ig t, enleiing a dark room by two small apertures near
one another, projected cones of light, which, at a cer¬
tain distance, in part coincided j and he particularly ob¬
served, that the dark boundaries of each of them were
visible within the lucid ground o! the other.
To these discoveries of Grimaldi, we shall subjoin Ohs^a-
an additional observation of Dechales j who found, tion of De-
that if a piece of polished metal, with small scratches inchales.
it, be exposed to the beams of the sun in a darkened
room, it will reflect the rays streaked with colours iu
the direction of the scratches j as will appear, if the re¬
flected light be received upon a piece of white paper.
1 hat these colours are not produced by refraction, he
says, is manifest 5 for if the scratches be made upon
glass, the effect will be the same; and in this case, if
the light had been refracted at the surface of the glass,
it would have been transmitted through it. From these
and many other observations, he concluded, that colour
does not depend upon the refraction of light only, nor
upon a variety of other circumstances, which he particu¬
larly enumerates, but upon the intensity of the light
only.
. We shall here give an account of the phenomenon of 0f .5I°. r,
vision observed by M. de la Hire, as beintr connected Hire,
with the subject of this section. When we look at a
caudle, or any luminous body, with our eyes nearly shut,
rays of light are extended from it, in several directions,
to a considerable distance, like the tails of comets. This
appearance exercised the sagacity of Descartes and Ro-
hault, as well as ot De la Hire j but all these philosophers
seem to have been mistaken with regard to its cause.
Descartes ascribed this effect to certain wrinkles in the
surface of the humours of the eyes Rohault says, that
when the eye-lids are nearlyclosed, the edgesof them act
like convex lenses. But De la Hire observes, that the
moisture on the surface of the eye, adhering partly to the
eye itself, and partly to the edge of the eye-lid, makes
a concave mirror, and so disperses the rays at their en¬
trance into the eye. The true account of the phenome¬
non, however, is this There are three different kinds
of radiations distinctly visible 5 the most brilliant, which
diverge directly from the candle, are formed by the re¬
fraction of the light of the candle through the moisture
that lubricates the eye, and which is brought opposite
the pupil by one of the eye-lids. Another kind of ra¬
diation, which appears at a distance from the candle in
the form of small luminous specks, is produced by re¬
faction from the part of the eye-lid in which the iashes
A a 2 are
Sir Isaac
Newton’s
discoveries
Plate
eccLXXVi
fitf. t.
OPT
me inserted. The third kind of radiation is horizontal,
and is caused by the inflection of the light in passing
between the eye-lashes.
The experiments of Grimaldi and Hooke were re¬
peated and extended by Sir Isaac Newton, and were in
■ some measure explained by that distinguished philoso-
made in a piece of lead a email l.ole ti.e 42d
part of an inch in diameter. Through this hole he let
Lo his dark chamber a beam of the sun s light ,
found, that the shadows of baits, and °l;l’er s'e“der ™b:
stances placed in it, were considerably broadei than
they would have been if the rays of light had passed >y
those bodies in right lines. He therefore concluded, that
they must have passed as they are represented in hg.i.
in which X represents a section ot the hair, and AD,
BE, &c. rays of light passing by atdifterent distances,
and then falling upon the wall GQ. Since, when the
paper which receives the rays is at a great aistance
from the hair, the shadow is broad, it must oliow, that
the hair acts upon the rays at some considerable distance
from it, the action being strongest on those rays which
are at the least distance, and growing weaker and weaker
on those which are farther off, as is represented in this
figure ; and hence it comes to pass that the shadow ot the
hair is much broader in proportion to the distance of the
paper from the hair when it is nearer than when it is at
a Brwetdn^rpolished plate of glass, and laying the
hair in the water upon the glass, and then laying an¬
other polished plate of glass upon it, so that the water
mio-ht fill up the space between the glasses, he iound
that the shadow at the same distance was as big as^ be¬
fore, so that this breadth of shadow must proceed Irom
some other cause than the refraction of the air
The shadows of all bodies placed m this light were
bordered with three parallel fringes ot coloured light,
of which that which was nearest to the shadow was the
broadest and mostluminous,while that which wasfarthest
from it was the narrowest, and so faint as to be Scarce¬
ly visible. It was difficult to distinguish these colours,
unless when the light fell very obliquely upon some
smooth white body, so as to make them appear much
broader than they would otherwise have done 5 but in
these circumstances the colours were plainly visible,
and in the following order. The first or innermost
fringe was violet, and deep blue next the shadow, light
blue, green, and yellow in the middle, and red without.
The second fringe was almost contiguous to the first,
and the third to the second ; and both were blue with¬
in. and yellow and red without •, but their colours were
very faint, especially those ot the third. The colours,
therefore, proceeded in the following order from the
shadow $ violet, indigo, pale blue, green, yellow, red j
blue, yellow, red ; pale blue, pale yellow, and red. I he
shadows, made by scratches and bubbles in polished
plates of glass, were bordered with the like fringes of
coloured light. , .
Measuring these fringes and their intervals with the
greatest accuracy, he found the former to be in the pro¬
gression of the numbers 1, Vj, and their inter¬
vals to be in the same progression with them, that is, the
fringes and their intervals together to he nearly in con¬
tinual progression of the numbers 1, \/^, \/^,
Having made the aperture | of an inch in diameter,
ICS.
and admitted the light as formerly, Sir Isaac placed, at the History
distance of two or three feet from the hole, a sheet ot
pasteboard, black on both sides •, and in the middle ot it
he made a hole about ^ of an inch square, and behind
the hole he fastened to the pasteboard the blade of a sharp
knife, to intercept some part of the light which passed
through the hole. The planes of the pasteboard and
blade of the knife were parallel to each other, and
perpendicular to the rays 5 and when they were so
placed that none of the light fell on the pasteboard but
all of it passed through the hole to the knife, and there
part of it fell upon the blade of the knife, and part of it
passed by its edge, he let that part of the light which
passed fall on a white paper, 2 or 3 feet beyond the
knife, and there he saw two streams of taint light shoot
out both ways from the beam ot light into the shadow.
But because the sun’s direct light, by its brightness upon
the paper, obscured these faint streams, so that he could
scarcely see them, he made a little hole in the midst ot
the paper for that light to pass through and fall on a
black cloth behind it; and then he saw the two streams
plainly. They were similar to one another, and pretty
nearly equal in length, breadth, and quantity ot light.
Their light, at that end which was next to the sun s^di-
rcct light, was pretty strong for the space of about ^ ot
an inch, or 4 of an inch, and gradually decreased till it
became insensible.
The whole length of either of these streams, mea¬
sured upon the paper, at the distance of 3 teet from
the knife, was about 6 or 8 inches 5 so that it subtend¬
ed an angle, at the edge of the knife, ot about 10 or
12, oral most 14, degrees. Yet sometimes he thought
he saw it shoot 3 or 4 degrees farther •, but with ahg it
so very faint, that he could hardly perceive it. Ihis
light he suspected might, in part at least, arise fiom
some other cause than the two streams. lor, placing
his eye in that light, beyond the end ot that stream
which was behind the knife, and looking towards the
knife, he could see a line of light upon its edge j and
that not only when his eye was in the line of the streams,
but also when it was out of that line, either towards
the point of the knife, or towards the handle. This
line of light appeared contiguous to the edge of the
knife, and was narrower than the light of the inner¬
most fringe, and narrowest when his eye was farthest
from the direct light j and therefore seemed to pass be¬
tween the light of that fringe and the edge of the knife y
and that which passed nearest the edge seemed to be
most bent.
He then placed another knife by the former, so that
their edges might be parallel, and look towards one
another, and that the beam of light might fall upon
both the knives, and some part of it pass between their
edges. In this situation he observed, that when the
distance of their edges was about the 400th of an
inch, the stream divided in the middle, and left a
shadow between the two parts. This shadow was so
dark, that all the light which passed between the knives
seemed to be bent to the one hand or the other-, and as
the knives still approached each other, the shadow grew
broader and the streams shorter next to it, till, upon the
contact of the knives, all the light vanished.
Hence Sir Isaac concluded, that the light which is
least bent, and which goes to the inward ends of the
streams, passes by the edges of the knives at the greatest
distance y
OPTICS.
History, distance; and this distance, when the shadow began to
■— v""— appear between the streams, was about the Sooth of an
inch ; and the light which passed by the edges of the
knives at distances still less and less, was more and more
faint, and went to those parts of the streams which were
farthel- from the direct light; because, when the knives
approached one another till they touched, those parts
of the stream vanished last which were farthest from
the direct line.
In the experiment of one knife only, the coloured
fringes did not appear; but, on account of the breadth
of the hole in the window, became so broad as to run
into one another, and, by joining, to make one continual
light in the beginning of the streams; but in the last
experiment, as the knives approached one another, a
little before the shadow appeared between the two
streams, the fringes began to appear on the inner ends
of the streams, on either side of the direct light; three
on one side, made by the edge of one knife, and three
on the other side, made by the edge of the other knife.
They were the most distinct when the knives were
placed at the gi'eatest distance from the hole in the win¬
dow, and became still more distinct by making the hole
less; so that he could sometimes see a faint trace of a
fourth fringe beyond the three above mentioned: and
as the knives approached one another the fringes grew
more distinct and larger, till they vanished ; the outer¬
most vanishing first, and the innermost last. After they
were all vanished, and the line of light in the middle
between them was grown very broad, extending itself
on both sides into the streams of light described before,
the above mentioned shadow began to appear in the
middle of this line, and to divide it along the middle
into two lines of light, and increased till all the light
vanished. This enlargement of the fringes was so great,
that the rays which went to the innermost fringe seem¬
ed to be bent about 20 times more when the fringe was
ready to vanish, than when one of the knives was taken
away.
From both these experiments Newton concluded, that
the light of the first fringe passed by the edge of the
knife at a distance greater than the Sooth of an inch ;
that the light of the second fringe passed by the edge
of the knife at a greater distance than the light of the
first fringe, and that of the third at a greater distance
than that of the second ; and that the light of which the
streams above mentioned consisted, passed by the edges
of the knives at less distances than that of any of the
fringes.
He then got the edges of two knives ground straight,
and fixed their points into a hoax'd, so that their edges
might contain a rectilinear angle. The distance of the
edges of the knives from one another, at four inches
from the angular point, was the 8th of an inch ; so that
the angle contained by their edges was about i° 5V.
The knives being thus fixed, he placed them in a beam
of the sun’s light let into his darkened chamber, through
a hole the 42d of an inch wide, at the distance of 10 or
13 feet from the hole ; and he let the light which pas¬
sed between their edges fall very obliquely on a smooth
white ruler, at the distance of 4 inch, or an inch, from
the knives ; and thei’e he saw the fringes made by the
two edges ot the knives run along the edges of the sha¬
dows of the knives, in lines parallel to those edges, with¬
out growing sensibly broader, till they met in angles
equal to the angle contained by the edges of the knives-
and where they met and joined, they ended, without
crossing one another. But if the ruler was held at a
much greater distance from the knives, the fringes
where they were farther from the place of their meet^
ing, were a little narrower, and they became something-
broader as they approached nearer to one another, and
after they met they crossed one another, and then be¬
came much broader than before.
I rom these observations he concluded, that the di¬
stances at which the light composing the fringes passed
by the knives were not increased, or altered by the ap¬
proach; and that the knife which was nearest to any
ray determined which way the ray should be bent, but
that the other knife increased the bending.
’Uhen the rays fell very obliquely upon the ruler, at
the distance of | of an inch from the knives, the dark
line between the first and second fringes of the shadow
0 one and the dark line between the first and se¬
cond fringe of the shadow of the other knife, met one
another, at the distance of 4 of an inch from the end of
toe light which passed between the knives, where their
edges met; so that the distance of the edges of the
knives, at the meeting of the dark lines, was the 160th of
an inch ; and one half of that light passed by the edge
of one knife, at a distance not greater than the 320th
part of an inch, and, falling upon the paper, made the
fringes of the shadow of that knife ; while the other
half passed by the edge of the other knife, at a distance
not greater than the 320th part of an inch, and, falling
upon the paper, made the fringes of the shadow of the
other knife. But if the paper was held at a distance
from the knives greater than 4 of an inch, the dark
lines above mentioned met at a greater distance than 4
of an inch from the end of the light which passed be¬
tween the knives, at the meeting of their edges; so that
the light which fell upon the paper where those dark
lines met passed between the knives, where their edges
were farther distant than the 160th of an inch. For at
another time, when the two knives were 8 feet 5 inches
from the little hole in the window, tile light which fell
upon the paper where the above mentioned dark lines
met passed between the knives, where the distance be¬
tween their edges was, as in the following table, at the
distances from the paper noted.
Distance of the paper from
the knives in inches.
3t
84
32
96
!3i
Distance between the edges
of the knives in thousandth
parts of an inch.
0,012
0,020
0,034
0,057
0,o8l
0,087
From these observations he concluded, that the
fight which forms the fringes upon the paper is not
the same light at all distances of the paper from the
knives; but that when the paper is held near the
knives, the fringes are made by light which passes by
the
Plate
CCCLXXVI
fig 2.
O p T
the edffes of the knives at a less distance, and is more
bent than when the paper is held at a greater ^stance
from the knives. i • foil
When the fringes of the shadows of the knives te
perpendicularly upon the paper, at a great istance rom
the knives, they were in the torm of hy perbolas, of the
following dimensions Let CA, CB, 1%. 2.) represent
lines drawn upon the paper, paralle to the ^°f
knives; and between which all the light would fall it
suffered no inflection. DK is a right line drawn through
C making the angles ACD, BCE, «.,ua to one an¬
other, amf terminating all the light which tails upon the
oauer from the point where the edges of the km e
St? Then e f J, fk t, and ^ will be three hy¬
perbolic lines, representing the boundaries of the
dow of one of the knives, the dark line between the first
and second fringes of that shadow, and the dark line
between the second and third fringes of the same sha¬
dow. Also xip,yfcq, and * / r, will be three othei
hyperbolic lines, representing the boundaries of the sha¬
dow of the other knife, the dark line between the first
and second fringes of that shadow, and the dark line
between the second and third fringes of the same shadow.
These three hyperbolas, which are similar, and equal to
the former, cross them in the points i, k and /, so tl
the shadows of the knives are terminated, and disti -
euished from the first luminous fringes, by the lines
e is, and x ip, till the meeting and crossing of he
fringes-, and then those lines cross the fringes in the
form of dark lines terminating the first luminous fringes
on the inside, and distinguishing them from another
light, which begins to appear at i, and dominates a
the triangular space * p DE 5, comprehended by these
dark lines and the right line DE. Of these hyperbolas
one asymptote is the line DE, and the other asymptotes
are parallel to the lines CA and CB. i j
Before the small hole in the window Newton placed
a prism, to form on the opposite wall the coloured image
of the sun and he found that the shadows of all bodies
held in the coloured light, were bordered with fringes
of the colour of the light in which they were held and
he found that those made in the red light were the lar¬
gest, those made in the violet the least, and those made
in the green of a middle bigness. The fringes with
which the shadow of a man’s hair were surrounded, be¬
ing measured across the shadow, at the distance of six
inches from the hair, the distance between the middle
and most luminous part of the first or innermost fringe
on one side of the shadow, and that of the like fringe
on the other side of the shadow, was, in the full red
I c s.
The
light —of an inch, and in the full violet ^g.
like distance between the middle and most luminous
parts of the second fringes, on either side of the shadow,
was in the full red light A, and m.the vlIolfI V 01 aU
inch; and these distances of the fringes held the same
proportion at all distances from the hair, without any
sensible variation. _
From these observations it was evident, that the rays
which formed the fringes in the red light, passed by the
hair at a greater distance than those which made the like
fringes, in the violet j so that the hair, in causing these
fringes, acted alike upon the red light or least retran-
gible rays at a greater distance, and upon the Molet oi
most refrangible rays at a less distance and thereby History,
occasioned fringes of different sizes, without any change .
in the colour of any sort of light. , . . .
It may therefore be concluded, that when the hair
was held in the white beam of light, and cast a shadow
bordered with three coloured fringes, those colours arose
not from any new modifications impressed upon the
rays of light by the hair, but only from the various
inflections by which the several sorts of rays were sepa¬
rated from one another, which belore separation, by the
mixture of all their colours, composed the white beam
of the sun’s light -, but, when separated, composed lights
of the several colours which they are originally disposed
to exhibit. . • *. , — — 5*
The person who first made any experiments similar to Mamldu
those of*Newton on inflected light is M. Maraldi. His disco™
observations chiefly respect the inflection of light o-
wards other bodies, whereby their shadows are partially
,llHe',expdosed in the light of the sun a cylinder ofErpS
wood three feet long, nod 6 J linen in
its shadow was everywhere equally black and "e11 de‘shadows »f
fined, even at the distance of 23 inches from A. At acylinderSf
greater distance the shadow appeared of two diflerent
densities; for its two extremities, in the direction of the
length of the cylinder, were terminated by two dark
strokes, a little more than a line in breadth. Within
these dark lines there was a faint light, equally disper¬
sed through the shadow, which, formed an uniform pen¬
umbra, much lighter than the dark strokes at the ex¬
tremity, or than the shadow received »ear the cylinder.
This appearance is represented in Elate CLUbAAVi. ^
^Ajs the cylinder was removed to a greater distance
from the paper, the two black lines continued to be
nearly of the same breadth, and the same degree of ob¬
scurity ; but the penumbra in the middle grew lighter,
and its breadth diminished, so that the two dark lines at
the extremity of the shadow approached one another,
till at the distance of 60 inches, they coincided, and
the penumbra in the middle entirely vanished. At a
still greater distance a faint penumbra was visible; but
it was ill defined, and grew broader a* the cylinder
was removed farther off, but was sensible at a very great
distance. •
Besides the black and dark shadow which the cylin¬
der formed near the opaque body, a narrow and taint
penumbra was seen on the outside of the dark shadow.
And on the outside of this there was a tract more strong¬
ly illuminated than the rest of the paper.
The breadth of the external penumbra increased with
the distance of the shadow from the cylinder, and the
breadth of the tract of light on the outside of it was
also enlarged ; but its splendour diminished with the
distance. . . , . ,,
He repeated these experiments with three other cy¬
linders of different dimensions; and from all ot them he
inferred, that every opaque cylindrical body, fxpostA
to the light of the sun, makes a shadow which is black
and dark to the distance ot 38 to 45 diameters ot the
cylinder which forms it; and that, at a greater di¬
stance, the middle pait begins to be illuminated m the
manner described above.
In explaining these appearances, Maraldi supposes
History.
54 .
loncerning
hose of
lobes.
i 55
i peri-
! nts con-
ming the
| -dews of
tes.
'•4-
f-S'
OPT
that the light which diluted the middle part of the sha¬
dow was occasioned by the inflection of the rays, which,
bending inwards on their near approach to the body,
did at a certain distance enlighten all the shadow, ex¬
cept the edges, which were left undisturbed. At the
same time other rays were deflected from the body, and
formed a strong light on the outside of the shadow, and
which might at the same time contribute to dilute the
outer shadow, though he supposed that penumbra to be
occasioned principally by that part of the paper not be¬
ing enlightened, except by a part of the sun’s disk on¬
ly, according to the known principles of optics.
The same experiments he made with globes of seve¬
ral diameters j but he found, that the shadows of the
globes were not visible beyond 15 of their diameters ;
which he thought was owing to the light being inflect¬
ed on every side of a globe, and consequently in such a
quantity as to disperse the shadows sooner than in the
case of the cylinders.
In repeating the experiments of Grimaldi and New¬
ton, he observed that, besides the enlarged shadow of a
hair, a fine needle, &c. the bright gleam of light that
bordered it, and the three coloured fringes next to this
enlightened part, when the shadow was at a considerable
distance from the hair, the dark central shadow was di¬
vided in the middle by a mixture of light ; and that it
was not of the same density, except when it was very
near the hair.
A bristle, at the distance of nine feet from the hole,
made a shadow, which, being received at five or six
feet from the object, he observed to consist of several
streaks of light and shade. The middle part was a faint
shadow, or rather a kind of penumbra, bordered by a
darker shadow, and after that by a narrower penum¬
bra ; next to which was a light streak broader than the
dark part, and next to the streak of light, the red,
violet, and blue colours were seen as in the shadow of
the hair.
A plate, two inches long, and about half a line
broad, being fixed perpendicularly to the rays, at the
distance of nine feet from the hole, a faint light was
seen uniformly dispersed over the shadow, when it was
received perpendicularly to it, and very near. The
shadow of the same plate, received at the distance of
two feet and a half, was divided into four narrow black
streaks, separated by small lighter intervals equal to
them. The boundaries of this shadow on each side had
a penumbra, which was terminated by a very strong
light, next to which were the coloured streaks of red,
violet, and blue, as before. This is represented in
Plate CCLXXVI. fig. 4.
The shadow of the same plate, at 4-? feet distance
from it, was divided into two black streaks only, the
two outermost having disappeared, as in fig. 5.; but
these two black streaks which remained were broader
than before, and separated by a lighter shade, twice as
broad as one of the former black streaks, when the sha¬
dow was taken at 2y feet. This penumbra in the
middle had a tinge of red. After the two black
streaks there appeared a pretty strong penumbra, ter¬
minated by the two streaks of light, which were now
broad and splendid, after which followed the coloured
streaks.
A second plate, 2 inches long and a line broad, be-
1 c &
ing placed 14 feet from the hole, its shadow was re¬
ceived perpendicularly very near the plate, and was
found to be illuminated by a faint light, equally disper¬
sed, as in the case of the preceding plate. But being
received at the distance of 13 feet from the plate, six
small black sti*eaks began to be visible, as in fig. 6. At Fig. 6.
17 feet the black streaks were broader, more distinct,
and more separated from the streaks that were less dark.
At 42 feet, only two black streaks were seen in the
middle of the penumbra, as in fig. 7. This middle pen-Fig. 7.
umbra between the two black streaks was tinged with
red. Next to the black streaks there always appeared
the streaks of light, which were broad, and the coloured
streaks next to them. At the distance of 72 feet, the
appearances were the same as in the former situation,
except that the two black streaks were broader, and
the interval between them, occupied by the penumbra,
was bioader also, and tinged with a deeper red. With
plates from 4 line to 2 lines broad, he could not observe
any of the streaks of light, though the shadows were in
some cases 56 feet from them.
The extraordinary size of the shadows of small sub¬
stances M, Maraldr thought to be occasioned by the
shadow from the enlightened part of the sky, added to
that which was made by the light of the sun, and also
to a vortex occasioned by the circulation of the inflected
light behind the object.
Maraldi having made the preceding experiments upon
single long substances, placed two of them so as to cross
one another in a beam of the sun’s light. The shadows
of two hairs placed in this manner, and received at some
distance from them, appeared to be painted reciprocally
one upon the other, so that the obscure part of one of
them was visible upon the obscure part of the other.
The streaks of light also crossed one another, and the
coloured streaks did the same.
He also placed in the rays of the sun a bristle and a.
plate of iron a line thick, so that they crossed one an¬
other obliquely 5 and when their shadows were received
at the same distance, the light and dark streaks of the
shadow of the bristle were visible so far as the middle
of the shadow of the plate on the side of the acute angle,
but not on the side of the obtuse angle, whether the
bristle or the plate were placed next to the rays. The
plate made a shadow sufficiently dark, divided into six
black streaks ; and these were again divided by as many
light ones equal to them ; and yet all the streaks be¬
longing to the shadow of the bristle were visible upon it,
as in fig. 8. To explain this appearance, he supposed
that the rays of the sun glided a little along the bristle, Flg:' 8‘
so as to enlighten part of that which was behind the
plate. But this seems to be an arbitrary and improba¬
ble supposition.
M. Maraldi also placed small globes in the solar
light, admitted through a small aperture, and compared
their shadows with those of the long substances, as he had
done in the day light, and the appearances were still si¬
milar. It was evident, that there was much more light
in the shadows of the globes than in those of the cylin¬
ders, not only when they were both of an equal diame¬
ter, but when that of the globe was larger than that of
the cylinder, and the shadows of both the bodies were
received at the same distance. He also observed, that
he could perceive no difference of light in the shadows
of
S5.
Experi-
57
M. Mai-
ran’s tlie-
ory.
of the plates which were a little more than one line
broad, though they were received at the distance o 72
feet 1 hut be could observe a difference ot shades in
those of the globes, taken at the same distance, though
they were 2t lines in diameter.
In order to explain the colours at the edges of these
shadows, he threw some of the shadows upon others.
„ - . He threw the gleam of light, which always intervened
meStswith between the colours and the darker part ot the shadow,
a mixture upon different parts of other shadows j and observed,
of coloured ^jla^ -when it fell upon the exterior penumbra made a
shadows. anot’ber neetUe, it produced a beautiful sky blue colour,
almost like that which was produced by two blue co¬
lours thrown together. When the same gleam oi light
fell upon the deeper shadow in the middle, it produced
a red colour. r i-
He placed two plates of iron, each three or ,our lines
broad, at a very small distance: and having placed
them in the rays of the sun, and received their shadows
at the distance of 15 or 20 feet from them, he saw no
light between them but a continued shadow, in the mid¬
dle of which were some parallel streaks of a lively pui-
ple, separated by other black streaks j but between them
there were other streaks, both of a very faint green, and
also of a iiale yellow. . . A)r
The subject of inflection was next investigated byJYJ.
Mairan : but he only endeavoured to explain the facts
which were known, by the hypothesis of an atmosphere
surrounding all bodies ; and consequently making two
reflections and refractions of the light that falls upon
them, one at the surface of the atmosphere, and the
other at that of the body. This atmosphere he suppo¬
sed to be of a variable density and refractive power,
rg like the atmosphere.
Discoveries M. Du Tour thought the variable atmosphere super-
cf M. Du fiuous? and attempted to account for all the phenomena
by an atmosphere of an uniform density, and of a less
refractive power than the air surrounding all bodies.
Only three fringes had been observed by preceding
authors, but M. Du Tour was accidentally led to ob¬
serve a greater number of them, and adopted from Gri¬
maldi the following ingenious method of making them
all appear very distinct.
He took a circular board ABED, (fig. 9.) 13 inches
in diameter, the surface of which was black, except at
the edge, where there was a ring of white paper about
three lines broad, in order to trace the circumference of
a circle, divided into 360 degrees, beginning at the point
A, and reckoning 180 degrees on each hand to the
point E ; B and D being each of them placed at 90 de-
o-rees. A slip of parchment 3 inches broad, and dispo¬
sed in the form of a hoop, was fastened round the board,
and pierced at the point E with a square hole, each side
being 4 or 5 lines, in order to introduce a ray of the
sun’s fight; and in the centre of the board C, he fixed
a perpendicular pin about y ot a line in diameter.
This hoop being so placed, that a ray of light enter¬
ing the chamber, through a vertical cleft of 2-q lines in
length, and about as wide as the diameter of the pin,
went through the hole at E, and passing parallel to the
plane of the board, projected the image of the sun and
the shadow of the pin at A. In these circumstances
he observed, 1. That quite round the concave surface of
this hoop, there were a multitude of coloured streaks j
but that the space m A 71, of about 18 degrees, the
4
Tour.
OPTICS.
middle of which was occupied by the image of the sun, Histaiy.
was covered with a faint light only. 2. The order of1 '
the colours in these streaks was generally such that the
most refrangible rays were the nearest to the incident
ray EGA so that, beginning from the point A, the
violet was the first and the red the last colour in each ot
the streaks. In some of them, however, the colours
were disposed in a contrary order. 3. The image of the
sun, projected on each side of the point A, was divided
by the shadow of the pin, which was bordered by two
luminous streaks. 4. The coloured streaks were nar¬
rower in some parts of the hoop than others, and gene-
rally decreased in breadth in receding from the point A.
c Among these coloured streaks, there were sometimes
others which were white, 1 or lines in breadth,
which were generally bordered on both sides by a streak
of orange colour.
From this experiment he thought it evident, that the
rays which passed beyond the pin were not the only ones
that were decomposed, for that those which were ic-
flected from the pin were decomposed also, whence he
concluded that they must have undergone some refrac¬
tion. He also imagined that those which went beyond
the pin suffered a reflection, so that they were all affect¬
ed in a similar manner. . ™ . 59 f
In order to give some idea of his hypothesis, M. Du Account oi
Tour shows that the ray o 6, fig. 10. after being refract- ^
ed at 6, reflected at r and w, and again refracted at ,9 ^
and t, will be divided into its proper colours ; the least
refrangible or the red rays issuing at .r, and the most
refrangible or violet at y. Those streaks in which the
colours appear in a contrary order he thinks are to be
ascribed to inequalities in the surface of the pin.
The coloured streaks nearest the shadow of the pin,
he supposes to be formed by those rays which, entering
the atmosphere, do not fall upon the pin •, and, without
any reflection, are only refracted at their entering and ^
leaving the atmosphere, as at & and rw, fig. i t. In
this case, the red or least refrangible rays will issue at
and the violet at «.
Plate
CCCLXXVI.
fig. p.
’ To distinguish the rays which fell upon the hoop in
any particular direction, from those that came in any
other, he made an opening in the hoop, as at P, fig. 9*
by which means he could, with advantage, and at any
distance from the centre, observe those rays unmixed
with any other.
To account for the coloured streaks being larger next
the shadow of the pin, and growing narrower to the
place where the light was admitted, he shows, by fig. 12. *£•
that the rays a b are farther separated by both the re¬
fractions than the rays c d.
Sometimes M. Dn Tour observed, that the broader
streaks were not disposed in this regular order 5 but then ^
he found, that by turning the pin they changed their
places, so that this circumstance must have been an ac¬
cidental irregularity in the surface of the pin.
The white streaks mixed with the coloured ones he
ascribes to small cavities in the surface of the pin *, tor
they also changed their places when the pin was turned
upon its axis. „
He also found, that bodies of various kinds, and ot
different sizes, always produced fringes of the same di¬
mensions. _ . .
Exposing two pieces of paper in the beam ot hgnt,
so that part of it passed between two planes formed by
A them,
History-
rig- r3-
OPT
them, M. du Tour observed, that the edges of this
‘ hg111 were bordered with two orange streaks. To ac¬
count for them, he supposes, that the more refrangible
of the rays which enter at b are so refracted, that they
do not reach the surface of the body at li : so that the
red and orange light may be reflected from thence in
the direction t/M, where the orange streaks will be
formed j and, for the same reason, another streak of
orange will be formed at m, by the rays which enter
the atmosphere on the other side of the' chink. In a
similar manner he accounts for the orange fringes at the
borders of the white streaks, in the experiment of the
hoop. He supposes, that the blue rays, which are not
reflected at K, pass on to I; and that these rays form
the blue tinge observable in the shadows of some bodies.
6o This, however, is mere trifling.
This hypo- ^ may here make a general observation, applicable
thesis use- to all the attempts of philosophers to explain these plie-
n0n-iena atmospheres. These attempts gave no expla¬
nation whatever of the physical cause of the phenomena.
A phenomenon is some individual fact or event in na-
tuie. We are said to explain it, when we point out the
general fact in which it is comprehended, and show the
manner in which it is so comprehended, or the particular
modification of the general fact. Philosophy resembles
natural history, having for its subject the events of
nature ; and its investigations are nothing hut the clas¬
sification of these events, or the arrangement of them
under the general facts of which they are individual in¬
stances. In the present instance there is no general fact
Ieferred to. The atmosphere is a mere gratuitous sup¬
position y and ail that is done is to show a resemblance
between the phenomena of inflection of light to what
would be the phenomena were bodies surrounded with
such atmospheres j and even in this point of view, the
discussions of Marian and l)u Tour Are extremely de¬
ficient. They have been satisfied with very vague re¬
semblances to a fact observed in one single instance,
namely, the refraction of light through the atmosphere
of this globe.
'll16 attempt is to explain how light is turned out
of its direction by passing near the surface of bodies.
This indicates the action offerees in a direction trans¬
verse to that of the light. Newton took the right road
of investigation, by taking the phenomenon in its origi¬
nal simplicity, and attending merely to this, that the
rays are deflected from their former course ; and the sole
aim of his investigation was to discover the laws, or the
more general facts in this deflection. He deduced from
the phenomena, that some rays are more deflected than
others, and endeavoured to determine in what rays the
deflections are most remarkable : and no experiment of
M. du Tour has shown that he was mistaken in his mo¬
dified assertion, that those rays are most inflected which
pass nearest to the body. W e say modified assertion;
for Newton points out with great sagacity many in¬
stances of alternate fits of inflection and deflection $ and
takes it for granted, that the law of continuity is obser¬
ved in these phenomena, and that the change of inflec¬
tion into deflection is gradual.
But these analogical discussions are eminently defici¬
ent in another respect: They are held out as mechanical
explanations of the changes of motion observed in rays of
tight. When it shall be shewn, that these are precise!v
, Vol. XV. Parti. f
1 c s.
such as are observed in refracting atmospheres, nothing
is done towards deciding the original question j for the
action of refracting atmospheres presents it in all its dif-
ficu nes, and we must still ask how do these atmospheres
produce this effect ? No advance whatever is o-ained in
science by thrusting in this hypothetical atmosphere :
and Newton did wisely in attaching himself to the sim¬
ple fact : and lie thus gives us another step in science, 6r
by showing us a fact unknown before, viz. that the ac- Rdlec-tioa,
tion of bodies on light is not confined to transparent ref,n.ttion’
bodies. He «dds another general fact to our former
stock, that light as well as other matter is acted on at a hLy pL
(istance ; and thus he made a very important deduction, by
mat reflection, refraction, and inflection, arc probablyl hc sam<J
brought about by the same forces. J torces-
• Le (:-at haS Wel1 exP,ained a phenomenon of vi-Objects
sion depending upon the inflection of light, which shows, .sometimes
hat, in some eases objects by this means appear magni-,naSllilkd
fied. Looking at a distant steeple, when a wire, of ab.yinflcC*
less diameter than the pupil of his eye, was held near to ^
it, and drawing it several times betwixt his eye and that
object, he found, that, every time the wire passed before
ins pupil the steeple seemed to change its place, and
some hills beyond the steeple appeared to have the same
motion, just -s if a lens had been drawn betwixt his eye
ami them. He found also, that there was a position of
the wire in which the steeple seemed not to have any
motion, when the wire was passed before his eye ; and
in this case the steeple appeared less distinct and magni-
led. He then placed his eye in such a manner with re¬
spect to the steeple, that the rays of light by which he
saw it must come very close to the edge of a window;
where he had placed himself to make his observations;
and passing the wire before his eyes, he observed, that
when it was in the visual axis, the steeple appeared near¬
er to the window, on whichever side the wire was made
to approach. He repeated this experiment, and always,
with the same result, the object being by this means
magnified, and nearly doubled.
This phenomenon he explains by fig. 14. in which B
represents the eye, A the steeple, and C a section ofveci.xxvi.
the wire. The black lines express the cone of light by M*
which the natural image of the steeple A is formed,
and which is much narrower than the diameter of the
wire C ; but the dotted lines include not only that cone
of light, stopped and tarned out of its course by the
wure, but also more distant rays inflected by the wire,
and thereby thrown more converging into the pupil ;
just as would have been the effect of the interposition
of a lens between the eye and the object.
Sect. IV. Discoveries concerning Vision.
Maurolycus was the first who demonstrated that the Disc(fv3eri0>;
crystalline humour of the eye is a lens which collects the of Mauro-
light issuing from external objects, and converges them lycus, Kep-
upon the retina. He did not, however, seem to be ^er> ^c*
aware that an image of every visible object was thus c“”ceiu”5ff
formed upon the retina, though this seems hardly to have '‘2l01 *
been a step beyond the discovery he had made. Mon-
tucla conjectures, that he was prevented from mention¬
ing this part of the discovery by the difficulty of ac¬
counting for the upright appearance of objects. This
discovery was made by Kepler ; but he, too, was much
puzzled with the inversion of the image upon the reti-
B b na.
OPT
na. The rectification of these images, he says, is the
business of the mind j which, when it perceives an im¬
pression on the lower part ot the retina, considers it as
made by rays proceeding from the higher parts ot ot>-
iects tracing the rays back to the pupil, where tiey
cross one another. This is the true explanation ot the
difficulty, and is exactly the same as that which was
lately given by Dr Reid. _ # ,
Discoveries These discoveries concerning vision were completed
of Schemer. i)y Scheiner. For, in cutting away the coats ot the
back part of the eyes of sheep and oxen, and presenting
several obiects before them, he saw their images distinct¬
ly painted upon the retina. He did the same with the
human eye, and exhibited this experiment at Rome in
Scheiner took a good deal of pains to ascertain the
density and refractive power of all the humours of the
eye, by comparing their magnifying power with that ot
water or glass in the same form and circumstances. Ihe
result of his inquiries was, that the aqueous humour does
not differ much from water in this respect, nor the cry¬
stalline from glass ; and that the vitreous humour is a
medium between both. He also traces the progress of
the rays of light through all the humours •, and alter
discussing every possible hypothesis concerning the seat
of vision, he demonstrates that it is m the retina, and
shows that this was the opinion of Alhazen, V iteiho,
Kepler, and all the most eminent philosophers. He
advances many reasons for this hypothesis *, answers ma¬
ny objections to it *, and, by a variety of arguments, re¬
futes the opinion that the seat of vision is in the crystal-
line lens. . r
Discoveries The subject of vision occupied the attention o! Des-
of Descar- cartes. He explains the methods of judging of the
tes.
magnitudes, situations, and distances, of objects, hy the
direction of the optic axes; comparing it to a blind
man’s iudiring of the size and distance of an object, by
feeling' it with two sticks of a known length, when the
hands" in which he holds them are at a known distance
from each other. He also remarks, that having been
accustomed to judge of the situation of objects by their
images falling on a particular part of the eye ; it by
any distortion of the eye they fall on a different place,
we are apt to mistake their situation, or imagine one ob¬
ject to be two, in the same way as we imagine one stick
to be two, when it is placed between two contiguous
fingers laid across one another. The direction ot the
optic axes, he says, will not serve us beyond 15 or 20
feet, and the change of form of the crystalline not more
than three or four feet. For he imagined that the eye
conforms itself to different distances by a change in the
curvature of the crystalline, which he supposed to be a
muscle, the tendons of it being the ciliary processes. In
another place, he says, that the change in the conforma¬
tion of the eye is ot no use to us for the purpose of
judging of distances beyond four or five feet, and the
angle of the optic axes not more than 100 or 200 feet:
for this reason, he says, that the sun and moon are con¬
ceived to be much more nearly of the same size than
they are in reality. White and luminous objects, he ob¬
serves, appear larger than others, and also the parts con¬
tiguous to those on which the rays actually impinge ;
and for the same reason, if the objects be small, and
placed at a great distance, they will always appear
round, the figure of the angles disappearing.
I c s,
The celebrated Dr Berkeley, bishop of Cloyne, pub- | History,
lished, in 1709, An Essay towards a New Theory of v '
Vision, in which he solves many difficulties. He does Ber5iej ,s
not admit that it is by means of those lines and angles, tbeory of
which are useful in explaining the theory of optics, that vision,
different distances are estimated hy the sense of sight;
neither does he think that the mere direction of the op¬
tic axes, or the greater or less divergency ot the rays of
light, are sufficient for this purpose. “ I appeal ("says
he) to experience, whether any one computes^ distance
by the bigness of the angle made hy the meeting of the
two optic axes; or whether he ever thinks of the great¬
er or less divergency of the rays winch arrive from any
point to his pupil : Nay, whether it be not perfectly
impossible for him to perceive, by sense, the various
angles wherewith the rays according to their greater or
lesser divergency fell upon his eye.” . That there is a
necessary connexion between these various angles, See.
and difterent degrees of distance, and that this con¬
nexion is known to every person skilled in optics, he
readily acknowledges ; but “ in vain (he observes) shal
mathematicians tell me, that lperceive certain lines and
angles, which introduce into my mind the various no¬
tions of distance, so long as I am conscious of no such
thing.” He maintains that distance, magnitude, and
even figure, are the objects of immediate perception on¬
ly hy the sense of touch ; and that when we judge of
them hy sight, it is from different sensations felt in the
eye, which experience has taught us to be the conse¬
quence of viewing objects of greater or less magnitude,
of different figures, and at different distances. Ihese
sensations, with the respective distances, figures, and
magnitudes by which they are occasioned, become so
closely associated in the mind long before the period of
distinct recollection, that the presence of the one in¬
stantly suggests the other; and we attribute to the sense
of sight those notions which are acquired by the sense of
touch, and of which certain visual sensations are merely
the signs or symbols, just as words are the symbols of
ideas. Upon these principles he accounts for single and
erect vision. Subsequent writers have made considera¬
ble discoveries in the theory of vision ; and among them
there is hardly any one to whom this branch of science
is so much indebted as to Dr Reid, and Dr Wells, whose
reasonings wre shall afterwards have occasion to detail.
Sect. V. Of Optical Instruments
67
Glass globes, and specula, seem to have been the on-Invention
ly optical instruments known to the ancients. Alhazen ^ec
gave the first hint of the invention of spectacles. Trom
the writings of this author, together with the observa¬
tions of Roger Bacon, it is not improbable that some
monks gradually hit upon the construction of spectacles;
to which Bacon’s lesser segment was a nearer approach
than Alhazen’s larger one.
It is certain that spectacles were well known in the
13th century, and not long before. It is said that
Alexander Spina, a native of Pisa, who died in I313’
happened to see a pair of spectacles in the hands of
a person who would not explain them to him but
that he succeeded in making a pair for himself, and im¬
mediately made the construction public. It is also in¬
scribed on the tomb of Salvinus Armatus, a nobleman
of Florence, who died 13’7, that he was the inventor
of spectacles. h
OP T
History. _ Though both convex and concave lenses were stiffi-
    ' ciently common, yet no attempt was made to combine
Descartes’s iem Wto H telescope till the end of the 16th century,
account of Descartes Considers James Metius as the first construc-
the inven- tor ot the telescope : and says, that as he was amusing
tionof tele-himself with mirrors and burning glasses, he thought of
69
Other ac¬
counts.
scopes. looking through two of his lenses at a time j and that
happening to take one that was convex and another that
was concave, and happening also to hit upon a pret¬
ty good adjustment of them, he found, that by looking
through them, distant objects appeared very large and
distinct. In fact, without knowing it, he had made a
telescope.
Other persons say, that this great discovery Was first
made by John Lippersheim, a spectacle-maker at Mid-
dleburgh, or rather by his children ; who were diverting
themselves with looking through two glasses at a time,
and placing them at different distances from one another.
But Borellus, the author of a book entitled De vero
tdescopii inventore, gives this honour te Zacharius Jo-
aiinides, i. e. Jansen, another spectacle-maker at the
same place, who made the first telescope in 1 jpo.
This ingenious mechanic had no sooner found the ar¬
rangement of glasses that magnified distant objects, than
he enclosed them in a tube, and ran with his instrument
to Brince Maurice 5 who, immediately conceiving that
it might be useful in his wars, desired the author to keep
it a secret. But this was found impossible j and several
persons in that city immediately applied themselves to
the making and selling of telescopes. One of the most
distinguished of these was Hans Laprey, called Upper-
shewn by Sirturus. Some person in Holland being very
early supplied by him with a telescope, he passed with
many for the inventor ; but both Metius above men¬
tioned, and Cornelius Drebell of Alcmaar, in Holland,
applied to the inventor himself in 1620 ; as also did
Galileo, and many others. The first telescope made
an ciceea- ^ Ja»sen did not exceed 15 or 16 inches in length ;
ingly good Sirturus, who says that he had seen it, and made
use of it, thought it the best that he had ever exami¬
ned.
Jansen directing his telescope to celestial objects, di¬
stinctly viewed the spots on the surface of the moon ;
and discovered many new stars, particularly seven pretty
considerable ones in the Great Bear. His son, Joannes
Zacharias, observed the lucid circle near the limb of the
moon, from whence several bright rays seem to dart in
different directions: and he says, that the full moon,
viewed through this instrument, did not appear flat, but
was evidently globular. Jupiter appeared round, and
rather spherical ; and sometimes he perceived two,
sometimes three, and at other times even four small
stars, a little above or below him j and, as far as he
1 teles co'dd observe, they performed revolutions round him.
madety0^ ^ ^ere are some who say that Galileo was the inven-
tialileu *or telescopes $ but he himself acknowledges, that he
without first heard of the instrument from a German ; but, that
’eeing one.being informed of nothing more than the effects of it,
first by common report, and a few days after by a
French nobleman, J. Badovere, at Paris, he himself
discovered the construction, by considering the nature
of refraction: and thus he had much more real merit
than the inventor himself.
About April or May, in 1609, it was reported at
» enice, where Galileo (who was professor of mathema-
I c s.
tics in the university of Padua; then happened to be,
that a Dutchman had presented to Count Maurice of
A assau, a certain optical instrument, by means of which, 7 *
distant objects appeared as if they were near: but nou.ccount of
farther account of the discover, had reached that place,
tnOUO'h this ivas -XVa.1 r . i• x ’ vtlltfe*
*9.
History
70
The first
telescope
an cxceed-
7i
though this was near 20 years after the first discovery
ot the telescope. Struck, however, with this account
Galileo returned to Padua, considering what kind of an
instrument this must be. The night following, the con-
struction occurred to him j and the day after, putting
the parts of the instrument together, as he had previous^
iy conceived it $ and notwithstanding the imperfection
ot the glasses that he could then procure, the effect an¬
swered his expectations, as he presently acquainted his
inends at V enice, where, from several eminences, he
showed to some of the principal senators of that repu¬
blic a variety of distant objects, to their very great a^o-
mshment. When he had made farther improvements
in the instrument, he made a present of one of them to
the Doge, Leonardo Donati, and at the same time to
all the senate of Venice; giving along with it a writ¬
ten paper, in which he explained the structure and
wonderful uses that might be made of the instrument
both by land and sea. In return for so noble an enter¬
tainment, the republic, on the 25th of August, in the
same year, more than tripled his salary as professor.
. Galileo having amused himself for some time with the
view of terrestrial objects, at length directed his tube
towards the heavens ; and found, that the surface of the
moon was diversified with hills and valleys, like the
earth. He found that the milky way and nebula: con¬
sisted of a collection of fixed stars, which on account
either of their vast distance, or extreme smallness, were
invisible to the naked eye. He also discovered innume¬
rable fixed stars dispersed over the face of the heavens,
which had been unknown to the ancients 5 and examin¬
ing Jupiter, he found him attended by four stars, which,
at certain periods, performed revolutions round him.
This discovery he made in January 1610, new style j
and continuing bis observations the whole of February
following, he published, in the beginning of March, an
account of all his discoveries, in his Nuncius Sidercus,
printed at Venice.
_ ’l he extraordinary discoveries contained in the Nun¬
cius Sidereus, which was immediately reprinted both
in Germany and I ranee, were the cause of much de¬
bate among the philosophers of that time; many of
whom could not give any credit to Galileo’s account,
while others endeavoured to decry his discoveries as no¬
thing more than mere illusions.
In the beginning of July, 1610, Galileo being still
at Padua, and getting an imperfect view of Saturn’s
ring, imagined that that planet consisted of three
parts ; and therefore, in the account which he gave of
this discovery to his friends, he calls it planetam ter-
geminam.
Whilst he was still at Padua, he observed some spots
on the face of the sun : but he did not choose, at that
time, to publish his discpvery; partly for fear of incur¬
ring more of the hatred of many obstinate Peripatetics ;
and partly in order to make more exact observations on
this remarkable phenomenon, as well as to form some
conjecture concerning the probable cause of it. He
therefore contented himself with communicating his ob¬
servations to some of his friends at Padua and Venice,
B b 2 ' among
i g6
Tli,stoiT.
OPT
among whom we find the name of Father Paul. Tins
delay, however, w'as the cause of this discovery he mg
contested with him by the famous Scheiner, who like¬
wise made the same observation in October i oil, and
avc suppose had anticipated Galileo in the publication
In November following Galileo was satisfied, that,
from the September preceding, Venus had been conti¬
nually increasing in bulk, and that she changed her pha¬
ses like the moon. About the end of March i6n, he
went to Home, where he gratified the cardinals, and all
the principal nobility, with a view of the new wonders
which he had discovered in the heavens. _
Twenty-nine years Galileo enjoyed the use of his
telescope, continually enriching astronomy with his ob¬
servations : but by too close an application to that in¬
strument, and the detriment he received from the noc-
turnal air, his eyes grew gradually weaker, till in 1639
be became totally blind 5 a calamity which, however,
neither broke his spirits, nor interrupted the course of
his studies.
The first telescope that Galileo constructed magni¬
fied onlv three times ; but presently after, he made
another which magnified 18 times j and aftenvards
with great trouble and expence, he constructed one
that magnified 33 times ; and with this it was that he
discovered the satellites of Jupiter and the spots of the
sun. .
^ The honour of explaining the rationale of the tele-
na/e ofthe scope is due to the celebrated Ivepler. He made seve-
jjwtrument ral discoveries relating to the nature of vision ; and not
first disco- exp,aIned t|ie theory of the telescope which he
found in use, but also pointed out methods of construct¬
ing others of superior powers and more commodious ap¬
plication. . „
It was Kepler who first gave a clear explication of
the effects of lenses, in converging and diverging the
rays of a pencil of light. He showed, that a plano-con¬
vex lens makes rays that were parallel to its axis, to
meet at the distance of the diameter of the sphere of
convexity ; but that if both sides of the lens be equally
convex, the rays will have their focus at the distance of
the radius of the circle, corresponding to that degree of
convexity. He did not, however, investigate any rule
for the foci of lenses unequally convex. He only says,
in general, that they will fall somewhere in the middle,
between the foci'belonging to the two different degrees
of convexity. We owe this investigation to Cavalieri,
who laid down the following rule: As the sum of both
the diameters is to one of them, so is the other to the
distance of the focus.
The principal effects of telescopes depend upon these
simple principles, viz. That objects appear larger in
proportion to the angles which they subtend at the eye,
and the effect is the same whether the pencils of rays,
by which objects are visible to us, come directly from
the objects themselves, or from any place nearer to the
eye, where they may have been converged so as to form
an image of the object *, because they issue again from
those points where there is no real substance, in certain
directions, in the same manner as they did from the cor¬
responding points in the objects themselves.
In fact, therefore, all that is effected by a telescope
is, first, to make such an image of a distant object, by
means of a lens or mirror j and then to give the eye
73
Account
of his te¬
lescopes.
74 .
The ratio
Acred by
Kepler.
75
General
reason of
the effects
of tele-
SCQpes,
I C S.
some assistance for vieAving that image as near as pos* History,
sible : so that the angle Avhich it shall subtend at the u—-v—
eye, may be very large, compared Avith the angle which
the 'object itself Avould subtend in the same situation.
This is done by means of an eye-glass, Avhich so re¬
fracts the pencils of rays, that they may afterwards be
brought to their several* foci by the humours of the eye.
But if the eye Avas so formed as to be able to see the
image with sufficient distinctness at the same distance
Avithout any eye-glass, it Avould appear to him as much
magnified as it does to another person Avho makes use
of a glass for that purpose, though he would not in all
cases have so large a field of vIbav.
If, instead of an eye-glass, an object be looked at
through a small hole in a thin plate or piece of papei,
held close to the eye, it may be viewed very near to the
eye, and, at the same distance, the apparent magnitude
of the object Avill be the same in both cases. For if the
bole be so small as to admit but a single ray from every
point of the object, these rays will fall upon the retina
in as many other points, and make a distinct image.
They are only pencils of rays, which have a sensible
base, as the breadth of the pupil, that are capable, by
their spreading on the retina, of producing an indis¬
tinct image. As very feiv rays, however, can be
admitted through a small hole, there will seldom be
light sufficient to vieiv any object to advantage in this
manner.
If no image be formed by the foci of the pencils
without the eye, yet if, by the help of a concave eye¬
glass, the pencils of rays shall enter the pupil, just as
they Avould have done from any place without the eye,
the visual angle will be the same as if an image had
actually been formed in that place. Objects Avill not
appear inverted through this telescope, because the pern
cils which form the images of them, only cross one an¬
other once, viz at the object glass, as in natural vision
they do in the pupil of the eye. 76
Such is the telescope that was first discovered and Galilean
used by philosophers. The great inconvenience attend-
ing it is, that the field of vieAv is exceedingly small. cu]t of con.
For since the pencils of rays enter the eye very much struction
diverging from one another, but feiv of them can be than others,
intercepted by the pupil. This inconvenience increases
with the magnifying power of the telescope ; so that it
is a matter of surprise howr, with such an instrument,
Galileo and others could have made such discoveries.
No other telescope, however, than this, Avas so much as
thought of for many years after the discovery. Des¬
cartes, who wrote *30 years after, mentions no others
as actually constructed. 77
It is to the celebrated Kepler that we are indebted Tropes
for the construction of Avbat we noAV call the astrommi- ^^pkr-
cal telescope. The rationale of this instrument is ex¬
plained, and the advantages of it are clearly pointed out,
by this philosopher, in his Catoptrics j but, what is very
surprising, he never actually reduced his theory into
practice. Montucla conjectures, that the reason why he
did not make trial of this new construction Avas, his not
being aAvare of the great increase of the field of view ;
so that being engaged in other pursuits, be might not
think it of much consequence to take any pains about
the construction of an instrument, which could do little
more than answer the same purpose with those which he
already possessed. He must also have foreseen, that tha
length
History
78
ills method
: rst put in
racrice by
lichemer.
79
uygens
iproves
| e tele-
opes of
heiner
; d Rheita
80
I 'locular
Jsjope.
length of this telescope must have been greater in pro¬
portion to its magnifying power, so that it might ap¬
pear to him to be upon the whole not quite so good a
construction as the former.
The first person who actually made an instrument of
Kepler’s construction was Father Scheiner, who has
given a description of it in his Jiosa Ursina, published in
1630. If, says he, you insert two similar lenses in a
tube, and place your eye at a convenient distance, you
will see all terrestrial objects, inverted, indeed, but
magnified, and very distinct, with a considerable extent
ot view. He afterwards subjoins an account of a tele¬
scope oi a different construction, with two convex eye¬
glasses, which again reverses the images, and makes
them appear in their natural position. This disposition
ot the lenses had also been pointed out by Kepler, but
had not been reduced to practice. This construction,
however, answered the end very imperfectly; and Fa¬
ther Rheita presently after discovered a'better con¬
struction, using three eye-glasses instead of two.
The only difference between the Galilean and the
astronomical telescope is, that the pencils by which the
extremities of any object are seen in this case, enter the
eye diverging.; whereas, in the other they enter it con¬
verging ; but if the sphere of concavity in the eye-glass
of the Galilean telescope be equal to the sphere of con¬
vexity in the eye-glass of another telescope, their mag¬
nifying power will be the same. The concave eye-glass,
however, being placed between the object-glass and its
focus, the Galilean telescope will be shorter than the
other, by twice the focal length of the eye-glass. Con¬
sequently, if the length of the telescopes be the same,
the Galilean will have the greater magnifying power.
Huygens was particularly eminent for his systematic
knowledge of optics, and is the author of the chief im¬
provements which have been made on all the dioptrical
instruments till the discovery of the achromatic telescope.
He.was yvell acquainted with the theory of aberration
arising from the spherical figure of the glasses, and has
shown several ingenious methods of diminishing them
by. proper constructions of the eye-pieces. He first
pointed out the advantages of two eye glasses in the
astronomical telescope and double microscope, and gave
rules for this construction, which both enlarges the field
and shortens the instrument. Mr Dollond"adapted his
construction to the terrestrial telescope of De Ilheita;
and his five eye-glasses are nothing but the Huygenian
eye-piece doubled. This construction has been too
hastily given up by the artists of the present day for
another, also of Mr Hollond’s, of four glasses.
The same Father Ilheita, to whom we are indebted
for the construction of a telescope for land objects, in¬
dented a binocular telescope, which Father Cherubin,
of Oilcans, afterwards endeavoured to bring into use.
It consists of two telescopes fastened together, pointed
to the same object. When this instrument is well fixed,
the object appears larger, and nearer to the eye, when
it is seen through both the telescopes, than through one
. them only, though they have the very same magnify-
ing power. But this is only an illusion, occasioned by
the stronger impression made upon the eye, by two equal
images, equally illuminated. This advantage, however,
is counterbalanced by the inconvenience attending the
use of it.
Ibe first who distinguished themselves in grinding
Optics.
■lescopes
of Campani
and Dmni.
telescopic’ glasses were two Italians, Eustachio Divini
at Home, and Campani at Bologna, whose fame was  >✓-
much superior to that of Divini, or that of any other Sr
person of his time; though Divini himself pretended,Tdesc<
that, m all the trials that were made with their glasses ^ ^
us, of a greater focal length, performed better than
those ot Campani, and that his rival was not willing to
try them with equal eye-glasses. It is generally suppo¬
sed, however, that Campani really excelled Divini
both in the goodness and the focal length of his object-
glasses. It was with telescopes made"by Campani that
Cassini discovered the nearest satellites of Saturn.
Ihey were made by the express order of Louis XIV
and were of 86, 100, and 136 Paris feet in focal length."
Campani sold his lenses for a great price, and took
every possible method to keep his art of making them
seciet. His laboratory was inaccessible, till after his
death ; when it was purchased by Pope Benedict XIV.
who presented it to the academy called the Institute,
established m that city; and by the account which M
Tougeroux has given of what he could discover from it
we learn, that (except a machine, which M.,Campani
constructed, to work the basons on which he ground
his glasses) the goodness of his lenses depended upon
the clearness oi his glass, his Venetian tripoli, the paper
with which he polished them, and his great skill and
address as a workman. It was also the general opi¬
nion that he owed much of his reputation to the secrecy
and air of mystery which he affected ; and that he made
a great number of object-glasses which he rejected,
showing only those that were very good. He made few
lenses of a very great focal distance ; and having the
misfortune to break one of 141 feet in two pieces, he
took incredible pains to join the two parts together,
which he did at length so effectually, that it was used as
it it had been entire; but it is not probable that he
would have taken so much pains about it, if, as he pre-
tended, he could very easily have made another as good.
Sir Paul Neille, Dr Hooke says, made telescopes of
36 feet, pretty good, and one of 30, but not of pro¬
portional goodness. Afterwards Mr Reive, and then
Mr Cox, who were the most celebrated in England as
grinders of optic glasses, made some good instruments
of 50 and 60 feet focal length, and Mr Cox made one
of 100.
These, and all other telescopes, were far exceeded by Extraordi-
an object glass of 600 feet focus made by M. Auzout j nary object
but he was never able to manage it. Hartsocker is Iua<,e
even said to have made some of a still greater focalby f1* Au~
length ; but this ingenious mechanic, finding it impos-Z°U *
sibje to make use of object-glasses the focal distance of
which was much less than this, when they were enclosed
in a tube, contrived a method of using them without a
tube, by fixing them at the top of a tree, a high wall,
or the roof of a house.
Mr Huygens, who was also an excellent mechanic, TdescLe*
made considerable improvements on this contrivance of used wiiii-
Uartsocker’s. He placed the object-glass at the topofout tubes,
a long pole, have previously enclosed it in a short tube,
which was made to turn in all directions by means of a
ball and socket. The axis of this tube he could com¬
mand with a fine silken string, so as to bring it into a
line with the axis of another short tube which he held
in. his hand, and which contained the eye-glass. In
this method he could make use of object-glasses of the
greatest
198
Historv.
Plate
CCCLXXV1I
Cs. i.
84
Of tlie a-
greatest magnifying power, at whatever altitude Ins ob¬
ject was, and even in the Zenith, provided his pole was
as long as his telescope; and to adapt it to the view o
objects of different altitudes, he had a contrrvance, by
which he could raise or depress at pleasuie, a stage t .at
supported his object-glass. . . . ,
M. de laHire made some improvements m this method
of managing the object-glass, by fixing it in the centre ot
a board, and not in a tube ; but as it is not probable that
this method will ever be made use of, since the discov ei y
of both reflecting and achromatic telescopes, which are
now brought to great perfection, and have even micro¬
meters adapted to them, we shall not describe the ap¬
paratus minutely, but shall only give a drawing ot M.
Iluygen’s pole, with a short explanation. In fig. 1. «
represents a pulley, by the help ot which a stage c,e,
f (that supports the object-glass ky. and the apparatus
belonging to it), may be raised higher or lower at plea¬
sure, the whole being counterpoised by the weight /%,
fastened to a string g’. «, is a weight, by means oi
which the centre of gravity of the apparatus belonging
to the object-glass is kept in the balLand socket, so that
it may be easily managed by the string l u, and its axis
brought into a line with the eye-glass at 0. V\ hen it
was very dark, M. Huygens was obliged to make his
object-glass visible by a lantern, y, so constructed as to
throw up to it the rays of light in a parallel direction. ‘
Before leaving this subject, it must be observed,
pcrtures of t]iat ]\£< Auzout, in a paper delivered to the Royal
refracting g Iet observed, that the apertures which the object-
telescopes. lassJ of refracting telescopes can bear with distinct¬
ness,-are in the subduplicate ratio of their lengths*, and
upon this supposition he drew np a table ol the aper¬
tures of object-glasses of a great variety of focal lengths,
from 4 inches to 400 feet. * Upon this occasion, how¬
ever, Dr Hooke observed, that the same glass will bear
a greater or less aperture, according to the less or
greater light of the object. ......
But all these improvements were diminished in Value
by the discovery of the reflecting telescope,, l or a re¬
fracting telescope, even of lOOO feet focus, supposing
it possible to be made use of, could not be made to mag¬
nify with distinctness more than 1000 times 5 whereas
a reflecting telescope, not exceeding 9 or 10 leet will
S5 magnify 1200 times.
History of “ It must be acknowledged, says Dr Smith, that Mr
the reflect- James Gregory of Aberdeen was the first inventor of
ioc tele- t]ie Meeting telescope ; hut his construction is quite
different from Sir Isaac Newton’s, and UOt nearly so
advantageous.”
According to Dr Pringle, Mersennus was the man
who entertained the first thought of a reflector. He cer¬
tainly proposed a telescope with specula to the celebrated
Descartes many years before Gregory’s invention, though
indeed in a manner so very unsatisfactory, that Descar¬
tes was so far from approving the proposal, that he en¬
deavoured to convince Mersennus of its fallacy. Dr
Smith, it appears, had never perused the two letters of
Descartes to Mersennus which relate to that subject.
Gregory, a young man of uncommon genius, was led
to the mvention, in trying to correct two imperfections
of the common telescope : the first was its too great
length, which made it less manageable *, the second, the
incorrectness of the image. Mathematicians had de¬
monstrated, that a pencil of rays could not be collected
2
OPTICS.
in a single point by a spherical lens *, and also, that the
image transmitted by such a lens would be in some de-
greiT incurvated. These inconveniences he believed
would be obviated by substituting for the object-glass a
metallic speculum, of a parabolic figure, to receive the
incident rays, and to reflect them towards a small specu-
Historr
ing
scope.
lum of the same metal} this again was to return the
image to an eye-glass placed behind the great speculum,
which for that purpose was to be perforated in its
centre. This construction he published in 1663, m Ins
Optica Promota. But as Gregory, by his own account,
was endowed with no mechanical dexterity, nor could
find any workman capable of constructing his instru¬
ment, he was obliged to give up the pursuit: and pro¬
bably, had not some new discoveries been made in light
and colours, a reflecting telescope would never more
have been thought of. .
At an early period of life, Newton had applied him¬
self to the improvement of the telescope j but imagin-
ing that Gregory’s specula were neither very necessary,
nor likely to be executed, he began with prosecuting
the views of Descartes, who aimed at making a more
perfect image of an object, by grinding lenses, not to
the figure of a sphere, but to that of one ot the conic
sections. Whilst he was thus employed, three years
after Gregory’s publication, he happened to examine the
, colours, formed by a prism, and haying by means ot that
simple instrument discovered thedifterent refrangibihty
of the rays of light, he then perceived that the errors
of telescopes arising from that cause alone, were
some hundred times greater than those which were
occasioned by the spherical figure of lenses. Ihis cir¬
cumstance forced, as it were, Newton to fall into Gre¬
gory’s track, and to turn his thoughts to reflectors.
“ The different refrangibility of the rays of light (says
he in a letter to Mr Oldenburg, secretary to the Royal
Society, dated Feb. 1672) made me take reflections
into consideration; and finding them regular, so t iat
the angle of reflection of all sorts of rays was equal to
the angle of incidence, I understood that by their me¬
diation optic instruments might be brought to any do-
m-ee of perfection imaginable, providing a reflecting
substance could be found which would polish as finely as
glass, and reflect as much light as glass transmits, ami
the art of communicating to it a parabolical figure he
also obtained. Amidst these thoughts I was forced
from Cambridge by the intervening plague, and rt was
more than two years before I proceeded further.” _
It was towards the end of 1668, or in the beginning
of the following year, when Newton being obliged to
have recourse to reflectors, and not relying on any arti¬
ficer for making his specula, set about the work himselt,
and early in the year 1672 completed two small reflect¬
ing telescopes. In these he ground the great speculum
into the concave portion of a sphere *, not but that he
approved of the parabolic form proposed by Gregory,
though he found himself unable to accomplish it. In the
letter that accompanied one ot these instruments which
he presented to the Society, he writes, “ that though
fie then despaired of performing that work (to wit,
the parabolic figure of the great speculum) by geome¬
trical rules, yet he doubted not but that the thing
might in some measure be accomplished by mechanical
devices.”
Not less did the difficulty appear to find a metallic
substance
OPT
j;fistory suhstance that would bo ot a proper hardness, have the
—r—J fewest pores, and receive the smoothest polish ; a diffi¬
culty which he deemed almost unsurmountable, when
he considered, that every irregularity in a reflecting sur¬
face would make the rays of light stray five or six times
more out of their due coui'se, than similar irregularities
in a refracting one. In another letter, written soon af¬
ter, he informs the secretary, 44 that he was very sensi¬
ble that metal reflects less light than glass transmits; but
as he had found some metallic substances more strongly
reflective than others, to polish better, and to be freer
from tarnishing than others, so he hoped that there might
in time be found out some substances much freer from
these inconveniences than any yet known.” New¬
ton therefore laboured till he found a composition that
answered in some degree, and left it to those who
should come after him to find a better. Huygens, one
of the greatest geniuses of the age, and a distinguished
impnner of the refracting telescope, no sooner was in¬
formed by Mr Oldenburg of the discovery, than he
wrote in answer, “ that it was an admirable telescope j
and that Mr Newton had ivell considered the advantage
which a concave speculum had over convex glasses in
collecting the parallel rays, which, according to his own
calculation, was very great: Hence that Mr Newton
could give a far greater aperture to that speculum
than to an object glass of the same focal length, and
consequently produce a much greater magnifying power
than by an ordinary telescope. Besides, that by the re¬
flector he avoided an inconvenience inseparable from
Object glasses, which was the obliquity of both their sur¬
faces, which vitiated the refraction of the rays that jiass
towards the side of the glass : Again, That by the mere
reflection of the metalline speculum there were not so
many lays lost as in glasses, which reflected a consider¬
able quantity by each of their surfaces, and besides in¬
tercepted many of them by the obscurity of their sub¬
stance : That the main business would he to find a sub¬
stance for this speculum that would bear as good a po¬
lish as glass. Lastly, He believed that Mr Newton had
not omitted to consider the advantage which a para¬
bolic speculum would have over a spherical one in this
construction j but had despaired, as he himself had done,
of working other surfaces than spherical ones with ex¬
actness.” Huygens was not satisfied with thus expres¬
sing to the society his high approbation of the inven¬
tion ; but drew up a favourable account of the new te¬
lescope, which he published in the Journal des Sfavans
or 1672, by which channel it was soon known over
j Lurope.
Excepting an unsuccessful attempt which the society
made, by employing an artificer to imitate the Newto¬
nian construction, but upon a larger scale, and a dis¬
guised Gregorian telescope, set up by Cassegrain abroad
as a rival to Newton’s, no reflector was heard of for
nearly half a century after. But when that period was
r lapsed, a reflecting telescope of the Newtonian form
was at last produced by Mr Hadley, the inventor of the
reflecting quadrant. 'Hie two telescopes whicii Newton
had made were but six inches long j they were held in
the hand for viewing objects, and in power were com¬
pared to a six feet refractor ; whereas Hadley’s was
about five feet long, was provided with a well-contrived
apparatus for managing it, and equalled in performance
flie famous aerial telescope of Huygens of 123 feet in
I c s.
length.
199
*-< Excepting the manner of making the snprnlo rr ♦
we have, in the Philosophical Transactions of ^ a
complete description, with a figure of this telescope to-
gether with that of the machine for moving it : but’ bv
a strange omission, Newton’s name is not once mention-
faper’ s° that an7 Person not acquainted
with the history of the invention, and reading that ac¬
count only might be apt to conclude that Hadley had
been the sole inventor. J
The same celebrated artist, after finishing two tele-
scopes of the Newtonian construction, accomplished a
third of the Gregorian form ; hut, it would seem, less
successfully. Mr Hadley spared no pains to instruct Mr
Molyneux and the Reverend Dr Bradley j and when
those gentlemen had made a sufficient proficiency in the
art, being desirous that these telescopes should become
moie public, they liberally communicated to some of
the principal instrument-makers of London the know¬
ledge they had acquired from him.
. Ja.mIe.s S,^rt> as early as the year 1734, had
signalized himself at Edinburgh by the excellence of
his teJescopes. Mr Maclaunn wrote that year to Dr
. unn, that Mr Short, who had begun with making
glass specula, was then applying himself to improve the
metallic j and that by taking care of the figure, he
was enabled to give them larger apertures than others
bad done; and that upon the whole they surpassed in
perfection all that he had seen of other workmen.”
Ie added, that Mr Short’s telescopes were all of the
Gregorian construction ; and that he had much im¬
proved that excellent invention.” This character of
excellence Mr Short maintained to the last; and with
the more facility, as he was well acquainted with the
theory of optics. It was supposed that he had fallen
upon a method of giving the parabolic figure to his
great Rpecukm 5 a point of perfection that Gregory
and Newton had despaired of attaining ; and that Had¬
ley had never, as far as we know, attempted. Mr Short
indeed affirmed, that lie had acquired that faculty, hut
never would tell by what peculiar means he effected it;
so that the secret of working that configuration, what¬
ever it was, died with that ingenious artist. Mr Mudge,
however, has lately realized the expectation of Sir Isaac
Newton, who, above 100 years ago, presaged that the
public would one day possess a parabolic speculum, not
accomplished by mathematical rules, but by mechanical i
devices. ;
This was a desideratum, but it was not the only
want supplied by this gentleman : he has taught us
likewise a better composition of metals for the specu¬
la, how to grind them better, and how to give them a
finer polish ; and this last part (namely the polish)"
he remarks, was the most difficult and essential of the
whole operation. “ In a word (says Sir John Pringle),
I am of opinion, there is no optician in this great city
(which hath been so long, and so justly renowned for
ingenious and dexterous makers of every kind of ma¬
thematical instruments) so partial to his own abilities
as not to acknowledge, that Mr Mudge has opened to
them all some new and important lights, and has
greatly improved the art of making reflecting tele-Mr Ed
SCTSi”, f . wards’s"im-
ine late reverend and ingenious John Edwards1 de-Provements
voted much of his time to the improvement of1 re-ot the re*
fleeting telescopes, and brought them to such per-J^J16*
fection.
200
History.
• 87 „
Hci'schcl fi
improve¬
ments.
OPT
fection, Unit Dr Maskclync, (lie astronomer royal,
found telescopos constructed by him to surpass in
brightness, and other respects, those of the same size
made by the best artists in London. The duet ex¬
cellence of his telescopes arises from the composition,
which, from various trials on metals and semimetals,
he discovered for the specula, and from the true pa¬
rabolic figure, which, by long practice, he had iound
a method of giving them, preferable to any that was
known before him. His directions for the composition
of specula, and for casting, grinding, and polishing
them, were published, by order of the commissioners
of longitude, at the end of the Nautical Almanack
for the year 1787. To the same almanack is also an¬
nexed his account of the cause and cure of the tremors
which particularly affect reflecting telescopes more
than refracting ones, together with remarks on these
tremors by Dr Maskelyne. .
But in constructing reflecting telescopes of extra-
ordinary magnifying powers, Dr Herschel has display¬
ed skill and ingenuity surpassing all his predecessors in
this department of mechanics. He has made them
from 7, 10, 20, to even 40 feet in length*, and with
instruments of these dimensions he is now employed 111
making discoveries in astronomy. Of the construction,
magnifying powers, and the curious collection of ma¬
chinery by which his 40 feet telescope is supported and
moved from one part of the heavens to another, ac¬
counts will be given under the word Telescope.
The greatest improvement in refracting telescopes
hitherto made public is that of Mr Dollond, of which
an account has already been given in a preceding sec¬
tion, in which his discoveries in the science of Optics
were explained. But, besides the obligation we are
under to him for correcting the aberration of the rays
of light in the focus of object-glasses, he made another
considerable improvement in telescopes, viz. by correct¬
ing, in a great measure, both this kind of aberration,
and also that which arises from the spherical form of
lenses, by an expedient of a very different nature, viz.
increasing the number of eye-glasses.
Account of If ally person, says he, would have the visual angle
%Ir Dol- of a telescope to contain 20 degrees, the extreme pen-
lond’s im- cils of the field must be hent or refracted in an angle
of 10 degrees ; which, if it be performed by one eye¬
glass, will cause an aberration from the figure, in pro¬
portion to the cube of that angle 5 but if two glasses
be so proportioned and situated, as that the refraction
may be equally divided between them, they will each
of them produce a refraction equal to half the required
an Me j and therefore, the aberration being proportion¬
al “to the cube of half the angle taken twice over,
will be but a fourth part of that which is in propor¬
tion to the cube of the whole angle j because twice
the cube of one is but \ of the cube of 2 j so the aber¬
ration from the figure, where two eye-glasses are right¬
ly proportioned, is but a fourth of what it must, un¬
avoidably be, where the whole is performed by a single
eye-glass. By the same way of reasoning, when the
refraction is divided between three glasses, the. aber¬
ration will be found to be but the ninth part of what
would be produced from a single glass •, because three
times the cube of x is but one-ninth of the cube of 3.
Whence it aup' ..r\ that by increasing the number of
•eye-glasses, the indistinctness which is observed near the
5
prove-
ments
ICS.
borders of the field of a telescope way he very much <h-
minished. . . - ^
Tbe method of correcting the errors arising irom
the different refrangibility ot light is ot a different con¬
sideration from the former, lor, whereas the errors
from the figure can only be diminished in a certain
proportion according to the number of glasses, in this
they may be entirely corrected by the addition ot only
one glass. Also in the day-telescope, where no more
than two eye-glasses are absolutely necessary for erect¬
ing the object, we find, that by the addition of a third,
rightly situated, the colours, which would otherwise
make the image confused, are entirely removed. Hus,
however, is to be understood with some limitation : for
though the different colours into which the extreme
pencils must necessarily be divided by the edges of the
eye-glasses, may in this manner be brought to the eye
in a direction parallel to each other, so as to be made
to converge to a point on the retina j yet, it the glasses
exceed a certain length, the colours may be spread too
wide to be capable ot being admitted through the pu¬
pil or aperture of the eye j which is the reason, that m
loim telescopes, constructed in the common manner,
with three eye-glasses, the field is always very much
contracted.
These considerations first set Mr Dollond on contri¬
ving how to enlarge the field, by increasing the num¬
ber of eye-glasses without affecting the distinctness or
brightness of the image •, and though others bad been
about the same work before, yet, observing that some
five-glass telescopes which Avere then made Avould ad¬
mit of farther improvement, be endeavoured to con¬
struct one with the same number of glasses in a better
manner \ which so far answered his expectations, as to
be allowed by the best judges to be a considerable im¬
provement on the former.
Encouraged by this success, he resolved to try if he
could not make some farther enlargement of the field,
by the addition of another glass, and by placing and
proportioning the glasses in such a manner as to cor-
reel the aberrations as much as possible, without inju¬
ring tbe distinctness ; and at last he obtained as large.a
field as is convenient or necessary, and that even in
the longest telescopes that can be made.
These telescopes Avith six glasses having been Avell
received, and some of them being carried into foreign
countries, it seemed a proper time to the author to
settle tbe date of his invention; on Avbich account he
drew up a letter, which he addressed to Mr Short, and
Avhich Avas read at the Royal Society, March 1. 1753' 89
To Mr Short we are indebted for the excellent con-Equatoj
trivance of an equatorial telescope, or, as he likewise
called it, a portable observatory; for with it pretty ac- observa
curate observations may be made Avith very little trouble, tory,
by those avIio have no building adapted to the purpose.
The instrument consists of a piece of machinery, by
Avhich a telescope mounted upon it may be directed to
any degree of right ascension or declination, so that the
place of any of the heavenly bodies being known, they
may be found Avithout any trouble, even in the day-time.
As it is made to turn parallel to the equator, any object
is easily kept in vIcav, or recovered, without moving the
eye from its situation. By this instrument most of tbe
stars of the first and second magnitude have been seen
even at mid-day, Avhen the sun Avas shining bright 5 as
also
OPT
History, also More my, Venus, and Jupiter. Saturn and Mars
’—are not so easy to be seen, on account of the faintness of
their light, except when the sun is but a few hours above
the horizon. This particular effect depends upon the
telescope excluding almost all the light, except what
comes from the object itself, and which might other¬
wise efface the impression made by its weaker light upon
the eye. Any telescope of the same magnifying power
would have the same effect, could we be sure of pointing
it right. Mr Ramsden invented a portable or equatori¬
al telescope, which may perhaps supersede the use of Mr
Short’s.
In order to see the fixed stars in the day-time, it is
9°
How to ob-
Slsin'tbenece.ssary to exclmle the extraneous light "as much as
^ay-time.
9^
M. Epi-
sus’s pro¬
posal for
bending
the tubes
of tele¬
scopes.
. 92
History of
micro¬
scopes.
possible. For this reason the greater the magnifying
power of any telescope is, the more easily a fixed'star
will be distinguished in the day-time ; the light of the
star remaining the same in all magnifying powers of the
same telescope, but the ground upon which it is seen
becoming darker by increasing the magnifying power ;
and the visibility of a star depends very much upon
the difference between its own light anil that of the
ground upon which it is observed. A fixed star will be
very nearly equally visible with telescopes of very dif¬
ferent apertures, provided the magnifying power remains
the same.
M. iEpinus proposes to bend the tubes of long tele¬
scopes at right angles, fixing a plane mirror in the an¬
gular point, in order to make them more commodious
for viewing objects near the zenith ; and he gives par¬
ticular instructions how to make them in this form, es¬
pecially when they are furnished with micrometers. We
are also informed that a little plane speculum is some¬
times placed betwixt the last eye-glass and the eye in
the reflecting telescopes, at an angle of 45°, for the
same purpose.
The invention of Microscopes was not mhch later
than that of-telescopes j and, according to Borellus, we
are indebted for them to the same author, at least to
Zacharias Jansen, in conjunction with his son.
The Jansens, however, have not always enjoyed,
undisturbed, that share of reputation to which they
•seem to be entitled, with respect either to the telescope
or the microscope. The discovery of the latter, in par¬
ticular, has generally been considered as more uncer¬
tain than that of the former. All that many Writers
say we can depend upon is, that microscopes were first
used in Germany about the year 1621. Others say
positively, that this instrument was the contrivance of
Cornelius Drebell, a man of ingenuity, who also invent¬
ed the thermometer.
According to Borellus, Zacharias Jansen and his son
presented the first microscopes they had constructed to
Prince Maurice, and Albert archduke of Austria. Wil¬
liam Borell,whogives this account in a lettter to his brother
Peter, says, that when he was ambassador in England, in
1619, Cornelius Drebell, with whom hewas intimatelyac-
quainted, showed him a microscope, which he said Was the
iMic/ same that the archduke had given him, and had been made
'■ude'tiy0^6 ^ Jansen himself. This instrument was not so short as
lansen. they are generally made at present, hut was six feet long,
consisting of a tube of gilt copper, an inch in diameter,
supported by three brass piilarsinthe shape of dolphins, on
a base of ebony, on which the small objects were placed.
Vol. XV. Part I. i
93
I c s.
This microscope was evidently a compound one
rather something betwixt a telescope and a microscope •
so that it is possible that single microscopes might have
been known, and in use, some time before : hut perhaps
nobody thought of giving that name to single lenses •
though, from the first use of lenses, they could not
but have been used for the purpose of magnifyW
small objects. In this sense we have seen, that even
the ancients were in possession of microscopes ; and it
appears from Jamblicus and Plutarch, quoted by Dr
Rogers, that they gave such instruments as they used
for this purpose the name of dioptra. At what time
lenses were made so small as we now generally use them
for magnifying in single microscopes, we have not found.
But as this must necessarily have been done gradually
the only proper object of inquiry is the invention of the*
double microscope j and this is clearly given, by the
evidence of Borellus above mentioned, to Z Jansen or
his son.
The invention of compound microscopes is claimed
by the same Fontana who arrogated to himself the dis¬
covery of telescopes ; and though he did not publish
any account of this invention till the year 1646 (not¬
withstanding he pretended to have made the discovery
m 1618), Montucla, from not attending perhaps to the
testimony of Borellus, is willing to allow his claim, as
he thought there was no other person who seemed to
have any better title to it.
Eustachio Divini made microscopes with two com- By DWini.
mon object-glasses, and two plano-convex eye-glasses
joined together on their convex sides so as to meet in
a point. The tube in which they were inclosed was
very large, and the eye-glasses almost as broad as the
palm of a man’s hand. Mr Oldenburg, secretary to the
Royal Society, received an account of this instrument
from Rome, and read ft at one of their meetings, Au¬
gust 6. 1668.
It fvas about this time that Hartsoeker improved sin T?v Uart-
gle microscopes, by using small globules of glass, made socker.
by melting them in the flame of a candle, instead of the
lenses which had before been made use of for that pur¬
pose. By this means he fii'st discovered the animalcula
in setnine •masctllino, which gave rise to a new system
of generation. A microscope of this kind, consisting of
a globule of th of an inch in diameter, M. Iluygms
demonstrated to magnify 100 times; and since it is
easy to make them of less than half a line in diameter,
they may be made to magnify 300 times. - ^
But no man distinguished himself so much by micro- By Leeu-
scopical discoveries as the famous M. Leeuwenhoek, wenlioek.
though be used only single lenses with short foci, prefer¬
ring distinctness of vision to a large magnifying power.
M. Leeuwenhoek’s microscopes were all single ones,
each of them consisting of a small double convex tjlass,
set in a socket between two silver plates rivetted toge¬
ther, and pierced with a small hole; and the object
was fixed on the point of a needle, which could be
placed at any distance from the lens. If the objects
were solid, he fastened them with glue ; and if they
were fluid, or required to he spread upon glass, fie
placed them on a small piece of Muscovy talc, or thin
glass ; which he afterwards glued to his needle. He
had, however, a different apparatus for viewing the cir¬
culation of the blood, which he could attach to the same
microscopes.
Cc m
202
History.
OPT
M. Leeuwenhoek bequeathed the greatest part of his
- microscopes to the Royal Society ihey were placed
in a small Indian cabinet, in the drawets ol which
were 13 little boxes, each oi which contained two nu
croscopes, neatly tilted up in silver. 1 1 ^
The glass of all these lenses is exceedingly clear, but
none of them magnities so much as those g 0,n..
which are frequently used in other microscopes Mr
Folkes, who examined them, thought that t icy s owe
Sects’with much greater distinctness a circu~
which M. Leeuwenhoek principally valued. His disco
veries however, are to be ascribed not so much to the
Imoless of his’ glasses, as to his great experience in
"’Mr Baker, ivlio also examined these microscopes, and
reported concerning them to the iW, Society found
97
■Wilson’s
that the greatest nmgnifier enlarged the diameter of an
about .60 times, but that all the rest e much
short of that power. He therefore concluded that M.
Leeuwenhoek must have had othermicroscopesof amuch
trreater magnifying power for many of Ins discoveries.
It appears from M. Leeuwenhoek’s writings, that
lie was not unacquainted with the method of viewing
opaque objects by means of a small concave rc ec .ng
mirror, which was afterwards improved by M. Lie-
berkhun. For, after describing his apparatus lor view¬
ing eels in glass tubes, he adds, that he had an instru¬
ment to which he screwed a microscope set in brass
upon which microscope he fastened a little dish of brass,
probably that his eye might be thereby assisted to see
objects better; for he says he had filed the brass
which was round his microscope as bright as he could,
that the light, while he was viewing objects, might
be reflected from it as much as possible. This micro¬
scope, with its dish, is constructed upon principles so
similar to those which are the foundation of our sing e
microscope by reflection (see Microscope,) that it may
well be supposed to have given the hint to the ingeni¬
ous inventor of it. ...
„ jn 1 <702*Mr Wilson made several ingenious improve-
micioscope ments in the method of using single magnifiers for the
purpose of viewing transparent objects ; and his micro¬
scope, which is also a necessary part of the solar micro¬
scope, is in very general use at this day, (See Micrq-
oS scope, sect. 1.) , .p, i o * . 4.1
Adams’s In 1710, Mr Adams gave to the Royal Society the
method of f0l]0wing account of his method ot making small glo-
makingglo-^ |ar„e magnifiers. He took a piece of fine
toS SL- window-glass, and cut it with a diamond into several
Eiricrs. slips, not exceeding i ot an inch in breadth; then,
boldine- one of them between the fore finger and thumb
of each hand over a very fine flame, till the glass began
to soften, he drew it out till it was as fine as a hair,
and broke ; then putting each of the ends into tlie purest
part of the flame, he had two globules, which he could
increase or diminish at pleasure. If they were held a
long time in the flame, they would-have spots on them,
so that he drew them out immediately after they be¬
came round. He broke off the stem as near to the
globule as he could, and lodging the remainder between
the plates, in which holes were drilled exactly round,
the microscope, he says, performed to admiration.
Through these magnifiers the same thread of very fine
muslin appeared three or four times bigger than it did
in the largest of Mr Wilson’s magnifiers*
3
I c s.
The ingenious Mr Grey hit upon a very easy expe- History,
dient to make very good temporary microscopes, at a <
very little expence. They consist of nothing but smal Tem^
drops of water taken up with the point of a pin, and put microscopes 1
into a small hole made in a piece of metal. 1 hese glo- by Mr
bales of water do not, indeed, magnify so much as those Grey,
which are made of glass of the same size, because the
refractive power of water is not so great; hut the same
purpose will be answered nearly as well by making them
somewhat smaller. . ...
The same ingenious person, observing that sma l he¬
terogeneous particles inclosed in the glass of which mi¬
croscopes are made, were much magnified when those
glasses were looked through, thought of making his mi¬
croscopes of water that contained living ammalcula, to
see how they would look in this new situation ; and he
found his scheme to answer beyond his expectation, so
that he could not even account for their being magnified
so much as they were : for it was much more than they
would have been magnified if they had been placed be¬
yond the globule, in the proper place for viewing objects.
Rut Montucla observes, that, when any object is inclosed
within this small transparent globule, the hinder part
of it acts like a concave mirror, provided they be situ¬
ated between that surface and the focus; and that, by
this means, they are magnified above times more
than they would have been in the usual way. I00
Temporary microscopes of a different kind have been Micro-
constructed by Dr Brewster. They were composed of scopes of
turpentine varnish, which was formed into a piano-con-turpentine
vex lens, by laying a drop of it upon a piece of plain by ^
glass : the under surface of the glass was then smoked, Brewster,
and the black pigment removed immediately below the
fluid lens. These lens lasted for a long time, and shewed
objects distinctly, even when combined into a compound
microscope. Sac Appendix to Ferguson s Lectures^ vol. 11.
and Microscope, p. 19. _
After the successful construction of the reflecting te- Reflecting
lescope, it was natural to expect that attempts would microscope
also be made to render a similar service to microscopes.
Accordingly we find two plans of this kind, ffhe first
was that of Dr Robert Barker. His instrument differs 1
in nothing from the reflecting telescope, excepting the
distance of the two speculums, in order to adapt it to
those pencils of rays which enter the microscope diverg¬
ing ; whereas they come to the telescope from very di¬
stant objects nearly parallel to each other.
This microscope is not so easy to manage as those.ol
the common kind. For vision by reflection, as it is
much more perfect, so it is far more difficult than that
by refraction. Nor is this microscope so useful tor any
but very small or transparent objects. For the object,
being between the speculum and image, would, it it
were large and opaque, prevent a due reflection, 1Q1
Dr Smith invented a double reflecting microscope, Dr Smith’
of which a theoretical and practical account is given in reflecting
his remarks at the end of the second volume of his Sy-nucroscopj
stem of Optics. As it is constructed on principles dif-
ferent from all others, and in the opinion of some, su¬
perior to them all, the reader will not be displeased
with the following practical description.
A section of this microscope is shewn in fig. 2. wuere plate
ABC and abc are two specula, the former concave, andcccix^1
the latter convex, inclosed within the tube DEFG. J'
The speculum ABC is perforated, and the object to be
viewed
OPT
History, viewed is so placed betweert the centre and principal
v' focus of that speculum, that the rays flowing from it to
ABC are reflected towards an image p q. ^But before
that image is formed, they are intercepted by the con¬
vex speculum a b and thence reflected through the
hole BC in the vertex of the concave to a second image
w *, to be viewed through an eye-glass /. The object
may either be situated between the two specula, or,
which is perhaps better, between the principal focus
and vertex c of the convex speculum abc,a. small hole
being made in its vertex for the transmission of the in¬
cident rays. When the microscope is used, let the ob¬
ject be included between two little round plates of
Muscovy-glass, fixed in a hole of an oblong brass plate
um, intended to slide close to the back side of the con¬
vex speculum : which must therefore be ground flat on
that side, and so thin that the object may come pre¬
cisely to its computed distance from the vertex of the
speculum. The slider must be kept tight to the back
of the metal by a gentle spring. The distance of the
object being thus determined, distinct vision to different
eyes, and through different eye-glasses, must be procur¬
ed by a gentle motion of the little tubes that contain
these glasses. These tubes must be made in the usual
form of those that belong to Sir Isaac Newton’s reflect¬
ing telescope, having a small hole in the middle of each
plate, at the ends of the tube, situated exactly in each
tocus of the glass : The use of these holes and plates is
to limit the visible area, and prevent any straggling rays
from entering the eye. To the tube of the eye-glass is
fastened the arm g, on which the adjusting screw turns.
A similar arm u is attached to the fixed tube X, in which
the neck of the screw turns ; and by turning the button
?/, the eye-tube is moved farther from or nearer to the
object, by which means different sorts of eyes obtain di¬
stinct vision.
The rays which flow from the object directly through
the hole in the concave speculum and through the
eye-glass, by mixing with the reflected rays, would
dilute the image on the retina, and therefore must be
intercepted. This is done by a very simple contri¬
vance. The little hole in the convex speculum is
ground conical as in the figure ; and a conical solid P,
of which the base is larger than the orifice in the back
of the convex speculum, supported on the slender pil¬
lar PQ, is so placed as to intercept all the direct fays
irom the eye-glass. The tubes are strongly blacked on
their insides, and likewise the conical solid, to hin¬
der all reflection of rays upon the convex speculum.
I he little base, too, of the solid should be made concave,
that whatever light it may still reflect, may be thrown
back upon the object j and its back-side being conical
and blacked all over, will either absorb br laterally
disperse any straggling rays which the concave specu-
hun may scatter upon it, and so prevent their coming
to the eye-glass.
Notwithstanding the interposition of this conical
solid, yet when the eye-glass is taken out, distant ob¬
jects may be distinctly seen through the microscope,
by rays reflected from the metals, and diverging upon
the eye from an image behind the convex speculum.
But this mixture of foreign rays with those of the ob¬
ject, which is common to all kinds of microscopes in
viewing transparent objects, is usuallv prevented by
I c s.
203
placing before the object a thick double convex lens /, History,
to col ect the sky light exactly upon the object. This v—v—
lens should be just so broad as to subtend the opposite
angle to that which the concave speculum subtends at
the object. The annular frame of the lens must be
very narrow, and connected with the microscope by two
or three slender wires or blades, whose planes produced
may pass through the object, and intercept from it as
little sky light as possible.
This is not the place for explaining the principles of
this microscope, or demonstrating its superiority over
most others * nor are such explanation and demonstra¬
tion necessary. Its excellence, as well as the principles
upon which it is constructed, will be perceived by the
reader, when he has made himself master of the laws of
retraction and reflection as laid down in the sequel of
this article.
M. Lieberkuhn, in 1738 or 1739, made two capi-SoIar°nii-
tai improvements in microscopes, by the invention of the croscope>
solar microscope, and the microscope for opaque objects.and that
VVhen he was in England in the winter of 1739 he ^ °paqUe
showed an apparatus for each of these purposes, made J
by himself, to several gentlemen of the Royal Society
as well as to some opticians.
The microscope for opaque objects remedies tlie in¬
convenience of having the dark side of an object next
the eye. For by means of a concave speculum of sil¬
ver, highly polished, in the centre of which a magni¬
fying lens is placed, the object is so strongly illumi¬
nated that it may be examined with all imaginable ease
and pleasure. A convenient apparatus of this kind,
with four different specula and magnifiers of different
powers, was brought to perfection by Mr Cuff in Fleet-
street. M. Lieberkuhn made considerable improvements
in his solar microscope, particularly in adapting it to
the view of opaque objects ; but in what manner this
was effected, M, AEpinus, who was highly entertained
with the performance, and who mentions the fact, was
not able to recollect ; and the death of the ingenious
inventor prevented his publishing any account of it
himself. M. ./Epinus invites those who came into the
possession of M. Lieberkuhn’s apparatus to publish an
account of this instrument •, but it does not appear that
his method was ever published.
This improvement of M. Lieberkuhn’s induced M.
iEpinus himself to attend to the subject; and he thus
produced a very valuable improvement in this instru¬
ment. For by throwing the light upon the foreside of
any object by means of a mirror, before it is transmit¬
ted through the object lens, all kinds of objects are
equally well represented by it. I04
M. Euler proposed to introduce vision by reflected Reflected
light into the magic lantern and solar microscope, by il}tro“
which many inconveniences to which those instruments dj^^d.int0
are subject might be avoided. For this purpose, he says, scope an(f
that nothing is necessary but a large concave mirror, magic lan-
perforated as for a telescope ; and the light should betern-
so situated, that none of it may pass directly through
the perforation, so as to fall on the images of the objects
upon the screen. He proposes to have four different
machines, for objects of different sizes ; the first for those
of six feet long, the second for those of one foot, the
third for those,of two inches, and the fourth for those of
two lines j but it is needless to be particular in the de-
C c 2 scription
OPT
sci'iption of tjiesc, os more perfect Instalments are <le-
scribed under the article Microscope. -us
Several improvements were made m the PP
to the solar microscope, as adapted to vie^ P 1
obiects, by M. Zeiher, who made one construction lor
the larger kind of objects, and another lor the small
ivr • liar- Mr Martin having constructed a solar microscope o
tin’s im" a larger size than common, for his own use, tlie ^ “im¬
provement natifg lens being finches m diameter ^ f \a
in the solar her ts of the Instrument in proportion, found, that
microscope. of an additional part, which he does not
describe, he could see even opaque objects very well.
If he had made the lens any larger, he was aware that
the heat produced at the focus would have been too
great for most objects to bear. Ihe expemce of tins
instrument, he says, does not much exceed the price of
the common solar microscope.
Di Torre's The smallest globules, and consequently the greate
extraordi- magnifiers, for microscopes, that have yet been execu-
Jiary mag- tet1 were made bv T. Di Tbrre of Naples, who, m
Hityin, nil- ’ sent four Gf them to the Royal boeiety. Ihe
Cr0SC°Pe- JJk of them was only two Paris, points in diameter
and it was said to magnify the diameter of an object
6dO times. The second was the size of- one Paris point,
and the third, was no more than half of a I aris pom ,
or the 144th part of an inch in diameter, and was saul
to magnify the diameter of an object 2560.times. One
r ’°7 f of these globules was wanting when they came into the
1c ted by hands of Mr Raker, to whose examination they were
Mr Baker, submitted by the Royal Society. Ibis gentleman, how-
I c s. r t
ever, was not able to my, W* of these. With
that which magnifies the least, ho was not able to stt
anv obiect with satisfaction •, and he concludes his
count with expressing his hopes only, that, as eyes
had been much used to microscopes, they were not in¬
jured by the attention be had given to them, thong
believed there were few persons who would not have
^ The construetion of a telescope with six eye-glasses
led M. Euler to a similar construction of microscopes,
by introducing into them six lenses, one of which ad.
mits of: so small an aperture, as to serve, instead of a
diaphragm,, to exclude all foreign light, though, as he
says, it neither lessens the field of view, nor the bright-
ness o£ objects. . ,
The improvement of all dioptric instruments is great- Difficultie.
W impeded by inequalities in the substance ol the glass attend,,
of which they are formed *, but though many at 'V n \ stniction ol
have been made to make glass without that i®]?61-dioptric in
feet ion none of them have been hitherto quite eitec- stniments,
tual. M. A, D. Merklein, having found some glass
which had been melted when a building was on hre,
and which proved to make excellent object-glasses tor
telescopes, concluded; that its peculiar goodness arose
from its not having been disturbed when it was in a
fluid state ; and therefore he proposed to take the metal
out of the furnace in iron vessels, of the same form
that was wanted for the glass •, and alter it had, beea
perfectly fluid in those vessels, to let it stand to cool,
without any disturbance. This, however, is not always-
found to answer.
PART I. THEORY OF OPTICS.
THE science of optics is commoply divided into
three parts, Dioptrics, which treats ot the laws ol ie-
fraction, and the phenomena depending upon them •,
Catoptrics, which treats of the laws of reflection, and
the phenomena connected with them y and, lastly,
Chromatics, which treats of the phenomena of colour.
But this division is of no use in a treatise of Optics, as
most of the phenomena depend both on refraction and
reflection, colour itself not excepted. For this reason,
though we have given detached articles under the words
Dioptrics, Catoptrics, and Chromatics-, we have
reserved for this place the explanation of the laws of
reflection and refraction,, by, which all optical phenome¬
na may be explained.
Chap. I. On Light.
Under the article Light we have given some ac¬
count of the controversies concerning its nature. The
opinions of philosophers may, in general, be arranged
under these two : 1. That light is produced by the un-
Dif&rent. dnlations of an elastic fluid, nearly in the same manner
•pinions as sound is produced by the undulations of the air.
concerning This opinion was first offered to the public by Des
the nature (\irteSj and. afterwards by Mr Huygens. It was re-
011,ght vived by Euler., and has lately, found an able and inge¬
nious defender in Dr Thomas Young.—2d, That the
phenomena of vision are produced by the motion and
action of matter emitted from the shining body with
immense velocity, moving uniformly in straight lines,
and acted on by other bodies ; so as to he reflected, ic-
fracted, or inflected, in various ways, by means of forces
which act on it in the same manner as on other inert
matter. Sir Isaac Newton has ably shown the dissimila¬
rity between the phenomena of vision and the legitimate
consequences of the undulations of an elastic fluid. All
M. Euler’s ingenious and laborious discussions have not
removed Newton’s objections in the smallest degree.
Sir Is‘<jp.c adopts the vulgar opinion, therefore, because
the difficulties attending this opinion are not inconsistent
with the established principles of mechanics, and are
merely difficulties of conception to limited 1 acuities like
qurs. We need not despair of being able to decide, by
experiment, which of these opinions is nearest to the
truth because there are phenomena where the result
should be sensibly different in the two hypotheses. At
present, we shall content ourselves with giving some ac¬
count of the legitimate consequences of the vulgar opi¬
nion, as modified by Sir Isaac Newton, viz. that light
consists of small particles emitted with very great velo¬
city, and attracted or repelled by other bodies at very .
small distances. „ . U1 in straig-
Every visible body emits or reflects inconceivably liues froi
small particles of matter from each point of its surface, each p01;
which issue from it continually, not unlike sparks from in a
a coal, in straight lines and in all directions. These nous
particleslace-
Theory.
infraction, particles entering, tlie eye, ami striking upon the retina
(an expansion ot the optic nerve over the back part of
the eye to receive their impulses), excite in our minds
the idea of light. And according as they differ in sub¬
stance, density, velocity, or magnitude, they produce in
us the ideas of different colours j as will be explained
in its proper place.
That the particles which constitute light are exceed¬
ingly small, appears from this, that if a hole be made
through a piece of paper with a needle, ravs of light
fi om eveiy object on the farther side ol it are callable
or being transmitted through it at once without the least
confusion j for any one ot those objects may as clearly
be seen through it, as if no rays passed through it from
any of the rest. Besides, if a candle is lighted, and
there be no obstacle in the way to obstruct the progress
of its rays, it will fill all the space within some miles of
it every way with luminous particles, before it has lost
the least sensible part of its substance in consequence of
this copious emission.
It is evident that these particles proceed from every
point of the surface of a visible body, and in all di¬
rections, because wherever a spectator is placed with
regard to the body,, every point of that part of the
surface which is turned towards him is visible. That
they proceed from the body in right lines, we are as¬
sured, because just so many and no more will be inter¬
cepted in their passage to any place by an interposed
object, as that object ought to intercept, supposing them
to come in such lines.
'Ihe velocity with which they proceed from the sur¬
face of the visible body is no less surprising than their
minuteness : the method by which philosophers estimate
their velocity, is by observations made on the eclipses
of Jupiter’s satellites; which eclipses appear to us about
seven minutes sooner than they ought to do by calcula¬
tion, when the eaith is placed between the sun and him,
that is, when we are nearest to him; and as much later,
when the sun is between him and us, at which time we
are farthest from him. Hence it is concluded, that they
require about seven minutes to pass over a space equal
to the distance of the earth from the sun.
A stream of these particles issuing from the surface
of a visible body in one and the same direction, is called
a rat/ of light.
As rays proceed from a visible body in all directions,
they necessarily become thinner and thinner, continually
spreading themselves as they pass along into a larger
space, and that in proportion to the squares of their
distances from the body ; that is, at the distance of two
spaces, they are four times thinner than they are at one;
at the distance of three spaces, nine times thinner, and
so on.
^ Chap. II. On Refraction.
teflaction _ Light, when proceeding from a luminous body, is
ne" invariably found to proceed in straight lines, without the
least deviation. But, if it happens to pass obliquely from
one medium to another, it always leaves the direction
it had before, and assumes a new one; and this change
of course is called its refraction. After having taken
this new direction, it then proceeds invariably in a
straight line till it meets with a different medium, when
it is again turned out of its course. It must be observed^,
OPTIC S.
205
however, that though by this means we may'cause the Cause ot
rays of light to make any number of angles in their Refraction•
course, it is impossible to make diem describe a curve, v——
except in one single ease, namely, where they pass
through a medium, the density of which uniformly either
increases or decreases. This is the case with the light of
the celestial bodies, which passes downwards through our
atmosphere, and likewise with that which is reflected up¬
wards through it bv terrestrial objects. In both these
cases, it describes a curve of the hyperbolic kind; but at
all other times it proceeds in straight lines, or in what
may be taken for straight lines, without anysensible error^
Sect. I. On the cause of Refraction, and the Latv by
which it is performed.
The phenomena of refraction are explained by an at-
traetive power in the medium through which light pas-0f refrac6”*
ses, in the following manner. All bodies being endow-tion solved
ed with an attractive force, which is extended to some^yan. at'
distance beyond their surfaces; when a ray of light nas-tracUT®
ses out ot a rarer into a denser medium (it this latter me_
has a greater attractive force than the former, as is com-diuni.
monly the case), the ray, just before its entrance, will
begin to be attracted towards the denser medium; and
this attraction will continue to act upon it, till some
time after it has entered the medium; and therefore, if
a ray approaches a denser medium in a direction perpen¬
dicular to its surface, its velocity will be continually ac¬
celerated during its passage through the space in which
that attraction exerts itself; and therefore, after it lias
passed that space, it will move on, till it arrive at the
opposite side of the medium, with a greater degree of
velocity than, it had before it entered. So that in this
case its velocity only will he altered. Whereas, if a
ray enters a denser medium obliquely, it will not only
have its velocity augmented thereby, hut its direction
will become less oblique to the surface. Just as when
a stone is thrown downwards obliquely from a precipice,
it falls to the surface of the ground in a direction near¬
er to a perpendicular one, than that with which it was
thrown from the hand. Hence we see a ray of light,
in passing out of a rarer into a denser medium, is
refracted towards the perpendicular; that is, supposing
a line drawn perpendicularly to the surface of the me¬
dium, through the point where the ray enters, and ex¬
tended both ways, the ray in passing through the sur¬
face is refracted or bent towards the perpendicular line;
or, which is the same thing, the line which it describes
by its motion after it has passed through the surface,
makes a less angle with the perpendicular, than the line
which is described before. These positions may he il¬
lustrated in the following manner.
Let us suppose first, that the ray passes out of a va- piatc
cuum into the denser medium ABCD (fig. 3,), and ccclxxvii
that the attractive force of each particle in the medium rig*3*
is extended from its respective centre to a distance
equal to that which is between the lines AB and EF,
or AB and GH; and let KL be the path described by
a ray of light in its progress towards the denser me¬
dium. This ray, when it arrives at L, will enter the
sphere of attraction of those particles which lie in AB
the surface of the denser medium, and will therefore
cease to proceed any longer in the right line KXM, hut
will be diverted from its course by being attracted to¬
wards
206
OPTICS.
Part I,
Cause of wards the line AB, and will begin to describe the curve
Refraction, passing through the surface AB in some new tu-
' v rection, as OQ •, making a less angle with a line 1 it,
‘drawn perpendicularly through the point JN, than it
would have done had it proceeded in its first direction
KLM. . , r ,
As we have supposed the attractive force ot each par¬
ticle to be extended through a space equal to the di¬
stance between AB and EF, it is evident that the ray,
after it has entered the surface, will still be attracted
downwards, till it has arrived at the line Er tor, till
then, there will not be so many particles above it
which will attract it upwards, as below, that vyill attract
it downwards. So that after it has entered the surtace
at N, in the direction OQ, it will not proceed in that
direction, but will continue to describe a curve, as NS;
after which it will proceed straight on towards the op¬
posite side of the medium, being attracted equa. y
every way; and therefore will at last proceed in the
direction XST, still nearer the perpendicular PH than
before.
If we suppose ABZY not to be a vacuum, but a ra¬
rer medium than the other, the case will still be the
same; but the ray will not be so much refracted irom
its rectilineal course, because the attraction of the par¬
ticles of the upper medium being in a contrary direc¬
tion to that of the attraction of those in the lower one,
the attraction of the denser medium will in some mea¬
sure be destroyed by that of the rarer.
When a ray, on the contrary, passes out of a denser
into a rarer medium, if its direction be perpendicular to
the surface of the medium, it will only lose somewhat
of its velocity, in passing through the spaces of attrac¬
tion of that medium (that is, the space wherein it is at¬
tracted more one way than it is another). If its direc¬
tion be oblique, it will continually recede from the per¬
pendicular during its passage, and by that means, have its
obliquity increased, just as a stone thrown up obliquely
from the surface of the earth increases its obliquity all
the time it rises. Thus, supposing the ray TS passing
out of the denser medium A BCD into the rarer
ABZY, when it arrives at S it will begin to be attract¬
ed downwards, and so will describe the curve SNL, and
then proceed in the right line LK; making a larger
angle with the perpendicular PR, than the line ISXm
which it proceeded during its passage through the other
medium. .
We may here make a general observation on the for¬
ces which produce this deviation of the rays of light
from their original path. They arise from the joint
action of all the particles of the body which are suffi¬
ciently near the particle of light; that is, whose distance
from it is not greater than the line AE or GA; and
therefore the whole force which acts on a particle in its
different situations between the planes GH and EF, fol¬
lows a very different law from the force exerted by one
particle of the medium.
The space through which the attraction of cohesion
of the particles of matter is extended is so very small,
that in considering the progress of a ray of light out of
one medium into another, the curvature it describes in
passing through the space of attraction is generally
neglected; and its path is supposed to be bent or re¬
fracted, only in the point where it enters the denser
medium*
Now the line which a ray describes before it enters Law of
a denser or a rarer medium, is called the incident ray; Refraction,
and that which it describes after it has entered, is the
refracted ray. . .,
The angle comprehended between the incident ray
and the perpendicuiar, is the angle of incidence; and
that between the refracted ray and the perpendicular, is
the angle of refraction.
There is a certain and immutable law, by which
refraction is always performed; which is this: A^hat-
ever inclination a ray of light has to the suiface of
any medium before it enters it, the degree ot retiac¬
tion will always be such, that the sme of the angle of
incidence and that of the angle of refraction, will always
have a constant ratio to one another in that medium. p]ate
To illustrate this: Let us suppose ABLD (hg. 4 ) ccclxxvi:
to represent a rarer, and ABEt a denser medium . let fig- 4*
GH be a ray of light passing through the first and en¬
tering the second at H, and let HI be the refracted
ray: then supposing the perpendicular PR drawn through
the point H, on the centre H, and with any radius, de¬
scribe the circle ABPR; and from G and I, where the
incident and refracted rays cut the circle, let tail the
lines GK and IL perpendicularly upon the line 1 R \
the former of these will be the sine of the angle ot in¬
cidence, the latter of refraction. Now if in this case
the rav GII is so refracted at H, that GK is double or
triple,'&c. of IL, then, whatever other inclination the
ray GH might have had, the sine ot its angle ot inci¬
dence would have been double or triple, &c. to that ot
its angle of refraction. I or instance, had the ray pas¬
sed in the line MH before refraction, it would have pas¬
sed in some line as HN afterwards, so situated that MO
should have been double or triple, &c. of NQ. _ _
The following table contains the refractive densities
of several bodies.
Diamond, - 2.500
Flint glass, - 115^5
Plate glass, - i*5°2
Crown glass, - I*525
Sulphuric acid, - 1*435
Solution of potash, I*39c^
Olive oil, - 1.469
Alcohol, - i-37°
Atmospheric air, 1.000276
Ice, - - I-3I
Water, - - I-336
This relation of the sine of the angle of incidence to
that of refraction, which is a proposition of the most ex¬
tensive use in explaining the optical phenomena on phy¬
sical or mechanical principles, may be demonstrated in
the following easy and familiar manner.
Lemma I.
The augmentations or diminutions of the squares
of the velocities produced by the uniform ac¬
tion of accelerating or retarding forces, are pro¬
portional to the forces, and to the spaces along
which they act, jointly ; or are proportional to
the products of the forces multiplied by the
spaces.
Let two bodies be uniformly accelerated from a state
of rest in the points Ac, along the spaces AB, a ilS'3
OPTIC
ms-
Theory.
Law of the accelerating forces F f, and let AC, a c, be
Refraction, spaces described in equal times; it is evident from
I'1 * ^ what has been saul under the articles Gravity and
acceleration, tliat because these spaces are describ¬
ed with motions uniformly accelerated, AC and a c are
respectively the halves of the spaces which would be
uniformly described during the same time with the ve¬
locities acquired at C and r, and are therefore measures
oi these velocities. And as these velocities are uni¬
formly acquired in equal times, they are measures of
the accelerating forces. Therefore, AC : «c=z:F :
Also, from the nature of uniformly accelerated motion*
the spaces are proportional to the squares of the acqui¬
red velocities. Therefore, (using the symbols v^C,
\/ c, &c. to express the squares of the velocities at
C r, &c.) we have
V1 ft : v/’ C-AB : AC
v/’C : -y/2 c—AC2 : at*
\/2 c : x/* c : ab
Therefore, by equality of compound ratios
V* B : AB X AC : x i* c, =:AB x F
And in like manner V/i D : v/2^ v/ AD x F
and v/* B—^ D : b—^Z2 (/—BD X F
Q. E. D.
Corollary. If the forces are as the spaces in¬
versely, the augmentations or diminutions of the squares
of the velocities are equal.
Remark. It D B, db, be taken extremely small, the
products BD X* and b dXf may be called the momen-
taiy actions of the forces, or the momentary increments
of the squares of the velocities. It is usually expressed,
by the writers on the higher mechanics, by the symbol
j s, ov f d s, wherey means the accelerating force, and
/ ?r ds means the indefinitely small space along which
u. is umfoimly exerted. And the proposition is expres¬
sed by the fluxionary equation fs=vv because vv is
half the increment oft;*, as is well known.
s.
20J
■ abxf.
ad X r;
: bdxf.
Lemma II.
wxxvn.^ a Part*c^e °f matter, moving with any velocity
fig. 6. along the line AC, be impelled by an accelerat¬
ing or retarding force, acting in the same or
in the opposite direction, and if the intensity
of the force in the different points B, F, H, C,
&c. be as the ordinates BD, FG, &c. to the
line DGE, the areas BFGD, BHKD, &c. will
be as the changes made on the square of the
velocity, at B, when the particle arrives at the
points F, H, &c.
changes made on the square of the velocity, and the Law of
proposition is demonstrated. ^ Itefraction.
Corollary. 1 he whole change made on the square '
of the velocity ,s equal to the square of that velocity
uhich the accelerating force would communicate to the
particle by impelling it along BC from a state of rest
in, * IoVh? area BCED wil1 still express the square
of this velocity, and it equally expresses the change
made on the square of any velocity wherewith the par¬
ticle may pass through the point B, and is independent
on the magnitude of that velocity.
Remark. The figure is adapted to the case where
the forces a conspire with the initial motion of the
particle, or all oppose it, and llie area expresses an aug¬
mentation or a diminution of the square of the Initial
velocity. But the reasoning would have been the same,
although, in some parts of the line B C, the forces had
conspired with the initial motion, and in other parts had
opposed it. In such a case, the ordinates which express
the intensity of the forces must lie on different sides of
the abscissa B C, and that part of the area which lies on
one side must be considered as negative with respect to
the other, and be subtracted from it. Thus, if the for-
cts be represented by the ordinates of the dotted curve
line DM e, which crosses the abscissa in H, the figure
will correspond to the motion of a particle, which, after
moving uniformly along AB, is subjected to the action
ot a variable accelerating force during its motion along
M and the square of its initial velocity is increased
by the quantity BHD ; after which it is retarded du¬
ll ng its motion along HC, and the square of its velo¬
city in H is diminished by a quantity HC e. Therefore
the square of the initial velocity is changed by a quan¬
tity BHB—HC e, or IIC e—BHD. y q
This proposition, which is the 39th of the 1st book
0} the I rincipia, is perhaps the most important in the
whole science of mechanics, being the foundation of
every application of mechanical theory to the explana¬
tion of natural phenomena. No traces of It are to be
found in the writings of philosophers before the publi¬
cation of Newton’s Principia, though it is assumed by
John Bernoulli and other foreign mathematicians, as an
elementary truth, without any acknowledgment of their
obligations to its author. It is usually expressed by the
equation /i'—nt; andyy"s—v*, i. e. the sum of the mo-
mentary actions is equal to the whole or finite inci'e-
ment of the square of the velocity.
Prqposition.
When light passes obliquely into or out of a trans-
r>ar/»ni- „„ ‘.l —c t i , . The ratio
o 1 --—1 ;    u. a Li ana- IIJ
parent substance, it is refracted so that the sine The rat.f<
of the angle of incidence is to the sine of the ofVnddence >
angle of refraction in the constant ratio of thethe sine
velocity of the refracted light to that of the °-f refrac'
incident light. tl0n‘
. Eor let ft^ be divided into innumerable small por¬
tions, of which let FH be one, and let the force be sup¬
posed to act uniformly, or to be of invariable intensity
inring the motion along FH ; draw G[ perpendicular
to HK: It is evident that the rectangle FHIG will
- —   mv/ j cmxji.z.vjr will
be as the product of the accelerating force by the space
a ong which it acts, and will therefore express the mo¬
mentary increment of the square of the velocity. (Letn-
ma I.). Ihe same may be said of every such rectangle.
And it the number of the portions, such as FH, be in¬
creased, and their magnitude diminished without end,
the rectangles will ultimately occupy the whole curvili-
flfia area, and thg force will therefore be as the finite
Let SF, KB, represent two planes (parallel to, andccclxxvii,
equidistant from, the refracting surface XY) which % 7*
bound the space in which the light, during its passage,
is acted on by the refracting forces.
I he intensity of the refracting forces being suppo¬
sed equal at equal distances from the bounding planes,
though anyhow different at different distances from
them, may be represented by the ordinates T o, n q, p r,
c Bj &c. ot the. curve ab np e, of which the form must
be.
OPT
l»c determined from observation, ana may lemain for
ever unknown. The phenomena of inflected light *how
us that it is attracted by the refracting substance at
some distances, and repelled at others.
Let the light, moving uniformly in the direction
AB, enter the refracting stratum at B. It wll not
proceed in that direction, but its path will be incur¬
red upwards, while acted on by a repulsive force,
and downwards, while impelled by an attractive for .
It will describe some curvilmeal path n a a
which AB touches in B, and will finally emerge from
the refracting stratum at E, and move uniformly m a
straight line EF, which touches the curve m E. It
through b, the intersection of the curve of forces ™th
its abscissa, we draw b o, cutting the path of the light
in o, it is evident that this path will be concave up¬
wards between B and o, and concave downwards be¬
tween o and E. Also, if the initial velocity of the light
has been sufficiently small, its path may be so much
bent upwards, that in some point d its direction may
be parallel to the bounding planes. In this case it is
evident, that being under the influence of a repulsne
force, it will he more bent upwards, and it will de¬
scribe d f, equal and similar to d B, and emerge m an
Ingle fs, equal to ABG. In this case it is reflect-
edf making the angle of reflection equal to that of inci¬
dence. By which it appears how reflection, refraction,
and inflection, are produced by the same forces an
performed by the same laws.
But let the velocity be supposed sufficiently great to
enable the light to penetrate through the refracting
stratum, and emerge from it in the direction L , e
AB and EF be supposed to he described in equal times :
They will he pronortional to the initial and final velo¬
cities of the light. Now, because the refracting for¬
ces must act in a direction perpendicular to the retract¬
ing surface (since they arise from the joint action ot
alf the particles of a homogeneous substance w.uch
are within the sphere of mutual action), they cannot at-
fect the motion of the light estimated in the direction ot
the refracting surface. If therefore, AG be drawn per¬
pendicular to ST, and FK to Kll, the lines GB, EK,
must be equal, because they are the motions AB, Ei ,
estimated in the direction of the planes. Draw now EE
parallel to AB. It is also equal to it._ Therefore, EL,
EF are as the initial and final velocities of the light.
Bu^EF is to EL as the sine of the angle ELK to the
sine of the angle EFK ; that is, as the sine of the angle
ABH to the sine of the angle FEIj that is, as the sine
of the angle of incidence to the sine of the angle ot re¬
fraction. _ . ,
By the same reasoning it will appear Biat light, mov-
inp in the direction and with the velocity IE, will de¬
scribe the path EDB, and will emerge in the direction
and with the velocity BA.
Let another ray enter the refracting stratum peipen-
dicularly at B, and emerge at Q. Take two points
N P, in the line BQ, extremely near to each other, so
-that the refracting forces may be supposed to act uni¬
formly along the space Nl : draw NC, 1 D, parallel to
ST, CM perpendicular to DP, and MO perpendicular
to CD which may be taken for a straight line. I hen,
because the forces at C and N are equal, by supposition
they may be represented by the equal lines EM and JNr.
/j'jjg force NP is wholly employed in accelerating the
I c s.
linht alone- NP ; but the force CM being transverse to Law or
the motion BD, is but partly so employed, and may be Refractm
conceived as arising limn the joint action ot the orres
CO OM, of which CO only is employed m Accelerat¬
ing’the motion of the light, while OM is employed m
incurvating its path. Now it ^evident, from the simi¬
larity of the triangles DCM, MIJC that DC . Ci^_.
CM: CO, and that DC x CO —CM X CM—N1 X NI •
But DC X CO and NP X NP are as the products ot the
spaces by the accelerating forces, and express the mo¬
mentary increments of the squares ot the velocities at C
and N. (Lemma i.). These increments, therefore, are
equal. And as this must he said of every portion of the
paths BCE and BNQ, it follows that the whole incre¬
ment of the square of the initial velocity produced m
the motion along BCE, is equal to the increment pro¬
duced in the motion along BNQ. And, because the
initial velocities were equal in both paths, their squares
were equal. Therefore the squares of the final veloci¬
ties are also equal in both paths, and the fina velocities
themselves are equal. The initial and final velocities
are therefore in a constant ratio, whatever are the di¬
rections •, and the ratio of the sines of the angles of
incidence and refraction being the ratio of the veloci¬
ties of the refracted and incident light, by the former
case of Prop. x. is also constant.
Remark. The augmentation of the square of the
initial velocity is equal to the square of the velocity
which a particle of light would have acquired, ,f im¬
pelled from a state of rest at B along the line BQ.
(Corel, of the Lemma 2.), and is therefore indepen¬
dent on the initial velocity. As this augmentation is
expressed by the curvilineal area alb np c li, it de¬
pends both on the intensity of the refracting forces, ex¬
pressed by the ordinates, and on the space, through
which they act, viz. TR. These circumstances arise
from the nature of the transparent substance, and are
characteristic of that substance. Therefore, to abbre¬
viate language, we shall call this the specific velocity.
This specific velocity is easily determined for any
substance in which the refraction is observed, by draw¬
ing L z perpendicular to EL, meeting m z the cu e e
described with the radius EF. For E i bemg equal to
EF will represent the velocity of the refracted light,
and’ EL represent the velocity of the incident light,
and E z=EL*4-L z's, and therefore Lz* is the aug¬
mentation of the square of the initial velocity, and L z
is the specific velocity. „ .
it will now he proper to deduce some corollaries
from these propositions, tending to explain the chief
phenomena ol refraction. ' 114
Cor 1. When light is refracted towards the perpen-The mot
dicnlar'to the refracting surface it is accelerated; and
is retarded when it is refracted from the perpend,cular.cetow
In the first case, therefore, it must be considered as ^
m tne nrst chrc,  — 7 . by refrac1
having been acted on by forces conspiring (in part attifl
least) with its motion, and vice versa. Therefore, be
cause we see that it is always refracted towards the per¬
pendicular, when passing from a void into any transpa¬
rent substance, we must'conclude that it is, on the
whole, attracted by that substance. We must draw
the same conclusion from observing, that it is refracted
from the perpendicular in its passage out of any trans¬
parent substance whatever into a void. It has been at¬
tracted backwards by that substance. _
tion-,
Theory. q p y
I,aw of This acceleration of light in refraction is contr-rv
Refraction, to the opinion of those philosophers who maintain
^ that illumination is produced by the undulation of an
elastic medium. Euler attempts to prove, by mecha¬
nical laws, that tire velocities of the incident' and re¬
fracted light, are proportional to the sines of incidence
and retraction, while our principles make them in this
ratio inversely, .Boscovich proposed a line experiment
for deciding this question. The aberration of the fixed
stars arises from the combination of the motion of light
wththe motion of the telescope by which it is observ¬
ed. 1 heretore this aberration should be greater or less
when observed by means of a telescope filled with water
according as light moves slower or swifter through wa¬
ter than through air. Pie was mistaken in the manner
in which the conclusion should be drawn from the ob-
, servation made in the form prescribed by him: and the
experiment has not yet been made in a convincing man¬
ner 5 because no fluid has been found of sufficient trans¬
parency to admit of the necessary magnifying power. It
js an experiment of the greatest importance to optical
science.
I c s.
209
that there is any impact in tins case, or that the reflect-
mg impact should cease at a particular obliquity ? Rrdmeton.
. At must be acknowledged that it is a very curious 1 v 
circumstance, that a body which is perfectly transpa-,, Ir5
rent should cease to he so at a certain obliquity ; thatRT-at a
-1- — certain obliquity; that a
a great obliquity should not hinder light from pissing
fi om a void into a piece of glass ; but that the same wholly re-
obliquity should prevent it fi-om passing from the glassflected by
into a void. The finest experiment for illustrating t|jetranspareni
fact is, to take two pieces of mirror-glass, not silvered,SU
and put them together with a piece of paper between
them, forming a narrow margin all round to keep them
apart. Plunge this apparatus into water. When it is
Held nearly parallel to the surface of the water, every
t.ung at the bottom of the vessel will he seen cleariy
through the glasses; but when they are turned so as to
be inclined about 50 degrees, they will intercept the
iglit as much as if they were plates of iron. It will be
proper to soak die paper in varnish, to prevent water
irom getting between the glasses.
What is called the brilliant cut in diamonds, is such Theb'rU-
Cor. 2. If the light be moving svifhin    . . ?, dlSPOS!fT .of tiie posterior facets of the diamond, Hant cut ia
substance, and if its velocity (-estimated ;n ,r paTnt [!lat t,le made to fi'fl upon them so obliquelydiamonds
that o'f •its^iicidem^1 dTt ^ f^T to admit" oft^
Plate the figure of last propositLn the excess of thl son U1 Tr\^ ^ ^ Cal,ed the ^bion.
Ulxxvh. of EF above the square of FI ^ 1 •!? fi f1,llshasla Fin back, and the facets are dll on the
excess of the square of KF abn tl amC ^ont’ and 80 disposed as to refract the rays into suflici-
Therefore the squire of the T 0f I>L’ oblj(lulties» to be strongly reflected from the posterior
.hrru;mema,ior:rdM^r of th tuS ±rr ,D oubl£,s,are ,rde by-rtt;ng °"e dkmo"11
nendicular veloritv If the,, f yi ^ v i° t ie Pe^‘ rose fashion, and another similar one is put behind it,
- 1 1 • herefore the initial perpendi- with their plane surfaces joined. Or, more frequently,
the outside diamond has the anterior facets of the bril-
liant, and the inner has the form of the inner part of a
brilliant. If they he joined with very pure and strong¬
ly refracting varnish, little light is reflected from the
separating plane, and their brilliancy is very consider-
, , . T,T- ,  ....wc. perpendi¬
cular velocity IK be precisely equal to the specific
velocity, the light will just reach the farther side of
the attracting stratum, as at B, where its peipendicular
velocity will be completely extinguished, and its motion
will be in the direction BT. But it is here under the
w srSkTdT '°Td8 ti,° t kh> ”4 ^ zyP sd:t
a'nd it „i,| y
EB, and finally emerge back from the refracting stra¬
tum into the transparent substance in an angle RDA
equal to KEF.
It the direction of the light be still more oblique, so
that its perpendicular velocity is less than the specific
velocity, it will not reach the plane ST, but be re¬
flected as soon as it has penetrated so far that the spe¬
cific velocity of the part penetrated (estimated by the
compounding part of the area of forces) is equal to its
perpendicular velocity. Tims the ray/E will describe
the path LdD a penetrating to 6 d, so that the corre¬
sponding area of forces a ?> c e Is equal to the square of
J !ts perpendicular velocity.
Hie extreme brilliancy of dew drops and of jewels
had often excited the attention of philosophers, and it
a ways appeared a difficulty how light was reflected at
i tronj tb? posterior surface of transparent bodies. It
-i or ec oir Isaac Newton his strongest argument
against the usual theory of reflection, viz. that it was
produced by impact on solid elastic matter. He was
the hrst who took notice of the-total reflection in great
iquities, and very properly asked how it can be said
VOL. XV. Part I. *
from the flat side, and the effect of the posterior facets
is much diminished. But doublets might he construct¬
ed, by making the touching surfaces of a spherical
form (of which the curvature should have a due pro¬
portion to the size of the stone), that would produce
an effect nearly equal to that of the most perfect
brilliant. ri^
Cor. 3. Since the change made on the square of the Refraction
velocity of the incident light is a constant quantity, itdiminisllc>.
follows, that the refraction will diminish as the velocity T ^ "T
of the incident light increases. For if L i in fig. 7. t^incrcas-
be a constant quantity, and EL be increased, it is evi-es.
dent that the ratio of E t, or its equal EF, to EL will
he diminished, and the angle LEE, which constitutes
the refraction, will be diminished. The physical cause
of this is easily seen : When the velocity of the incident
light is increased, it employs less time in passing through
the refracting stratum or space between the planes ST
and KR, and is therefore less influenced by the refrac¬
ting forces. A similar effect would follow if the trans¬
parent body were moving with great velocity towards
the luminous body.
Some naturalists have accounted for the different re-
* D d frangibility
O P T
210 W
Law of frangibility of the differently coloured rays, by suppo-
Refraction. sing that the red rays move with the greatest rapidity,
^ am| tjiey |)ave determined the difference of original ve¬
locity which would produce the observed difference oi
refraction. But this difference would be observed in
the eclipses of Jupiter’s satellites. They should be ruddy
at their immersions, and be some seconds before they at¬
tain their pure whiteness; and they should become bluish
immediately before they vanish in emersions. ^ hlS 18
not observed. Besides, the difference in refrangibility
is much greater in flint glass than in crown glass, and
this would require a proportionally greater difference in
the original velocities. The explanation therefore must
TIo be given up. ...
The refrac- It should follow, that the refraction of a star which
tion of a is in our meridian at six o’clock in the evening s mu
star greater „reater than that of a star which comes on the me¬
in the even- at s^x ;n t]ie morning ; because we are moving
ihe mom-1 away from the first, and approaching to the last. But
ing. the difference is but -p/o o of the whole, and cannot be
observed with sufficient accuracy m any way yet prac¬
tised. A form of observation has been proposed by I)r
Blair, professor of practical astronomy in the university
of Edinburgh, which promises a very sensible difference
of refraction. It is also to be expected, that a differ¬
ence will be observed in the refraction of the light from
the east and western ends of Saturn’s ring. Its diame¬
ter is about 26 times that of the earth, and it revolves
in 1 oh. 32'; so that the velocity of its edge is about
of the velocity of the sun’s light. If therefore
the°light be reflected from it according to the laws of
perfect elasticity, or in the manner here explained, that
which comes to us from the western extremity will
move more slowly than that which comes from the east¬
ern extremity in the proportion of 2500 to 2501.
if Saturn can be seen distinctly after a refraction of 30
through a prism, the diameter of the ring will be in¬
creased one half in one position of the telescope, and
will be as much diminished by turning the telescope
half round its axis ; and an intermediate position will
exhibit the ring of a distorted shape. This experiment
is one of the most interesting to optical science, as its
result will be a sevei’e touchstone of the theories which
have been attempted for explaining the phenomena on
mechanical principles.
If the tail of a comet be impelled by the rays of the
sun, as is supposed by Euler and others, the light by
which its extreme parts are seen by us must have its ve¬
locity greatly diminished, being reflected by particles
which are moving away from the sun with immense
rapidity. This may perhaps be discovered by its great-
119
All light
subject to
the same
laws.
er aberration and refrangibility.
As common day light is nothing but the sun’s light
reflected from terrestrial bodies, it is reasonable to ex¬
pect that it will suffer the same refraction. But no¬
thing but observation could assure us that this would
be the case with the light of the stars; and it is rather
surprising that the velocity of their light is the same
with that of the sun’s light. It is a circumstance of con¬
nexion between the solar system and the rest of the uni¬
verse. It was as little to be looked for on the light of
terrestrial luminaries. If light be conceived as small
particles of matter emitted from bodies by the action of
accelerating forces of any kind, the vast diversity which
we observe in the constitution of sublunary bodies should
4
ICS. Part I.
make us expect differences in this particular. Yet it is Law of
found, that the light of a candle, of a glow-worm, &c. Refraction,
suffers the same refraction, and consists ot the same co- ’
lours. This circumstance is adduced as an argument
against the theory of emission. It is thought more
probable that this sameness of velocity is owing to the
nature of the medium, which determines the hequcn-
cy of its undulations and the velocity of their propa¬
gation. . . T I2°
Cor 4. When two transparent bodies are contiguous, Law of re
the light in its passage out of the one into the other ^111^”
be refracted toivards or from the perpendicular, aCC01tl-passes out
ing as the refracting forces of the second are greaterof onetrar-
or less than those of the first, or rather according as thesparent be.
area expressing the square of the specific velocity i^"/
greater or less. And as the diffeience ol these eas bguous to
a determined quantity, the difference between the velo-itt
city in the medium of incidence and the velocity in the
medium of refraction, will also be a determined quantity.
Therefore the sine of the angle of incidence will be in
a constant ratio to the sine of the angle of refraction ;
and this ratio will he compounded ot the ratio of the
sine of incidence in the first medium to the sine of re¬
fraction in a void; and the ratio of the sine of incidence
in a void to the sine of refraction in the second medium.
If therefore a ray of light, moving through a void m
any direction, shall pass through any number of media
bounded by parallel planes, its direction in the last me¬
dium will "he the same as if it had come into it from a
void. . . .
Cor. 5. It also follows from these propositions, that
if the obliquity of incidence on the posterior surface of
a transparent body be such, that the light should be
reflected back again, the placing a mass of the same or
of another medium in contact with this surface, ivill
cause it to be transmitted, and this the more completely,
as the added medium is more dense or more refractive ;
and the reflection from the separating surface will ba
the more vivid in proportion as the posterior substance is
less dense or of a smaller refractive power. It is not
even necessary that the other body be in contact; it is
enough if it be so near, that those parts of the refracting
strata which are beyond the bodies interfere with or co¬
incide with each other.
All these consequences are agreeable to experience.
The brilliant reflection from a dew-drop ceases when
it touches the leaf on which it rests : The brilliancy oi
a diamond is greatly damaged by moisture getting be¬
hind it: The opacity of the combined mirror plates,
mentioned in Cor. 2. is removed by letting water get
between them : A piece of glass is distinctly or clearly
seen in air, more faintly when immersed in water, still
more faintly amidst oil of olives, and it is hardly per¬
ceived in spirits of turpentine. These phenomena are
incompatible with the notion that reflection is occasioned
by impact on solid matter, whether of the transparent
body, or of any ether or other fancied fluid behind it;
and their perfect coincidence with the legitimate conse¬
quences of the assumed principles, is a strong argument ^
in favour of the truth of those principles. ^
It is worth while to mention here a fact taken notice^ to1
of by Mr Beguelin, and proposed as a great difficulty m Newton
the Newtonian theory of refraction. In order to gettheoryi
the greatest possible refraction, and the simplest measure refractr
" the refracting power at the anterior surface of any
transparent
of
Theory. OPT
Law of transparent substance, Sir Isaac Newton enjoins us to
Refraction, employ a ray of light falling on the surface quam obli-
‘ quissime. But Mr Beguelin found, that when the obli¬
quity of incidence in glass was about 89° 50', no light
was refracted, but that it was wholly reflected. Pie al¬
so observed, that when he gradually increased the obli¬
quity of incidence on the superior surface of the glass,
the light which emerged last of all did not skim a-
long the surface, making an angle of 90° with the per¬
pendicular, as it should do by the Newtonian theory,
but made an angle of more than ten minutes with the
posterior surface. Also, when he began with very great
obliquities, so that all the light was reflected back into
the glass, and gradually diminished the obliquity of in¬
cidence, the first ray ol light which emerged did not
skim along the surface, but was raised about 10 or 15
122 minutes.
be the ne- .a^ ^iese phenomena are necessary consequences of
cessarycon-our principles, combined with what observation teaches
lequencc us concerning the forces which bodies exert on the rays
ot that of light. It is evident, from the experiments of Gri-
ofcourse a maldi and Nevvton> that light is both attracted and re-
oonfirraa- Pehed by solid bodies. NewTton’s sagacious analysis of
tionofit. these experiments discovered several alternations of ac¬
tual inflection and deflection j and he gives us the pre¬
cise distance from the body when some of these attrac¬
tions end and repulsion commences j and the most re¬
mote action to be observed in bis experiments is repul¬
sion. Pet us suppose this to be the case, although it be
Plate not absolutely necessary. Let us suppose that the forces
ccclxxvii. are represented by the ordinates of a curve a b n p c
7- which crosses the abscissa in b. Draw b 0 parallel to
the refracting surface. When the obliquity of incidence
of the ray AB has become so great, that its path in the
glass, or in the refracting stratum, does not cut, but on¬
ly touches the line 0 b, it can penetrate no further, but
is totally reflected j and this must happen in all greater
obliquities. On the other hand, when the ray LE,
moving within the glass, has but a very small perpendi¬
cular velocity, it will penetrate the refracting stratum
no further than till this perpendicular velocity is extin¬
guished, and its path becomes parallel to the surface,
and it will be reflected back. As the perpendicular
velocity increases by diminishing the obliquity of inci¬
dence, it will penetrate farther; and the last reflection
will happen when it penetrates so far that itspath touches
the line 0 b. Now diminish the obliquity by a single
second •, the light will get over the line 0 b, ivill de¬
scribe an arch 0 cl H concave upwards, and will emerge
in a direction BA, which does not skim the surface, but
is sensibly raised above it. And thus the facts observed
by M. Beguelin, instead of being an objection against
this theory, afford an argument in its favour.
Euler’s Cor. 6. Those philosophers who maintain the theory
tlieory of of undulation, are under the necessity of connecting the
undulation dispersive powers of bodies with their mean refractive
^aryt(J powers. M. Euler has attempted to deduce a necessary
difference in the velocity of the rays of different colours
from the different frequency of the undalations, which
he assigns as the cause of their different colorific powers.
His reasoning on this subject is of the most delicate na¬
ture, and unintelligible to such as are not completely
master of the infinitesimal calculus of partial differences,
and is unsatisfactory to such as are able to go through
its intricacies. It is contradicted by fact. He says,
A ^ Q. 2][1
that musical sounds which differ greatly in acuteness are Law of
propagated through the air with different velocities : but Refraction.
one of the smallest bells in the chimes of St Giles’s '   
church m Edinburgh was struck against the rim of the
very deep-toned bell on which the hours are struck.
W hen the sound was listened to by a nice observer at
the distance of more than two miles, no interval what¬
ever could be observed. A similar experiment was ex¬
hibited to M. Euler himself, by means of a curious in¬
strument used at St Petersburg, and which mav be
heard at three or four miles distance. But the experi¬
ment with the bells is unexceptionable, as the two sounds
were produced in the very same instant. This connec¬
tion between the refrangibility in general and the velo¬
city must be admitted, in its full extent, in every at¬
tempt to explain refraction by undulation ; and Euler
was forced by it to adopt a certain consequence which
made a necessary connection between the mean refrac¬
tion and the dispersion of heterogeneous rays. Confident
of his analysis, he gave a deaf ear to all that was told
him of Mr Dollond’s improvements on telescopes, and
asserted, that they could not be such as were related ;
for an increase of mean refraction must always be ac¬
companied with a determined increase of dispersion.
Newton had said the same thing, being misled by a li¬
mited view of his own principles ; but the dispersion as¬
signed by him was different from that assigned by Eu¬
ler. The dispute between Euler and Doilond was con¬
fined to the decision of this question only ; and when
some glasses made by a German chemist at Petersburg
convinced Euler that his determination was erroneous,
he did not give up the principle which had forced him
to this determination of the dispersion, but immediately
introduced a new theory of the achromatic telescopes of
Doilond ; a theory which took the artists out of the
track marked out by mathematicians, and in which
they had made considerable advances, and led them in¬
to another path, proposing maxims of construction hi¬
therto untried, and inconsistent with real improvements
which they had already made. The leading principle in an£}
this theory is to arrange the different ultimate images of leads art-
a point which arise either from the errors of a spherical‘sts-.
figure or different refrangibility, in a straight line pas¬
sing through the centre of the eye. The theory itself
is specious ; and it requires great mathematical skill to
accomplish this point, and hardly less to decide on the
propriety of the construction which it recommends. It
is therefore but little known. But that it is a false
theory, is evident from one simple consideration. In
the most indistinct vision arising from the worst con¬
struction, this rectilineal arrangement of the images ob¬
tains completely in that pencil which is situated in the
axis, and yet the vision is indistinct. But, what is to
our present purpose, this new7 theory is purely mathema¬
tical, suiting any observed dispersive power, and has no
connection with the physical theory of undulations, or
indeed with any mechanical principles whatever. But,
by admitting any dispersive power, whatever may be
the mean refraction, all the physical doctrines in his
Nova Theoria Lucis et Colorum are overlooked, and
therefore never once mentioned, although the effects of
M. Zeiher’s glass are taken notice of as inconsistent with
that mechanical proposition of Newton’s which occa¬
sioned the whole dispute between Euler and Doilond.
They are indeed inconsistent with the universality of
D d 2 that
312 . ° p T
Law of that proposition. Newton advances it in his Optics
Refraction, merely as a mathematical proposition highly probable,
1 v but says that it will be corrected if he shall find it false.
The ground on which he seems (for he does not ex¬
pressly say so) to rest its probability, is a limited view
of his own principle, the action of bodies on light. He
(not knowing any cause to the contrary) supposed that
the action of all bodies was similar on the different kinds
of light, that is, that the specific velocities of the dif¬
ferently coloured rays had a determined proportion to
each other. This was gratuitous ; and it might have
been doubted by him who had observed the analogy be¬
tween the chemical actions of bodies by elective attrac¬
tions and repulsions, and the similar actions on light.
Not only have different menstrua unequal actions on
their solids, but the order of their affinities is also dif¬
ferent. In like manner, we might expect not only that
some bodies would attract light in general more than
others, but also might differ in the proportion of their
actions on the different kinds of light, and this so much,
that some might even attract the red more than the vio¬
let. The late discoveries in chemistry show us some
very distinct proofs, that light is not exempted from the
laws of chemical action, and that it is susceptible of
chemical combination. The changes produced by the
sun's light on vegetable colours, show the necessity of
illumination to produce the green fecula \ and the aro¬
matic oils of plants, the irritability of their leaves by
the action of light, the curious effects of it on the mi¬
neral acids, on manganese, and the calces of bismuth
and lead, and the imbibition and subsequent emission of
it by phosphorescent bodies, are strong proofs of its che¬
mical affinities, and are quite inexplicable on the theo¬
ry of undulations.
All these considerations taken together, had they
been known to Sir Isaac Newton, would have made
him expect differences quite anomalous in the dispersive
powers of different transparent bodies •, at the same time
that they would have afforded to his sagacious mmd the
strongest arguments fertile actual emission of light from
the luminous body.
Having in this manner established the observed law
of refraction on mechanical principles, showing it to be
a necessary consequence of the known action of bodies
on light, we proceed to trace its mathematical conse¬
quences through the various cases in which it may be
exhibited to our observation. These constitute that
part of the mathematical branch of optical science
j25 which is called dioptrics.
The varia- We are quite unacquainted with the law of action of
tion of the on light, that is, with the variation of the inten-
Ittractions t^e attractions and repulsions exerted at different
and repul- distances. All that we can say is, that from the expe-
sions un- riments and observations of Grimaldi, Newton, and
iinown. others, light is deflected towards a body, or is attracted
by it, at some distances, and repelled at others, and
this with a variable intensity. The action may be ex¬
tremely different, both in extent and force, in different
bodies, and change by a very different law with the
same change of distance. But, amidst all this variety,
there is a certain similarity arising from the joint action
of many particles, which should be noticed, because it
tends both to explain the similarity observed in the re-
ICS. Part !•
fractions of light, and also its connexion with the phe- Law of
nomena of reflection. _ Retraction,
The law of variation in the joint action ol many par- ^
tides adjoining to the surface of a refracting medium, isThe jawof
extremely different from that of a single particle; but variation in
when this last is known, the other may be found out. the action
We shall illustrate this matter by a very simple case.°
Let DE be the surface of a medium, and let us suppose different
that the action of a particle of the medium on a particle froni t},at
of light extends to the distance EA, and that it is pro-of one.
portional to the ordinates ED, \ f, G g, H /i, &c- °f
the line A h C^/D ; that is, that the action of the
particle E of the medium on a particle of light in I, is
to its action on a particle in H as F / to H h, and that
it is attracted at F but repelled at H, as expressed by
the situation of the ordinates with respect to the abscis¬
sa. In the line AE produced to B, make EB, E
E», Ey, Ep, &c. respectively equal to EA, EH, EC,
EG, EE, &c.
It is evident that a particle of the medium at B will
exert no action on the particle of light in E, and that
the particles of the medium in »-y <p E, will exert on it
actions proportional to H h, G g, ^ f ED. Ihere-
fore, supposing the matter of the medium continuous,
the whole action exerted by the row of particles EB
will he represented by the area A h CDE; and the ac¬
tion of the particles between B and will be repiesent-
ed by the area A h C/F, and that of the particles be¬
tween E and (p by the area E/DE.
Ncwt let the particle of light be in F, and take r o
— AE. It is no less evident that the particle of light
in F will be acted on by the particles in E o alone, and
that it will be acted on in the same manner as a particle
in E is acted on by the particles in <p B. Therefore
the action of the whole row of particles EB on a par¬
ticle in F will be represented by the area A h C/F.
And thus the action on a particle ol light in any point
of AE will be represented by the area which lies be¬
yond it. t
But let us suppose the particles of light to be within
the medium, as at (p, and make ^>c/=:AE. It is again
evident that it is acted on by the particles of the me¬
dium between <p and d with a force represented by the
area A h CDE, and in the opposite direction by the
particles in E <p with a force represented by the area
F/DE. This balances an equal quantity of action,
and there remains an action expressed by the area
A A C f'Y. Therefore, if an equal and similar line to
A h CDE be described on the abscissa EB, the action
of the medium on a particle of light in <p will be re¬
presented by the area <pfx.hT&, lying^beyond it.
If we now draw a line AKLMRNBB, whose ordi¬
nates CK, FQ, <p R, &c. are as the areas of the other
curve, estimated from A and B ; these ordinates will
represent the whole forces which are exerted by the par¬
ticles in EB, on a particle of light moving from A to
B. This curve will cut the axis in points L, N such,
that the ordinates drawn through them intercept areas
of the first curve, which are equal on each side of the
axis; and in these points the particle of light sustains no
action from the medium. These points are very differ-,
ent from the similar points of the curve expressing the
action of a single particle. These last are in the very
places where the light sustains the greatest repulsive ac-
Theory. OPT
!Refraction tion of the whole row of particles. In the same man-
by Plane ner may a curve he constructed, whose ordinates ex-
Sui’faces~, Press the united action of the whole medium.
From these observations we learn in general, that a
particle of light within the space of action is acted on
with equal forces, and in the same direction, when at
equal distances on each side of the surface of the me¬
dium.
I c s.
ting VII in F
213
Plate
pLXXVII.
fig. 10.
I27
,aws of re
action in
ane sur-
Sect. II. Of the focal distance of rays refracted hy
passing out of one medium into another of different
density and through a plane surface.
Lemma.
The indefinitely small variation of the angle of in¬
cidence is to the simultaneous variation of the
angle of refraction, as the tangent of incidence
is to the tangent of refraction ; or, the cotem-
poraneous variations of the angles of incidence
and refraction are proportional to the tangents
of these angles.
Let RVF, or ?'\/(fig. 10.) be the progress of the
rays refracted at V (the angle r V R being considered in
its nascent or evanescent state), and \ C perpendicular
to the refracting surface VA. From C draw CD, CB
perpendicular to the incident and refracted rays RV,
VF, cutting r V, V/ in § and and let C C £ be
perpendicular to r V, V f.
Because the sines of incidence and refraction are in
a constant ratio, their simultaneous variations are in
the same constant ratio. Now the angle RV r is to the
Bf. BC
B V t° J) V ^ ^ia^ 1S>
, — . .1 , • sin. incid. sin. refr
t0 tw ’ tIlat lsi °i  r—r-r- to 
m v cos. incid. cos. refr.
tan. incid. to tan. refr.
Corollary. The difference of these variations is to
the greatest or least of them as the difference of the tan¬
gents to the greatest or least tangent.
Problem.
clxxviii two rays RP diverge from, or converge
L “ 105 a P0^nt an^ Pass through the plane sur¬
face PV, separating two refracting mediums
AB, of which let B be the most refracting, and
let RV be perpendicular to the surface It is
required to determine the point of dispersion
or^ convergence, F, of the refracted rays VD,
Make VR to VG as the sine of refraction to the sine
of incidence, and draw GIK parallel to the surface,
cutting the incident ray in I. About the centre P,
with the radius PI, describe an arch of a circle IF, cut-
angle FAyin the ratio of
DC
BV
that is, of
ixf- tit' • • ,draw PE tending from or towards F. Refraction
We say PL is the refracted ray, and F the point of dis- by Plane
persion or convergence of the rays RV, RP, or the con- Surfaces,
jugate focus to R. t——v—
For since GI and PV are parallel, and PF equal to
PI, we have PF : PR=PI ; PR,=VG : VR,—sin.
incid. : sin. rtfr. But PF : PR=rsin. PRV: sin. PFV,
and RRV is equal to the angle of incidence at P 5
therefore PFY is the corresponding angle of refraction,
FI 1^ is the refracted ray, and F the conjugate focus
to R. J 6
Cor. r. If diverging or converging rays fall on the
surface of a more refracting medium, they will diverge
or converge less after refraction, F being farther from
the sui face than R. Ihe contrary must happen when-
the diverging or converging rays fell on the surface of
a less refracting medium, because, in this case, F D
nearer to the surface than R.
Cor. 2. Let Rp be another ray, more oblique than
RP, the refracting point p being farther from V, and
let//? e be the refracted ray, determined by the same
construction. Because the arches II,yz, are perpendi¬
cular to their radii, it is evident that they will converge
to some point within the angle R1K, and therefore will
not cross each other between F and I j therefore R f
will be greater than RF, as RF is greater than RG,
for similar reasons. Hence it follows, that all the rays
which tended from or towards R, and were incident on
the whole of ^ P will not diverge from or converge
to F, but will be diffused over the line GFf. This
diffusion is called aberration from the focus, and is so.
much greater as the rays are more oblique. No rays
flowing from or towards R will have the point of con¬
course with RV nearer to R than F is : But if the ob¬
liquity be inconsiderable, so that the ratio of RP to FP
does not differ sensibly from that of RV to FV, the
point of concourse will not be sensibly removed from G.
G is therefore usually called the conjugate focus to R.
It is the conjugate focus of an indefinitely slender pen¬
cil of rays falling perpendicularly on the surface. The
conjugate focus of an oblique pencil, or even of two
oblique rays, whose dispersion on the surface is consi¬
derable, is of more difficult investigation. See Grave-
sande's Natural Philosophy for a very neat and ele¬
mentary determination (b).
In a work of this kind, it is enough to have pointed
out, in an easy and familiar manner, the nature of op¬
tical aberration. But as this is the chief cause of the
imperfection of optical instruments, and as the only me¬
thod of removing this imperfection is to diminish this
aberration, or correct it by a subsequent aberration in
the opposite direction, we shall here give a fundamental
and very simple proposition, which will (with obvious
alterations) apply to all important cases. This is the
determination of the focus of an infinitely slender pencil»
of oblique rays RP, R/7.
“ Retaining the former construction for the ray PF,
(%• I-)
(b) We refer to Gravesande, because wre consider it of importance to make such a work as ours serve as 3 ge¬
neral index to science and literature. At the same time we take the liberty to observe, that the focus in question
is virtually determined by the construction which we have given : for the points P, F of the line PF are deter¬
mined, and therefore its position is also determined. The same is true of the position of p f and therefore the
intersection p of the two lines is likewise determined.
214
Refraction,
by Spheri¬
cal Sur¬
faces.
Plate
ccelxxviii.
hga. S. 6>
&c.
128
The focus
of rays re¬
fracted by
spherical
surfaces
ascertain¬
ed.
-OPT
(fig. 1) suppose the other ray R p infinitely near to HP.
Draw PS perpendicular to PV, and Rr perpendicular
to RP, and make P r : PS=VR : VF. On Pr describe
, the semicircle r RP, and on PS the semicircle S <p P,
cutting the refracted ray PF in draw p r, p S, p<p.
It follows from the lemma, that if <p be the focus of re¬
fracted rays, the variation P /J of the angle of refrac¬
tion is to the corresponding variation PR p of the angle
of incidence as the tangent ot the angle of rehac¬
tion VFP to the tangent of the angle of incidence
VRP. Now P p may be considered as coinciding with
the arch of the semicircles. Therefore the angles PR Pi
P r are equal, as also the angles P p, PS p. But
PS p is to P r p as P r to PS y that is, as VR to VF y
that is, as the cotangent of the angle of incidence to the
cotangent of the angle of refraction y that is, as the
tangent of the angle of refraction to the tangent of the
angle of incidence. Therefore the point ^ is the focus.
Sect. III. Of Refraction by Spherical Surfaces.
Problem.
To find the focus of refracted rays, the focus of
incident rays being given.
Let PV tt (figs. 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10,11, 12, 13,14,) be
a spherical surface whose centre isC, and let the incident
light diverge from or converge to R. Draw the ray RC
through the centre, cutting the surface in the point V,
which we shall denominate the vertex, while RC is call¬
ed the axis. This ray passes on without refraction, be¬
cause it coincides with the perpendicular to the surface.
Let RP be another incident ray, which is refracted at P y
draw the radius PC. In RP make RE to RP as the sine
of incidence 111 to the sine of refraction n ; and about
the centre R, with the distance RE, describe the circle
EK, cutting PC in KL y draw Rfv and RI parallel to
it, cutting the axis in F. PF is the refracted ray, and
F is the focus.
For the triangles PCF, KCR are similar, and the
angles at P and K are equal. Also RK is equal to
RE, and RPD is the angle of incidence. Now
m: n—RK : RP,=sin. DPR : sin. RKP, —sin. DPR:
sin. CPF. Therefore CPF is the angle of refraction
corresponding to the angle of incidence RPD, and PI
is the refracted ray, and F the focus. Q. E. D.
CP x CR
Cor. I. CK : CP=CR : CF, and CF=
ICS. _ Tart 1:
CR as the sine of incidence in the rare medium is to Refraction
the sine of refraction in the denser, or when rays in byS^en-
the rare medium fall on the convex surface of the den-
ser, converging to F, so situated that Cr . C — u—
m ■ n In this case they will all be dispersed from F, so
situated that CV : CF=n : ™,=CR : CV for sine RPC:
sine PKC—» : m, =CR : CP, =sineRPC : sine PRC.
Therefore the angle PRC is equal to PivC, or to It C
(by construction of the problem), and the angle C is
common to the triangles PRC, FPCy they are therefore
similar, and the angles PRC.FPC are equal, and n:tn=
CP : CE, =rCK : CR, nCR : CPy therefore CP : CK=
CP* : CR* : hut CP and CR are constant quantities,
and therefore CL. is a constant quantity, and (by the
corollary) CF is a constant quantity, and all the rays
flowing from R are dispersed from F by refraction. In
like manner rays converging to F will by refraction con¬
verge to R. This was first observed by Huygens.
Cor. 2. If the incident ray R’P is parallel totheF;g. s
axis RC, we have PO to CO as the sine of incidence to
the sine of refraction. For the triangles R’PK. PCO
are similar, and PO : CO—R’K’ : R P,
Cor. 3. In this case, too, we have the focal distance
of central parallel rays reckoned from the vertex
n x VC. For since PO is ultimately VO, we have
m
-n
CK
Now CP xCR is a constant quantity; and therefore CF
is reciprocally as CK, which evidently varies with a va¬
riation of the arch VP. Hence it follows, that all the
rays flowing from R are not collected at the conjugate
-focus F. The ultimate situation of the point F, as the
point P gradually approaches to, and at last coincides
with, V, is called the conjugate focus of central rays, and
the distance between this focus and the focus of a la¬
teral ray is called the aberration of that ray, arising
from the spherical figure.
There are, however, two situations of the point R
such, that all the rays which flow from it are made to
diverge from one point. One of those is C (fig. 5.), be¬
cause they all pass through without refraction, and there¬
fore still diverge from C; the other is when rays in
the rare medium with a convex surface flow from a
point R, so situated beyond the centre that CV is to
m : »=VO : CO, and m—n : ??2=VO—CO : \ O, __
VC • VO, and VO=—xVC. This is called the
7 m— n
principal focal distance, or focal distance of parallel
rays. Also CO, the principal focal distance reckoned
n
from the centre, = X '
in—11
N. B. When ?n is less than n, m—n is a negative
quantity.—Also observe, that in applying symbols to
this computation of the focal distances, those lines are
to be accounted positive which lie from their begin¬
nings, that is, from the vertex, or the centre, or the
radiant point, in the direction of the incident rays.
Thus when rays diverge from R on the convex sur¬
face of a medium, VR is accounted negative and VC
positive. If the light passes out of air into glass, m
is greater than n ; but if it passes out of glass into air,
m is less than n. If, therefore, parallel rays lall on
the convex surface of glass out of air, in which case
m : «—3 : 2 very nearly, we have for the principal focal
distance—-—VC, or + 3 VC. But if it pass out of glass
2—3
2
into the convex surface of air, we have VO—- W C,
ov 2VC; that is, the focus O will be in the same
side of the surface with the incident light. In like
manner, we shall have for these two cases CO=
and —3 VC.
CoR. 4. By construction we have RK : RPrrw : h
by similarity of triangles PF : RK=:CF : CR
therefore ' PF : PRrrmCF : «CR
and ot PR X CF=n CR X PF
therefore 772 PR : n CR=PF : Cl
m PR—77 CR : m PRzrPF—CF : PI
777 VR—77 CR : 777 VR^VC : VF
and
ultimately
This is a very general optical theorem, and aftords an
easy method for computing the focal distance of refract¬
ed rays.
lor
Theory. OPT
Refraction I'or this purpose let ^ R, the distance of the radiant
bySpheri- point, be expressed by the symbol r, the distance of the
caiSur- focus of refracted rays by the symbol/, and the radius
ac^‘ ■ of the spherical surface by a; we have
m r—11 r—a : mr~a \f and
/— m a1   mar
mr—nr—a in—nr~\-nd
In its application due attention must be paid to the
qualities of r and o, whether they be positive or nega¬
tive, according to the conditions of last corollary.
Plate Cor. 5. If Q be the focus of parallel rays coming
ccclxxviii. from the opposite side, we shall have RQ : QCrrRV :
Fig. s. VF. For draw C 9 parallel to PF, cutting RP in q;
then IXq \ q C=RP : PF. Now q is the focus of the
parallel rays FP, C q. And when the point P ultimate¬
ly coincides with the point V, q must coincide with Q
and we have RQ : QC=RV : VF.
This is the most general optical theorem, and is
equally applicable to lenses, or even to a combination
of them, as to simple surfaces. It is also applicable to
reflections, with this difference, that Q is to be assumed
the focus of parallel rays coming the same way with the
incident rays. It affords us the most compendious me¬
thods of computing symbolically and arithmetically the
focal distances in all cases.
Cor. 6. We have also Ry : RP=RV : RF, and ulti¬
mately for central rays RQ : RV—RV : RF, and RF—
RV*
. This proposition is true in lenses and mirrors,
but not in single refracting surfaces.
Cor. q. Also R y : RC —RP : RF, and ultimately
RQ : RV=RC : RF, and RF= -^RC. N. B. These
Xlv^J
four points Q, V, C, F, either lie all one way from P,
or two of them forward and two backward.
Cor. 8. Also making O the principal focus of rays
coming the same way, we have R ^ C—C 0 : 0 F, and
ultimately RQ : Q c~c O : OF, and OFrr —^>-7—,
RQ
and therefore reciprocally proportional to RQ, because
QCXco is a constant quantity.
These corollaries or theorems give us a variety of
methods for finding the focus of refracted rays, or the
other points related to them 3 and each formula contains
four points, of which any three being given, the fourth
may be found. Perhaps the last is the most simple, as
the quantity 0 c-f-c Q is always negative, because 0 and
Q are on different sides.
Cor. 9. From this construction we may also derive a
very easy and expeditious method of drawing many re¬
fracted rays. Draw through the centre C (fig. 15. 16.)
a line to the point of incidence P, and a line CA pa¬
rallel to the incident ray RP. Take VO to VC as
the sine of incidence to the sine of refraction, and
about A, with the radius VO, describe an arch of a
circle cutting PC produced in B. Join AB 3 and PF
parallel to AB is the refracted ray. When the in¬
cident light is parallel to RC, the point A coincides
with V, and a circle described round V with the dis¬
tance VO will cut the lines PC, /)C, &.c. in the points
B b. The demonstration is evident.
Having thus determined the focal distance of re¬
fracted rays, it will be proper to point out a little
I c s.
215
more particularly its relation to its conjugate focus of Refraction
incident rays. We shall consider the four cases of light by Spheri-
mcident on the convex or concave surface of a denser cal Sur¬
er a rarer medium. faces.
Det light moving in air fall on the convex sur- vhr cv J
face of glass. Let us suppose it tending to a point be-figf 14
yond the glass infinitely distant. It will be collected °
to its principal focus 0 beyond the vertex V. Now
let the incident light converge a little, so that R is
at a great distance beyond the surface. The focus
of refracted rays F will be a little within O or nearer
to V. As the incident rays are made to converge
more and more, the point R comes nearer to V, and
the point F also approaches it, but with a much slower
motion, being always situated between O and C.
till it is overtaken by R at the centre C, when
the incident light is perpendicular to the surface
in every point, and therefore suffers no refraction.
As R has overtaken F at C, it now passes it, and is
again overtaken by it at V. Now the point R is on
the side from which the light comes, that is, the rays
diverge from R. After refraction they will diverge
from I a little without R 3 and as R recedes farther
from V, I recedes still farther, and with an accelerated
motion, till, when R comes to Q, F has gone to an
infinite distance, or the refracted rays are parallel.
When R still recedes, F now appears on the other
side, or beyond V 5 and as R recedes back to an in¬
finite distance, F has come to O : and this completes
the series of variations, the motion of F during the
whole changes of situation being in the same direction
with the motion of R.
2. Let the light moving in air fall on the concave
surface of glass 5 and let us begin with parallel inci¬
dent rays, conceiving, as before, R to lie beyond the
glass at an infinite distance. The refracted rays will
move as if they came from the principal focus O, lying-
on that side of the glass from which the light comes.,
As the incident rays are made gradually more conver¬
ging, and the point of convergence R comes toward
the glass, the conjugate focus F moves backward
from O 3 the refracted rays growing less and less di¬
verging, till the point R comes to Q, the principal
focus on the other side. The refracted rays growing-
parallel, or F has retreated to an infinite distance.
'Ihe incident light converging still more, or R coming
between Q and V, F' will appear on the other side, or
beyond the surface, or within the glass, and will ap¬
proach it with a retarded motion, and finally overtake
R at the surface of the glass. Let R continue its mo¬
tion backwards (for it has all the while been moving
backwards, or in a direction contrary to that of the
light) 3 that is, let R now be a radiant point, moving
backwards from the surface of the glass. F will at
first be without it, but will be overtaken by it at the
centre C, when the rays will suffer no refraction, R
still receding will get without F 3 and while R recedes
to an infinite distance, F will recede to O, and the series
will be completed.
3. Let the light moving in glass fall on the convex
surface of air; that is, let it come out of the concave
surface of glass, and let the incident rays be. pa allel,
or tending to R, infinitely distant: they will be dis¬
persed by refraction from the principal focus O, with¬
in the glass. As they are made more converging, R
comes
216 O P 1
On Lenses, comes nearer, and F retreats backward* till R comes to
< ■" ■ y" 1 Q? the principal focus without the glass j when
now at an infinite distance within the glass, and the re¬
fracted rays are parallel. R still coming nearer, r now
appears before the glass, overtakes R at the centie ,
and is again overtaken by it at N. R now becoming a
radiant point within the glass, F follows it backwards,
and arrives at O, when R has receded to an infinite
distance, and the series is completed.
4. Let the incident light, moving in glass, fall on the
concave surface of air, or come out of the convex surface
of glass. Let it tend to a point Rat an infinite distance
without the glass. The refracted rays will converge to
O, the principal focus without the glass. As the inci¬
dent light is made more converging, R comes towards
the glass, while F, setting out from v, also approaclies
the glass, and R overtakes it at the surface V. R now
becomes a radiant point within the glass, receding back¬
wards from the surface. , F recedes slower at first,’but
overtakes R at the centre C, and passes it with an ac¬
celerated motion to an infinite distance j wdiile R re¬
treats to Q, the principal focus within the glass. lv still
retreating, F appears before the glass 5 and while K re¬
treats to an infinite distance, F comes to A, and the se¬
ries is completed.
Sect. IV. On Lenses.
I c s.
Part I,
semidiameters RA, r a parallel to each other, And join Of Lenses
the point, A, er, and the line A a will cut the axis 111' v—
the point E above described. F or the triangles RLA,
r E r being equiangular, RE will be to E r in the given
ratio of the semidiameters RA, ra; and consequently
the point E is invariable in the same lens. Now sup¬
posing a ray to pass both ways along the line A o, it
being& equally inclined to the perpendiculars to the
surfaces, will be equally bent, and contrariwise in go¬
ing out of the lens 5 so that its emergent part AQ
or/will be parallel. Now any of these lenses will be¬
come plano-convex or plano-concave, by conceiving
one of the semidiameters RA, I'ato become infinite,
and consequently to become parallel to the axis of the
lens and then the other semidiameter will coincide with
the axis ; and so the points A, E or «, E will coincide.
Q. E. D.
Corol. Hence when a pencil of rays falls almost per¬
pendicularly upon any lens, whose thickness is incon¬
siderable, the course of the ray which passes through
E, above described, may be taken for a straight line
passing through the centre of the lens without sensible
error in sensible things. For it is mamiest liom the
length of A a, and from the quantity of the refractions
at its extremities, that the perpendicular distance of
AQ, a q, when produced, will be diminished both as the
thickness of the lens and the obliquity of the ray is di-
m-i m’lQnpri.
Lenses! Lenses for optical purposes may be ground into nine
how many, different shapes. Lenses cut into five of those shapes,
together with their axes, are described in vol. vi. page
Plate 33". ‘(See Dioptrics). The other four are,
cccLxxrx. 1. A plane glass^ which is flat on both sides, and of
figs. 1. 2. eqUal thickness in all its parts, as EF, fig. I. _
2. A flat plano-convex, whose convex side is ground
into several little flat surfaces as A, fig. 2.
3. A.prism, which has three flat sides, and when view¬
ed endwise appears like an equilateral triangle, as R.
4. A concavo-convex glass, or meniscus, as C, which
is seldom made use of in optical instruments.
Fjg< L A ray of light G/« falling perpendicularly on a plane
glass EF, will pass through the glass in the same direc¬
tion hi, and go out of it into the air in the same straight
line i H.
•> A ray of light AB falling obliquely pn a plane glass,
will go out of the glass in the same direction, but not
in the same straight line : for in touching the glass, it
will be refracted into the line BC; and in leaving the
glass, it will be refracted in the line CD.
Lemma.
Pig. 3. to 6. There is a certain point E within every double
convex or double concave lens, through which
every ray that passes will have its incident and
emergent parts QA, a -q, parallel to each other :
but in a plano-convex or plano-concave lens, that
point E is removed to the vertex of the concave
or convex surface ; and in a meniscus, and in
that other concavo-convex lens, it is removed a
little way out of them, and lies next to the sur¬
face which has the greatest curvature.
For let REr be the axis of the lens joining the cen¬
tres B, r of its surfaces A, a. Draw any two of their
Prop. I.
To find the focus of parallel rays falling almost
perpendicularly upon any given lens.
Let E be the centre of the lens, and r the centres efpjg. ^ to
its surfaces, R r its axis, g EG a hue parallel to the in-12.
cident rays upon the surface B, whose centre isR. Pa-^^1^
rail el to £ E draw a semidiameter BR, in which produ-oJ.
ced let V be the focus of the rays after their first refrac- rays fallinj
tion at the surface B, and joining r let it cut g E pro-perpendici
duced in G, and G will be the focus of the rays that laily iipou
emerge from the lens. _ > an^ |
por since V is also the focus of the rays incident
upon the second surface A, the emergent rays must
have their focus in some point of that ray which passes
straight through this surface; that is, in the line V r,
drawn through its centre r: and since the whole course
of another ray is reckoned a straight line g EG +, itsf Corol.
intersection G with V r determines the focus of them from ken’
all. Q. E. D.
Corol. i. When the incident rays are parallel to the
axis r R, the focal distance EF is equal to EG. For
let the incident rays that were parallel to g E be gra¬
dually more inclined to the axis till they become paral¬
lel to it j and their first and second foci V and G will
describe circular arches NT andGF whose centres are
R and E. For the line RV is invariable •, being in
proportion to RB in a given ratio of the lesser of the
sines of incidence and refraction to their difference (by
a former proposition) j consequently the line EG is also
invariable, being in proportion to the given line RV in
the given ratio of rE to rR, because the triangles EGr,
RV r are equiangular.
Corol. 2. The last proportion gives the following
rule for finding the focal distance of any thin lens. As
R r, the interval between the centres of the surfaces,
is
Theory. OPT
Of Lenses. 13 to r t1ie seniidiaraeter of the second surface, so is
li V or RT, the continuation of the first semidiameter
to the first focus, to E G or E F the focal distance of
the lens 5 which, according as the lens is thicker or
thinner in the middle than at its edges, must lie on
the same side as the emergent rays, or on the opposite
side.
_ CoROL. 3. Hence when rays fall parallel on both
sides of any lens, the focal distances E F, E/are equal.
For let r t be the continuation of the semidiameter E r
to the first focus t of rays falling parallel upon the
surface A; and the same rule that gave rR : rE =
RT : EF, gives also rR : REzrrrt: E/.' Whence E/==
EF, because the rectangles r E x BT~RE x i't. For
rE is to i't and also RE to RT in the same given
ratio.
Corol. 4. Hence in particular in a double convex
or double concave lens made of glass, it is as the sum of
their semidiameters (or in a meniscus as their difference)
to either of them, so is double the other, to the focal
distance of the glass. For the continuations RT, r t
are severally double their semidiameters: because in
glass ET : TR and also Et : : 2.
Corol. 5. Hence if the semidiameters of the surfaces
of the glass be equal, its focal distance is equal to one of
them j and is equal to the focal distance of a plano-con¬
vex or plano-concave glass whose semidiameter is as short
again. For considering the plane surface as having an
infinite semidiameter, the first ratio of the last-mention¬
ed proportion may be reckoned a ratio of equality.
Prop. IT.
f emergent
ijs found.
Plate
ccctxxx.
I ,r. i. to 6.
[■],e focus The focus of incident rays upon a single surface,
sphere, or lens, being given, it is required to
find the focus of the emergent ruys.
Let any point Q be the focus of incident rays upon
a spherical surface, lens, or sphere, whose centre is E;
and let other rays come parallel to the line QEy the
contrary way to the given rays, and after refraction let
them belong to a focus F} then taking Ejf equal to EF
the lens or sphere, but equal to EC in the single surface,
say as QE to EE so E^J to f(]; and placingy’y the con¬
trary way from f to that of F Q from F, the point q
will be the focus of the refracted rays, without sensible
error; provided the point Q be not so remote from the
axis, nor the surfaces so broad, as to cause any of the
rays to fall too obliquely upon them.
For with the centre E and semidiameters EF and
Ef describe two arches EG,fg cutting any ray Q A cy
in G and g, and draw EG and Eg. Then supposing
G to be a focus of incident rays (as GA), the emer¬
gent rays (asagy) will be parallel to GE* ; and on the
other hand supposing g another focus of incident rays
(as go), the emergent rays (as A G Q) will be pa¬
rallel to gE. Therefore the triangles Q G E, Egq are
equiangular, and consequently Q G : G E=:Eg : gy;
that is, when the ray QAaq is the nearest to Q E y,
Q T : F E—EJ : J g. Now when Q accedes to F and
coincides with it, the emergent rays become parallel,
that is, y recedes to an infinite distance •, and conse¬
quently when Q passes to the other side of F, the fo¬
cus y w’ll also pass through an infinite space from one
side off to the other side of it. Q. E. H.
Vol. XV. Part I. f
By Co¬
il treat
finer
rop.
I c s.
217
Corol. i In a sphere or lens the focus y may be of Lenses.
found by this rule: QF : QE=QE : Q to be* v  
placed the same way from Q as Q F lies from Q 
I or let the incident and emergent rays Q A, y a be pro¬
duced till they meet in e; and the triangles Q G E.
Qey being equiangular, we have QG : QE=Qe ;
Qy; and when the angles of these triangles are va¬
nishing, the point e will coincide with E ; because in
the sphere the triangle Ac a is equiangular at the base
A a, and consequently A e and a e will at last become
semidiameters of the sphere. In a lens the thickness
A a is inconsiderable.
I be focus may also be found by this rule
Q F : FEr=Q E : E y, for Q G : G E=Q A : A y 
And then the rule formerly demonstrated for single
surfaces holds good for the lenses.
Corol. 2. In all cases the distance 7y varies reci¬
procally as I1 Q does ; and they lie contrariwise from f
and F 5 because the rectangle or the square under EE
and E_/, the middle terms in the foregoing proportions,
is invariable.
1 be principal focal distance of a lens may not only
be found by collecting the rays coming from the sun,
considered as parallel, but also (by means of this pro¬
position) it may be found by the light of a candle or
window. For, because Q y : y A=z:Q E : EG, ivc
have (when A coincides with E) Qy : yE~QE:
EF; that is, the distance observed between the ra¬
diant object and its picture in the focus is to the di¬
stance ot the lens from the focus as the distance of
the lens from the radiant is to its principal focal di¬
stance. Multiply therefore the distances of the lens
from the radiant and focus, and divide the product by
their sum.
Corol 3. Convex lenses of different shapes that have
equal focal distance when put into each others places,
have equal powers upon any pencil of rays to refract
them to the same focus. Because the rules above
mentioned depend only upon the focal distance of the
lens, and not upon the proportion of the semidiameters
of its surfaces.
Corol. 4. The rule that xvas given for a sphere of
an uniform density, will serve also for finding the focus
ot a pencil of rays refracted through any number of con¬
centric surfaces, which separate uniform mediums of any
different densities. For when rays come parallel to any
line drawn through the common centre of these me¬
diums, and are refracted through them all, the distance
of their focus from that centre is invariable, as in an
uniform sphere.
Corol. 5. When the focuses Q, y lie on the same
side of the refracting surfaces, if the incident rays flow
from Q, the refracted rays will also flow from q; and if
the incident rays flow towards Q, the refracted will also
flow towards y; and the contrary will happen when Q
and y are on contrary sides of the refracting surfaces.
Because the rays are continually going forwards.
From this proposition we also derive an easy method
of drawing the progress of rays through any number of
lenses ranged on a common axis.
Let A, B, C, be the lenses, and R A a ray incident
on the first of them. Let /3, *, be their foci for pa¬
rallel rays coming in the opposite direction j draw the
perpendicular a (/, cutting the incident ray in d, and
draw d a through the centre of the lens : A B parallel
Jp e to
f
21 8
OfYisior. ^ da will be the
optics.
m a u vvm ray refracted by the first lens.
Through the focus of the second lens draw the perpen¬
dicular^ e, cutting AB in *; and draw e b through the
centre of the second lens. BD parallel to b e will be
the next refracted ray. Through the focus * of the
third lens draw the perpendicular */, cutting in/,
and draw f c through the centre of the third lens. ^
parallel to/c, will be the refracted ray } and so on.
Sect. V. On Vision.
Having described how the rays of light, flowing from
obiects, and passing through convex glasses, are collect¬
ed into points, and form the images of external objects ,
it will be easy to understand how the rays are refracted
by the humours of the eye, and are thereby collected
into innumerable points on the retina on which they
form the images of the objects from which they flow.
For the different humours of the eye, and particularly
or uie    — ^ ' - i #
the crystalline, are to be considered as a convex glass,
and the rays in passing through them as affected in t ic
same manner in the one as in the other. A description
of the coats and humours, &c. has been given in Ana¬
tomy ; but it will be proper to repeat as much of
the description as will be sufficient for our present pur-
Plate 1 The eye is nearly globular, and consists of three coats
ccclxxx. an(l three humours. The part UHHG of the ou er
fig‘ 3' coat, is called the sclerotica ; the rest, DEFG, the cornea
Description Next within this coat is that caJW the cW« »Wh
of the eye. serves as it were for a lining to the other, and joins
with the iris, m n, m n. The iris is composed of two
sets of muscular fibres-, the one of a circular form, which
contracts the bole in the middle called the pupil, when
the light would otherwise be too strong for the eye-, and
the other of radical fibres, tending everywhere from the
circumference of the iris towards the middle of the
pupil j which fibres, bv their contraction, dilate and
enlarge the pupil when the light is weak, m order to
let in a greater quantity of it. The third coat is only a
fine expansion of the optic nerve L, which spreads lute
net work all over the inside of the choroides, and is
theiefore called the retrna; upon which are thrown the
images of all visible objects.
Under the cornea is a fine transparent fluid like water,
thence called the aqueous humour. It gives a protube¬
rant figure to the cornea, fills the two cavities m m and
n n which communicate by the pupil P \ and has the
same limpidity, specific gravity, and refracting power,
as water. At the back of this lies the crystalline hu¬
mour II, which is shaped like a double convex glass ;
and is a little more convex on the back than the fore
part. It converges the rays, which pass through it
from every visible object to its focus at tho bottom of the
eye> This humour is transparent like crystal, is of the
consistence of hard jelly, and is to the specific gravity
of water as 11 to xo. It is enclosed in a fine transparent
membrane, called the capsule of the crystalline lens,
from which proceed radial fibres o o, called the ciliary
ligaments, all around its edge, and join to the circum¬
ference of the iris.
At the back of the crystalline, lies the vitreous hu¬
mour KK, which is transparent like glass, and is largest
of all in quantity, filling the whole orb of the eye, and
Part L
giving it a globular shape. It is much of a consistence Of Vision,
with the white of an egg, and very little exceeds the' y J
specific gravity and refractive power of water. _ ^
As every point of an object ABC, sends out rays in The objects
all directions, some rays, from every point on the side on the ret.
next the eye, will fall upon the cornea between E and ^
;p . and by passing on through the pupil and humours ot verle(j.
the eye they will be converged to as many points on
the retina or bottom of the eye, and will form upon it a
distinct inverted picture c b a, of the object. Thus, the o- •
pencil of rays q r s that flows from the point A of the
object, will be converged to the point a on the retina -,
those from the point B will be converged to the point
b; those from the point C will be converged to the point
c; and so of all the intermediate points : by which
means the whole image a 6 c is formed, and the object-
made visible ", though it must be owned, that the me¬
thod by which this sensation is conveyed by the optic
nerve from the eye to the brain, and there discerned, is
above the reach of our comprehension.
That vision is effected in this manner, may be de¬
monstrated experimentally. Take a bullock’s eye whilst
it is fresh 5 and having cut off the three coats from the
back part, quite to the vitreous humour, put a piece
of white paper over that part, and hold the eye to¬
wards any bright object, and you will see an inverted
picture of the object upon the paper, or the same thing
may be better accomplished by paring the sclerotic coat
so thin that it becomes a little transparent, and retains
the vitreous humour. 134
Since the image is inverted, many have wondered why the?
why the object appears upright. But we are to consider, are seen
1. That inverted is only a relative term : and, 2, l hat 1 k
there is a very great difference between the real object
and the image by which we perceive it. When all
the parts of a distant prospect are painted upon the
retina, they are all right with respect to one another,
as well as the parts of the prospect itself-, and we can
only judge of an object’s being inverted, when it is
turned reverse to its natural position with respect to
other objects which we see and compare it with.—If we
lay hold of an upright stick in the dark, we can tell
which is the upper or lower part of it, by moving oui
hand downward and upward 3 and know very well that
we cannot feel the upper end by moving our hand
downward. In the same manner we find by experience,
that upon directing our eyes towards a tall object, we
cannot see its top by turning our eyes downward, nor
its foot by turning our eyes upward; but must trace the
object the same way by the eye to see it irom bead to
foot, as we do by the hand to feel it; and as the judgy
ment is informed by the motion ot the hand in one case*
so it is also by the motion of the eye in the other.
In fig. 9. is exhibited the manner of seeing the same Fig. <?•
object ABC, by both the eyes D and E at once. 135
When any part of the image cb a falls upon the °p-A»
tic nerve E,. the corresponding part of the object be-”™
* ~ o\ 11 nf rtiFtir*. nerve 18. .1  „
comes invisible. On this account, the optic nerve is'both eyeS
wisely placed, not in the middle of the bottom ol the(joe9not
eye, but towards the side next the nose ; so that what-appear
ever part of the image falls upon the optic nerve °f one^e’he'
eye, may not fall upon the optic nerve of the otbci'-oplicnerve
Thus the point a of the image eba falls upon the opticis insensi.
nerve of the eye D, but not of the eye E ; and the point ble of.tig
im-
■lit.
! :• 2
Theory. ' OPT
:)f Vision. C falls upoh the optifc nerve of the eye E, but not of the
J eye D j an’d therefore to both eyes taken together, the
whole object ABC is visible.
The nearer that any object is to the eye, the larger is
the angle under which it is seen, and the magnitude
of which it appears. Thus to the eye D, the object
ABC is seed under the angle APC; and its image cb a
Plate is very large upon the retina: but to the eye E, at a
ficimi. double distance, the same object is seen under the’angle
S' ' A^C, which is equal only to half the angle APC, as is
evident by the figure. The image cb ais likewise5 twice
as large in the eye D, as the other image c 6 a is in the
eye E. In both these representations, a part of the
image falls on the optic nerve, and the object in the
corresponding parts is invisible.
As the sense of seeing is allowed to be occasioned
by the impulse of the rays from the visible object upon
the retina, and thus forming the image of the object
upon it, and that the retina is only the expansion of
the optic nerve all over the choroides; it should seem
surprising, that the part of the image which falls on the
optic nerve should render the like part of the object in¬
visible ; especially as that nerve is allowed to be the
instrument by which the impulse and image are convey¬
ed to the common sensory in the brain.
136 That part of the image which falls upon the middle
inecLby 0f 0pt;c nerve is iost) an(j consequently the corre¬
sponding part of the object is rendered invisible, is plain
by experiment. For if a person fixes three patches,
A,B, C, (fig. 2.) upon a white wall, at the height of
the eye, and at the distance of about a foot from each
other, and places himself before them, shutting the right
eye, and directing the left towards the patch C, he will
see the patches A and C, but the middle patch B will
disappear. Or, if he shuts his left eye, and directs the
right towards A, he will see both A and C, but B will
disappear; and if he directs his eye towards B, he will see
both B and A, but not C. For whatever patch is di¬
rectly opposite to the optic nerve N, vanishes. This re¬
quires a little practice; after which he will find it easy
to direct his eye so as to lose the sight of whatever
patch he pleases.
This experiment, first tried by M. Marriotte, occa-
eeminj, a new hypothesis concerning the seat of vision,
t seat of wh'ch he supposed not to be in the retina, but in the
choroides. An improvement on the experiment was af¬
terwards made by M, Picard, who contrived that an
object should disappear when both the eyes wTere kept
open. He fastened upon a wall a round white paper,
an inch or twro in diameter; and by the side of it he fixed
two marks^ one on the right hand, and the other on the
left, each at about two feet distance from the paper, and
somewhat higher. He then placed himself directly be¬
fore the paper, at the distance of nine or ten feet, and
putting the end of his finger over against both his eyes,
so that the left-hand mark might be hid from the right
eye, and the right-hand mark from the left eye. Re¬
maining firm in this posture, and looking steadily, with
both eyes, on the end of his finger, the paper which
was not at all covered by it would totally disappear.
This, he says, is the more surprising, because, without
this particular encounter of the optic nerves, where no
vision is made, the paper will appear double, as is the
^tlse when the finger is not rightly placed.
I c s.
137
' pute
M. Marriotte observes, that this improvement on his Of Vision-
experiment, by M. Picard, is ingenious, but difficult to"    
execute, since the eyes must be considerably strained in
looking at any object so near as four inches; and pro¬
poses another not less surprising, and more easy. Place,
says he, on a dark ground, two round pieces of white
paper, at the same height, and three feet from one an¬
other; then stand opposite to them, at the distance
of 12 or 13 feet, and hold your thumb before your
eyes, at the distance of about eight inches, so that it
may conceal from the right eye the paper that is to
t ie left hand, and from the left eye the paper to the
right hand. Then, if you look at your thumb steadily
with both eyes, you will lose sight of both the papers;
the eyes being so disposed, that each of them receives
the image of one of the papers upon the base of the optic
nerve, while the other is intercepted by the thumb.
M. Le Cat pursued this curious experiment a little
farther than M. Marriotte. In the place of the second
paper, he fixed a large white board, and observed, that
at a proper distance he lost sight of a circular space
in the centre of it. He also observed the size of the
papei which is thus concealed from the sight, correspond¬
ing to several distances, which enabled him to ascertain
several circumstances relatingtothis part of the structure
of the eye more exactly than had been done before.
I he following is the manner in which this curious
experiment is now generally made. Let three pieces of
paper be fastened upon the side of a room, about two
feet asunder ; and let a person place himself opposite
to the middle paper, and, beginning near to it, retire
gradually backwards, all the while keeping one of his
eyes shut, and the other turned obliquely towards that
outside paper which is towards the covered eye, and he
will find a situation (which is generally at about five
times the distance at which the papers are placed from
one another), when the middle paper will entirely dis¬
appear, while the two outermost continue plainly vi¬
sible ; because the rays which come from the middle
paper will fall upon the retina where the optic nerve is
inserted.
It is not surprising that M, Marriotte was led, by this
remarkable observation, to suspect that the retina was
the seat of vision. He not only did so ; but, in conse¬
quence of attentively considering the subject, a variety
of other arguments in favour of the choroides occurred,
to him, particularly his observation, that the retina is
transparent, as well as the crystalline and other humours
of the eye, which he thought could only enable it to
transmit the rays farther; and he could not persuade
himself that any substance could be considered as being
the termination of the pencils and the proper seat of vi¬
sion, at which the rays are not stopped in their progress.
He was farther confirmed in his opinion of the small
degree of sensibility in the retina, and of the greater
sensibility of the choroides, by observing that the pupil
dilates itself in the shade, and contracts itself in a great
light; which involuntary motion, he thought, was a
clear proof that the fibres of the iris are extremely
sensible to the action of light; and this part of the eye
is only a continuation of the choroides. He also
thought that the dark colour of the choroid coat was
intended to make it more susceptible of the impression
of light.
E e 2 M.
220 .
Of Vision.
OPT
M. Pecquet, in answer to M. Marriotte’s observation
concerning tire transparency of the retina, says, that
it is very imperfectly so, resembling only oiled paper, or
the horn that is used for lanterns*, and besides, that its
whiteness demonstrates it to be sufficiently opaque tor
stopping the rays of light, as much as is necessary tor
the purpose of vision-, whereas, if vision he performed
by means of those rays which are transmitted through
such a substance as the retina, it must be very indistinct.
The retina resembles very much the thin white film winch
intervenes between the white of an egg and its shell.
As to the blackness of the choroides, which M. Mar-
riotte thought to be necessary for the purpose of vision,
M. Pecquet observes, that it is not the same in all eyes,
and that there are very different shades of it among the
individuals of mankind, as also among birds, and some
other animals, whose choroides is generally black-, and
that in the eyes of lions, camels, bears, oxen, stags,
sheep, dogs, cats, and many other animals, that part of
the choroides which is the most exposed to light, very
often exhibits colours as vivid as those of mother-of-
pearl, or of the iris. He admits that there is a defect
of vision at the insertion of the optic nerve -, but he
thought that it was owing to the blood-vessels of the
retina, the trunks of which are so large in that place as
to obstrnct all vision.
To M. Pecquet’s objection, founded on the opacity
of the retina, M. Marriotte replies, that there must be
a great difference betwixt the state of that substance in
living and dead subjects-, and as a further proof of
the transparency of the retina, and the power of the
ehoroides beyond it to reflect light, he says, that if a
lighted candle be held near to a person s eyes, and a
dog, at the distance of eight or ten steps, be made to
look at him, he would see a bright light in the dog’s
eyes, which he thought to proceed from the reflection
of the light of the candle from the choroides of the
dog, since the same appearance cannot be produced
Jn the eyes of men, or other animals, whose choroides
Is black. > • • -o
M. Marriotte observes, in opposition to Pecquet s re¬
mark concerning the blood-vessels of the retina, that
they are not large enough to prevent vision in every part
of the base of the nerve, since the diameter of each of
the two vessels occupies no more than ^th part of it.
Besides, if this were the cause of this want of vision, it
would vanish gradually, and the space to which it is
(confined would not be so exactly terminated as it ap¬
pears to be.
We must add, that M. Pecquet also observed, that
notwithstanding the insensibility of the retina at the in¬
sertion of the optic nerve when the light is only mode¬
rate j yet luminous objects, such as a bright candle pla¬
ced at the distance of four or five paces, do not abso¬
lutely disappear, in the same circumstances in which a
white paper would; for this strong light may be per¬
ceived though the picture fall on the base of the nerve.
Hr Priestley, however, found that a large candle
made no impression on that part of his eye, though by
no means able to bear a strong light.
The common opinion was also favoured by the ana¬
tomical description of several animals by the members
of the French academy, and particularly their account
of the sea calf and porcupine; in both of which the
optic nerve is inserted in the very axis of the eye, ex-
J
ICS, Part Ii'
actly opposite to the pupil, which was thought to leave Of Vision,
no room to doubt, but that in these animals the retina -■ v
is perfectly sensible to the impression of light at the in¬
sertion of the nerve. . ,
M. He la Hire took part with M. 1 ecquet, arguing
in favour of the retina from the analogy of the senses,
in all of which the nerves are the proper seat of sensa¬
tion. This philosopher, however, supposed that the cho¬
roid coat receives the impressions of images, in order to
transmit them to the retina.
M. Perrault also took the part of M. Pecquet -against
M. Marriotte, and in M. Perrault’s works we have se¬
veral letters that passed between these two gentlemen
upon this subject. . . f i\/r
This dispute was revived by an experiment ot m,
Mery, recorded in the memoirs of the French Acade¬
my for 1704. He plunged a cat in water, and exposing
her eye to the strong light of the sun, observed that the
pupil was not at ail contracted by it; whence he con¬
cluded, that the contraction of the iris is not produced by
the action of the light. For he contended that the eye
receives more light in this situation than in t ie open
air. At the same time he thought he observed that the
retina of the cat’s eye was transparent, and that he
could see the opaque choroides beyond it; from which
he concludes, that the choroides is the substance intend¬
ed to receive the rays of light, and to he the clnel in¬
strument of vision. But M. He la Hire, in opposition
to this argument of M. Mery, endeavours to show that
fewer rays enter the eye under water, and that in
those circumstances it is not so liable to be alleetea
by them. Besides, it is obvious, that the cat must be m
great terror in this situation; and being an animal that
has a very great voluntary power over the muscles ot
the iris, and being now extremely attentive to every
thing about her, she might keep her eye open notwith¬
standing the action of the light upon it, and though it
might be very painful to her. We are informed, that
when a cat is placed in a window through which the
sun is shining, and consequently her iris nearly closed,
if she hear a rustling, like that which is made by a
mouse, on the outside of the window, she will immedi¬
ately open her eyes to their greatest extent, without in
the least turning her face from the light.
M. Le Cat took the side of M. Marriotte m tins con¬
troversy, it being peculiarly agreeable to his general hy¬
pothesis, viz., that the pia mater, of which the choroides
is a production, and not the nerves themselves, is the.
proper instrument of sensation. He thought that the
change which takes place in the eyes of bid people, (the
ehoroides growing less black with age) favoured his hy¬
pothesis, as they do not see with the same distinctness as
young persons. M. Le Cat supposed that the retina
answers a purpose similar to that of the scarf-skin, cover¬
ing the papillae pyramidales, which are the immediate
organs of feeling, or that of the porous membrane which
covers the glandulous papillfe of the tongue. The re¬
tina, he says, receives the impression of light, moder¬
ates it, and prepares it for its proper organ, but is not
itself sensible of it. • j
It must be observed, that M. Le Cat liadTdiscovered
that the pia mater, after closely embracing the optic
nerve, at its entrance into the eye, divides into two
branches, one of which closely lines the cornea, and at
length is lost in it, while the second branch forms what
° is
i
Theory. OPT
Of visipn, lS ca^e^ the choroides, or uvea. He also showed that
•„, v-— > the sclerotic coat is an expansion of the dura mater:
and he sent dissections of the eye to the Royal Academy
of Sciences in 1739, to prove these assertions, and seve¬
ral others contrary to the opinions of the celebrated
Winslow, which he had advanced in his Traite de
Sens.
To these arguments in favour of the choroides, we
may add the following given by Mr Michell.
In order that vision be distinct, the pencils of rays
which issue from the several points of any object, must
be collected either accurately, or at least very nearly, to
corresponding points in the eye, which can only be done
upon some uniform surface. But the retina being of a
considerable thickness, and the whole of it being uni¬
formly nervous, and at least nearly, if not perfectly,
transparent, presents no particular surface 5 so that, in
whatever part of it the pencils be supposed to have their
foci, the rays belonging to them will be separated from
one another, either before or after they arrive there, and
consequently vision would be confused.
If we suppose the seat of vision to be at the interior
surface of the retina, and the images of objects to be
formed by direct rays, a considerable degree of confu¬
sion could not but arise from the light reflected by the
choroides, in those animals in which it is white, or co¬
loured. On the other hand, it would be impossible that
vision should be performed at this place by light reflect¬
ed from the choroides, because in many animals it is
perfectly black ; and yet such animals see even more di¬
stinctly than others.
If the seat of vision be at the farther surface of the
retina, and if vision be performed by direct rays, a
white choroid coat could be of no use ; and if it were
by reflected rays, a black one could not answer the pur¬
pose.
It is likewise an argument in favour of the choroides
being the organ of vision, that it is a substance which
receives a more distinct impression from the rays of light
than any other membrane in any part of the animal sy¬
stem, excepting, perhaps, that white cuticle which lies
under the scales of fishes : whereas the retina is a sub¬
stance on which the light makes an exceedingly faint
impression, and perhaps no impression at all; since light
in passing out of one transparent medium into another
immediately contiguous to it, sufl'ers no refraction or
reflection, nor are any of the rays absorbed unless there
is some difference in the refracting power of the two
media, which probably is not the case between the reti¬
na and the vitreous humour which is in contact with it:
And wherever the light is not aflected by the medium
on which it falls, we can hardly suppose the medium to
receive any impression from the light, the action being
probably always mutual and reciprocal.
Besides, the retina is so situated, as to be exposed to
many rays besides those which terminate in it, and which,
therefore, cannot be subservient to vision, if it be per¬
formed there. Now this is not the case with the cho¬
roides, which is in no shape transparent, and has no re¬
flecting substance beyond it.
It is, besides, peculiarly favourable to the opinion of
Marriotte,that we can then see a suflicient reason for the
diversity of its colour in different animals, according as
they are circumstanced with respect to vision. In all
terrestrial animals, which use their eyes by night, the
I c s.
221
choroides is either of a bright white, or of some very vivid of Vision,
colour, which reflects the light very strongly. On this —y—
account vision may be performed with less light, but it
cannot be with great distinctness, the reflection of the
rays doubling their effect, since it must extend over some
space, all reflection being made at a distance from the
reflecting body. Besides, the choroides in brutes is not
in general perfectly white, but inclined to blue; and ia
therefore, probably, better adapted to see by the fainter
coloured light, which chiefly prevails in the night; and
we would add, is on the same account more liable to be
strongly impressed by the colours to which they are
chiefly exposed.
On the other hand, the choroides of birds in genera),
especially eagles, hawks, and other birds of prey, is
black ; by which means they are able to see with the
greatest distinctness, but only in bright day light. The
owl, however, seeking her food by night, has the cho¬
roides white like that of a cat. In the eyes of man,
which are adapted to various uses, the choroides is nei¬
ther so black as that of birds, nor so white as that of
those animals who make the greatest use of their eyes in
the night.
As to a third hypothesis, which is in effect that of
M. de la Hire, and which makes both the retina and
the choroides equally necessary to vision, and supposes it
to be performed by the impression of light on the cho¬
roides communicated to the retina; Mr Michell ob¬
serves, that the perceptions can hardly be supposed to be
so acute, when the nerves do not receive the impressions
immediately, but only after they have been communi¬
cated to another substance. Besides, it must be more
natural to suppose, that, when the principal impression
is made upon the choroides, it is communicated to the.
brain by its own nerves, which are sufficient for the pur-.
I>0Sre,- . . . Us
The dimensions and precise form of the spot in the I)imenSi0r!B
eye in which there is no vision, were more accurately of the spot
calculated by Daniel Bernouilli, in the following man-*11 the eye
ner. He placed a piece of money, O, upon the floor
and then shutting one of his eyes, and making a pendu- vjs-on
lum to swing, so that the extremity of it might be near- Plate
ly in the line AO, he observed at what place C it be- ccclxxxi.
gan to be invisible, and where it again emerged into 3*
view at A. Raising the pendulum higher and lower,,
he found other points, as IT, N, P, G, B, at which it
began to be invisible ; and others, as M, L, E, A, at.
which it began to be visible again ; and drawing a curve
through them, he found that it was elliptical ; and, with
respect, to his own eye, the dimensions of it were as fol¬
low ; OC was 23, AC 10, BD 3, DH 13, and EG
14 ; so that the centre being at F, the greater axis was
to the less as 8 to 7.
From these data the plane on which the figure was
drawn being obliquely sitdiited with respect to the. eye,
he found, that the place in the eye that corresponded to
it was a circle, the diameter of which was a seventh
part of the diameter of the eye, the centre of it being
27 parts of the diameter from the point opposite to the
pupil, a little above the middle. In order, therefore,
that this space in which there is/no vision may be as
small as possible, it is necessary that the nerve should en¬
ter the eye perpendicularly, and that both this end, and
also its entering the eye at a distance from its axis, are
gained by the particular manner in which the two optic
nerves.
222 . 0 P .T
Gf Vision, fterves unite and become separate again, by crossing
y one another. . , n
In support of one of the observations ot Mr Michell,
Dr Priestley observes, that Aquapendente mentions the
case of a person at Pisa, who could see very well in the
night, but very little or none at all in the day time.
This is also said to be the case with those white people
among the blacks of Africa, and the inhabitants of the
isthmus of America, who, from this circumstance, are
called moon-eyed. Dr Priestley thinks it probable that
their choroides is not of a dark colour, as it is in others
of the human species } but white or light-coloured, as
in those animals which have most occasion for their eyes
in the night. , ,, •
i.39 Dr Porterfield observes, that the reason why there is
Arguments ^ vigion at the entrance of the optic nerve into the eye,
ttna’s being may be its want of that softness and delicacy which it
the seat of has when it is expanded upon the choroides j and that,
vision. jn tjlose animals in which that nerve is inserted in the
axis of the eye, it is observed to be equally delicate, and
therefore probably equally sensible, in that place as in
any other part of the retina. In general, the nerves,
when embraced by their coats, have but little sensibility
in comparison of what they are endued with when they
are divested of them, and unfolded in a soft and pulpy
substance.
Haller observes, that the choroides cannot be univer¬
sally the seat of vision, because, sometimes in men and
birds,but especially in fishes, it is covered internally with
>a black mucus, through which the rays cannot pene¬
trate. This writer speaks of a fibrous membrane in the
retina distinct from its pulpy substance. On these fi¬
bres, he conjectures, that the images of objects are
painted. _ .
M. De la Hire’s argument in favour of the retina,
from the analogy of the senses, is much strengthened
by considering that the retina is a large nervous appa¬
ratus, immediately exposed to the impression of light 3
whereas the choroides receives but a slender supply
of nerves, in common with the sclerotica, the conjunc¬
tiva, and the eyelids, and that its nerves are much less
exposed to the light than the naked fibres of the optic
nerve. _ ....
That the optic nerve is of principal use in vision, is
farther probable from several phenomena attending some
of the diseases of the eye. When an amaurosis has af¬
fected one eye only, the optic nerve of that eye has been
found manifestly altered from its sound state. Dr Priest-
lev was present when Mr Hey examined the brain ot a
young girl, who had been blind of one eye, and saw
that the optic nerve belonging to it was considerably
smaller than the other 3 and he informed him, that up¬
on cutting into it, it was much harder, and cineritious.
Morgagni mentions two cases, in one of which he found
the optic nerves smaller than usual, and of a cineritious
colour, when, upon inquiry, lie was informed that the
person had not been blind, though there might have
been some defect in the sight of one of the eyes. In
the other case, only one of the optic nerves was affected
In that manner, and the eye itself was in other respects
very perfect. Here, also, he was expressly told, that
the person was not blind of that eye.
Besides, as the optic nerve is solely spent in forming
the retina, so no function of the eye not immediately
subservient to vision, is affected by an amaurosis. On
I C S. , Part1-
the contrary, those nerves which go to the choroides Of Vision,
are found to retain, in this disease, their natural in-' » r
fluence. The iris will contract in a recent gutta serena
of one eye, if the other remains sound, and is suddenly
exposed to a strong light. The sclerotica, conjunctiva,
and eyelids, which receive their nerves from the same
branches as the choroides, retain their sensibility in
this disorder.
The manner in which persons recover from an amau¬
rosis, favours the supposition of the seat of vision being
in the retina : since those parts which are the most di¬
stant from the insertion of the nerve, recover their sensi¬
bility the soonest, being in those places the most pulpy
and soft 3 whereas there is no reason to think that
there is any difference in this respect in the different
parts of the choroides. Mr Hey has been repeatedly
informed, by persons labouring under an imperfect amau¬
rosis, or gutta serena, that they could not, when look¬
ing at any object with one eye, see it so distinctly when
it was placed in the axis of the eye, as when it was si¬
tuated out of the axis. And those persons whom he had
known to recover from a perfect amaurosis, first disco¬
vered the objects whose images fell upon that part of
the retina which is at the greatest distance from the op¬
tic nerve. ( . r
We shall conclude these remarks with observing, that
If the retina be as transparent as it is generally represent¬
ed to be, so that the termination of the pencils must ne¬
cessarily be either upon the choroides, or some other
opaque substance interposed between it and the retina,
the action and reaction occasioned by the rays of light
being at the common surface ot this body and the retina,
both these mediums (supposing them to be equally sen¬
sible to light) may be equally affected 3 but the retina,
being naturally much more sensible to this kind of im¬
pression, may be the only instrument by which the sen¬
sation is conveyed to the brain, though the. choroides,
or the black substance with which it is sometimes lined,
may also be absolutely necessary to vision. 1 his is not
far from the hypothesis of M. de la Hire, and will com¬
pletely account for the entire defect of vision at the in¬
sertion of the optic nerve. . # ofbne-kt
Vision is distinguished into bright and obscure, distinct ^ £
and indistinct.—It is said to be bright, when a sufficient scurei dij.
number of rays enter the pupil at the same time ; oi-tinct and
scure, when too few. It is distinct when each pencil of indistinct
rays is collected into a focus exactly upon the retina 3 vl51°
indistinct, when they meet before they come at it, or
when they would pass it before they meet 3 for, in ei¬
ther of these last cases, the rays flowing from different
parts of the object will fall upon the same part of the
retina, which must necessarily render the image indis¬
tinct.—Now, that objects may appear with a due
brightness, whether more or fewer rays proceed from
them, we have a power of contracting or dilating the
pupil, by means of the muscular fibre of the iris, in or¬
der to take in a greater or smaller number of rays. But
this power has its limits. In some animals it is much
greater than in others 3 particularly in such as are obli¬
ged to seek their food by night as well as by day, as in
Celts &LC* 141
In order that the rays be collected into points exact- Of distinc;
ly upon the retina, that is, in order that objects may ap-vmonat
pear distinct, whether they be nearer or farther off, 1.e- d|stancc?
whether the rays proceeding from them diverge more or
less
Theory. OPT
Of Vision less, some change must necessarily take place in the eye.
\ 1 The nature of this change has been a subject of great
dispute among philosophers. While some have main¬
tained, that the eye accommodates itself to different di¬
stances, by the muscular power of the ciliary ligament,
which makes the crystalline lens approach to, or recede
from, the retina ; others are of opinion, that the form
of the crystalline is altered by the ciliary ligament, or
by the muscular power of the laminae of which it is
composed. M. de la Hire supposes, that the eye is
adapted to various distances by the contraction and di¬
latation of the pupil ; and Dr Monro imagines, that its
effect is produced by the pressure of the orbicular
muscles upon the upper and under parts of the cornea,
or by the action of the recti muscles, which elongate the
axis of the eye, by pressing chiefly upon the sides of the
eyeballs.—This subject has lately been accurately exa¬
mined by Mr Ramsden, and Mr Everard Home, who
found, that the adjustment of the eye is effected by
three changes in the organ : I. By an increase of cur¬
vature in the cornea, occasioned by the action of the
I c s.
223
recti muscles, which produces ^ of the effect. 2. By
an elongation of the eyeball; and, 3. By a motion of
the crystalline lens.
3fshort- In those eyes where the cornea is very protuberant,
ighted and the rays of light suffer a considerable refraction at their
ong-sight- entrance into the aqueous humour, and are therefore
PeoPe- collected into a focus before they fall upon the retina,
unless the object be placed very near, so that the rays
which enter the eye may have a considerable degree of
divergency. People that have such eyes are said to be
‘purblind. Now, since the nearer an object is to the
eye, the greater is its image, these people can see much
smaller objects than others, as they see much nearer ones
with the same distinctness ; and their sight continues
good longer than that of other people, because the cor¬
nea, as they grow old, becomes less protuberant, from
the want of that redundancy of humours with which
they were filled before. On the contrary, old men
having the cornea of their eyes too flat, for want of a
sufficient quantity of the aqueous humour, if the rays
diverge too much before they enter the eye, they can¬
not be brought to a focus when they reach the retina :
on which account those people cannot see distinctly, un¬
less the object be situated at a greater distance from the
eye than is required for those whose eyes are of a due
form. The latter require the assistance of convex glas¬
ses to make them see objects distinctly y the former of
concave ones. For if either the cornea a b c, (fig. 4). or
crystalline humour e, or both of them, be too flat, as in
the eye A, their focus will not be on the retina as at A’,
where it ought to be, in order to render vision distinct j
but beyond the eye, as at /I This is remedied by pla^
cing a convex glass gbefore the eye, which makes
the rays converge sooner, and forms the image exactly
on the retina at d. Again, If either the cornea, or cry¬
stalline humour, or both of them, be too convex, as in
the eye B, the rays that enter it from the object C will
be converged to a focus in the vitreous humour, as atf ;
and by diverging from thence to the retina, will form a
very confused image upon it j so that the observer will
have as confused a view1 of the object as if his eye had
been too flat. This inconvenience is remedied by pla¬
cing a concave glass g A before the eye ; which glass,
by causing the rays to diverge between it and the eye,
Plate
VCLXXXI,
4*
lengthens the focal distance, and makes the rays unite Of Vision,
at the retina, and form a distinct image of the ob-1 ‘
ject.
Such eyes as are of a proper convexity, cannot seeOf thtkast
any object distinctly at less distance than six inches; and ang!e of
there are numberless objects too small to be seen at that v^on’
distance, because they cannot appear under any sensible
angle.—-Concerning the least angle under which any
object is visible, there was a debate between Dr Hooke
and Hevelius. The former asserted that no object could
well be seen if it subtended an angle less than one mi¬
nute ; and, if the object be round as a black circular
spot upon a white ground, or a white circle upon a black
ground, it follows, from an experiment made by Dr
Smith, that this is near the truth ; and from this he
calculates, that the diameter of the picture of such least
visible point upon the retina is the 8000th part of an
inch ; which he therefore calls a sensible point of the re¬
tina. On the other hand, Mr Courtivron found, by
experiment, that the smallest angle of vision was 40 se¬
conds. According to Dr Jurin, there are cases in which
a much smaller angle than one minute can be discerned
by the eye; and he observes, that in order to our per¬
ceiving any impression upon our senses, it must either be
of a certain degree of force, or of a certain degree of
magnitude. For this reason, a star, which appears only
as a lucid point through a telescope subtending not so
much as an angle of one second, is visible to the eye ; ,
though a white or black spot of 25 or seconds, is not Lines can
perceptible. Also a line of the same breadth with the seen un-
circular spot will be visible at such a distance as the spotcier sn,a]ler
is not to be perceived at: because the quantity of im-^otl^ndn
pression from the line is much greater than that from why/
the spot; and a longer line is visible at a greater di¬
stance than a shorter one of the same breadth. H^.
found by experience, that a silver wire could be seen
when it subtended an angle of three seconds and a half,
and that a silk thread could be seen when it subtended
an angle of two seconds and a half.
This greater visibility of a line than of a spot seems -
to arise only from the greater quantity of the impression;
but without the limits of perfect vision, Dr Jurin ob¬
serves, that another cause concurs, whereby the differ-?
ence of visibility between the spot and the line isiender-
ed much more considerable. For the impression upon
the retina made by the line is then not only much great¬
er, but also much stronger, than that of the spot; be¬
cause the faint image, or penumbra, of any one point of
the line, when the hole is placed beyond the limits of
distinct vision, will fall within the faint image of the
next point, and thereby much increase the light that
comes from it.
In some cases Dr Jurin found the cause of indistinct
vision to be the unsteadiness of the eye ; as our being
able to see a single black line upon a white ground or
a single white line upon a black ground, and not a white
line between two black ones on a white ground. In
viewing either of the former objects, if the eye be im¬
perceptibly moved, all the effect will be, that the ob¬
ject will be painted upon a different part of the retina;
but wherever it is painted, there will be but one picture,
single and uncompounded with any other. But in view¬
ing the other, if the eye fluctuate ever so little, the
image of one or other of the black lines will be so shift¬
ed to that part of the retina which was before possessed
bY
_ OPT
or vision by tlie wlute line ; ami tills must occasion such a daz-
214^ Ji„K in the eye, that the white line cannot be dtatmet-
perceived, and distinguished from the black mes,
which by a continual fluctuation, will alternately
eupy the space of the white line, whence must arise an
appearance of one broad dark line, without any mani¬
fest separation. _ .
Bv tryino-this experiment with two pins ot kn
diameter, se°t in a window against the sky light, with a
space between them equal in breadth to one of the pins,
he found that the distance between the pins could hard¬
ly be distinguished when it subtended an angle ot les
than 40 seconds, though one of the pins alone could be
distinguished when it subtended a much less angle. But
though a space between two pins cannot be distinguis i-
cd by the eye when it subtends an angle less than 4
seconds, it does not follow that the eye must nccessan y
commit an error of 40 seconds in estimating tl* tetance
between two pins when tliey are much t.irlher 1
another. For if the space between them subtend an
angle of one minute, and each of the pins subtend an
angle of four seconds, which is greater than the least
angle the eye can distinguish, it is manifest that the ey
magv judge of the place tf each pin within two seconds
at the most', and consequently the error committed in
taking the angle between them cannot at the most ex¬
ceed four seconds, provided the instrument be suffi¬
ciently exact. And yet, says he, upon the like nm-
take was founded the principal objection ol Dr Hook .
against the accuracy of the celestial observations of
A black spot upon a white ground, or a white spot
upon a black ground, he says, can hardly be perceived by
the generality of eyes when it subtends a less angle than
-one minute. And if two black spots be made upon
white paper, with a space between them equal m breadth
to one of their diameters, that space is not to he distin¬
guished, even within the limits of perfect vision, undei
so small an angle as a single spot ot the same size. o
see the two spots distinctly, therefore, the hieadth
the space between them must subtend an angle ot more
than a minute. It would be difficult, he says, to make
this experiment accurately, within the limits of perfect
vision j because the objects must be extremely small:
but by a rude trial, made with square bits of white pa¬
per, placed upon a black ground, he judged, that the
feast angle under which the interval of two objects could
be perceived, was at least a fourth part greater than the
least angle under which a single object can be perceived.
So that an eye which cannot perceive a single object
under a smaller angle than one minute, will not perceive
the interval between two such objects under a less angle
than 75 seconds. . , . , ,
Without the limits of perfect vision, the distance at
which a single object ceases to be perceptible wll be
much greater in proportion than the distance at which
a space of equal breadth between two such objects ceases
to be perceptible. For, without these limits, the image
of each of the objects will be attended with a penumbra,
and the penumbra of the two near objects will take up
part of the space between them, and thus render it ess
perceptible •, but the penumbra will add to the breadth ot
the single object, and will thereby make it more percep¬
tible, unless its image be very faint. Lpon the same
I c s.
Part I.
principles he likewise accounts for the radiation of the Of Vision.
stars, whereby the light seems to project from them dif- y—■»
ferent ways at the same time. . .
Mr Mayer made many experiments m order to ascer¬
tain the smallest angle of vision in a variety of respects.
He began with observing at what distance a black spot
was visible on white paper*, and found, that when i
could barely be distinguished, it subtended an angle of
about 34 seconds. When black lines were disposed with
hitervals broader than themselves they were distinguish¬
ed at a greater distance than they could be when the
ohiects and the intervals were equal in breadth. In a
these cases it made no difference whether the objects
were placed in the shade or in the light of the sun ; but
when the degrees of light were small, their differences
ad a considerable effect, though by no means m propor-
Sto the differences of the light. For if an objec
was illuminated to such a degree as to be j«st visible at
the distance of nine feet, it would be visible at the dis¬
tance of four feet, though the light was diminished above
' 60 times. It appeared in the course of these experi¬
ments, that common daylight is, at a medium, equal to
that of 25 candles placed at the distance of one foot
" Sge of every visible object is pointed on the
retina of each of our eyes, it thence becomes a natura ^ ^
nuestion Why we do not see every thing double. It
was the opinion of Sir Isaac Newton and others, that
ebiects appear single, because the two optic nerves unite
before the, reach the brain. But Dr Porterfield show^,
from the observation of several anatomists, that the op-
tic nerves do not mis, or confound their substance be¬
ing only united by a close cohesion ; and objects have
appeared single where the optic nerves were found to
^ Dr^Briggs supposed that single vision was owing toSol.tini.
the equal tension of the corresponding parts of the op-of tins Jit
tic nerves, whereby they vibrated in a synchronous mai- ^
ner Bui, besides several improbable circumstances in |
this account, Dr Porterfield shows that facts do by no
means favour it. , • ■ • „
To account for this phenomenon, this ingenious writ¬
er supposes, that by an original law in our natures, we
imagine objects to be situated somewhere in a right line
drawn from the picture of it upon the retina, through
the centre of the pupil. Consequently, the same object ^
appearing to both eyes to be in the same place, the Er Porte
mi nd cannot distinguish it into two. In answer to an Mi
objection to this hypothesis, from objects aPP^a” »
double when one eye is distorted, he says the mind mis¬
takes the position of the eye, imagining that it had
moved in a manner corresponding to the other, in which
case the conclusion would have been just.
This principle, however, has been thought sufficient
to account for this appearance. _ Originally, every o -
ject, making two pictures, is imagined to be double ,
but by degrees, we find, that when two corresponding
parts^of the retina are impressed, the object is but on ,
but if those corresponding parts be changed, y ie
tortion of one of the eyes, the object must again appear
double as at the. first. This has been thought verified
by Mr Cheselden ; who informs us, that a geat|en a ’
wh„ from a blew nr, bis head had one eye d.stortcd
found every object to appear double i but
OfVision.
Theory. o P T
the most familiar ones came to appear single again, and
in time all objects did so, without any amendment of
the distortion.
On the other hand, Dr Reid is of opinion, that the
correspondence of the centres of the two eyes, on which
single vision depends, does not arise from custom, but
from some natural constitution of the eye and of the
mind. He makes several just objections to the case of
Mr Forster, recited by Dr Smith and others; and thinks
that the case of the young man couched by Cheselden
who saw singly with both eyes immediately upon receiv¬
ing his sight, is nearly decisive in proof of his supposi¬
tion. He also found that three young gentlemen, whom
he endeavoured to cure of squinting, saw objects singly,
as soon as ever they were brought to direct the centres
of both their eyes to the same object, though they had
never been used to do so from their infancy; and he
observes, that there are cases, in which, notwithstand¬
ing the fullest conviction of an object being single, no
practice of looking at it will ever make it appear so, as
when it is seen through a multiplying glass.
To all these solutions of the difficulty respecting
single vision by both eyes, objections have been lately
made which seem insurmountable. By judicious experi¬
ments, Dr Wells has shown, that it is neither by cus¬
tom alone, nor by the original property of the eves
alone, that objects appear single ; and having demolish¬
ed the theories of others, he thus endeavours to account
for the phenomenon.
“ Ihe visible place of an object being composed of
its visible distance and visible direction, to show how it
may appear the same to both eyes, it will be necessary
(says he*) to explain in what manner the distance and
direction, which are perceived by one eye, may co¬
incide with those which are perceived by the other.”
With respect to visible distance, the author’s opinion
seems not to differ from that which we have stated else¬
where (see Metaphysics, N°49, 50.) ; and therefore
we have to attend only to what he says of visible direc¬
tion.
When a small object is so placed with respect to
either eye, as to be seen more distinctly than in any
other situation, our author says that it is then in the
optic axis, or the axis of that eye. When the two
optic axes are directed to a small object not very di¬
stant, they may be conceived to form two sides of a
triangle, of which the base is the interval between the
points of the corners where the axis enter the eyes.
This base he called the visual base ; and a line drawn
from the middle of it to the point of intersection of
the optic axis he calls the common axis. He then pro¬
ceeds to show, that objects really situated in the optic
axis do not appear to be in that line, but in the common
axis.
149
8r Wells.
* Essay on
Single Vi¬
sion, &c.
Every person (he observes) knows, that if an object
be viewed through two small holes, one applied to each
eye, the two holes appear but as one. The theories
hitherto invented afford two explanations of this fact.
According to Aguilonius, Dechales, Dr Porterfield, and
Dr Smith, the two holes, or rather their borders, will
be seen in the same place as the object viewed through
them, and will consequently appear united, for the same
reason that the object itself is seen single. But whoever
makes the experiment will distinctly perceive, that the
United hole is much nearer to him than the object; not
VOL. XV. Parti. t
I c s.
to mention, that any iiihacy on tins head might be cor- ot’
reeled by the information from the sense of touch, that
the card or other substance in which the holes have been
made is within an inch or less of our face. The other
explanation is that furnished by the theory of Dr Reid.
According to it, the centres of the retinas, which in
this experiment receive the pictures of the holes, will,
by an original property, represent but one. This theory’
however, though it makes the two holes to appear one,
does not determine where this one is to be seen. It can¬
not be seen in only one of the perpendiculars to the
images upon the retinas, for no reason can be given why
this law, of visible direction, which Dr Reid thinks
established beyond dispute, if it operates at all. should
not operate upon both eyes at the same time ; and if it
be seen by both eyes in such lines, it must appear where
those lines cross each other, that is, in the same place
with the object viewed through the holes, which, as I
have already mentioned, is contrary to experience. Nor
is it seen in any direction, the consequence of a law af¬
fecting both eyes considered as one organ, but suspend¬
ed when each eye is used separately. For when the
two holes appear one, if we pay attention to its situa¬
tion, and then close one eye, the truly single hole will
be seen by the eye remaining open in exactly the same
direction as the apparently single hole was by both
eyes.
“ Hitherto I have supposed the holes almost touching
the face. But they have the same unity of appearance,
in whatever parts of the optic axes they are placed *
whether both be at tbe same distance from the eyes, or
one be close to the eye iu the axis of which it is, and
the other almost contiguous to the object seen through
them. If a line, therefore, be drawn from tbe object
to one of the eyes, it will represent all the real or tan¬
gible positions of the hole, which allow the object to be
seen by that eye, and the whole of it will coincide with
the optic axis. Let a similar line be drawn to the other
eye, and the two must appear but as one line; for if
they do not, the two holes in the optic axes will not,
at every distance, appear one, whereas experiments prove
that they do. This united line will therefore represent
the visible direction of every object situated in either of
the optic axes. But the end of it, which is towards tbe
face, is seen by the right eye to tbe left, and by the left
eye as much to the right. It must be seen then in the
middle between the two, and consequently in the com¬
mon axis. And as its other extremity coincides with
the point where the optic axes intersect each other, the
whole of it must lie in the common axis. Hence the
truth of the proposition is evident, that objects situated
in the optic axis, do not appear to be in that line, but
in the common axis.”
He then proves by experiments, that objects situated
in the common axis did not appear to be in that line,
but in the axis of the eye by which they are not seen :
that is, an object situated in the common axis appears
to tbe right eye in the axis of the left, and vice versa.
His next proposition, proved likewise by experiments,
is, that “ objects, situated in any line drawn through the
mutual intersection of the optic axes to the visual base,
do not appear to be in that line, but in another drawn
through the same intersection, to a point in the visual
base distant half this base from the similar extremity
of the former line towards the left, if the objects be
F f seen
OPT
226
Of Vision, seen By tire right eye, hut towards the right if seen by
—v ' the left eye.” _ . .
From these propositions he thus accounts for single
vision by both eyes. “ If the question be concerning
an object at the concourse of the optic axes, it is seen
single, because its two similar appearances, in regard to
size, shape, and colour, are seen by both eyes m one
and the same direction, or if you will, in two directions,
which coincide with each other through the whole of
their extent. It therefore matters not whether the di¬
stance be truly or falsely estimated’, whether the object
be thought to touch our eyes, or to be infinitely remote.
And hence we have a reason, which no other theory or
visible direction affords, why objects appeared single to
the young gentleman mentioned by Mr Clieselden, im¬
mediately after his being couched, and before he could
have learned to judge of distance by sight. .
“ When two similar objects are placed in the optic
axes, one in each, at equal distances irom the eyes,
they will appear in the same place, and therefore one,
for the same reason that a truly single object, m the
concourse of the optic axes, is seen single.
« 'Jo finish this part of my subject, it seems only
necessary to determine, whether the dependence of vi¬
sible direction upon the actions of the muscles of the
eves be established by nature, or by custom. But facts
are bare wanting. As far as they go, however, they
serve to prove that it arises from an original principle ot
our constitution. For Mr Cheselden’s patient saw ob¬
jects single, and consequently in the same directions with
both eyes, immediately after he was couched} and pei-
sons affected with squinting from their earliest infancy
see objects in the same directions with the eye they have
never- been accustomed to employ, as they do with the
other they have constantly used.”
We are indebted to Dr Jurin for the following cu¬
rious experiments, to determine whether an object seen
by both eyes appears brighter than when seen with one
He laid a slip of clean white paper directly before
him on a table, and applying the side of a book close
to his right temple, so that the book was advanced con¬
siderably farther forward than his face, he held it in
such a manner, as to hide from his right eye that half
of the paper which lay to his left hand, while the left
half of the paper was seen by both eyes, without any
impediment.
Then looking at the paper with both eyes, he ob¬
served it to be divided, from the top to the bottom, by
a dark line, and the part which was seen with one eye
only was manifestly darker than that which was seen
with bath eyes y and, applying the book to his left
temple, he found, by the result of the experiment, that
both his eyes were of equal goodness.
He then endeavoured to determine the excess of this
brightness •, and comparing it with the appearance of an
object illuminated partly by one candle and’ partly by
two, be was surprised to find that an object seen with
two eyes is by no means twice as luminous as when it is
seen with one *, and after a number of trials, he found,
that when one paper was illuminated by a candle placed
at the distance of three feet, and another paper by the
same candle at the same distance, and by another candle
at the distance of 1 x feet, the former seen by both eyes
and. the latter with one eye only, appeared to be of
1S°
Objects
seen with
both eyes
appear
brighter
than when
seen with
one.
ICS. > ’Parti,
equal whiteness ; so that an object seen with both eyes Of Vision,
appears brighter than when it is seen with one only by v 1
about a 13th part.
He then proceeded to inquire, whether an object seen
with both eyes appears larger than when seen with one 5.
but he concluded that it did not, except on account of
some particular circumstances, as in the case ot the bi-*
nocular telescope and the concave speculum.
M. du Tour maintains, that the mind attends to no
more than the image made in one eye at a time , ami
produces several curious experiments in favour of tins
hypothesis, which had also been maintained by Kepler
and almost all the first opticians. But, as M. Button
observes, it is a sufficient answer to this hypothesis,
however ingeniously it may be supported, that we see
more distinctly with two eyes than with one ’, and that
when a round object is near us, we see more of the sur¬
face in one case than in the other. .
With respect to single vision with txvo eyes, Dv
Hartley observes, that it deserves particular attention,
that the optic nerves of men, and such other animals as
look the same way with both eyes, unite in the cctta
turcica in a ganglion, or little brain, as one may call if,
peculiar to themselves > and that the associations between
synchronous impressions on the two retinas must be made
sooner and cemented stronger on this account. also tlmi
they ought to have a much greater power over one ano¬
ther’s images, than in any other part of the body. And
thus au impression made on the right eye alone, by a
single object, may propagate itself into the left, and
there raise up an image almost equal in vividness to it<-
self •, and consequently when we see with one eye only,
we may, however, have pictures in both eyes.
A curious deception in vision, arising from the use
of both eyes, was observed and accounted for by Dr
Smith. It is a common observation, he says, that ob¬
jects seen with both eyes appear more vivid and strong^
er than they do to a single eye ; especially when both
of them are equally good. A person not short-sighted
may soon be convinced of this fact, by looking at¬
tentively at objects that are pretty remote,' first with
one eye, and then with both. This observation gave
occasion to the construction of the binocular telescopej
in the use of which the phenomenon is still more strik¬
ing.
Besides this, Dr Smith observes, that there is another
phenomenon observable with this instrument, which is
very remarkable. In the foci of the two telescopes there
are two equal rings, as usual, which terminate the pic¬
tures of the objects there formed, and consequently the
visible area of the objects themselves. These equal
rings, by reason of the equal eye-glasses, appear equal
and equidistant when seen separately by each eye ; but
when they are seen with both eyes, they appear much
larger, and more distant also*, and the objects seen
through them also appear much larger, though circum¬
scribed by their united rings, in the same places as
when they were seen separately.
He observes that the phenomenon of the enlarged
circle of the visible area in the binocular telescope, may
be seen very plainly in looking at distant objects through
a pair of spectacles, removed from the eyes about four
or five inches, and held steady at that distance. I h®
two innermost of the four apparent rings, which hold
the glasses, will then appear united in one larger and
xaoxe
Theory. OPT
Of Vision, more distant ring than the two outermost, which will
1 r ' hardly be visible unless the spectacles be farther re¬
moved.
A curious circumstance relating to the effect of one
eye upon the other, was noticed by M. JEpinus, who
observed, that, when he was looking through a hole
made in a plate of metal, about the loth part of a
line in diameter, with his left eye, both the hole itself
appeared larger, and also the field of view seen through
it was more extended, whenever he shut his right eye •
and both these effects were more remarkable when that
eye was covered with his hand. He found consider¬
able difficulty in measuring this augmentation of the
apparent diameter of the hole, and of the field of view-
hut at length he found, that, when the hole was half
an inch, and the tablet which he viewed through it was
three feet from his eye, if the diameter of the field when
both his eyes were open was i, it became when the
other eye was shut, and nearly 2 when his hand was
Ijx laid upon it.
When one Upon examining this phenomenon, it presentlv ap-
eftkpu- P^art‘^ t0 depend upon the enlargement of the pupil
pilot'the °|. on.e e-ve w^ien ^,e other is closed, the physical cause
other is en- which he did not pretend to assign ; but he observes,
larged. that it is wisely appointed by Providence, in order that
when one eye fails, the field of view in the other may
be extended, lhat this effect should be more sensible
when the eye is covered with the hand, is owing, he
observes, to the eye-lids not being impervious to the
light. But the augmentation of the pupil does not en¬
large the field of view, except in looking through a
hole, as in this particular case ; and therefore persons
who are blind of one eye can derive no advantage from
this circumstance.
A great deal has been written by Gassendi, Le Clerc,
Musschenbroek, and Du Tour, concerning the place to
which we refer an object viewed by one or both eyes.
But the most satisfactory account of this matter that we
have met with, will be found in Dr Wells’s Essay
above quoted.
I c s.
227
of a pencil of rays flowing from it proceeds after thev a.
have passed through the medium. ' ancfoTob.
. hat we are able to judge, though imperfectly, of jects thro.’
ie distance of an object by the degree of divergency Media ot'
wherein the rays flowing from the same point of the
object enter the pupil of the eye, in cases where that
divergency is considerable j but because in what follows
A will be necessary to suppose an object, when seen
through a medium whereby its apparent distance is al¬
tered, to appear m some determinate situation, in those
cases where the divergency of the rays at their entrance
nto the eye is considerable, we will suppose the object
to appear where those lines which they describe in en-
enng if produced back, would cross each other
though it must not be asserted, that this is the precise
istance j because the brightness, distinctness, and ap¬
parent magnitude of the object, on which its apparent
distance in some measure depends, will also suffer an al-
£ Zal ,efraction of tl,e “y “ ^
+i ‘V /^!at vve.estimate tbe magnitude of an object ly
that of the optic angle. " *
4. lhat vision is the brighter, the greater the num¬
ber of rays is which enter the pupil.
$. And that, in some cases, the apparent brightness,
distinctness, and magnitude of an object, are the only
means by which our judgment is determined in estimat¬
ing the distance of k.
Prop. I.
An object placed within a medium terminated by
a plane surface on that side which is next the
eye, if the medium be denser than that in which
the eye is (as we shall suppose it to be, un¬
less where the contrary is expressed), appears
nearer to the surface of the medium than it
is.
152
The va.
ions ap¬
pearances
'f objects
een thro’
pedia of
afferent
jorms
tated and
westigat-
Id.
Sect. M. 0/’ the Appeai'ance of Objects seen through
Media of different Forms.
For the more easy apprehension of what relates to
this subject, we shall premise the five following particu¬
lars, which either have been already mentioned, or fol¬
low from what has been before laid down.
1. lhat as each point of an object, when viewed by
the naked eye, appears in its proper place, and as that
place is always to lie found in the line in which the axis
of a pencil of rays flowing from it enters the eye, or else
in the line which Dr Wells calls the common axis j we
hence acquire a habit of considering the point to be si¬
tuated in that line: and, because the mind is unacquaint¬
ed with what refractions the rays suffer before thev en¬
ter the eye, therefore, in cases where they are diverted
from their natural course, by passing through any me¬
dium, it judges the point to be in that line produced
back in which the axis of a pencil of rays flowing from
it is situated the instant they enter the eye, and not in
that it was in before refraction. We shall, therefore,
in what follows, suppose the apparent place of an ob¬
ject, when seen through a refracting medium, to he
somewhere in that line produced back in which the axis
Thus, if A (fig. j.) be a point of an object placed
within the medium BCDE, and A 6 A c be two rays
proceeding from thence, these rays passing out of a den¬
ser into a rarer medium, will be refracted from tlmir re¬
spective perpendiculars b d, c e, and will enter the eye
at H, suppose in the direction i J\ c g : let then these
lines be produced back till they meet in F; this will
be the apparent place of the point A; and because the
refracted rays b j, c g will diverge more than the inci¬
dent ones Ab, Ac, it will be nearer to the points b and
c than the point A j and as the same is true of each
point in the object, the whole will appear, to an eye at
H, nearer to the surface BC than it is.
lienee it is., that when one end of a straight stick
is put under water, and the stick is held in an oblique
position, it appears bent at the surface of the wa¬
ter j viz. because each point that is underwater ap¬
pears nearer the surface, and consequently higher than
it is.
From this likewise it happens, that an object at the
bottom of a vessel may be seen when the vessel is filled
with water, though it be so placed with respect to the eye,
that it cannot be seen when the vessel is empty. To
explain this, let ABCD (fig. 6.) represent a vessel, and Fig.
let E be an object lying at the bottom of it. This ob¬
ject, when the vessel is empty, will not be seen by an
I f 2 eve
Plate
ceclxxxi.
% 5-
228
A ppeav-
aiice of Ob¬
jects thro’
jVledia of
different
Ifornis.
An object
nluiited in
thebodzon
appears
above its
true place.
OPT
eye at F, because HB, the upper part of the vessel
Jill obstruct the ray EH *, but when it is filletl with
water to the height GH, the ray at ^ being refrac.
ted at the surface of the water into the line Jvt, the
eye at F shall see the object by means oi that.
^ In like manner, an object situated in the horizon
appears above its true place, on account of the ie-
fraction of the rays which proceed from it m their
passage through the atmosphere, lor, first, It the o
Let be situated beyond the limits of the atmosphere,
m entering it will be refracted towards the per-
pendicular j that is, towards a line drawn from the point
where they enter, to the centre of the earth, which it,
the centre of the atmosphere : and as they pass on, they
will be continually refracted the same way, because they
a " all along entering a denser part, the centre ot whose
convexity is still the same point •, upon which account
the line thev describe will he a curve bending ow
wards: and therefore none of the rays that come from
that object can enter an eye upon the surface of the
earth, except what enter the atmosphere higher than
they need to do if they could come in a right line
from the object: consequently the. object must appear
above its proper place. Secondly, If the object be
placed within the atmosphere, the case is still the same
for the rays which flow from it must continually entei
adenser medium whose centre « below the-eye , and
therefore being refracted towards the centre, that is
downwards as before, those which enter the eye must
necessarily proceed as from some point above the ob¬
ject j whence the object will appear above its proper
P^Hence it is, that the sun, moon, and stars, appear
above the horizon, when they are just below it j and
higher than they ought to do, vvhen they are above i .
Likewise distant hills, trees, &c. seem to be higher
than they arc. . ,1 , •
Besides, The lower these objects are in the horizon
the greater is the obliquity with which the rays which
flow from them enter the atmosphere, or pass from the
rarer into the denser parts of it •, and therefore they ap¬
pear to be the more elevated by refraction: on which
account the lower parts of them are apparently more
elevated than the rest. Tins makes their upper and
under parts seem nearer than they are j as is evident
from the sun and moon, which appear of an oval form
when they are in the horizon, their horizontal diame¬
ters appearing of the same length that they would do
jf the rays suffered no refraction, while then* veitical
ones are thus shortened.
ICo. . .  •
in the lines oc, b d, parallel to their first directions. Appear-
Producc these lines back till they meet in c: ^Ob.
he the apparent place of the point R *, and it ^ evident ^
from the figure, that it must be nearer the eye than that different
point ; and because the same is true of all other pencils FormSt
flowing from the object A B, the whole will be seen in ' ^
the situation f g, nearer to the eye than the hne A^*
2. As the rays RK, RL would not have entered the
eye, but have passed by it m the * directions K r, L t,
had they not been refracted in passing through the me¬
dium, the object appears brighter. 3. Ihe rays A h%
B L will be refracted at h and ^ into the less conver¬
ging lines h k, i /, and at the other surface into k M,
/ M, parallel to A h and B 1 produced *, so that the ex¬
tremities of the object will appear in the lines M k, M l
produced, viz. in/and £, and under as arge an angle
fM e, as the angle A (/ B under which an eye at </
would have seen it had there been no medium inter¬
posed to refract the rays : and therefore it appears
larger to the eye GH, being seen through the in¬
terposed medium, than otherwise it would have done.
But it is here to be observed, that the nearer the point
c appears to the eye on account of the refraction of
the ravs RK, RL, the shorter is the image/#, because
it is terminated by the lines M/and Mg, upon which
account the object is made to appear less j and there¬
fore the apparent magnitude of an object is not much
augmented by being seen through a medium of tins
O J
form
Farther, it is apparent from the figure, that the ef¬
fect of a medium of this form depends wholly upon its
thickness j for the distance between the lines R r and
e r, and consequently the distance between the points c
and R, depends upon the length of the line K ° :
Again, The distance between the lines AM and/ M
depends on the length of the line h k; but both k »
and k h depend on the distance between the surfaces
CE and DF, and therefore the effect of this medium
depends upon its thickness.
Prop. HI.
An object seen through a convex lens, appears
larger, brighter, and more distant, than with
the naked eye.
15s
Prop. II.
154
An object
seen thro’
a plane me
dium ap-
pearsnearer
and bright
erthan seen
by the nak¬
ed eye.
Plate
CCCLXXXI.
An object seen through a medium terminated by
plane and parallel surfaces, appears nearer,
brighter, and larger, than with the naked eye.
7*
For instance, let AB (fig. 7.) be the object, CHEF
the medium, and GH the pupil of an eye, which is here
drawn large to prevent confusion m the figure.—And,
1. Let RK, RL, be two rays proceeding from the point
R and entering the denser medium at K and L j these
rays will here by refraction be made to diverge less, and
to proceed afterwards, suppose in the lines K u, L 6 ; at
a and b, where they pass out of the denser medium, they
will be as much refracted the contrary way, proceeding
To illustrate this, let AB (fig. 8.) he the object, CD Seen thro
the lens, and EF the eye. 1. From A and B, the extre-^ ^
mities of the object, draw the lines AYr, BXr, crossingpearsjar<;t
each other in the pupil of the eye*, the angle ArB com-brighter,
prehended between these lines, is the angle under which and more
the object would be seen with the naked eye. But by g>
the interposition of a lens of this form, whose property
it is to render converging rays more so, the rays A I
and BX will he made to cross each other before they
reach the pupil. There the eye at E will not perceive
the extremities of the object by means of these rays (tor
they will pass it without entering), hut by some others
which must fall without the points Y and X, or be¬
tween them *, hut if they fall between them, they will
be made to concur sooner than they themselves would
have done : and therefore, if the extremities ot the ob¬
ject could not he seen by them, it will much less he seen
by these. It remains therefore, that the rays which
will enter the eye from the points A and B after refrac¬
tion, must fall upon the lens without the points \ and
Theory.
Appear- X j let then the rays AO and BP be such. These af-
anceofOb ter refraction entering the eye at r, the extremities of
K,tllFOf t!ie object wI11 be seen in t,ie lilt's r Q, r T, produced
different and under tlie °Pt.ic anSle Q r T» which is larger than
Fonns. A r B, and therefore the apparent magnitude of the ob-
wv ' ject will be increased.—2. Let GHI be a pencil of rays
flowing from the point G j as it is the property of this
lens to render diverging rays less diverging, parallel, or
converging, it is evident that some of those rays, which
would proceed on to F and E, and miss the eye were
they to suffer no refraction in passing through the lens,
will now enter it; by which means the object will ap¬
pear brighter. 3. The apparent distance of the object
will vary according to the situation of it with respect to
the focus of parallel rays of the lens. 1. Then, let us
suppose the object placed so much nearer the lens than
its focus of parallel rays, that the refracted rays KE and
LF, though rendered less diverging by passing through
it, may yet have a considerable degree of divergency',
so that we may be able to form a judgment of the dis¬
tance of the object thereby. In this case, the object
ought to appear where EK, FL produced back concur j
which, because they diverge less than the rays GH, GI,
will be beyond G, that is, at a greater distance from
the lens than the object is. But because both the
brightness and magnitude of the object wdil at the same
time be augmented, prejudice will not permit us to
reckon it quite so far off as the point where those lines
meet, but somewhere between that point and its proper
place. 2. Let the object be placed in the focus of pa¬
rallel rays, then will the rays KE and LF become pa¬
rallel 5 and though in this case the object would appear
at an immense distance, if that distance were to be
judged of by the direction of the rays KE and LF, yet
on account of its brightness and magnitude we shall not
think it much farther from us than if it were seen by
Plate tbe naked eye. 3. If the object be situated beyond the
ccclxxxi. focus of parallel rays, as in BA, the rays flowing from
% 9- it, and falling upon the lens CD, will be collected into
their respective foci at a and A, and the intermediate
points in, n, &c. and there will form an image of the
object AB ; and after crossing each other in the several
points of it, as expressed in the figure, will pass on di¬
verging as from a real object. Now if an eye be situa¬
ted at c, where Ac, Be, rays proceeding from the ex¬
treme points of the object, make not a much larger
angle A c B, than they would do if no lens were inter¬
posed, and the rays belonging to the same pencil do not
converge so much as those which the eye would receive
if it were placed nearer to a or b, the object upon these
accounts appearing very little larger or brighter than
with the naked eye, is seen nearly in its proper place :
but if the eye recede a little way towards a b, the object
then appearing both brighter and larger seems to
approach the lens : which is an evident proof of what
has been so often asserted, viz. that we judge of the
distance of an object in some measure by its bright¬
ness and magnitude ; for the rays converge the more
the farther the eye recedes from the lens ; and there¬
fore if we judged of the distance of the object by the
direction ot the rays which flow from it, we ought in
this case to conceive it at a greater distance, than when
the rays were parallel, or diverged at their entrance
.into the eye.
That the object should seem to approach the lens in
optics.
229
Media of
different
Forms.
this case, was a difficulty that puzzled Dr Barrow, and Anpcar-
Avhich he pronounces insuperable, and not to be ac-ance of Ob-
counted for by any theory we have of vision. Mo- jects thro’
lineux also leaves it to the solution ot others, as that
which will be inexplicable, till a more intimate know¬
ledge of the visive faculty, as he expresses it, be obtain¬
ed by mortals.
Ihey imagined, that since an object appears farther
oft, the less the rays diverge which fall upon the eye,
it they should proceed parallel to each other, it ought
to appear exceeding remote ; and if they should con¬
verge, it should then appear more distant still: the rea¬
son ot tins was, because they looked upon the apparent
place of an object, as owing only to the direction of the
rays whatever it was, and not at all to its apparent
magnitude or splendour.
Perhaps it may proceed from our judging of the dis¬
tance of an object in some measure by its magnitude,
that the deception of sight commonly observed by tra¬
vellers may arise j viz. that upon the first appearance of
a building larger than usual, as a cathedral church, or
the like, it generally seems nearer to them, than they
afterwards find it to be.
Prop. IV.
If an object be placed farther from a convex lens
than its focus of parallel rays, and the eye be
situated farther from it on the other side than
the place where the rays of the several pencils
are collected into their proper foci, the object
appears inverted, and pendulous in the air, be¬
tween the eye and the lens.
To explain this, let AB represent the object, CD the i„ certain
lens; and let the rays on the pencil ACD be collected cirsum-
in a, and those of BCD in b, forming there an inverted stances an
image of the object AB, and let the eye be placed in tlu
F : it is apparent from the figure, that some of the re- convex lens
fracted rays which passthrough each point of the image appears in¬
will enter the eye as from a real object in that place j verted and
and therefore the object AB will appear there, as the Pen^uloVs
proposition asserts. But we are so little accustomed to1"1 6 aU‘
see objects in this manner, that it is very difficult to1 Ig'
perceive the image with one eye ; but if both eyes are
situated in such a manner, that rays flowing from each
point of the image may enter both, as at G and H, and
avc direct our optic axes to the image, it is easy to be
perceived.
If the eye be situated in a or A, or very near them
on either side, the object appears exceedingly indistinct,
viz. if at d, the rays Avhich proceed from the same
point of the object converge so veiy niuch, and if at e,
they diverge so much, that they cannot be collected
together upon the retina, but fall upon it as if they
Avere the axes of so many distinct pencils coming through
every point of the lens $ wherefore little more than
one single point of the object is seen at a time, and that
appears all over the lens ; whence nothing but indis¬
tinctness arises.
If the lens be so large that both eyes may be ap¬
plied to it, as in h and k, the object will appear double j
for it is evident from the figure, that the rays xvhich
enter the eye at h from either extremity of the object
A or B, do not proceed as from the same point with
that
c s.
230
Appear¬
ance of Ob¬
jects thro’
Media of
different
Forms
OPT
that from whence those which enter the other at k seem
to flow) the mind therefore is here deceived, and looks
upon the object as situated in two different places, and
therefore judges it to be double.
I
Part I
Prop. V.
157
An object
through a
concave
lens is seen
nearer,
smaller,
and less
bright than
with the
naked eye.
Fig. 10.
An object seen through a concave lens appears
nearer, smaller, and less bright, than with the
naked eye.
Thus, let AB (fig. 10.) be the object, CD the pupil
of an eve, and El1 the lens. Now, as it is the property
of a lens of this form to render diverging rays more so,
and converging ones less so, the diverging rays GH,
GI, proceeding from thepointG, will be made to diverge
more, and so to enter the eye as from some nearer point
g; and the rays AH, BI, which converge, will be
made to converge less, and to enter the eye as from the
points a and b ; wherefore the objects will appear in the
situation a g h, less and nearer than without the lens.
Further, As the rays which proceed from G are render¬
ed more diverging, some ol them will pass by the pu¬
pil of the eye, which otherwise would have entered it,
and therefore each point of the object will appear less
bright.
Prop. VI.
An object seen through a polygonal glass, that is,
one which is terminated by several plain surfa¬
ces, is multiplied thereby.
Plate
^1ULC Let A be an object, and BC a polygonous glass ter-
ccclxxxi minated by the plane surfaces BD, DE, &c. and let
fig- n- the situation of the eye F be such, that the rays AB be¬
ing refracted in passing through the glass, may enter it
in the direction BE, and the rays AC in the direction
CF. Then will the eye, by means of the former, see
the object in G, and by the latter in H ; and by means
of the rays AI, the object will also appear in its proper
situation A.
Sect. VII. On the Reflection of Light.
Some3per- When a ray of light falls upon any body, however
tion of light transparent, the whole of it never passes through the
always re- t,0dy but some part is always reflected from it j and
fleeted from. j,v this reflected light that all bodies which have
bodies!^11 no light of their own become visible to us. Of that
part of the ray which enters, another part is also reflec¬
ted from the second surface, or that which is farthest
from the luminous body. When this part arrives again
at the first surface, part of it is reflected back from that
surface ; and thus it continues to be reflected between
the two surfaces, and to pass backwards and fonvards
within the substance of the medium, till some part is
totally extinguished and lost. Besides this inconsider¬
able quantity, however, which is lost in this manner,
the second surface often reflects much more than the
first •, so that, in certain positions, scarcely any rays will
pass through both sides of the medium. A very consi¬
derable quantity is also unaccountably lost at each re¬
flecting surface •, so that no body, however transparent,
can transmit all the rays which fall upon it; neither,
though it be ever so well fitted for reflection, will it re¬
flect them all. ,
On the Cause of Refection. Refloctiul
The reflection of light is not so easily accounted for as,'“““>
refraction. This last property may be accounted tor
in a satisfactory manner, by the supposition of a attrac¬
tive power diffused throughout the medium, and extend¬
ing a very little way beyond it } but with regard to the
reflection of light, there seems to be no satisfactory hy¬
pothesis hitherto invented. Of the principal opinions
on this subject Mr Rowning has given us the following
account. 1^
I. It was the opinion of philosophers, before Sir Isaac Light is
Newton discovered the contrary, that light is reflected not reflect
by impinging upon the solid parts of bodies. Lut thatc^^‘m
■this is not the ease is evident from the following reasons,
First, It is not reflected at the first surface of a body parts ol-
by impinging against it. For in order that the light bodies at
may be regularly reflected, there should be no asperi-^efirsts-;
ties or unevenness in the reflecting surface large enoughtace
to bear a sensible proportion to the magnitude of a ray
of light j because if the surface abound with these, the
incident rays would be irregularly scattered rather than
reflected with that regularity with which light is ob¬
served to be from a well polished surface. Now those
surfaces, which to our senses appear perfectly smooth
and well polished, are far from being so ; for to polish,
is only to grind off the larger protuberances of the me¬
tal with the rough and sharp particles of emery, which
must of necessity leave behind them an infinity of asperi¬
ties and scratches, which, though inconsiderable with re¬
ward to the former roughnesses, and too minute to be
discerned by us, must nevertheless bear a large propor¬
tion to, if not vastly exceed, the magnitude of the parti¬
cles of light.
Secondly, It is not reflected at the second surface by nor attli
impinging against any solid particles. That it is notsecond-
reflected by impinging upon the solid particles which
constitute this second surface, is sufficiently obvious from
the foregoing argument; the second surfaces of bodies
being as incapable of a perfect polish as the first: and it
is farther confirmed fronvthis, viz. that the quantity of
light reflected differs according to the different density
of the medium behind the body. It is likewise not re¬
flected by impinging upon the particles which constitute
the surface of the medium behind it, because the strong¬
est reflection at the second surface of a body, is when
there is a vacuum behind it. 101
II. It has been the opinion of some, that light is re-Suppositij
fleeted at the first surface of a body, by a repulsive force
equally diffused over it: and at the second, by an at¬
tractive force. 162
1. If there be a repulsive force diffused over the sur-objected
face of bodies that repels the rays of light, then, since
by increasing the obliquity of a ray we diminish its per¬
pendicular force (which is that only whereby it must
make its way through this repulsive force), however
weakly that force may be supposed to act, rays of light
may be made to fall with so great a degree of obliquity
on the reflecting surface, that there shall be a total re¬
flection of them there, and not one particle of light be
able to make its way through : which is contrary to
observation j the reflection of light at the first surlace
of a transparent body being never total in any obliquity jgj
whatever. Attracts
2. As to the reflection at the second surface by the {oi'ce sUI
attractive ^°se^’
i6c
I'heory.
164
jection
i]a«se of attractive force ot tlie body 5 this may be considered
reflection, in two respects : first, when the reflection is total j se-
"~v—condly, when it is partial.
First, In cases where the reflection is total, the cause
of it is undoubtedly that same attractive force by which
light would be refracted in passing out of the same
body. This is manifest from that analogy which is
observable between the reflection of light at the second
surface, and its refraction there. For, otherwise, what
can be the reason that the total reflection should begin
just when the obliquity of the incident ray, at its arrival
at the second surface, is such, that the refracted angle
ought to be a right one j or when the ray, were it not
to return in reflection, ought to pass on parallel to the
surface, without going from it P For in this case it is-
evident, that it ought to be returned by this very power,
and in such a manner that the angle of reflection shall
be equal to the angle of incidence j just as a stone
thrown obliquely from the earth, after it is so far turn¬
ed out of its course by the attraction of the earth, as to
begin to move horizontally, or parallel to the surface of
the earth, is then by the same power made to return in
a curve similar to that which is described in its depar¬
ture from the earth, and so falls with the same degree of.
obliquity that it was thrown with.
But, secondly, As to the reflection at the second sur¬
face, when it is partial } an attractive force uniformly
spread over it, as the abettors of this hypothesis
conceive it to be, can never be the cause thereof.
Because it is inconceivable, that the same force, acting
in the same circumstances in every respect, can some¬
times reflect the violet-coloured rays, and transmit the
red, and at other times reflect the red and transmit the-
violet.
This objection, however, is not well founded ; for
in each colour, the reflection takes place at that angle,
and no other, where the refraction of that ray would
make it parallel to the posterior surface.
This partial reflection and refraction is a great dif¬
ficulty in all the attempts which have been made to
give a mechanical explanation of the phenomena of
optics. It is equally a desideratum in that explana¬
tion which wras proposed by Huygens, by means of the
undulations of an elastic fluid, although a vague conr
sideration of undulatory motions seems to ofl'er a very
specious analogy. But a rigid application of the know¬
ledge we have acquired of these motions, will convince
us that the phenomena of undulation are essentially
dissimilar to the phenomena of light. The inflection
and refraction of light, demonstrate that light is acted on
by moving forces in a direction perpendicular to the
surface *, and it is equally demonstrable that such forces
must, in proper circumstances, produce reflections pre¬
cisely such as we observe. The only difficulty is to show
how there can be forces which produce both reflecr
tion and refraction, in circumstances which are similar.
I he fact is, that such effects are produced: the first
logical inference is, that with respect to the light
which is reflected and that which is refracted, the
circumstances are not similar j and our attention should
be directed to the discovery of that dissimilarity. All
the phenomena of combined reflection and refraction
should be examined and classed according to their ge¬
nerality, not doubting but that these points of re¬
semblance will lead to the discovery of their causes.
4
OPTICS.
NW the experiments of M. Bouguer show that bodies
thlTer ,n thetr powers of thus separating light by reiiee- ReE.t
tion and refraction. It is not therefore a general pro- —v-~‘
perty of light to be partly reflected and partly refracted
but a distinctive property of different bodies j and since*
we see that they possess it in different degrees, we are
authorized to conclude that some bodies may want it al-
together. We may therefore expect some success, by
considering how bodies are affected by light, as well as
how light is affected by bodies. Now, in all the phe¬
nomena of the material world we find bodies connected
by mutual forces. We know no case where a body A
tends towards a body B, or, in common language, is at¬
tracted by it, without, at the same time, the body B
tending towards A. This is observed in the phenomena
o magnetism, electricity, gravitation, corpuscular at¬
traction, impulse, &c. We should therefore conclude
from analogy, that as bodies change the motion of
light, light also changes the motion of bodies ; and
that the particles near the surface are put into vibra¬
tion by the passage of light through among them.
Suppose a parcel of cork balls all hanging as pendu- I(^5~
lums in a symmetrical order, and that an electrified The obj?c“
ball passes through the midst of them ; it is very easy ^ ohxiat'
to show that it may proceed through this assemblage
in various directions with a sinuated motion, and with¬
out touching any of them, and that its ultimate direc¬
tion will have a certain inclination to its primary direc¬
tion, depending on the outline of the assemblage, just as
is observed in.the motion of light ; and, in the mean
time, the cork balls will be variously agitated. Just so
must it happen to the particles of a transparent body, if
we suppose that they act on the particles of light by
mutual attractions and repulsions.
An attentive consideration of what happens here will
show us that the superficial particles will be much more
agitated than the rest; and thus a stratum be produced,
which, in any instant, will act on those particles of
light which are then approaching them in a manner
different from that in which they will act on similarly
situated particles of light, which come into the place
of the first in the following moment, when these act¬
ing particles of the body have (by their motion of
vibration) changed their own situation. Now it is
clearly understood, that, in all motions of vibration,
such as the motions of pendulums, there is a moment
when the body is in its natural situation, as when the
pendulum is in the vertical line. This may happen in
the same instant in each atom of the transparent body.
The particles of light which then come within the sphere
of action may be wholly reflected ; in the next moment,
particles of light in the very situation of the first may be
refracted,
Then will arise a separation of light; and as this
will depend on the manner in which the particles of
bodies are agitated by it during its passage, and as
this again will depend on the nature of the body, that
is, on the law of action of those forces which connect
the particles with each other, and with the particles of
light, it will be different in different bodies. But in all
bodies there will be this general resemblance, that the
separation will be most copious in great obliquities of
incidence, which gives the repulsive forces more time for
action, while it diminishes the perpendicular force of the
light. Such a resemblance between the phenomena and
232
OPT
Cause of
Reflection
166
Another
hypothesis.
167
Sir I.'New
ton’s hypo¬
thesis ;
the legitimate consequences of the assumption (the agi¬
tation of the parts of the body), gives us some authority
for assigning this as the cause •, nor can the assumption
be called gratuitous. To suppose that the particles ot
the transparent body are not thus agitated, would be a
most gratuitous contradiction of a law of nature to wine i
we know no other exception. . , . , , ,
Thus the objection stated in Is 164. is obviated, be¬
cause the reflection and refraction are not here conceiv¬
ed as simultaneous, but as successive. f.
III. Some have supposed, that, by the action ot light
upon the surface of bodies, their parts are put into mi
undulatory motion •, and that where the surface ot it is
subsiding light is transmitted, and in those places where
it is rising light is reflected.
But to overlook the objections which we have just
made to this theory of undulation, we have only to ob¬
serve, that, were it admitted, it does not seem to ad¬
vance us a step farther; for in those cases, suppose
where red is reflected and violet transmitted, how comes
it to pass that the red impinges only on those parts
when the waves are rising, and the violet when they
are subsiding ? .  f
IV. The next hypothesis is that remarkable one ot
Sir Isaac Newton’s 'fits of easy reflection and transmis¬
sion, which we shall now explain and examine.
That author, as far as we can apprehend his mean¬
ing in this particular, is of opinion, that light in its
passage from the luminous body, is disposed to be alter¬
nately reflected by, and transmitted through, any re¬
fracting surface it may meet with •, that these disposi¬
tions, which he calls/?* of easy reflection and easy trans¬
mission, return successively at equal intervals , and that
they are communicated to it at its first emission out ot
the luminous body, from which it proceeds probably by
some very subtle and elastic substance diffused through
the universe, and that in the following manner. As
bodies falling into water, or passing through the air, pro¬
duce undulations in each, so the rays oflight may excite
vibrations in this elastic substance. The quickness ot
these vibrations depending on the elasticity of the me¬
dium (as the quickness of the vibrations in the air,
which propagate sound, depend solely on the elasticity
of the air, and not upon the quickness of those in the
sounding body), the motion of the particles of it may be
quicker than that of the rays, and therefore, when a ray
at the instant it impinges upon any surface, is in that
part of a vibration of this elastic substance which con¬
spires with its motion, it may be easily transmitted-, and
when it is in that part of a vibration which is contrary
to its motion, it may be reflected. He further supposes,
that when light falls upon the surface of a body, it it be
not in a fit of easy transmission, every ray is there put
into one, so that when they come at the other side (tor
this elastic substance, pervading the pores of bodies,
is capable of the same vibrations within the body as
without it), the rays of one colour shall be in a fit ot
easy transmission, and those of another in a fit ot easy
reflection, according to the thickness of the body, the
intervals of the fits being different in rays of a diiterent
kind. This seems to account for the different colours
of the bubble and thin plate of air and water -, and like¬
wise for the reflection of light at the second surface of a
thicker body ; for the light thence reflected is also ob¬
served-to be coloured, and to form rings according to
ICS. Tartl
the different thickness of the body, when not intermixed c .use of
t ■» •.« i.l 1!—1-*. «i-, -•■Till annoQi* Trnm
the dmerent tinea ness in uic uuuj, .1
and confounded with other light, as will appear from Refiectia,
the following experiment. If a piece ot glass he ^
ground concave on one side and convex on the other,
both its concavity and convexity having one common
centre ; and if a ray of light be made to pass through
a small hole in a piece of paper held in that common
centre ; and be permitted to fall on the glass j besides
those rays which arc regularly reflected back to the
hole again, there will be others reflected to the paper,
and form coloured rings surrounding the hole, not un¬
like those occasioned by the reflection of light rrom thin
plates 168
It is ever with extreme reluctance that we venture This hyp*
to call in question the doctrines of Newton , but to^-
his theory of reflection there is this insuperable ob¬
jection, that it explains nothing, unless the of the
fits of more easy reflection and transmission be held as
legitimate, namely, that they are produced by the undu¬
lations of another elastic fluid, incomparably more sub¬
tile than light, acting upon it in the way of impulse.
The fits themselves are matter's of fact, and no way dit-
ferent from what we have endeavoured to account lor $
but to admit this theory of them would be to transgress
every rule of philosophizing.
Of the Laws of Reflection,
The fundamental law of the reflection of light, is^he^
. 1 r» n x* * „ 1-wro n 11 n 1 irt tIvm anrrlp
xne iuimauiuin«.> ^ , , ,,0 ' mental la
that the angle of reflection is always equal to the angle
f •   rru;<= fmiml liv evneriment to be the
' of reflec-1
w ... O 01 re
of incidence. This is found by experiment to be the lion.
case, and besides may be demonstrated mathematically
from the laws of impulse in bodies perfectly elastic.
The axiom therefore holds good in every case of reflec¬
tion, whether it be from plane or spherical surfaces;
and hence the seven following propositions relating to
the reflection of light from plane and spherical surtaces
may be deduced.
I. Rays oflight refected from a plane surjace have
the same degree of inclination to one another that their
respective incident ones have.—For the angle of reflec¬
tion of each ray being equal to that of its respective in¬
cident one, it is evident, that each reflected ray will
have the same degree of inclination to that portion ot
the surface from which it is reflected that its incident
one hasbut it is here supposed, that all those portions
of surface from which the rays are reflected, are situated
in the same plane ; consequently the reflected rays will
have the same degree of inclination to each other that
their incident ones have, from whatever part of the
surface they are reflected
riace niey arc rciicc^v.. Laws of
II. Parallel rays reflected from a concave surjace are
• rn  Ip*- Ab\ Cl).,
flection
11. ruruuei i ... necui
rendered converging.—To illustrate this, let Ar, 5 from a ci
EB (fig. 1.) represent three parallel rays falling upon cave sur-
the ’concave surface FB, whose centre is C. To the ace.
points F and B draw the lines CF, CB ; these being Plate
A ^ , *n 1  fenr- CCClXXXi
points r ana uiuw tuc c •
drawn from the centre, will be perpendicular to the sur- .
timer, nmnts. The incident ray CD also passing
urawii iiuui — r~-r- .
face at those points. The incident ray CD also passing
through the centre, will be perpendicular to the surface,
and therefore will return after reflection in the same
line; but the oblique rays AF and EB will be reflected
into the lines FM and BM, situated on the contrary
side of their respective perpendiculars CF and Lb.
They will therefore proceed converging after reflection
towards some point, as M, in the line CD.
III. Converging rays falling on a concave surjace, are
O P T I
Theory.
Laws of made to converge For, every thing rertiaining
Reflection as above, let GF, HB, be tlie incident rays. Now, be-
' H ' cause these rays have greater angles of incidence than
the parallel ones AF and EB "in the foregoing case,
their angles of reflection will also he larger than those
of the others j they will therefore converge after reflec¬
tion, suppose in the lines FN and BN, having their
point of concourse N farther from the point C than M,
that to which the parallel rays A F and E B convero-ed
to in the foregoing case ; and their precise degree of
convergency will be greater than that wherein they Con¬
verged before reflection.
IV. Diverging rays falling upon a. concave surface,
Ore, after reflection, parallel, diverging, or converging.
If they diverge from the focus of parallel rays, they
then become parallel; if from a point nearer to the
surface than that, they will diverge, but in a less de¬
gree than before reflection ; if from a point between
that and the centre, they will converge after reflection,
to some point on the contrary side of the centre, but si¬
tuated farther from it than the radiant point. If the in¬
cident rays diverge from a point beyond the centre, the
reflected ones will converge to one on the other side of it,
but nearer to it than the radiant point; and if they di*
verge from the centre, they will be reflected thither again.
1. Let them diverge in the lines MF, MB, proceed¬
ing from the radiant point M, the locus of parallel
rays; then, as the parallel rays AF and EB were
Reflected into the lines FM and BM (by Prop, ii ), these
rays will now on the contrary be reflected into them.
2. Let them diverge from N, a point nearer to the
surface than the focus ol parallel rays, they will then
be reflected into the diverging lines FG and BH, which
the incident rays GF and HB described that were
shown to be reflected into them in the foregoing pro¬
position ; but the degree of their divergency will be
less than their divergency before reflection.
3. Let them diverge from X, a point between the
focus of parallel rays and the centre ; they then make
less angles of incidence than the rays MF and MB,
which became parallel by reflection : they will conse¬
quently have less angles of reflection, and therefore
proceed converging towards some point, as Y; which
point will always fall on the contrary side of the centre,
because a reflected ray always falls on the contrary side
of the perpendicular with respect to that on which its
incident one falls ; and of consequence it will be far¬
ther distant from the centre than X.
4. If the incident rays diverge from Y, they will,
after reflection, converge to X ; those which were the
incident rays in the former case being the reflected ones
in this.
5* If the incident rays proceed from the centre, they
fall in with their respective perpendiculars ; and for
that reason are reflected thither again.
V. Parallel rays reflected from convex surfaces are
rendered diverging,—For, let AB, GD, EF, be three
Plate parallel rays falling upon the convex surface BF, whose
cjuxxu. centre is C, and let one of them, viz. GD, be perpendi-
0 2’ cuIar to the surface. Through B, D, and F, the points
of reflection, draw the lines CV, CG, and CT; which,
will be perpendicular to the surface at these points.
The incident ray GD being perpendicular to the sur¬
face, will return after reflection in the same line, but
*he oblique ones AB and EF will retnrn in the lines
Votl, XV. Part I. f
n„C s* *33
BN and FL* situated on the contrary side of their re- 1 ,m of
spectiye perpendiculars B Y and FT. They will there-
ore drverge after reflection, as from some point M in N—-
the line GD produced; and this point will be in the
middle between D and C.
*71
■om a
liven sur-
having greater angles of incidence than the parallel
ones AB and El in the preceding case, their angles of
reflection will also he greater ; they will therefore di¬
verge after reflection, suppose in the lines BP and FQ
as from some point N, farther from C than the point
M; and the degree Cf their divergency will exceed
their divergency before reflection.
VII. Converging rays refected from convex surfaces
are parallel, converging, or diverging.—If they tend
towards the focus of parallel rays, they then become
parallel; if to a point nearer the surface, they convero-e,
but m a less degree than before reflection; if to a po?nt
between that and the centre, they will diverge after re¬
flection, as from some point on the contrary side of the
centre, but situated farther from it than the point to
which they converged ; if the incident rays converge
to a point beyond the centre, the reflected ones will di%
verge as from one on the contrary side of it, but near-'
er to it than the point to which the incident ones con¬
verged ; and if the incident rays converge towards the
centre, the reflected ones will seem to proceed from it.
1. Let them converge in the lines KB and LF, tend¬
ing towards M, the focus of parallel rays ; then, as the
parallel rays AB, EF were reflected into the lines BK
and I L by (Prop, v.) those rays will now on the con¬
trary be reflected into them.
2. Let them converge in the lines PB, QF, tending
towards N a point nearer the surface than the focus of
parallel rays, they will then be reflected into the conver¬
ging lines BG and FG, in which the rays GB, GF
proceeded that were shown to be reflected into them by
the last proposition : hut the degree of their convergen-
cy will exceed their convergency before reflection.
3. Let them converge in the lines RB and SF pro¬
ceeding towards X, a point between the focus of pa
rallel rays and the centre ; their angles of incidence
will then be less than those of the rays KB and LF,
which became parallel after reflection : their angles of
reflection will therefore be less; on which account
they must necessarily diverge, suppose in the lines BH
and F I, from some point, as Y; which point (by
Prop, iv.) will fall on the contrary side of the centre
With respect to X, and will be farther from it than that.
4. If the incident rays tend towards Y, the reflected
ones will diverge as from X; those which were the in¬
cident ones in one case being the reflected ones in thd
other.
5. If the incident rays converge towards the centre,
they coincide with their respective perpendiculars ; and
will therefore proceed after reflection as from that
centre.
We have already observed, that in some cases there
is a very great reflection from the second surface of a
transparent body. The degree of inclination necessary
to cause a total I’eflection of a ray at this surface, is that
which requires that the refracted angle (supposing the
ray to pass out there) should be equal to or greater than
G E . a
234
OPT
t p aVifrlit one ; arid consequently it depends on the vefi‘ab-
RlSi tiv^wer of the mediu!n tough which the ray parses,
  v ' and is therefore different in different media. AVhen a
rav passes through glass surrounded with air, and is in¬
clined to its second surface under an angle ot 42 .or
more, it will be wholly reflected there. 1 or, as 11 is
to 1 7 (the ratio of refraction out of glass into air), so is
the sine of an angle of 420 to a fourth number that ml
exceed the sine of aright angle. Hence it follows, tha
when a ray of light arrives at the second surface ot a
transparent substance with as great or a greater degree
of obliquity than that which is necessary to make a total
reflection, it will there be all returned back to the first:
and if it proceeds towards that with as great an obh-
quity as it did towards the other (which it will do if the
surfaces of the medium be parallel to each other), it will
there be all reflected again, &c._and will therefore never
tret out, but pass from side to side, till it be wholly ex¬
tinguished within the body.—From this may arise an
obvious inquiry, how it comes to pass, that light falling
very obliquely upon a glass window from without, should
he transmitted into the room. In answer to this it must
be considered, that however obliquely a ray falls upon
tbe surface of any medium whose sides are parallel as
those of the glass in a window, it will suffer such a degree
of refraction in entering there, that it shall fall upon the
second with a less obliquity than that which is necessary
to cause a total reflection. lor since the medium be
glass : then, as 17 is to 11, so is the sine of the greatest
anode of incidence with which a ray can fall upon any
surface to the sine of a less angle than that of total re¬
flection. Therefore, if the sides ol the glass be parallel,
the obliquity with which a ray falls upon the first sur¬
face cannot be so great, that it shall pass the second
without suffering a total reflection theie.
When light passes out of a denser into a rarer medium,
the nearer the second medium approaches the first in its
refractive power, the less of it will be refracted in passing
from one to the other-, and when their refracting powers
are equal, all of it will pass into the second medium.
The above propositions may be all mathematically
demonstrated id the following manner :
Prop. I.
Of the reflection of rays from a plane surface.
When rays fall upon a plane surface, if they diverge,
the focus of the reflected rays will be at the same dis¬
tance behind the surface, that the radiant point is be¬
fore it: if they converge, it will be at the same distance
before the surface that the imaginary focus of the inci¬
dent rays is behind it.
This proposition admits of two cases.
Case 1. Of diverging rays.
Let AB, AC be two diverging rays incident on the
plane surface DE, the one perpendicularly, the other
obliquely: the perpendicular one AB will be reflected
to A, proceeding as from some point in the line AB
produced •, the oblique one AC will be reflected into
some line as CF, so that the point G, where the line
EG produced intersects the line AB produced also,
shall be at an equal distance from the surface DE with
the radiant point A. For the perpendicular CH being
drawn, ACH and HCF will he the angles of incidence
and reflection which being equal, their complements
ACB and FCE are also equal: but the angle BCG is
2
I c Si i ' ; . .:Part I;
equal to its Vertical arigle FCE : therefore In the'tn- Laws of
angles ABC and GBC the angles at C are equal, the Inflection,
side BC is common, and the right angles at B are -equal •,
therefore AB = BG: and consequently the point v«,
the focus of the incident rays AB, AC, is at the same
distance behind the surface, that tbe point A is before it.
Case 2. Of converging rays.
This is the converse of the former case. lor suppo¬
sing FC and AB to be two converging incident rays,
CA and BA will be the reflected ones (the angles of
incidence in the former case being now the angles of
reflection, and vice versa), having the point A for their
focus ; but this is at an equal distance from the reflect¬
ing surface with the point G, which in this case is the
imaginary focus of the incident rays T C and ArS.
It is not here, as in the case of rays passing through
a plane surface, where some of the refracted rays pro¬
ceed as from one point, and some as from another: but
they all proceed after reflection as from one and the
same point, however obliquely they may fall upon the
surface ; for what is here demonstrated ot the ray AL
holds equally of any other, as AI, AK, &c.
The case of parallel rays incident on a plane surface
is included in this proposition : for in that case we are
to suppose the radiant point infinitely distant from the
surface, and then by tbe proposition the focus oi the
reflected rays will be so too: that is, the rays will be
parallel after reflection, as they were before it.
172
The pre
ceding pro¬
positions
demon-
Ktrated ma
themati¬
cally.
Plate
CCCLXXXII
fig 3*
Prop. II.
Of the reflection of parallel rays from a spherical
surface.
When parallel rays are incident upon a spherical
surface, the focus of the reflected rays will be the middle
point between the centre ot convexity and the surface.
This proposition admits of two cases.
Case i. Of parallel rays falling upon a convex surface.
Let AB, DH, represent two parallel rays incident Fig. 4.
on the convex surface BH, the one perpendicularly, the
other obliquely, and let C be the centre of convexity.
Suppose HE to be the reflected ray of the oblique one
DH, proceeding as from F, a point in the line AB pro¬
duced. Through the point H draw the line Cl, which
will he perpendicular to the surface at that point ; and
the angles DHI and IHE, being the angles of inci¬
dence and reflection, will be equal. But HCI —HHl,
the lines AC and DH being parallel -, and CH 1 —1HL,
wherefore the triangleCFH is isosceles, ami consequent¬
ly CF=FH : but supposing BH to vanish, I H=FB;
and therefore upon this supposition 1 Errl B ; that is,
the focus of the reflected rays is the middle point be¬
tween the centre of convexity and the surface.
Case 2. Of parallel rays jailing upon a concave
surface. ' ., .
Let AB, DH, be two parallel rays incident, the one Fig. <•
perpendicularly, the other obliquely, on the concave
surface BH, whose centre of concavity is C. Let Bt
and HF be the reflected rays meeting each other in I j
this will be the middle point between B and C. For
drawing through C the perpendicular CH, the angles
DHErzFHC, being the angles of incidence and reflec¬
tion *, but HCFr^DHC its alternate angle, and there¬
fore the triangle CFH is isosceles. Wherefore CF_
Fli ' but if we suppose BH to vanish, FB=FH, and
therefore
?o P f
Laws of therefore CF—FB ; tliat is-, the focal distance of, the
Reflection, reflected rays is the middle point between the centre
and the surface.
It is here observable, that the farther the line DH,
either in fig. 4. or 5. is taken from AB, the nearer the
point F falls to the surface. For the farther the point
H recedes from. B, the greater the triangle CFH will
become ; and consequently, since it is always isosceles,
and the base CH, being the radius, is everywhere of
the same length, the equal legs CF and FH will
lengthen j but CF cannot grow longer unless the point
F approach towards the surface. And the farther H
is removed from B, the faster F approaches to it.
This is the reason, that whenever parallel rays are
considered as reflected from a spherical surface, tliQ
distance of the oblique ray from the perpendicular one
is taken so small with respect to the focal distance of
that surface, that without any physical error it may be
J73 supposed to vanish.
'ays from Hence it follows, that if a number of parallel rays,
a spherical as CD, EG, &c. fall upon a convex surface, and
surface ne- if BA, DK, the reflected rays of the incident ones AB,
ver proceed CD, proceed as from the point F, those of the incident
same point.
I c s.
235
t'iir <5.
x74
lays pro-
leedini;
ones CD, EG, viz. DK, GL, will proceed as from N,
those of the incident ones EG, HI, as from O, &c. be¬
cause the farther the incident ones CD, EG, &c. are
from AB, the nearer to the surface are the points^F, f f
in the line BF, from which they proceed after reflection j
so that properly the foci of the reflected rays BA, DK,
GL, &c. are not in the line AB produced, but in a
curve line passing through the points F, N, O, &c.
The same is applicable to the case of parallel rays
reflected from a concave surface, as expressed by the
dotted lines on the other half of the figure, where
PQ, RS, TV, are the incident rays-, QF, V f
the reflected ones, intersecting each other in the points
X, Y, and F ; so that the foci of those rays are not
in the line FB, but in a curve passing through those
points.
Had the surface BH in fig. 4. or 5. been formed by
the revolution of a parabola about its axis having its
focus in the point F, all the rays reflected from the
2-d . convex surface would have proceeded as from the point
wrabolic ^ ’ aiv^ those reflected from the concave surface would
oncave have fallen upon it, however distant their incident ones
Efface, are AB, DH, might have been from each other. For in
b reflected the parabola, all lines drawn parallel to the axis make
angles with the tangents to the points where they cut
■the parabola (that is, with the surface of the parabo¬
la) equal to those which are made with the same tan¬
gents by lines drawn from thence to the focus ; there¬
fore, if the incident rays describe those parallel lines,
the reflected ones will necessarily describe these other,
and so will all proceed as from, or meet in, the same
point.
. Prop. III.
'Of the reflection of diverging and converging rays
from a spherical surface.
When rays fall upon any spherical surface, if they
diverge, the distance of the focus of the reflected rays
from the surface is to the distance of the radiant point
from the same (or, if they converge, to fhat of the
imaginary focus of the incident rays), .as the distance
rom one
point,
, J75
ropor-
onal di-
:ance of
ie focus of
»ys rcflect-
i from a .
Clerical
nface.
of the. focus' of the reflected 'rays from the centre is to Laws ot-
the distance of the radiant point (or imaginary focus of Reflection,
the incident rays) from the same. ' v——
This proposition admits of ten cases.
Case x. Of diverging rays falling upon a convex
surface.
Let RB, RD, represent two diverging rays flowing Fig. 7.
from the point R as from a radiant, and falling the one
perpendicularly, the other obliquely, on the convex sur¬
face BD, whose centre is C. Let’ DE he the reflected
ray of the incident one RD $ produce ED to F, and
through R draw the line RH parallel to FE till it meets
CD produced in H. Then RHD=EDH the angle of
reflection, and RJID~HDII the angle of incidence \
wherefore the triangle DRH is isosceles,and DR—RH.
Now the lines FD and RH. being parallel, the triangles
FDC and RHC are similar, or the sides are cut propor-
tionably, and therefore FD : RH orRDnCE : CR j
hut BD vanishing, FD and RD difler not from FB and
RB : wherefore FB : RB=CF : CRj that is, the di¬
stance of the focus from the surface is to the distance of
the radiant point from the same, as the distance of the
the focus from the centre is to the distance of the radi¬
ant point from it.
Case 2. Of converging rays falling upon a concave
surface.
Let KD and CB be the converging incident rays,
having their imaginary focus in the point R, which was
the radiant point in the foregoing case. Then as RD
was in that case reflected into DE, KD will in this 1m;
reflected into DF $ for, since the angles of incidence in
both cases are equal, the angles of reflection will he
equal also ; so that F will be the focus of the reflected
x-ays : but it was there demonstrated, that FB : RB—
CF : CR j that is, the distance of the focus from the
surface is to the distance (in this case) of the imaginary
focus of the incident rays, as the distance of the focus
from the centre is to the distance of the imaginary lo¬
cus of the incident rays from the same.
Case 3. Of converging rays falling upon a convex
surface, and tending to a point between the focus of pa¬
rallel rays and the centre.
Let B represent a convex surface whose centre is C, Fig. 8.
and whose focus of parallel rays is P ; and let AB, KD,
he two converging rays incident upon it, and having
their imaginary focus at R, a point between P and C.
Now because KD tends to a point between the focus of
parallel rays and the centre, the reflected ray DE will
diverge from some point on the other side the centre,
suppose F ; as explained above. Through D draw the
perpendicular CD, and produce it to H 3 then will
KDH = IIDF, being the angles of incidence and re¬
flection, and consequently RDC=CDF too. Therefore
the triangle RDF is bisected by the line DC : where¬
fore (3 El. 6.) FD and DR, or BD vanishing, FB :
BR=FC : CIl 3 that is, the distance of the focus of
the reflected rays is to that of the imaginary focus of
the incident ones, as the distance of the former from
the centre is to the distance of the latter from the
centre.
Case 4. Of diverging rays falling upon a concave
surface, and proceeding from a point between the fo¬
cus of parallel rays and the centre.
Let RB, RD, be the diverging rays incident upon g
the eoncave surface BD, having their radiant point in
G g 2 R,
236 OPT
Laws of R, the imaginary focus of the incident rays in the pre-
lleflectjon. ceding case. Then as was in that case reflected
' v int0 i>E, RD will now be reflected into DF. But we
had FB : RB=:CF : CR •, that is, the distance of the
focus is to Lbat of the radiant, as the distance ot the
former from the centre is to the distance of the latter
from the centre.
The angles of incidence and reflection being equal,
it is evident, that if, in any case, the reflected ray be
made the incident one, the incident will become the
reflected one •, and therefore the four following cases
may be considered respectively as the converse ot the
four preceding j for m each of them the incident lays
are supposed to coincide with the reflected ones in the
other. Or they may be thus demonstrated indepen¬
dently of them.
Case 5. Of converging rays falling upon a convex
surface, and tending to a point nearer the surface than
the focus of parallel rays.
Fig- 7- Ret ED, RB be the converging rays incident upon
the convex surface BD, whose centre is C, and principal
focus P *, let the imaginary focus of the incident rays be
at F, a point between P and B j and let DR be the re¬
flected ray. From C and R draw thejines CH, RH,
the one passing through D, the other parallel to IE.
Then RHD=HDE the angle of incidence. But
RHD=HDR, the angle of reflection : wherefore the
triangle HDR is isosceles, and DR=rRH. Now the
lines FD and RH being parallel, the triangles FDC
and RHC are similar } and therefore RH or RD :
FDnCR : CF *, but BD vanishing, RD and FD coin¬
cide with RB and FB, wherefore RB : FB=CR : CF j
that is, the distance of the focus from the surface is to
the distance of the imaginary focus of the incident rays,
as the distance of the focus from the centre is to the
distance of the imaginary focus of the incident rays from
the centre.
Case 6. Of diverging rays falling upon a concave
surface, and proceeding from a point between the focus
of parallel rays and the surface.
Let FD and BF be two rays diverging from the
point F, which was the imaginary focus of the incident
rays in the preceding case. Then as ED was in that
case reflected into DR, FD will be reflected into DK
(for the reason mentioned in case 2.), so that the re¬
flected ray will proceed as from the point R : but it was
demonstrated in case 5. that RB : iBrrCR : CF j that
is, the distance of the focus from the surface is to that
of the radiant from the surface, as the distance of the
former from the centre is to that of the latter from the
centre.
Fig. 8. Case 7. Of converging rays falling upon a convex
surface, and tending towards a point beyond the centre.
Let AB, ED be the incident rays tending to F, a
point beyond the centre C, and let DK be the reflected
ray of the incident one ED. Then because the incident
ray ED tends to a point beyond the centre, the reflected
ray DK will proceed as from one on the contrary side,
suppose R see Prop. vii. Through D draw the perpen¬
dicular CD, and produce it to H. Then will EDH-=
HDK, being the angles of incidence and reflection \
but CDF=CDR, being their verticals : consequently
the angle FDR is bisected by the line CD wherefore
RD : DF, or (3 Elem. 6.) BD vanishing, RB : BFrr
RC : CF j that is, the distance of the focus of the re-
I CS. Parti.
fleeted rays is to that of the imaginary focus of the Laws of
incident rays, as the distance of the former from the Reflection,
centre is to the distance ot the latter from the centre. ' 1
Case 8. Of diverging rays fatting upon a concave
surface, and proceeding from a point beyond the centre.
Let FB, ED be the incident rays radiating from F,
the imaginary focus of the incident rays in the case.
Then as ED was in that case reflected into DK, FD
will now he reflected into DR 5 so that R will be the
focus of the reflected rays. But it was demonstrated m
the case 7. that RB : i B=:RC : Cl* j that is, the di¬
stance of the focus of the reflected rays from the surface
is to the distance of the radiant from the surface, as the
distance of the focus of the reflected rays from the cen¬
tre is to the distance of the radiant from the centre.
The two remaining cases may be considered as the
converse of those underProp. ii. (p. 234*)» ^ecause
the incident rays in these are the reflected ones in them j
or they may be demonstrated in the same manner with
the preceding, as follows.
Case 9. Converging rays falling upon a convex sur¬
face, and tending to the focus of parallel rays, become
parallel after reflection.
Let ED, RB represent two converging rays incident p]ate
on the convex surface BD, and tending towards F, ccclxxxu.
which we shall now suppose to be the focus of parallel 7*
rays and let DR be the reflected ray, and C the centre
of convexity of the reflecting surface. Through C draw
CD, and produce it to H, drawing RH parallel to ED
produced to F. Now it has been demonstrated (case y.
where the incident rays are supposed to tend to the point
F), that RB : EB=RC 1 CF j but F in tins case being
supposed to be the focus of parallel rays, it is the
middle point between C and B (by Prop, ii.) and there.-
fore FB = FC, consequently RB=RC 5 which can only
be upon the supposition that R is at an infinite distance
from B j that is> that the reflected rays BR and DR be
parallel.
Case 10. Diverging rays falling upon a concave sur¬
face, and proceeding from the focus oj parallel rays, be¬
come parallel after refection.
Let RD, RB be two diverging rays incident upon .pig. fc-
the concave surface BD, as supposed in case 4- where it
was demonstrated that FB : RBcrrCl* : CR. But in the
present ease RB~CR, because R is supposed to be the
focus of parallel rays 5 therefore 1 B=FC j which cannot-,
be unless F be taken at an infinite distance from B ; that,
is, unless the reflected rays BJ and DF he parallel..
It may here be observed that in the case of diverging Fig. 5.
rays falling upon a.convex surface, the farther the point
D is taken from B, the nearer the point F, the focus of
the reflected rays, approaches to B, while the radiant
point R remains’the same. For-it is evident from theF:g IC..
curvature of a circle, that the point D may be taken so
far from B, that the reflected ray DE shall proceed as
from F, G, H, or even from B, or from any point between
B and R 5 and the farther it is taken from B,the faster the
point from which it proceeds approaches towards R : as
will appear if we draw several incident rays with their re¬
spective reflected ones,insuch a manner that the angles of
reflection may be equal to their respective angles of inci-
cence, as is done in the figure. The like is applicable to
any of the other cases of diverging and convergingraysin-
cident upon a spherical surface. This is the reason, that,
when rays are considered as reflected from a spherical
surface,.
Theory. OPT
Laws of surface, the distance of the oblique rays from the per-
(leflection pemlicular one is taken so small, that it may be supposed
"“""V J to vanish,
From this it follows, that if a number of diverging
rays are incident upon the convex surface BD at^the
several points B, D, D, &c. they will not proceed after
reflection as from any point in the line RB produced,
but as from a curve line passing through the several
points &c.
7. Had the curve BD been a hyperbola, having its foci
in R and F, then R being the radiant (or the imaginary
focus of incident rays), F would have been the focus of
the reflected ones, and vue versa, however distant the
points B and D might be taken from each other. In
Fig- 8. like manner, had the curve B D been an ellipse having
its foci in F and R, the one of these being made the
radiant (or imaginary focus of incident rays), the other
would have been the focus of reflected ones, and vice
versa. For both in the hyperbola and ellipse, lines
drawn from each of their foci through any point make
equal angles with the tangent to that point. Therefore,
if the incident rays proceed to or from one of their foci,
the reflected ones will all proceed as from or to the
other focus. Therefore, in order that diverging or con¬
verging rays may be accurately reflected to or from a
point, the reflecting surface must be formed by the revo¬
lution of an hyperbola about its longer axis, when the
incident rays are such, that their radiant or imaginary
focus of incident rays shall fall on one side of the sur¬
face, and the focus of the reflected ones on the other;
when they are both to fall on the same side, it must be
formed by the revolution of an ellipse about its longer
axis. However, as spherical surfaces are more easily
formed, than those which are generated by the revolu¬
tion of any of the conic sections about their axes, the
1^5 latter are very rarely used.
•ethod of Now, because the focal distance of rays reflected from
tiding the a spherical surface cannot be found by the analogy laid
ince of ^own *n ^le third proposition, without making use of
vsreflec- quantity sought j we shall here give an example
d from a whereby the method r)f doing it in all others will readily
nvex sur- appear,
ce.
Problem.
Let it be required to find the focal distance of
diverging rays incident upon a convex surface,
whose radius of convexity is five parts, and the
distance of the radiant from the surface is 20.
Call x the focal distance sought ; then will the di¬
stance of the focus from the centre be 5—x, and that of
the radiant from the same 25, therefore by Prop. iii. we
have the following proportion, x : 20=5—x : 25 ; and
^multiplying extremes together and means together, we
have 25 ,r—100—70x, or x~
If it should happen in any case that the value of ,r is
a.negative quantity, the focal point must then be taken
on the contrary side of the surface to that on which it
Was supposed it would fall in stating the problem.
Because it was observed in the preceding section, that
different incident rays, though tending to or from one
point, would after refraction proceed .to or from different
points, a method was there given of determining the
distinct point which each separate ray entering a spheri¬
cal surface converges to, or diverges from, after refrac-
5
ICS. 23^7
tion : the same has been observed here with regard to Appearance
rays reflected from a spherical surface (see case 2. and of Bodies
case to.) But the method of determining the distinct50611 Re-
point to or from which any incident ray proceeds after , fl6Cti<>n-.
reflection, is much more simple. It is only necessary to ’ '
draw the reflected ray such, that the angle of reflection
may be equal to the angle of incidence, which will
determine the point it proceeds to or from in any case
whatever.
Sect. VIII. Of the Appearance of Bodies seen by Light
refected from plane and spherical Surfaces.
^ Whatever has been said concerning the appearance
of bodies seen through Jenses, by refracted light, respects
also the appearance of bodies seen by reflection. But,
besides these, there is one thing peculiar to images by
reflection, viz. that each point in the representation of
an object made by reflection appears situated somewhere
in a right line that passes through its correspondent
point in the object, and is perpendicular to the reflectinrr
surface.
The truth of this appears sufficiently from the pro¬
positions formerly laid, down: in each of which, rays
flowing from any radiant point, are shown to proceed
after reflection to or from some point in a line that '
passes through the radiant point, and is perpendicular to
the reflecting surface. For instance (fig. 1.) rays flow¬
ing from Y are collected in X, a point in the perpendi¬
cular CD, which, being produced, passes through Y; Plate ~
again (fig. 2.), rays flowing from G, proceed, after re- ^f^**1*'
flection, as from N, a point in the perpendicular CD, a
which being produced, passes through G.
This observation, however, except where an object
is seen by reflection from a plain surface, relates only
to those cases where the representation is made by
means of such rays as fall upon the reflecting surface
with a very small degree of obliquity; because such as
fall at a considerable distance from the perpendicular,
do not proceed after reflection as from any point in that
perpendicular, hut as from other points situated in a cer¬
tain curve, on which account these rays are neglected,
as making an indistinct and deformed representation.
And therefore it is to he remembered, that however the
situation of the eye with respect to the object and reflect¬
ing surface may be represented in the following figures,
it is to be supposed as situated in such a manner with re¬
spect to the object, that rays flowing from thence and
entering it after reflection, may be such only as f’dll
with a very small degree of obliquity upon the surface;
that is, the eye must be supposed to be placed almost
directly behind the object, or between it and the reflect¬
ing surface. The reason why it is not always so placed,
is only to avoid confusion in the figures.
I. JFhen an object is seen by reflection from a plane The. ap-
surface, the image of it appears at the same distance pearance of r
behind the surface that the object is before it, of the re"
same magnitude, and directly opposite to it, ir0|U pjane
To explain this, let AB repx-esent an object seen by surfaces,
reflection from the plane surface SV; and let the rays Fig* to.
AF, AG, be so inclined to the surface, that they shall
enter an eye at H after reflection; and let AE be per¬
pendicular to the surface : then, by the observation just
mentioned, the point A will appear in some part of the
line AE produced, suppose I; that is, the oblique rays
AF
238
s Appearance
of Bodies
seen by Re¬
flection
-froni differ¬
ent Sur¬
faces.
17S
From con¬
vex sur¬
faces.
Fig. 12.
179
From con¬
cave sur¬
faces.
Fig- 13*
.OPT
AF and AG will proceed after reflection as from that
point j and further, because the reflected rays I H, Grv,
will have the same degree of inclination to one another
that their incident ones have, that point must necessarily
be at the same distance from the surface that the point
A is; the representation therefore of the point A will
be at the same distance from the surface that the point
itself is before it, and directly opposite to it: conse¬
quently, since the like may be shown of any other point
B, the whole image IM will appear at the same distance
behind the surface that the object is before it, ami
directly opposite to it; and because the lines Al, BM,
perpendicular to the plain surface, are parallel to each
other, the image will also be of the same magnitude with
the object. .
IE. When an object is seen by reflectionJrom a con¬
vex surface, its image appears nearer to the surface,
and less than the object, .
Let AB represent the object, SV a reflecting surface
•whose centre of convexity is C: and let the rays AA,
AG, be so inclined to the surface, that after reflection
from it, they shall enter the eye at H : and let AL be
perpendicular to the surface; then will the oblique rays
AF, AG, proceed after reflection as from some point in
the line AE produced, suppose from ly which point,
because the reflected rays will diverge more than the in¬
cident ones, must be nearer to the surface than the point
A. And since the same is also true of the rays which
flow from any other B, the representation IM will be
: nearer to the surface than the object ; and because it is
terminated by the perpendiculars AE and BF, which
. incline to each other, as concurring at Alie centre, it
will also appear less.
III. When an object is seen by reflection jrom a con¬
cave surface, the representation of it is various, both
with regard to its magnitude and situation, according
as the distance of the object from the reflecting surface
is greater or less.
1, When the object is nearer to the surface than its
principal focus, the image falls on the opposite side of
the surface, is more distant from it, and larger than the
object.
Thus let AB be the object, SV the reflecting sur¬
face; F the principal focus, and C its centre. Through
A and B,< the extremities of the object, draw the lines
CE, CR, which will be perpendicular to the surface;
and let the rays AR, AG, be incident upon such points
of it that they shall be feflected into an eye at H. Now,
because the radiant points A and B are neaiei the sur¬
face than the principal focus F, the reflected rays will
diverge, and therefore proceed as from some points on
the opposite side of the surface; which points, by the
observation laid down at the beginning of this section,
will he in the perpendiculars AE, BR, produced, sup¬
pose in I and M: but they will diverge in a less degree
than their incident ones: and therefore the said points
will he farther from the surface than the points A and
B. The image therefore will be on the opposite side of
the surface with respect to the object: it will be. more
distant than it; and consequently, being terminated
by the perpendiculars Cl and CM, it will also be
larger. . .
2. When the object is placed in the principal focus,
the reflected rays enter the eye parallel; in which case
the image ought to appear at an infinite distance behind
ICS. Parti
the reflecting surface: but the representation of it, for Appearant
the reasons given in the foregoing case, being large and 01 Bodies
distinct, we do not reckon it much farther from the sur-6^.^
face than the image* • • ,from differJ
3. When the object is placed between the principal ent Sur-
focus and the centre, the image falls on the opposite side < faces,
of the centre, is larger than the object, and in an invert- * 1
ed position. , Plate
Thus let AB be the object, SV the reflecting surface, ccci.xxxi
F its principal focus, and C its centre. Through A fig. 14.
and B, draw the lines CE and CN, which will be per¬
pendicular to the surface; and let AR, AG, be a pen¬
cil of rays flowing from A. These rays proceeding
from a point beyond the principal focus, will after re«
flection converge towards some point on the opposite
side the centre, which ivill fall upon the perpendicular
. EC produced, but at a greater distance from C than
the radiant A from Avhich they diverged. lor the
same reason, rays flowing from B will converge to a
point in the perpendicular NC produced, which shall
be farther from C than the point B ; whence it is
evident, that the image IM is larger than the object
AB, that it falls on the contrary side of the centre, and
that their positions are inverted with respect to each
other.
,4. If the object be placed beyond the centre of con¬
vexity, the image is then formed between the centre
and the focus of parallel rays, is less than the object,
and its position is inverted.
This proposition is the converse of the preceding;
for as in that case rays proceeding from A wrere reflected
to I, and from B to M; so rays flowing from I and M
will be reflected to A-and B: if therefore an object be
supposed to be situated beyond the centie in IM, thi-
image of it will be formed in AB between that and the
focus of parallel rays, will be less than the object, and
inverted. _
5. If the middle of the object he placed in the centie
of convexity of the reflecting surface, the object and
its image, will be coincident; but the image will be in¬
verted with respect to the object.
That the place of the image and the object should
be the same in this case requires little explication; foi
the middle of the object being in the centre, rays flow¬
ing from it will fall perpendicularly upon the suiface,
and therefore necessarily return thither again; so that
the middle of the image will be coincident with the
middle of the object. But that the image should be in-
verted is perhaps not so clear. To explain this, let AB Fl£. lr
be the object, having its middle point C in the centre
of the reflecting surface from SV; through the centre
and the point R draw the line CR, which will be per¬
pendicular to the reflecting surface; join the points AR
and BR, and let AR represent a ray flowing from A;
this will be reflected into RB ; for C being the middle
point between A and B, the angle ARCnzCRB; and a
ray from B will likewise be reflected to A; and there¬
fore the position of the image will be inverted with re¬
spect to that of the object.
In this proposition it is to be supposed, that the
object AB is so situated with respect to the reflecting
surface, that the angle ACR may be right; for other¬
wise the angles ARC and BRC will not be equal, and
part of the image only will therefore fall upon the ob-
iectl ’ 6. If
Iieory.
OPT
lippear- 6. If in any of three last (cases, in each of
l Ce of Bo-which the image is lormed otr the same, side of the re-
TctionyfleCtlng SlU'filCe wIth the object, the eye he situated far-
iim differ-t,ier the surface than the ]>lace where the image
ntSur- ^lls, the rays of each pencil, crossing each other in
faces, the several points of the image, will enter the eye as
‘~y ' from a real object situated there ; so that the image
will appear pendulous in the air between the eye and
the reflecting surface, and in the position wherein it
is formed, viz;, inverted with respect to the object, in
the same manner that an image formed by refracted
light appears to an eye, placed beyond it; which was
fully explained under Prop. iv. and therefore needs not
be repeated.
But as what relates to the appearance of the object
when the eye is placed nearer to the surface than the
image, was not there fully inquired into, that point
shall now be more strictly examined under the follow¬
ing case, which equally relates to refracted and reflect¬
ed light.
7. If the eye he situated between the reflecting sur¬
face and the place of the image, the object is" then
seen beyond the surface ; and the farther the eye re¬
cedes from the surface towards the place of the image,
the more confused, larger, and nearer, the object ap-
1 >. 16.
pears.
To explain this, let AB represent the object; IM its
image, one of whose points AI is formed by the concur¬
rence of the reflected rays DM, EM, &c. which before
reflection came from B ; the other, I, by the concur¬
rence of DI, El, &c. which came from A ; and let
ai be the pupil of an eye, situated between the surface
DP and the image. This pupil will admit the rays
Hfl, KZ>; which, because they are tending towards I,
are such as came from A, and therefore the point A
will appear diffused over.the space RS. In like manner
the pupil will also receive into it the reflected rays K a
and L b, which, because they are tending towards M,
by supposition came from B ; and therefore the point
B will be seen spread as it were over the space TV, and
the object will seem to fill the space RV ; but the re¬
presentation of it will be confused, because the interme¬
diate points of the object being equally enlarged in ap¬
pearance, there will not be room for them between the
points S and T, but they will coincide in part one with
another : for instance^ the appearance of that point in
the object, whose representation falls upon c in the
image, will fill the space ?n n ; and so of the rest. Now,
if the same pupil be removed into the situation ef, the
reflected rays Ee and Gf will then enter the eye, and
therefore one extremity of the object will appear to co¬
ver the space XY ; and because the rays O f and L e
will also enter it in their progress towards M, the point
B, from w’hich they came, will appear to cover ZV ;
the object therefore will appear larger and more con¬
fused than before. When the eye recedes quite to the
image, it sees but one single point of the object, and
that appears diffused all over the reflecting surface : for
instance, if the eye recedes to the point M, then rays
flowing from the point B enter it upon •whatever part
of the surface they fall. The object also appears nearer
to the surface the farther the eye recedes from it to¬
wards the place of the image ; probably because, as the
appearance of the object becomes more and more con¬
fused, its place is not so easily distinguished from that
1 0 s, 239
of the reflecting surface itself, tilf at last when it is Apnear-
quite confused (as it is when the eye is arrived at M) ance of Bo-
they both appear as one, the surface assuming the colour^6 s seen by
of the object. Reflection
As to the precise apparent magnitude of an object
seen after this manner, it is such that the angle it ap- fates. *
pears under shall be equal to that which the image of v-^
the same object would appear under were we to sup- iSo*
pose it seen from the same place : that is, the apparent™"
object (tor such we must call it, to distinguish it from nitude of"
t ie image ot the same object) and the image subtend object
equal angles at the eye. seen by re-
Here we must suppose the pupil of the eye to be a iucUon
point only, because the magnitude of it causes a small ‘1°™ sue0"
alterat ion in the apparent magnitude of the object. Let face,
the point a represent the pupil, then will the extreme
j ay .-> that can enter it be H a and Jv a; the obieet there¬
fore will appear under the angle Ha K=Ma I, the
angle under which the image IM would appear were it
to be seen from a. Again, if the eye be placed in f, the
object appears under the angle G/0=I/M, which
the image subtends at the same place, and therefore the
apparent object and image of it subtend equal angles at
the eye.
Is ow if we suppose the pupil to have any sensible mag¬
nitude a b ; then the object seen by the eye in that situa¬
tion will appear under the angle HXL, which is larger
than the angle H a K, under which it appeared before ;
because the angle at X is nearer than the angle at a,
to the line IM, which is a subtense common to them
both.
From this proposition it follows; that, were the
eye close to the surface at K, the real and apparent
object would be seen under equal angles (for the real
object appears from that place under the same angle
that the image does, as will be shown at the end of
this section) ; therefore, when the eye is nearer to the
image than that point, the image will subtend a larger
angle at it than the object does ; and consequently,
since the image and apparent object subtend equal
angles at the eye, the apparent object must necessarily
be seen under a larger angle than the object itself,
wherever the eye be placed, between the surface and
the image.
As each point in the representation of an object made
by reflection is situated somewhere in a right line that
passes through its correspondent point in the object,
and is perpendicular to the reflecting surface; we may
hence deduce the following easy and expeditious method
of determining both the magnitude and situation of the *-
image in all cases whatever.
Though the extremities of the object AB and the Plate
centre C (fig. 17, 18, 19.) draw the lines AG BC, and cfCLXXxn‘
produce them as the case requires ^ these lines will be^ls" I^’ 1 *
perpendicular to the reflecting surface, and therefore 15
the extremities of the image will fall upon them.
Through F the middle point of the object and the
centre, draw the line EC, and produce it till it passes
through the reflecting surface; this will also be per¬
pendicular to the surface. Through G, the point where
this line cuts the surface, draw the lines AG and BG,
and produce them this way or that, till they cross the :
former perpendiculars ; and where they cross, there I
and M the extremities of the image will fall. For sup¬
posing AG to be a ray proceeding from the point A
and *
0 f T
Appear- a«<l falling upon G, It will fce reflected to B j because
ance of I3o- FA=FB, and FG is perpendicular to the reflecting sur-
dies seen by face. ancl therefore the representation of the point A.
Reflectioji  «Toll in AC/i conseauent-
' _ J IJlCC 5 dlltl FHA;J ciuic v • k __ j
Reflection wm be jn bq pro(luced as well as in AC •, consequent-
rent sS"' ly it will fall on the point I, where they cross each
fee" other. Likewise the ray EG will for the sime reason
'-v ■ . ' be reflected to A', and therefore the representation ot
the point B will be in AG produced, as well as in some
part of BC, that is, in M where they cross. Hence
the proposition is obvious.
If it happens that the lines will not cross which
way soever they are produced, as in fig. 20. then is the
obiect in the focus of parallel rays ot that surface, and
has no image formed in the place whatever. lor in
this case the rays AH, AG, flowing from the point A,
become parallel after reflection m the lines HC, HB,
and therefore do not flow as to or from any point: in
like manner, rays flowing from B are reflected into the
parallel lines KB and GA *, so that no representation
can be formed by such reflection.
From this we learn another circumstance relating to
-the magnitude of the image made by reflection •, viz.
that it subtends the same angle at the vertex ot the re¬
flecting surface that the object does. Hus appears by
inspection of the 17th, 18th, or 19th figure, m each of
which the angle iGMrzAGB, the angles which the
image subtends at G the vertex of the reflecting sur¬
face, and which the object subtends at the same place *,
for in the two first of those figures they are Vertical,
in the third they are the same. ,
The angle ICM, which the irtiage subtends at the
centre, is also equal to the angle ACB which the ob¬
ject subtends at the same place •, for m the two first fi¬
gures they are the same, in the last they are vertical to
each other. . . .
Whence it is evident, that the object and its image
are to each other in diameter, either as their respective
distances from the Vertex of the reflecting surface, or
as their distances from the centre of the same.
IV. As objects are multiplied by being seen through
transparent media, whose surfaces are properly disposed,
so they may also by reflecting surfaces..
Plate 1. If two reflecting surfaces be disposed at right
cccLxxxir. angles, as the surfaces AB, BC, an object at D may
%• aI* be seen by an eye at E, after one reflection at I, in the
line EF produced *, after two reflections, the first at
G, the second at H, in the line EH produced *, and,
also, after one reflection made at A, in the line EA
produced. £ .
Fig. zq. 2. If the surfaces be parallel, as AB, CL), (fig. 22.),
and the object be placed at E and the eye at F, the ob¬
ject will appear multiplied an infinite number of times:
thus it may be seen in the line FG produced, aftei one
reflection at G } in the line FH produced, after two re¬
flections, the first at I, the second at H 5 and also m
FP produced, after several successive reflections of the
ray EL, at the points L, M, N, O, and P: and so on
m infinitum. But the greater the number of reflections
are, the weaker their representation will be.
Sect. IX. Of the apparent Place, Distance, Magni¬
tude, and Motion of Objects.
It had in general been taken for granted, that the
place to which the sye refers any visible object seen
ICS. . Partt.
bv 'reflection or refraction, is that in Which the vi- Apparent
sLl rays meet a perpendicular from the object upon pW
the reflecting or refracting plane. But this method
of judging of the place ot objects was called in ques¬
tion by Dr Barrow, who contended that the argu¬
ments brought in favour of the opinion were not con-
elusive. These arguments are, that the images • Dr Bar-
objects appeared straight in a plane nnrror, but cun'ejl"^:
in a convex or concave one: that a straight tliread»ingthcap
when partly immersed perpendicularly in water, does parent
not appear crooked as when it is obliquely plunged in-placeof
to the fluid ; but that which is within the water seems object,,
to be a continuation of that which is without. With
respect to the reflected image, however, of a perpen¬
dicular right line from a convex to a concave mirror,
he says, that it is not easy for the eye to distinguish
the curve that it really makes j and that if the ap¬
pearance of a perpendicular thread, part of which is
immersed in water, be closely attended to, it will not
favour the common hypothesis. If the thread is oi any
shining metal, as silver, and viewed obliquely, the
image of the part immersed will appear to detach it¬
self sensibly from that part which is without the water,
so that it cannot be true that every object appears to
be in the same place where the refracted ray meets the
perpendicular *, and the same observation, he thinks,
may be extended to the case of reflection. According
to Dr Barrow, we refer every point of an object to the
place from which the pencils of light, that give us the
image of it, issue, or from which they would have is¬
sued if no reflecting or refracting substance intervened.
Pursuing this principle, he proceeds to investigate the
place in which the rays issuing from each of the
points of an object, and which reach the eye after one
reflection or refraction, meet j and he found, that if the
refracting surface was plane, and the refraction was made,
from a denser medium into a rarer, those rays wou.d al¬
ways meet in a place between the eye and a perpendi¬
cular to the point of incidence. If a convex mirror be
used, the case will be the same *, but if the mirror be
plane, the rays will meet in the perpendicular, and be¬
yond it if it be concave. He also determined, accord¬
ing to these principles, what form the image of a right
line will take, when it is presented in different manners
to a spherical mirror, or whefi it is seen through a re¬
fracting medium. . , • 1 1
Though Dr Barrow reckoned the maxim which he
endeavoured to establish, concerning the supposed place
of visible objects, highly probable, he has the candour to
mention an objection to it, of which he was not able to
give a satisfactory solution. It is this. Let an object
be placed beyond the focus of a convex lens *, and it the
eye be close to the lens, it will appear confused, but
very near to its true place. If the eye be a little with¬
drawn, the confusion will increase, and the object will
seem to come nearer j and when the eye is near the fo¬
cus, the confusion will be exceedingly great, and the
object will seem to be close to the eye. But m this ex¬
periment the eye receives no rays but those that are con¬
verging : and the point from which they issue is so far
from being nearer than the object, that it is beyond it j
notwithstanding which, the object is conceived to be
much nearer than it is, though no very distinct idea can
be formed of its precise distance. It may be observed,
that in reality, the jays falling upon the eye in this case
Jlieory. OPT
ipparent in a manner quite different from that in which they fall
ace, &c. upon it in other circumstances, we can form no judge-
’ol)jects, ment about the place from which they issue. This sub-
I c s.
241
ject was afterwards taken up by Berkeley, Smith, Mon
jS2 tucla, and others,
de la M- de la Hire made several observations concerning
Ire’s ob- the distance of visible objects, and various other pheno-
ivsuons. mena of vision, which are worthy of notice. He also
took particular pains to ascertain the manner in which
the eye conforms itself to the view of objects placed at
different distances. He enumerates five circumstances
which assist us in judging of the distance of objects’
namely their apparent magnitude, the strength of the
colouring, the direction of the two eyes, the parallax of
the objects, and the distinctness of their small parts.
Painters, he says, can only take advantage of the two
first-mentioned circumstances, and therefore pictures can
never perfectly deceive the eye; but in the decorations
of theatres, they, in some measure, make use of them
all. The size of objects, and the strength of their co¬
louring, are diminished in proportion to the distance at
which they are intended to appear. Parts of the same
object which are to appear at different distances, as co¬
lumns in an order of architecture, are drawn upon dif¬
ferent planes a little removed from one another, that
the two eyes may be obliged to change their direction,
in order to distinguish the parts of the nearer plane
from those of the more remote. The small distance
of the planes serves to make a small parallax, by chan¬
ging the position of the eye 5 and as we do not preserve
a distinct idea of the quantity of parallax, correspond¬
ing to the different distances of objects, it is sufficient
that we perceive there is a parallax, to be convinced
that these planes are distant from one another, with¬
out determining what that distance is ; and as to the
last circumstance, viz. the distinctness of the small parts
of objects, it is of no use in discovering the deception,
on account of the false light that is thrown upon these
5, decorations.
M Cat's To these observations concerning deception of sight,
acnutof we shall add a similar one of M. le Cat, who took no-
nc -ifdi ^Ce ^ie ieason we imagine objects to be
je] in° larger wtan they are seen through a mist, is the dim-
mi ness or obscurity with which they are then seen ; this
circumstance being associated with the idea of great di¬
stance. This, he says, is confirmed by our being sur¬
prised to find, upon approaching such objects, that they
are so much nearer to us, as well as so much smaller,
than we had imagined.
Among other cases concerning vision, which fell
under the consideration of M. de la Hire, he men¬
tions one which it is difficult to solve. It is when a
candle, in a dark place, and situated beyond the li¬
mits of distinct vision, is viewed through a very nar¬
row chink in a card; in which case a considerable num¬
ber of candles, sometimes so many as six, will be seen
along the chink. This appearance he ascribes to small
irregularities in the surface of the humours of the eye,
the effect of which is not sensible when rays are ad¬
mitted into the eye through the whole extent of the pu¬
pil, and consequently one principal image effaces a num¬
ber ot small ones ; whereas, in this case, each of them
is formed separately, and no one o 'hem is so consider¬
able as to prevent the others from being perceived at
the same time.
Vol. XV. Part. I. t
There are few persons, M. de la Hire remarks, who Apparent
have both their eyes exactly equal, not only with re- Place* &c*
spect to the limits of distinct vision, but also with re- ,ot’<)bjt;cts-.
gard to the colour with which objects appear tinged V
when they are viewed by them, especially if one of die
eyes lias been exposed to the impression of a strong light.
Jo compare them together in this respect, he directs os
to take two tlun cards, and to make in each of them a
round hole of a third or a fourth of a line in diameter,
and, applying one of them to each of the eyes, to look
through the holes on a white paper, equally illuminated,
si hen a circ.e of the paper will appear to each of the
eyes, and, placing the cards properly, these two circles
may he made to touch one another, and thereby the
appearance of the same object to each of the eyes may
be compared to the greatest advantage. To make this
experiment with exactness, it is necessary, he says, that
the eyes be kept shut some time before the cards be an-
pfied to them. i
By the following calculation, M. de la Hire gives
us an idea of the extreme sensibility of the optic nerves
One may see very easily, at the distance of 4000 toises,
die sail 01 a wind mill, 6 feet in diameter; and the eye
being supposed to be an inch in diameter, the picture
of this sail, at the bottom of die eye, will be * r of
an inch, which is less than the 666th part of a lire, and
is about the 66th part of a common hair, or the 8th
part of a single thread of silk. So small, therefore,
must one of the fibres of the optic nerve be, which, he
says, is almost inconceivable, since each of these fibres
is a tube that contains spirits.
The person who particularly noticed Dr Barrow’s Berkeley’s
hypothesis was the ingenious Dr Berkeley, bishop 0f acc<?iint ot
Cloyne, who distinguished himself so much by the 0b-the^u!?se'
jections which he started to the reality of a materiaUd cou-
world, and by bis opposition to the Newtonian doc-cerning di«
trine of fluxions. In his Essay towards a new Theorystance
of Vision, he observes, that the circle formed upon the c?j?f,ised
retina, by the rays which do not come to a focus, pro-
duce the same confusion in the eye, whether they cross
one another before they reach the retina, or tend to do
it afterwards ; and therefore that the judgment con¬
cerning distance will be the same in both the eases, with¬
out any regard to the place from which the rays origi¬
nally issued ; so that in this case, as, by I’eceding from
the lens, the confusion, which always accompanies the
nearness of an object, increases, the mind will judge
that the object comes nearer. 185
But, says Dr Smith, if this be true, the objectSniitb s ac-
ought always to appear at a less distance from the eye count’
than that at which objects are seen distinctly, which
is not the case : and to explain this appearance’ as well
as every other in which a judgment is formed concern¬
ing distance, he maintains, that we judge of it chiefly if
not only by the apparent magnitude of objects, so that,
since the image grows larger as we recede from the lens
through which it is viewed, we conceive the object to
come nearer. He also endeavours to show, that in all
cases in which glasses are used, we judge of distance by
the same rule ; from which he concludes, that the ap¬
parent distance of an object seen in a glass is to its ap¬
parent distance seen by the naked eye, as the apparent
magnitude in the naked eye is to its apparent magnitude
in the glass.
But that we do not judge of distance merely by the
H h angle
P T
186
Objected
to by Mr
Robins.
242 ( ^ . t
Apparent angle under which objects are seen, 13 ^ 0 serv* 10/J
place, &C. as old as Alhazen, who mentions several instances, in
of objects. whichj though the angles under which objects appear
  'be different, the magnitudes are universally and in¬
stantaneously deemed not to he so. ^ 1 0 c e
ly shows the hypothesis of Dr Smith to be contrary to
fact in the most common and simple cases. In mi¬
croscopes, he says, it is impossible that the eye should
iudjre the object to be nearer than the distance at
which it has viewed the object itself, in piopoi ion o
the degree of magnifying. For when the microscope
magnifies much, this rule would place the image at a
distance, of which the sight cannot possibly form any
opinion, as being an interval from the eye a w nc 1
no object can be seen. In general, he says, he believe ,
that whoever looks at an object through a convex
glass, and then at the object itself without the glass
will find it to appear nearer in the latter case, though
it be magnified in the glass; and in the same trial with
the concave glass, though by the glass the object be di¬
minished, it will appear nearer through the glass than
without it. . • • „
But the following experiment is the most convincing
proof that the apparent distance of the image ^ not de¬
termined by its apparent magnitude. If a double con¬
vex glass be held upright before some luminous object
as a candle, there will be seen two images, one erect
and the other inverted. The first is made simply by
reflection from the nearest surface, the second by reflec¬
tion from the farther surface, the rays undergoing a re¬
fraction from the first surface both before and after the
reflection. If this glass has not too short a focal distance
when it is held near the object, the inverted image will
appear larger than the other, and also nearer •, but it
the Mass be carried off from the object, though the eye
remain as near to it as before, the inverted image will
diminish so much faster than the other, that, at lengt 1,
k will appear very much less than it, but still nearer.
Here, says Mr Robins, two images of the same object
are seen under one view, and their apparent distances,
when immediately compared, seem to have no necessary
connexion with the apparent magnitude. He also shows
how this experiment may be made still more convincing,
by sticking a piece of paper on the middle of the lens,
and viewing it through a short tube. . r t» -n
i*x. x.uu- M. Bouguer adopts the general maxim of Ur Ilar-
guer adopts row jn supposing that we refer objects to the place
Dr ?ar* from which the pencils of rays seemingly converge at
Z1L their entrance into the pupil. But when rays issue from
' below the surface of a vessel of water, or any other re¬
fracting medium, he finds that there are always two dif¬
ferent places of this seeming convergence j one of them
of the rays that issue from it in the same vertical circle,
and therefore fall with different degrees of obliquity
upon the surface of the refracting medium •, and another,
of those that fall upon the surface with the same degree
of obliquity, entering the eye laterally with respect to
one another. Sometimes, he says, one of these images
is attended to by the mind, and sometimes the other,
and different images may be observed by different per¬
sons. An object immersed in water affords an example,
he says, of this duplicity of images.
Plate If BA b be part of the surface of water, and the ob-
ccckxxiv. ject be at O, there will be two images of it in two dif-
fig- x- ferent places j one at G, on the caustic by refraction,
187
AI. Bou-
I c s. ^ar^ I"
and the other at E, in the perpendicular AO, which is Apparent
as much a caustic as the other line. The former image place, &c.
is visible by the rays ODM, O d m, which are one VJ^
higher than the other, in their progress to the eye j
whereas the image at E is made by the rays ODM,
O e f, which enter the eye laterally. This, says he,
may serve to explain the difficulty of Father lacquet,
Barrow, Smith, and many other authors. .
G. W. Kraft has ably supported the opinion ol Ur
Barrow, that the place of any point, seen by reflec¬
tion from the surface of any medium, is that in which
rays issuing from it, infinitely near to one another,
would meet 5 and considering the case ol a distant ob¬
ject, viewed in a concave mirror, by an eye very near
to it, when the image, according to Euclid and other
writers, would be between the eye and the object, and
the rule of Dr Barrow cannot be applied j he says
that in this case the speculum may be considered as a
plane, the effect being the same, only the image is more
obscure. 1S8
Dr Porterfield gives a distinct view of the natural Dr Porter-
methods of judging concerning the distance of objects, fie^snevl
The conformation of the eye, he observes, can be ot
no use to us with respect to objects placed without the
limits of distinct vision. As the object, however, does
then appear more or less confused, according as it is
more or less removed from those limits, this confusion
assists the mind in judging of the distance of the ob¬
ject •, it being always estimated so much the nearer, or
the farther off, as the confusion is greater. But this con¬
fusion hath its limits ; for when an object is placed
at a certain distance from the eye, to which the breadth
of the pupil bears no sensible proportion, the rays of
lio-ht that come from a point in the object, and pass the
pupil, are so little diverging, that they may be consider¬
ed as parallel. For a picture on the retina will not be
sensibly more confused, though the object be removed
to a much greater distance.
The most general, and frequently the most certain
means of judging of the distance of objects is, he says,
by the angle made by the optic axis. For our two eyes
are like two different stations, by the assistance of which
distances are taken ; and this is the reason why those
persons who are blind of one eye, so frequently miss
their marks in pouring liquor into a glass, snuffing a
candle, and such other actions as require that the di¬
stance be exactly distinguished. To be convinced of
the utility of this method of judging of the distance of
objects, he directs us to suspend a ring in a thread, so
that its side may be towards us, and the hole in it to the
right and left hand *, and taking a small rod, crooked
at the end, retire from the ring two or three paces
and having with one hand covered one of our eyes, to
endeavour with the other to pass the crooked end of
the rod through the ring. This, says* he, appears very
easy j and yet, upon trial, perhaps once in 100 times
we shall not succeed, especially if we move the rod a
little quickly.
The use of this second method of judging of distances
Dechales limited to 120 feet *, beyond which, he says,
we are not sensible of any difference in the angle ot the
optic axis.
A third method of judging of the distance of objects,
consists in their apparent magnitudes, on which so much
stress was laid by Dr Smith. From this change in the
magnitude
Irheory. q p rp
pparent magnltii^e of tlie image upon the retina, we easily
!acl K,JU-dge 0 the. dlstance of objects, as often as we are other-
- —'i mse acquainted with their magnitude; but as often as
we are ignorant of the real magnitude of bodies, we can
never, from their apparent magnitude, form any judo-e-
ment of their distance. 6
. Hence we may see why we are so frequently deceived
in our estimates of distance, by any extraordinary mag-
mtudes of objects seen at the end of it; as, in travelling;
towards a large city, or a castle, or a cathedral church
or a mountain larger than common, we fancy them to
be nearer than they really are. This also is the reason
why animals, and little objects, seen in valleys, conti¬
guous to large mountains, appear exceedinglv small,
for we think the mountain nearer to us than if it were
smaller ; and we should not be surprised at the small¬
ness of the neighbouring animals, if we thought them
farther off. For the same reason, we think them ex¬
ceedingly small, when they are placed upon the top of
a mountain, or a large building ; which appear nearer
to us than they really are, on account of their extraor¬
dinary size.
useen Dr Jurin accounts for our imagining objects, when
• n a high seen from a high building, to be smaller than they are,
1 j,jins and smaller than we fancy them to be when we view
.• ear them at the same distance on level ground. It is, says
t nthe kf> because we have no distinct idea of distance in that
E U 1Cy direction, and therefore judge of things by their pictures
upon the eye only ; but custom will enable us to judge
rightly even in this case.
Let a boy, says he, who has never been upon any
high building, go to the top of a lofty spire, and
look down into the street ; the objects seen there, as
men and horses, will appear so small as greatly to sur¬
prise him. But io or 20 years after, if in the mean
time he has used himself now and then to look down
horn that and other great heights, he will no longer
find the same objects to appear so small. And if he
were to view the same objects from such heights as fre¬
quently as he sees them upon the same level with
himself in the streets, he supposes that they would ap¬
pear to him just of the same magnitude from the
top of the spire, as they do from a window one story
high. For this reason it is, that statues placed upon
■very high buildings ought to be made of a larger size
than those which are seen at a nearer distance ; because
all persons, except architects, are apt to imagine the
height of such buildings to be much less than it really
I c s.
243
sent to our mind one object alone, but at the same 4 .
ciDalobiect86 tf!at Hr PlaCed betwixt US and the Prln- P'S&c.
^ I • 'j!10se ^lstance we are considering : and of objeets.
he more tins distance xs divided into separate and di-
reason dv’ ^ 14 appearS to be' For this
reason, d stances upon uneven surfaces appear less than
aS f°r 116 |ncfJualitJes of the surfaces, such
sJ ’;?,nd h?Ies’ and rivers> that lie low and out of
lieg behindht|r ^°r hinder tl,e Parts that
Daren? disf 7 appearf SJ so the whole ap-
appear n itnCeTb by tbe parts that da
PP ax in it. I his is the reason that the banks of a
1S9
iy ob-
ts seen
irwaaT™:rus to ad;sta"t cye’ *he --
<r f' Citrjssfn.-fS.t
of trees j for they seen, ,0 converge more and more "
they are farther extended from the eye. The reason
o t ns, xe says, is because the ap]iarent magnitudes of
their perpendicular intervals are perpetually diminish¬
ing, while, at the same time, we mistake their distance.
ence we may see why, when two parallel rows of
trees stand upon an ascent, whereby the more remote
parts appear farther off than they really are, because
the line that measures the length of the vistas now ap¬
pears under a greater angle than when it was horizontal
the trees, in such a case, will seem to converge less’
and sometimes, instead of converging, they will be
thought to diverge.
For the same reason that
The fourth method by which Dr Porterfield says
that we judge of the distance of objects, is the force
with which their colour strikes upon our eyes. For if
we be assured that two objects are of a similar and like
colour, and that one appears more bright and lively
than the other, we judge that the brighter object is the
nearer of the two.
Tbe fifth method consists in the different appearance
of the small parts of objects. When these parts appear
distinct, we judge that the object is near j but when
they appear confused, or when they do not appear at
all, we reckon the object to be at a greater distance.
For the image of any object, or part of an object, dimi¬
nishes as its distance increases.
The sixth and last method by which we judge of
the distance of objects is, that the eye does not repre-
a long vista appears to
converge more and more the farther it is extended
trom the eye, the remoter parts of a horizontal walk
or a long floor will appear to ascend gradually: and
objects placed upon it, the more remote they are the
higher they will appear, till the last be seen on a level
with the eye ; whereas the ceiling of a long gallery
appears to descend towards a horizontal line, drawn
from the eye of the spectator. For this reason, also,
the surface of the sea, seen from an eminence, seems
to rise higher and higher the farther we look} and the
upper parts of high buildings seem to stoop, or incline
forwards over the eye below, because they seem to ap¬
proach towards a vertical line proceeding from the
spectator’s eye 5 so that statues on the top of such build¬
ings, in order to appear upright, must recline, or bend
backwards.
Dr Porterfield also show's the reason why a windmill,
seen from a great distance, is sometimes imagined to
move the contrary way from what it really does, by
our taking the nearer end of the sail for the more’ re¬
mote. The uncertainty we sometimes find in the
course of the motion of a branch of lighted candles,
turned round at a distance, is owing, he says, to the
same cause j as also our sometimes mistaking a convex
for a concave surface, more especially m viewing seals
and impressions with a convex glass or a double mi¬
croscope } and lastly, that, upon coming in a dark
night into a street, in which there is but one row
of lamps, we often mistake the side of the street they
are on.
Far more light was thrown upon this curious subject
by M. Bouguer.
The proper method of drawing the appearance of
H h 2 two
244
Apparent
place, &c.
of objects.
I91. ,
Great lignt
thrown up¬
on the sub¬
ject by M.
Bouguer.
Plate
cccx.xxxtv
fist- 2-
OPT
two rows of trees that shall appear parallel to the eye,
is a problem which has exercised the ingenuity ot se¬
veral philosophers and mathematicians, ihat the ap¬
parent magnitude of objects decreases with the ang
under which they are seen, has always been acknow¬
ledged. It is also acknowledged, that it is only by
custom and experience that we learn to form a judge¬
ment both of magnitudes and distances. But m the ap¬
plication of these maxims to the above-mentioned pro¬
blem, all persons, before M. Bouguer, made use ot the
real distance instead of the apparent one ; by winch
only the mind can form its judgment. And it is ma¬
nifest, that, if any circumstances contribute to make the
distance appear otherwise than it is m reahty, the ap
parent magnitude of the object will be aftected by ,
for the same reason, that, if the magnitude be misap¬
prehended, the idea of the distance will vary.
For want of attending to this distinction, lacqi ■
pretended to demonstrate, that nothing can give the
idea of two parallel lines (rows of trees for instance) to
an eye situated at one of their extremities, hut two hy¬
perbolical curves, turned the contrary way 5 and M. V a-
rio-non maintained, that in order to make a vista appear
ofthe same width, it must be made narrow, instead ot
wider, as it recedes from the eye.
M Bouguer observes, that very great distances, and
those that are considerably less than they, make nearly
the same impression upon the eye. We therefore, al¬
ways imagine great distances to be less than they are ,
and for this reason the ground plan of a long vista al¬
ways appears to rise. The visual rays come in a deter¬
minate direction 5 but as we imagine that they termi¬
nate sooner than they do, we necessarily conceive that
the place from which they issue is elevated. Fvery
large plane, therefore, as AB, viewed by an eye at O,
will seem to lie in such a direction as Ab; and conse-
quently lines, in order to appear truly paralle on the
plane AB, must be drawn so as that they would appear
parallel on the plane A </, and be from thence projected
to the plane AB. « , , ,
To determine the inclination of the apparent ground-
plan Ad to the true ground plan AB, our ingenious
author directs us to draw upon a piece of level ground
two straight lines of a sufficient length (for which pur¬
pose lines fastened to small sticks are very convenient),
making an angle of 3 or 4 degrees with one another.
Then a person, placing himself within the angle, with
his back towards the angular point, must walk back¬
wards and forwards till be can fancy the lines to be
parallel. In this situation, a line drawn from the point
of the angle through the place of his eye, will contain
the same angle with the true ground-plan which this
does with the apparent one.
M. Bongner then shows other more geometrical
methods of determining this inclination j and says;
that by these means he has often found it to be 4 or 5
decrees, though sometimes only 2 or 2-|- degrees.. The
determination of this angle, he observes, is variable ;
depending upon the manner in which the ground is il¬
luminated and the intensity of the light. The colour
of the soil is also not without its influence, as well as
the particular conformation of the eye, by which it is
more or less affected by the same degree of light, and
also the part of the eye on which the object is painted.
When, by a slight motion of his head, he contrived,
ICS. Part I
that certain parts of the soil, the image of which fell Apparent
towards the bottom of his eye, should fall towards the place, &c,
t0p of the retina, he always thought that this apparent ,°t objects
inclination became a little greater.
But what is very remarkable, is, that if he look to¬
wards a rising ground, the difference between the ap¬
parent ground-plan and the true one will be much more
considerable, so that they will sometimes make an angle
of 25 or 30 degrees. Ot this he had made frequent ob¬
servations. Mountains, he says, begin to be inaccessi¬
ble when their sides make an angle from 35 or 37 ^e"
grees with the horizon, as then it is not possible to climb
them but by means of stones or shrubs, to serve as steps
to fix the feet on. In these cases, both he and his com¬
panions always agreed that the apparent inclination of
the side of the mountain was 60 or 70 degrees. Plate
These deceptions are represented in fig. 3. in which,ccclxxxi
when the ground-plan AM, or AN, is much inclined, 3-
the apparent ground-plan Aw, or A «, makes a very
large angle with it. On the contrary, if the ground
dips below the level, the inclination of the apparent to
the true ground-plan diminishes, till, at a certain degree
of the slope, it becomes nothing at all 5 the two plans
AP and A p being the same, so that parallel lines drawn
upon them would always appear so. If the inclination
below the horizon is carried beyond the situation AP,
the error will increase *, and what is very remarkable,
it will be on the contrary side •, the apparent plan A r
being always below the true plan AR, so that if a per¬
son would draw upon the plan AR lines that shall ap¬
pear parallel to the eye, they must he drawn conver¬
ging, and not diverging, as is usual on the level ground }
because they must be the projections of two lines ima¬
gined to be parallel, on the plan A r, which is more in¬
clined to the horizon than AR.
These remarks, he observes, are applicable to differ¬
ent planes exposed to the eye at the same time. I or
if BH, fig. 4. be the front of a building, at the di-jig<4,
stance of AB from the eye, it will be reduced in ap¬
pearance to the distance A b ; and the front of the
building will be b h, rather inclined towards the spec¬
tator, unless the distance be inconsiderable.
After making a great number of observations upon
this subject, our author concludes, that when a man
stands upon a level plane, it does not seem to rise sensi¬
bly but at some distance from him. The apparent
plane, therefore, has a curvature in it, at that di¬
stance, the form of which is not very easy to deter¬
mine ; so that a man standing upon a level plane, of
infinite extent, will imagine that he stands in the centre
of a bason. This is also, in some measure, the case
with a person standing upon the level of the sea.
He concludes with observing, that there is no diffi¬
culty in drawing lines according to these rules, so as to
have any given effect upon the eye, except when some
parts of the prospect are very near the spectator, and
others very distant from him, because, in this case, re¬
gard must be had to the conical or conoidal figure of a
surface. A right line passing at a small distance from
the observer, and below the level of his eye, in that case
almost always appears sensibly curved at a certain di¬
stance from the eye j and almost all figures in this case
are subject to some complicated optical alteration to
which the rules of perspective have not as yet been ex¬
tended. If a circle be drawn near our feet, and within
that
Theory. OPT
Apparent that part oi the ground which appears level to us it
[place, Stc. will always appear to be a circle, and at a very consi-
^ehjects'. derable distance it will appear an ellipse; hut between
¥ these two situations, it will not appear to be either the
one or the other, but will be like one of those ovals of
Descartes, which is more curved on one of its sides than
the other.
On these principles a parterre, which appears dis¬
torted when it is seen in a low situation, appears per¬
fectly regular when it is viewed from a balcony or
any other eminence. Still, however, the apparent ir¬
regularity takes place at a greater distance, wThile the
part that is near the spectator is exempt from it. If
fig. S- AB, fig. 5. be the ground-plan, and A o be a perpen¬
dicular, under the eye, the higher it is situated, at O,
to the greater distance will T, the place at which the
plane begins to have an apparent ascent along T 6, be
j92 removed.
risible mo- All the varieties that can occur with respect to the
ion of ob- visible motion of objects, are thus succinctly summed up
by Dr Porterfield under eleven heads.
1. An object moving very swiftly is not seen, unless
it be very luminous. Thus a cannon ball is not seen if
it is viewed transversely : but if it be viewed according
to the line it describes, it may be seen, because its pic¬
ture continues long on the same place of the retina j
which, therefore, receives a more sensible impression
from the object.
2. A live coal swung briskly round in a circle ap¬
pears a continued circle of fire, because the impressions
made on the retina by light, being of a vibrating, and
consequently of a lasting nature, do not presently perish,
but continue till the coal performs its wdiole circuit, and
returns again to its former place.
3. If two objects, unequally distant from the eye,
move with equal velocity, the more remote one will ap¬
pear the slower ; or, if their celerities be proportional
to their distances, they will appear equally swift.
4. If two objects, unequally distant from the eye,
move with unequal velocities in the same direction, their
apparent velocities are in a ratio compounded of the di¬
rect ratio of their true velocities, and the reciprocal one
of their distances from the eye.
5. A visible object moving with any velocity appears
to be at rest, if the space described in the interval of
one second be imperceptible at the distance of the eye.
Hence it is that a near object moving very slowly, as
the index of a clock, or a remote one very swiftly, as a
planet, seems to be at rest.
6. An object moving with any degree of velocity
will appear at rest, if the space it runs over in a se¬
cond of time be to its distance from the eye as 1 to
1400.
7. The eye proceeding straight from one place to an¬
other, a lateral object, not too far off, whether on the
right or left, will seem to move the contrary way.
8. The eye proceeding straight from one place to an¬
other, and being sensible of its motion, distant objects
will seem to move the same way, and with the same ve¬
locity. Thus, to a person running eastwards, the moon
on his right hand appears to move the same way, and
with equal swiftness j for on account of its distance, its
image contines fixed upon the same place of the retina,
from whence we imagine that the object moves along
with the eye.
I C S. 24^
9. If the eye and the object move both the same way. Apparent
only the eye much swifter than the object, the last will pWe, &c.
appear to go backwards. of objects.
. I0* I* two or more objects move with the same velo-'
city, and a third remain at rest, the moveable ones will
appear fixed, and the quiescent one in motion the con¬
trary way. Ihus when the clouds move very swiftly, their
parts seem to preserve their situation, and the moon to
move thef contrary way.
11. If the eye be moved with great velocity, lateral
objects at rest appear to move the contrary way.
Thus to a person sitting in a coach, and riding briskly
through a wood, the trees seem to retire the contrary
way; and to people in a ship, &c. the shores seem to
recede.
At the conclusion of these observations, Dr Porter-Dr Porter¬
field endeavours to explain another phenomenon of mo-field’s ac¬
tion, which, though common and well known, had notfount ofob'
been explained in a satisfactory manner. It is this : If^018.ap"
a person turns swiftly round, without changing his place^vTfo a
all objects about will seem to move round in a circle giddy por-
the contrary way $ and this deception continues not on-son when
Jy while the person himself moves round, but, which jsheand they
more surprising, it also continues for some time after he ^
ceases to move, when the eye, as well as the object, is
at absolute rest.
I be reason why objects appear to move round the
contrary way, when the eye turns round, is not so diffi¬
cult to explain : for though, properly speaking, motion
is not seen, as not being in itself the immediate object
of sight y yet by the sight we easily know when the
image changes its place on the retina, and thence con¬
clude that either the object, the eye, or both, are moved.
But by the sight alone we can never determine how far
this motion belongs to the object, how far to the eye,
or how far to both. If we imagine the eye at rest, we
ascribe the whole motion to the object, though it be tru¬
ly at rest. If we imagine the object at rest, we ascribe
the wdiole motion to the eye, though it belongs entire¬
ly to the object j and when the eye is in motion, though
we are sensible of its motion, yet, if we do not imagine
that it moves so swiftly as it really does, we ascribe on¬
ly a part of the motion to the eye, and the rest of it
we ascribe to the object, though it be actually at rest.
This last, he says, is what happens in the present case,
when the eye turns round •, for though we are sensible
of the motion of the eye, yet we do not apprehend that
it moves so fast as it really does ; and therefore the bo¬
dies about appear to move the contrary way, as is agree¬
able to experience.
But the great difficulty still remains, viz. Why, after
the eye ceases to move, objects should, for some time,
still appear to continue in motion, though their pictures
on the retina be really at rest, and do not at all change
their place. This, he imagined, proceeds from a mis¬
take we are in with respect to the eye, which, though
it be absolutely at rest, we nevertheless conceive as mo¬
ving the contrary way to that in which it moved before 5
from which mistake, with respect to the motion of the
eye, the objects at rest will appear to move the same
way which the eye is imagined to move $ and, conse¬
quently, will seem to continue their motion for some jjr
time after the eye is at rest. accounts
This is ingenious, but perhaps not just. An ac-for tins
count of this matter, which seems to us more satisfac-Pbenome-
tory, ,J0U‘
246 OPT
Apparent tory, has been lately given to the public by Dr Wells,
place, &c. “ Some of the older writers upon optics (says this mgeni-
of object?, ous philosopher) imagined the visive spirits to be con-
tained in the head, as water is in a vessel ; which, there¬
fore, when once put in motion by the rotation of our bo¬
dies, must continue in it for some time after this has
ceased •, and to this real circular movement of the visive
spirits, while the body is at rest, they attributed the ap¬
parent motions of objects in giddiness. Dechales saw
the weakness of this hypothesis ; and conjectured, that
the phenomenon might be owing to a real movement o
the eyes •, but produced no fact in proof of his opinion.
Dr Porterfield, on the contrary, supposed the difficulty
of explaining it to consist in showing, why objects at
rest appear in motion to an eye which is also at rest.
The solution he offered of this representation of the
phenomenon, is not only extremely ingenious, but is, 1
believe, the only probable one which can be given. It
does not apply, however, to the fact which truly exists j
for I shall immediately show, that the eye is not at rest
as he imagined. The last author I know of who has
touched upon this subject is Dr Darwin. His words
are, ‘ When any one turns round rapidly on one toot
till he becomes dizzy, and tails upon the ground, the
spectra of the ambient objects continue to present them¬
selves in rotation, or appear to librate, and he seems
to behold them for some time in motion., I do not in¬
deed pretend to understand his opinion fully but this
much seems clear, that if such an apparent motion of
the surrounding objects depends in any way upon their
spectra, or the illusive representations of those objects,
occasioned by their former impressions upon the retinas,
no similar motion would be observed, were we to turn
ourselves round with our eyes shut, and not to open them
till we became giddy; for in this case, as the surround¬
ing objects could not send their pictures to the retinas,
there would consequently be no spectra to present them¬
selves afterward in rotation. But whoever will make
the experiment, will find, that objects about him appear
to be equally in motion, when he has become giddy by
turning himself round, whether this has been done with
his eyes open or shut. I shall now venture to propose
1(j- my own opinion upon this subject.
Upon what “ If the eye be at rest, we judge an object to be in
data we motion when its picture falls in succeeding times upon
judge visi- d;g-erent parts 0f the retina; and if the eye be in
tobfin^8 motion,-we judge an object to be at rest, as long as the
motion or change in the place of its picture upon the retina holds
at rest. a certain correspondence with the change of the eye s
position. Let us now suppose the eye to be in motion,
while, from some disorder in the system of sensation, we
are either without those feelings which indicate the va¬
rious positions of the eye, or are not able to attend to
them. It is evident, that in such a state of things an
object at rest must appear to be in motion, since it sends
in succeeding times its picture to different parts of the
retina. And this seems to be what happens in giddi¬
ness. I was first led to think so from observing, that,
during a slight fit of giddiness I was accidentally seized
with, a coloured spot, occasioned by looking steadily at
« luminous body, and upon which I happened at that
moment to be making an experiment, was moved in a
manner altogether independent of the positionsl conceiv¬
ed mv eyes to possess. To determine this point, I again,
produced the spot, by looking some time at the flame of
4
ICS. ' PartI-
•1 candle • then turning myself round till I became gid- Apparent
dy, I suddenly discontinued this motion, and directed place &c.
mv eyes to the middle of a sheet of a paper, fixed upon
the wall of mv chamber. The spot now appeared upon
the paper, but only for a moment ; for it immediately
after seemed to move to one side, and the paper to the
other, notwithstanding I conceived the position ot my ^
eves to be in the mean while unchanged. To go on Curious ex-
S the experiment, When the paper and spot had pro- =
ceeded to a certain distance from each other, they sud-thk
denly came together again •, and this separation and con¬
junction were alternately repeated a number of times
the limits of the separation gradually becoming less, till
at length the paper and spot both appeared to be at rest,
and the latter to be projected upon the middle ot the
former. I found also, upon repeating and varying the
experiment a little, and when I had turned myself from
left to fight, the paper moved from right to lett, and
the spot consequently the contrary way ; hut that when
I had turned from right to left, the paper would then
move from left to right. These were the appearances
observed while I stood erect. When l inclined, how¬
ever, my head in such a manner as to bring the side ot
my face parallel to the horizon, the spot and paper would
then move from each other, one upward and the other
downward. But all these phenomena demonstrate, that
there was a real motion in my eyes at the time I imagi¬
ned them to be at rest ; for the apparent situation of
the spot, with respect to the paper, could not possibly
have been altered, without a real change of the position
of those organs. To have the same thing proved in
another way, I desired a person to torn quickly round
till he became very giddy ; then to stop himself, and
look steadfastly at me. He did so, and I could plainly
see, that although he thought his eyes were fixed, they
were in reality moving in their sockets, first toward one
side and then toward the other.” _ 19l
M. Le Cat well explains a remarkable deception, byAjc^-
which a person shall imagine an object to be on the op- ex_
posite side of a board, when it is not so, and also invert-pia;nea by
ed and magnified. It is illustrated by fig. 6. in which M. le Cat.
D represents the eye, and CB a large black board, ,
pierced with a small hole. E is a large white board, f)g<6<
placed beyond it, and strongly illuminated ; and rfapin,
or other small object, held betwixt the eye and the first
board. In these circumstances, the pin shall be imagi¬
ned to be at F, on the other side of the board, where it
will appear inverted and magnified ; because what is
in fact perceived, is the shadow ot the pin upon t e
retina ; and the light that is stopped by the upper part
of the pin coming from the lower part of the enlighten¬
ed board, and that which is stopped by the lower part
coming from the upper part of the board, the shadow
must necessarily be inverted with respect to the object.
This is nothing more than Mr Grey’s experiment, in
which he saw an inverted image ol the pin, and which
we have already noticed. _ . .
There is a curious phenomena relating to vision,
which some persons have ascribed to the inflection of
light, but which Mr Melville explains in a very differ- ^
ent and very simple manner. _ f A curious
When any opaque body is held at the distance ot plienome.
three or four inches from the eye, so that a part of some non tx-
more distant luminous object, such as the window, or the plained by
flame of a candle, may be seen by rays passing near its c'
edge/1 •
[fheory.
OPTICS.
to r
Apparent edge, if another opaque body, nearer to the eye, be
iace, &c. brought across from the opposite side, the edge of the
_° ^- S‘. first body will seem to swell outwards, and meet the lat¬
ter ; and in doing so will intercept a portion of the lu¬
minous object that was seen before.
This appearance he explains in the following manner j
Let AB represent the luminous object to which the sight
is directed, CD the more distant opaque body, OH the
nearer, and EF the diameter of the pupil. Join ED,
FD, EG, FG, and produce them till they meet AB in
K, N, M, and L. It is plain that the parts AN, MB,
of the luminous object cannot be seen. But taking any
point a between N and K, and drawing o D of, since the
portion F of the pupil is filled with light flowing from
that point, it must be visible. Any point b, between a
and K, must fill^ F, a greater portion of the pupil, and
therefore must appear brighter. Again, Any point c
between b and K, must appear brighter than &, because
it fills a greater portion g F with light. The point K
itself, and every other point in the space KL, must ap¬
pear very luminous, since they send entire pencils of
rays EKF, ELF, to the eye ; and the visible bright¬
ness of every point from L towards M, must decrease
gradually, as from K to N, that is, the spaces KN, LM,
will appear as dim shadowy borders, or fringes, adja¬
cent to the edges of the opaque bodies.
When the edge G is brought to touch the right line
KF, the penumbras unite $ and as soon as it reaches
NDF, the above phenomenon begins5 for it cannot pass
that right line without meeting some line a D r/, drawn
irom a point between N and K, and, by intercepting all
the rays that fall upon the pupil, render it invisible. In
advancing gradually to the line KDE, it will meet
other lines b D /J c Y) g, &c. and therefore render the
points b, c, &c. from N to K, successively invisible j and
therefore the edge of the fixed opaque body CD must
seem to swell outwards, and cover the whole space NKj
while GH, by its motion, covers MK. When GH is
placed at a greater distance from the eye, CD continu¬
ing fixed, the space OP to be passed over in order to in¬
tercept NK is less: and therefore, with an equal mo¬
tion of GH, the apparent swelling of CD must be
quicker •, which is found true by experience.
If ML represent a luminous object, and REFQ any
plane exposed to its light, the space FQ will be entire¬
ly shaded from the rays, and the space FE will be oc¬
cupied by a penumbra, gradually darker, from E to F.
Let now GH continue fixed, and CD move parallel to
the plane EF; and as soon as it passes the line LF, it
is evident that the shadow QF will seem to swell out¬
wards 5 and when CD reaches ME, so as to cover with
its shadow the space RE, QF, by its extension, will co¬
ver FE. This is found to hold true likewise by expe¬
riment.
247
159
ieory of
•‘nation.
Plate
i ckxviii.
i;8' 5.6,
Sect. X. On Aberration of Figure or Sphericity.
The great practical use of the science of optics is to
aid human sight 5 but it has been repeatedly observed
during the progress of this article, that in constructing
dioptrical instruments for this purpose, great difficulties
arise from the aberration of light. It lias been shown
how to determine the concourse of any refracted ray
PF’ with the ray RVCF’, which passes through the
centre C, and therefore falls perpendicularly on the
spherical surface at the vertex V, and suffers no refrac- of
in' TjTrhlS 1Sithp COnjU8ate focus to R for the two rays Aberration.
R M and for another ray flowing from R and '' " v' ■'
falling on the surface at an equal distance on the op¬
posite side to P. In short, it is the conjugate focus
for all the rays flowing from R, and falling on the sphe-
1 teal surface in the circumference of a circle described
by the revolution of the point P round the axis RVCF;
that is, of all the rays which occupy the conical sur-
face described by the revolution of RP, and the re¬
fracted rays occupy the conical surface produced by the
revolution of PF\
But no other rays flowing from Rare collected at F’j
for it appeared in the demonstration of that proposition,
that rays incident at a greater distance from the axis RC
were collected at a point between C and F’ $ and then
the rays which are incident on the whole arch PC, or
the spherical surface generated by its revolution round:
RC, although they all cross the axis RC, are diffused
over a certain portion of it, by what has been called
the aberration of figure. It is called also (but impro¬
perly) the aberration from the geometrical focus, by
which is meant the focus of an infinitely slender pencil-
of rays, of which the middle ray (or axis of the pencil)
occupies the lens RC, and suffers no refraction. But
there is no such focus. But if we make »zRV—«RC :
wtRVrrVC : VF, the point F is called the geometrical
focus, and is the remotest limit from C of all the foci
(equally geometrical) of rays flowing from R. The
other limit is easily determined by constructing the pro¬
blem for the extreme point of the given arch.
It is evident from the construction, that while the
point of incidence P is near to V, the line CK increase?
but very little, and therefore CF diminishes little, and
the refracted rays are but little diffused from F; and
therefore they are much denser in its vicinity than any
other point of the axis. It will soon be evident that
they are incomparably denser. It is on this account
that the point F has been called the conjugate focus to
R, and the geometrical focus, and the diffusion has been
called aberration. A geometrical point R is thus repre¬
sented by a very small circle at F, and F has drawn the
chief attention. And as, in the performance of optical
instruments, it is necessary that this extended represen¬
tation of a mathematical point R be very small, that it
may not sensibly interfere with the representations of
the points adjacent to R, and thus cause indistinct vision,
a limit is thus set to the extent of the refracting surface
which must be employed to produce this representation.
But this evidently diminishes the quantity of light, and
renders the vision obscure though distinct. Artists have
therefore endeavoured to execute refracting surfaces of
forms not spherical, which collect accurately to one
point the light issuing from another, and the mathema¬
ticians have furnished them with forms having this pro¬
perty: but their attempts have been fruitless. Spheri¬
cal surfaces are the only ones which can be executed
with accuracy. All are done by grinding the refracting
substance in a mould of proper materials. When this
is spherical, the two work themselves, with moderate at¬
tention, into an exact sphere j because if any part is
more prominent than another, it is gi’ound away, and
the whole gets of necessity one curvature. And it is
astonishing to what degree of accuracy this is done. An
error of the millionth part of an inch would totally de¬
stroy
Plate
CCCXXXXIV
fig. I.
200
How to re-
Ijnedy the
4vils ofab
erration.
OPT
stroy the figure of a mirror of an inch focal distance,
so as to make it useless for the coarsest instrument.
Therefore all attempts to make other figures are given
up. Indeed other reasons make them worse than sphe¬
rical, even when accurately executed. They would not
collect to accurate focuses the rays of ohlique pencils.
It is evident from these observations, that the theory
of aberrations is absolutely necessary for the successlul
construction of optical instruments 5 and it must be ac¬
ceptable to the reader to have a short account ol it in
this place. Enough shall be said here to show the
rreneral nature and effects of it in optical instruments,
and in some of the more curious phenomena ot nature.
Under the article Telescope the subject will be resum¬
ed, in such a manner as to enable the reader who pos¬
sesses a very moderate share of mathematical know le ge ,
not only to understand how aberrations are increased and
diminished, but also how, by a proper employment ot
contrary aberrations, their hurtful effects may be ahnost
entirely removed in all important cases. And the man¬
ner in which the subject shall be treated in the present
rreneral sketch, will have the advantage of pointing out
at the same time the maxims of construction ot the
greatest part of optical instruments, which generally
produce their effects by means of pencils of rays which
are either out of the axis altogether, or are oblique to
it; cases which are seldom considered in elementary
treatises of optics. . .
Let PV si- be a spherical surface of a retracting sub¬
stance (glass for instance), of which C is the centre, and
let an indefinitely slender pencil of rays AP apbe in¬
cident on it, in a direction parallel to a ray U\ pass¬
ing through the centre. It is required to determine
the focus f of this pencil.
Let AP be refracted into PF. Draw Cl, CIt the
sines of incidence and refraction, and CP the radius.
Draw HB perpendicular to CP, and By parallel to
AP or CV. I say, first, / is the focus of the inde¬
finitely slender pencil, or, more accurately speaking, /
is the remotest limit from P of the concourse of rays
with PF’ refracted by points lying without the arch
VP, or the nearest limit for rays incident between V
^Draw the radius C p c\ the line pf; and draw p g
parallel to P f, and P 0 perpendicular to P/. It is
evident, that‘if/be the focus, c’ pf is the angle of
refraction corresponding to the angle of incidence ap C,
as C’P/ is the angle corresponding to APC. Also
PCj? is the increment of the angle of incidence, and
the angle c' pg\s equal to the sum of the angle C’P/
and C’C c, and the angle gp f is equal to the angle
pfV. Therefore c/f—VY f+V,Qp-y Vfp. There¬
fore PC /?4-P/P is the corresponding increment of the
angle of refraction. Also, because R1 0—CPp (being
rioht angles) the angles p P o=RPC, and P 0 : Pp=
PR : PC. . , . . ,
Therefore by a preceding Lemma m this article,
„e h„ve rcp + r/f : FC„=tan ref : tan.
T R : T, I •, and P/p : PC p'zz I, K—1, 1 . 1,1,
^ Po Pp PR PC
zrdiff. : T, I j but P/p : PC p—py' p c“ p/: p£>
=PR • P /^DR : DB (because DB is parallel to B/
byconstructi0n)=tan.CPR—tan.CPl : tan.CPI. Now
CPI is the angle of incidence j and therefore Cl R is
5
ICS. Part I
the angle properly corresponding to it as an angle of re- ©f
fraction, and the point/is properly determined. Aberration.
Hence the following rule. As. the difference of the r—J
tangents of incidence and refraction is to the tangent of
incidence, so is the radius of the surface multiplied by
the cosine of rcfi'action to the distance of the focus of
an infinitely slender pencil of parallel incident rays.
N. B. We here consider the cosine of refraction as a
number. This was first done by the celebrated Euler,
and is one of the greatest improvements in mathematics
which this century can boast of. The sines, tangents,
secants, &c. are considered as fractional numbers, of
which the radius is unity. Thus CP X sin. 30°, is the
CP
same thing with-CP, orAnd in like manner,
CB, drawn perpendicular to the axis X sin- l/
Also
28' 16"
CB
cos. 60°
32'", is the same thing with - of CB.
is the same thing with twice CB, &c.
In this manner, BE=BCxsin. BCE, and also BE
rrCExtan. BCE, and CB=CExsec. BCE, &c. &c.
This manner of considering the lines which occur in
geometrical constructions is of immense use in all parts
of mixed mathematics; and nowhere more remarkably
than in optics, the most beautiful example of them. Of
this an important instance shall now be given.
Cor. 1. The distance/ G of this lateral focus from
the axis CV (that is, from the line drawn through the
centre parallel to the incident light) is proportional to
the cube of the semi-aperture PH of the spherical sur¬
face.
For f G=BE. Now BErrCBxsim BCE, rrCB
X sin. CPA ; and CB=RC X cos. RCB, =:RC X sin.
CPR, and RC=CPxsin. CPR : Therefore BErrPC
X sin.* CPR X sin. PCA, =PC X sin.* refr. X sin. incid.
but
sin. 1
•efr. r= ^ sin.* incid. Therefore, finally, BE,
or /■ G PC X ” X sin.3 incid.: But PC, sin. incid. is
J n
evidently PH the semi-aperture j therefore the propo¬
sition is manifest.
Cor. 2. Now let this slender pencil of rays be inci¬
dent at the vertex V. The focus wull now be a point
F in the axis, determined by making CV : CF=w—
n: m. Let the incident pencil gradually recede from
the axis CF, still, however, keeping parallel to it. The
focus / will always be found in a curve line DC’F, so
constituted that the ordinate G will be as the cube of
the line PH, perpendicular to the axis intercepted be¬
tween the axis and that point of the surface which is
-cut by a tangent to the curve in/.
All the refracted rays will be tangents to this curve,
and the adjacent rays will cross each other in these la¬
teral foci /; and will therefore be incomparably more
dense along the curve than anywhere within its area.
This is finely illustrated by receiving on white paper
the light of the sun refracted through a globe or cylin¬
der of glass filled with water. If the paper is held pa¬
rallel to the axis of the cylinder, and close to it, the il¬
luminated part will be bounded by two very bright pa¬
rallel lines, where it is cut by the curve; and these lines
will gradually approach each other as the paper is with¬
drawn from the vessel, till they coalesce into one very
bright
Theory. OPT
Of bright Hiie at F, or near It. If the paper be held with
Aberration its end touching the vessel, and its plane nearly perpen-
' die alar to the axis, the whole progress of the curve will
be distinctly seen.
As such globes were used for burning glasses, the
point of greatest condensation (which is very near but
not exactly in F) was called the focus. When these
curves were observed by Mr 'Tchirnbauss, he called them
caustics; and those formed by refraction he called dia-
caustics, to distinguish them from the catacaustics form¬
ed by reflection.
It is somewhat surprising, that these curves have been
so little studied since the time of Tchirnhauss. The doc¬
trine of aberrations has indeed been considered in a man¬
ner independent on their properties. But whoever con¬
siders the progress of rays in the eye-piece of optical in¬
struments, will see that the knowledge of the properties
of diacaustic curves determines directly, and almost
accurately, the foci and images that are formed there.
For, let the object-glass of a telescope or microscope be
of any dimensions, the pencils incident on the eye-glasses
are almost all of this evanescent bulk. These advan¬
tages will be shown in their proper places: and we
proceed at present to extend our knowledge of aberra¬
tions in general, first considering the aberrations of pa¬
rallel incident rays.
Abiding by tbe instance represented by the figure,
it is evident that the caustic will touch the surface in a
point <p, so situated that cQ : <p y^—jn : n. Tbe refrae-
ed ray p <& will touch the surface, and will cross the
axis in <&, the nearest limit of diffusion along the axis.
If the surface is of smaller extent, as PY, the caustic
begins zXf when the extreme refracted ray P/'tone lies
the caustic, and crosses the axis in F’, and the opposite
branch of the caustic in K. If there be drawn an ordi¬
nate KO k to the caustic, it is evident that the whole
light incident on the surface PVn passes through the
circle whose diameter is K and that the circle is the
201 smallest space which receives all the refracted light.
rXtX. £reat importance to consider the manner in
id over which the light is distributed over the surface of this
iesmallestcircle of smallest diffusion : for this is the representa-
ircle of tion of one point of the infinitely distant radiant object,
i usion. Each point of a planet, for instance, is represented by
this little circle $ and as the circles representing the dif¬
ferent adjacent points must interfere with each other, an
indistinctness must arise similar to what is observed when
we view an object through a pair of spectacles which do
not fit the eye. The indistinctness must be in propor¬
tion to the number of points whose circles of diffusion
interfere ; that is, to the area of these circles, provided
that the light is uniformly diffused over them : but if it
be very rare at the circumference, the impression made
by the circles belonging to the adjacent points must be
less sensible. Accordingly, Sir Isaac Newton, supposing
it incomparably rarer at the circumference than towards
the centre, affirms that the indistinctness of telescopes,
arising from the spherical figure of the object-glass, was
some thousand times less than that arising from the un¬
equal refrangibility of light; and, therefore, that the at¬
tempts to improve them by diminishing or removing this
aberration were needless, while the indistinctness from
unequal refrangibility remained. It is surprising, that a
philosopher so eminent for sagacity and for mathematical
knowledge should have made such a mistake, and un-
Vol. XV. Part I. f
I c s.
2 49
fortunate that the authority of his great name hindered of
others from examining the matter, trusting to his asser-Aberration.
tion that the light was so rare at the border of this cir- 1 '
cle. His mistake is surprising, because the very nature
of a caustic should have showed him that the light was
infinitely dense at the borders of the circle of smallest
inusiom The first person who detected this oversight
ot the British philosopher was the Abbe Boscovich,
who, in a dissertation published at\ienna in 1767
showed, by a very beautiful analysis, that the distribu¬
tion was extremely different from what Newton had
asserted, and that the superior indistinctness arising from
unequal refrangibility was incomparably less than he had
said. \\e shall attempt to make this delicate and in¬
teresting matter conceived by those who have but small
mathematical preparation.
jtetr^e-CUFV® czvd be the caustic (magni- Plate
icaj, ZjL its axis, I the focus of central rays, B the fo- ccc**xxrvie
cus of extreme rays, and IB the line containing the foci fl-' ~
ot all the intermediate rays, and COc the diameter of
the circle of smallest diffusion.
It is plain, that from the centre O there can be
drawn two rays OV, O touching the caustic in V, v.
iherefore the point O will receive the rayEO, which
passes through the vertex of the refracting surface, and
all the rays which are incident on the circumference of
a circle described on the refracting surface by the extre¬
mity of the ray OV, or Ot;. The density of the light
at O will therefore be indefinitely great.
From the point C there can be drawn two rays ; one
of them CX touching the caustic in C, and the other
C, touching it at d on the opposite side. The rays
■which touch the caustic in the immediate vicinity of Cy,
both in the arch CV and the arch Cl will cut OC in
points indefinitely near to each other ; because their dis¬
tance from each other in the line OC will be to their
uniform distance on the refracting surface as the distance
between their points of contact with the caustic to the
distance of these points from the refracting surface.
Here therefore at C the density of the light will also be
indefinitely great.
From any point H, lying between O and C, mav
he drawn three rays. One of them LHT, P, touching
the arch CD of the caustic in T, cutting the refracting
surface in P, and the axis in L : another t Hp, touch¬
ing the arch Cl of the caustic in t. The third is H
touching the arch cd of the opposite branch of the cau¬
stic in r.
It will greatly assist our conception of this subject, Fig. r.
if we consider a ray of light from the refracting sur¬
face as a thread attached at I of this figure, or at F
of fig. 1. and gradually unlapped from the caustic
DVCl on one side, and then lapped on the opposite
branch 1 evd; and attend to the point of its intersec¬
tion with the diameter c OC of the circle of smallest
diffusion.
Therefore, 1. Let the ray be first supposed to pass
through the refracting surface at F, the right hand
extremity of the aperture. The thread is then folded
up on the whole right hand branch ICVD of the
caustic } and if the straight part of it FD be produced,
it will cut the diameter of the circle of smallest diffu¬
sion in the opposite extremity c. Or suppose a ruler
in place of the thread, applied to the caustic at D and
to the refracting surface at F, the part of it D c,
I i which
25<3
OPT
Of which is detached from the caustic, cuts CO c m th «?
Aberration, point c. 2. Now suppose the ruler to revol^eA S.ra"
—y 1 dually, its extremity moving across the arch f01
the refracting surface while the edge is applied to ie
caustic j the point of contact with the caustic wi
shift gradually down the branch DV of the caustic,
while its edge passes across the line cC j and when the
point of contact arrives at V, the extremity will be at
Y on the refracting surface, and the intersection ot the
edge will be at Q. 3- Continuing the motion, the
point of contact shifts from V to Z, the extremi y
from Y to Q\ and the intersection from O to so
that OQ*=^-, as will presently appear. 4. After
this, the point of contact will shirt from Z to C,
the extremity from Q’ to X, half way from F to A,
as will soon be shown, and the intersection from ^ to
C. 5. The point of contact will now shift from c
down to I, the extremity will pass from X to A, am
the intersection will go back from C to O. * e
ruler must now be applied to the other branch ot the
caustic l c z v d, and the point of contact will ascend
from I to c, the extremity will pass from A to a-, halt
way to/ from A, and the intersection from O to c.
7. The point of contact will ascend from C to z, the
extremity passes from x to q\ and the intersection horn
C to O q* being =: —• 8- While the contact of
I c s.
Part I.
radial density atH, also as TH to TP. In next pi ace,
TV circumferential density at Pis to that at II as the
202
Density of
light.
the ruler and caustic shifts from z to ti, the extremity
shifts from r/’ to y, and the intersection from q to O.
o. The contact rises from v to d, the extremity passes
from y tof, and the intersection from O to C J and then
the motion across the refracting surface is completed,
the point of contact shifting down from D to I along
the branch DVZCI, and then ascending along the other
branch l c z vd, while the intersection passes from c to
C, back again from C to c, and then back again from c
to C, where it ends, having thrice passed through every
intermediate point of c C. ^
We may form a notion of the density ot the light
in airy point H, by supposing the incident light of uni¬
form density at the refracting surface, and attending
to the constipation of the rays in the circle ol smallest
diffusion. Their vicinity may be estimated both in the
direction of the radii OH, and in the direction of the
circumference described by its extremity H, during its
revolution round the axis } and the density must be con¬
ceived as proportional to the number of originally equidi¬
stant rays, which are collected into a spot of given area.
These have been collected from a corresponding spot or
area of the refracting surface *, and as the number ol rays
is the same in both, the density at H will be to the
density of the refracting surface, as the area occupied
of the refracting surface, to the corresponding area at H.
The vicinity of the rays in the direction of the radius
depends on the proportion between PT and J H.
For the ray adjacent to PTH may be supposed to cross
it at the point of contact T; and therefore the uniform
distance between them at the surface ot that medium
is to the distance between the same rays at H as the
distance of T from the refracting surface to its distance
from H. Therefore the number of rays which occupy
a tenth of an inch, for example, of the radius AP, is
to the number which would occupy a tenth of an inch
at H as TH to TP j and the radial density at P is to the
Of
The dreumferential density at Pis to that at H as the ra- Abemfa.
dins AP to the radius OH. For supposing the figure to
turn round its axis AI, the point P of the refracting
surface will describe a circumference whose radius is
AP and H will describe a circumterence whose radius
is OH; and the whole rays which pass through the hrst
circumference pass also through the last, and therefore
their circumferential densities will be in the inverse
proportion of the spaces into which they are collected.
Now the radius AP is to the radius OH as AL to
OL ; and circumferences have the same proportion
with their radii. Therefore the circumferential den¬
sity at P is to that in H as AL to OL inversely ; and
it was found that the radial density was as AN to
ON inversely, being as TH to TP, which are very
nearly in this ratio. Therefore the absolute density
(or number of rays collected in a given space) at 1
will be to that at H, in the ratio compounded of these
ratios ; that is, in the ratio of ON X 9L to ^ X 4^*
But as NL bears but a ve*y small ratio to AJN or ADr
AN X AL may be taken as equal to AO3 without any
sensible error, 'it never differs from it in telescopes 1 ooth
part, and is generally incomparably smaller. Iheretore
the density at H may be considered as proportional to
ON X OL inversely. And it will afterwards appear
that NS is — 3 0 L. Therefore the density at H is in¬
versely as ON X NS. n(5 ,
Now describe a circle on the diameter Ob, and
draw NT<p cutting the circumference N^rzON X
and the density at H is as N<pl inversely. This gives
us a very easy estimation of the density, viz. draw a line
from the point of contact of the ray which touches the
part VC of the caustic, and the density is in the inverse
subduplicate ratio of the part of this line intercepted
between the axis and the circumference StpU. It.
will afterwards appear that the density corresponding
to this ray is one half of the density corresponding
to all the three : or a better expression will be had
for the density at H by drawing R /3 perpendicular to
R <p, and /3 0 perpendicular to <p /3, making <p K in o;
then <po is as-j^-, or is proportional to the density, as
(pN5
is evident. . . - . .
When H is at O, N is at S, and <p 0 is infinite. As
II moves from O, N descends, and <p 0 diminishes, tdl
II comes to Q, and T to z, and <p to £, and 0 to K.
When H moves from Q towards C, T descends below
z, <p 0 again increases, till it is again infinite, when I
is at C, T at C, and N at O. .
Thus it appears, without any minute consideration,
that the light has a density indefinitely great, in the
centre O j that the density decreases to a minimum
in some intermediate point Q, and then increases
again to infinity at the margin C. Hence it follows,
that the indistinctness arising from the spherical figure
of the refracting surfaces is incomparably greater than
Newton supposed \ and that the valuable discovery o.
Mr Dollond of achromatic lenses, must have failed oi
answering his fond expectations, if his very method 0
producing them had not, at the same time, enabled
him to remove that other indistinctness by employing
contrary aberrations. And now, since the discovery
by Dr Blair of substances which disperse the dinerent
colours in the same proportions, but very different de¬
grees,
Theory. OPT
Of gree.9, lias enabled us to employ much larger portions
iAberration, of the sphere than Mr Dollond could introduce into his
n_' object-glasses, it becomes absolutely necessary to study
this matter completely, in order to discover and ascer¬
tain the amount of the errors which perhaps unavoid-
203 ably remain.
icontrary This slight sketch of the most simple case of aber-
~S ration> namely, when the incident rays are parallel,
each other, will serve to give a general notion of the subject; and
the reader can now see how contrary aberrations may
be employed in order to form an ultimate image which
shall be as distinct as possible. For let it be proposed
Plate to converge parallel rays accurately to the focus F,
6&3.VI' tbe refratti°n °f spherical surfaces of which V
is the vertex. Let PV be a convex lens of such a
form, that rays flowing from F, and passing through it
immediately round the vertex V, are collected to the
eonjugate focus R, while the extreme ray FP, inci¬
dent on the margin of the lens P, is converged to r,
nearer to V, having the longitudinal aberration R r.
Let V be a plano-concave lens, of such sphericity
that a ray A jj, parallel to the axis CV, and incident
on the point as far from its vertex V as P in the
other lens is from its vertex, is dispersed from r, the
distance 5 V being equal to s V, while the central ravs
are dispersed fiom P, as far from V as R is from V.
It is evident, that if these lenses be joined as in fig. 4.
a ray A’/>, parallel to the common axis CV, will be
collected at the distance VF equal to VF in the fig. 4.
and that rays passing through both lenses in the neigh¬
bourhood of the axis will be collected at the same
point F.
This compound lens is said to be without spheri¬
cal aberration ; and it is true that the central and the
extreme rays are collected in the same point F: but
the rays which fall on the lens between the centre and
margin are a little diffused from F, and it is not pos¬
sible to collect them all to one point. For in the rules
for computing the aberration, quantities are neglected
which do not preserve, in different apertures, the same
ratio to the quantities retained. The diffusion is least
when the aberration is corrected, not for the very ex¬
tremity, but for a certain intermediate point (varying
with the aperture, and having no known ratio to it) j
and when this is done, the compound lens is in its state
of greatest perfection, and the remaining aberration is
quite insensible. See Telescope.
Sect. VI. 0« different Refrangibility of Light.
As this property of light solves a great number of the
phenomena which could not be understood by former
opticians, we shall give an account of it nearly in the
words of Sir Isaac Newton, who first discovered it j es¬
pecially as his account is more full and perspicuous than
those of succeeding writers.
Kate ** -^n a dark chamber, at a round hole F, about one
erxEsm.third of an inch broad, made in the shutter of a window,
1. I placed a glass prism ABC, whereby the beam of the
sun’s light, SF, which came in at that hole, might be
refracted upwards, toward the opposite wall of the cham¬
ber,and there form a coloured image of the sun, repre¬
sented at PT. The axis of the prism was, in this and
the following experiments, perpendicular to the incident
rajs. About this axis I turned the prism slowly, and
I c s.
251
saw the refracted or coloured image of the sun, first to On the dif-
descend, and then to ascend. Between the descent and ferent re¬
ascent, when the image seemed stationary, I stopped the tran^ibility
prism and fixed it in that posture. 01 *^Rht-
“ Then I let the refracted light fall perpendicularly '
upon a sheet of white paper, MN, placed at the oppo¬
site wall of the chamber, and observed the figure and
dimensions of the solar image, FT, formed on the pa¬
per by that light. This image was oblong, and not
oval, but terminated by two rectilinear and parallel sides
and two semicircular ends. On its sides it was bounded,
pretty distinctly ; but on its ends very indistinctly, the
light there vanishing by degrees. At the distance of
18!- feet from the prism the breadth of the image was
about 2-g- inches, but its length was about 10^ inches,
and the length of its rectilinear sides about 8 inches ^
and ACB, the refracting angle of the prism, by which,
so great a length was made, was 64 degrees. \\ ith a
less angle the length of the image was less, the breadth
remaining the same. It is farther to be observed, that
the rays went on in straight lines from the prism to the
image, and therefore at their going out of the prism had
all that inclination to one another from which the length
of the image proceeded. This image FT was coloured,
and the more eminent colours lay in this order from
the bottom at I to the top at P j red, orange, yellow,
green, blue, indigo, violet $ together with all their in¬
termediate degrees in a continual succession perpetually
varying.”
Our author concludes from this and other ex peri- jjgbt con-
ments, “ that the light of the sun consists of a mixture sists of se-
of several sorts of coloured rays, some of which at equal ▼eral sorts
incidences are more refracted than others, and therefore of co*°”!et*
are called wore refrangible. The red at T, being near- rentlv re-'
est to the place Y, where the rays of the sun would sro frangibte,
directly if the prism was taken aw'ay, is the least refrac-
ed of all the range j and the orange, yellow, green, blue,
indigo, and violet, are continually more and more re¬
fracted, as they are more and more diverted from the
course of the direct light. For by mathematical rea¬
soning he has proved, that when the prism is fixed in
the posture above mentioned, so that the place of the
image shall be the lowest possible, or at the limit be¬
tween its descent and ascent, the figure of the image
ought then to be round like the spot at Y, if all the
rays that tended to it were equally refracted. There¬
fore, since it is found by experience that this image is
not round, but about five times longer than broad, it
follows, that all the rays are not equally refracted.
This conclusion is farther confirmed by the following
experiments.
“ In the sunbeam SF, which was propagated into the Fig- %•
room through the hole in the window-shutter EG, at
the distance of some feet from the hole, I held the prism
ABC in such a posture, that its axis might be perpendi¬
cular to that beam : then I looked through the prism
upon the hole F, and turning the prism to and fro about
its axis to make the image p £ of the hole ascend and
descend, when between its two contrary motions it
seemed stationary, I stopped the prism ; in this situation
of the prism, viewing through it the said hole E, I ob¬
served the length of its refracted image p £ to be many
times greater than its breadth $ and that the most re¬
fracted part thereof appeared violet at p ; the least re¬
fracted, at t ; and the middle parts indigo, blue, green,,
1 i 2 yellow,
OPT
Plate
ccclxxxiii.
fig.
25 2
On the dif-yellow, and orange, in order. The same thing happen-
ferent re- ed when I removed the prism out of the sun’s light, an
frangibility ]00ked through it upon the hole shining by the light ot
,of U£hi , the clouds beyond it.. And yet if the refractions of all
* ' the rays were equal according to one certain proportion
of the sines of incidence and refraction, as is vulgarly
supposed, the refracted image ought to have appeared
round, by the mathematical demonstration above men¬
tioned. So then by these two experiments it appears,
that in equal incidences there is a considerable inequa¬
lity of refractions.”
For the discovery of this fundamental property 01
light, which has unfolded the whole mystery of colours,
we see our author was not only beholden to the experi¬
ments themselves, which many others had made before
him, but also to his skill in geometry; which was abso¬
lutely necessary to determine what the figure of the re¬
fracted image ought to be upon the old principle of an
equal refraction of all the rays : but having thus made
the discovery, he contrived the following experiment to
prove it at sight. _ _ T
“ In the middle of two thin boards, Ilk1
made a round hole in each, at G and g, a third part of
an inch in diameter 5 and in the window-shut a much
larger hole being made, at F, to let into my darkened
chamber a large beam of the sun’s light, I placed a
prism, ABC, behind the shut in that beam, to refract
it towards the opposite wall and close behind this prism
1 fixed one of the boards DE, in such a manner tnat the
middle of the refracted light might pass through the
hole made in it at G, and the rest be intercepted by the
board. Then at the distance of about 12 feet from the
first board, I fixed the other board, de, in such manner
that the middle of the refracted light, which came
through the hole in the first board, and fell upon the
opposite wall, might pass through the hole g in this
other board d e, and the rest being intereepted by the
board, might paint upon it the coloured spectrum of the
sun. And close behind this board I fixed another prism
a be, to refract the light which came through the hole
g. Then I returned speedily to the first prism ABC,
and by turning it slowly to and fro' about its axis, I
caused the image which fell upon the second board d e,
to move up and down upon that board, that all its parts
might pass successively through the hole on that board,
and fall upon the prism behind it. And in the mean
time I noted the places, M, N, on the opposite wall, to
which that light after its refraction in the second prism
did pass j and by the difference of the places at M and
N, I found that the light, which being most refracted
in the first prism ABC, did go to the blue end of the
image, was again more refracted by the second prism
a b c, than the light which went to the red end of that
image. For when the lower part of the light which
fell upon the second board de, was cast through the
hole g, it went to a lower place M on the wall •, and
when the higher part of that light was cast through the
same hole g, it went to a higher place N on the wall •,
and when any intermediate part of the light was cast
through that hole, it went to some place in the wall be¬
tween M and N. The unchanged position of the hole
in the boards made the incidence of the rays upon the
second prism to be the same in all cases. And yet in
that common incidence some of the rays were more re¬
fracted and others less ; and those were more refracted
1 c s. Part L
in this prism, which by a greater refraction in the first On the dif-
prism were more turned out of their way j and, there- ^rent«.
fore, for their constancy of being more refracted, are of
deservedly called more refrangible” » 
Sir Isaac shows also, by experiments made with con- 20s
vex glass, that lights, reflected from natural bodies Refected
which differ in colour, differ also in refrangibility i a»(l3yd,?fr'
that they differ in the same manner as the rays of the frangiyei
snn do. „ n m •
44 The sun’s light consists of rays filtering in retiexibi-
lity, and those rays are more reflexible than others which
arc more refrangible. A prism, ABC, whose two Iig. 4,
angles, at its base BC, were equal to one another and
half right ones, and the third at A a right one, 1 pla¬
ced in a beam FM oi the sun’s light, let into a dark,
chamber through a hole F one third part of an inch
broad. And turning the prism slowly about its axis un¬
til the light which went through one of its angles ACB,
and was refracted by it to G and H, began to be re¬
flected into the line MN by its base BC, at which till
then it went out of the glass ; I observed that those rays,
as MH, which had suffered the greatest refraction, were
sooner reflected than tl>e rest. lo make it evident that
the rays which vanished at H were reflected into the
beam MN, I made this beam pass through another
prism VXY, and being refracted by it to fall afterwards
upon a sheet of white paper p t placed at some distance
behind it, and there by that refraction to paint the usual
colours at p t. Then causing the first prism to be turned
about its axis according to the order of the letters ABC,
I observed, that when those rays MH, which in this
prism had suffered the greatest refraction, and appeared
blue and violet, began to be totally reflected, the blue
and violet light on the paper which was most refracted
in the second prism received a sensible increase at p,
above that of the red and yellow at t: and afterwards,
when the rest of the light, which was green, yellow,
and red, began to be totally reflected and vanished at
G, the light of those colours at t, on the paper p t, re¬
ceived as great an increase as the violet and blue had
received before. Which puts it past dispute, that those
rays became first of all totally reflected at the base BC,
which before at equal incidences with the rest upon the
base BC had suffered the greatest refraction. I do not
here take any notice of any refractions made in the
sides AC, AB, of the first prism, because the light en¬
ters almost perpendicularly at the first side, and goes
out almost perpendicularly at the second •, and therefore
suffers none, or so little, that the angles of incidence
at the base BC are not sensibly altered by it; especially
if the angles of the prism at the base BC be each about
^.0 degrees. For the rays FM begin to be totally re¬
flected when the angle CMF is about 50 degrees, and
therefore they will then make a right angle of 90 de¬
grees with AC.
“It appears also from experiments, that the beam
of light MN, reflected by the base of the prism, being
augmented first by the more refrangible rays ami after-
wards by the less refrangible, is composed ot rays dii-
ferently refrangible. .
“ The light whose rays are all alike refrangible, 1 call
simple, homogeneous, and similar ; and that whose rays
are some more refrangible than others, I call compound,
heterogeneous, and dissimilar. The former light 1 call
homogeneous, not because I would affirm it so in all re¬
spects 5
Theory. OPT
j)n the dif-spects j but because the rays which agree in refrangibi-
Lferent re- lily agree at least in all their other properties which I
rangibility cons[(|er in the following discourse.
^.Lvlg ‘ “ The colours of homogeneous lights I call primary,
206 homogeneous, and simple $ and those of heterogeneous
Colours lights, heterogeneous and compound. For these are
mpleor a[wayS compounded of homogeneous lights, as will an-
j,™^- ^ in the folio,ving discourse. P
“ The homogeneous light and rays which appear red,
or rather make objects appear so, I call rubrijic or red-
maktng ; those which make objects appear yellow, green,
blue, and violet, I csW yellow-making, blue-making, vio¬
let-making and so oi the rest. And il at any time I
speak of light and rays as coloured or endowed with co¬
lours, I would be understood to speak not philosophical¬
ly and properly, hut grossly, and according to such
conceptions as vulgar people in seeing all these experi¬
ments would be apt to frame. 1'or the rays, to speak
properly, are not coloured. In them there is nothing
else than a certain power and disposition to stir up a
sensation of this or that colour. For as sound, in a hell
or musical string or other sounding body, is nothing but
a trembling motion, and in the air nothing hut that
motion propagated from the object, and in the sensorium
it is a sense of that motion under the form of sound 5 so
colours in the object are nothing hut a disposition to re¬
flect this or that sort of rays more copiously than the
rest: in rays they are nothing but their dispositions to
propagate this or that motion into the sensorium j and
in the sensorium they are sensations of those motions un¬
der the forms of colours. See Chromatics.
By the mathematical proposition above mentioned,
o it is certain that the rays which are equally refrangible
e sun, by t]0 fali Up0n a circle answering to the son’s apparent disk,
.ous°rays WT^C^ VVi'^ a^so he proved by experiment by and by.
| ssincr 7 Now let AG represent the circle which all the most re¬
I c s.
*» * On the
107
rhy the
! :a£e ef
rough a frangible rays, propagated from the whole disk of the
, •im ic QMrt iiTill •llii 1 4-si  !A-   j.1    11 ‘ n
\ ism, is
long.
Plate
elxxxiii.
% 5-
sun, will illuminate and paint upon the opposite wall if
they were alone; FL the circle, which all the least re¬
frangible rays would in like manner illuminate if they
were alone ; BH, Cl, DK, the circles which so many
intermediate sorts would paint upon the wall, if they
were singly propagated from the sun in successive order,
the rest being intercepted *, and conceive that there are
other circles without number, which innumerable other
intermediate sorts of rays would successively paint upon
the wall, if the sun should successively emit every sort
apart. And seeing the sun emits all these sorts at once,
they must all together illuminate and paint innumerable
equal circles ; of all which, being according to their
degrees of refrangibility placed in order in a continual
scries, that oblong spectrum FT is composed, which
was described in the first experiment.
“ Now if these circles, whilst their centres keep their
distances and positions, could be made less in diameter,
their interfering one with another, and consequently the
mixture of the heterogeneous rays, would be propor-
tionably diminished. Let the circles AG, B H, Cl,
&c. remain as before; and let ag, bh, ci, &c. be so
many less circles lying in a like continual series, be¬
tween two parallel right lines a c and g l, with the
same distance between their centres,. and illuminated
'vith the same sorts of rays : that is, the circle ag with
t he same sort by which the corresponding circle AG was
illuminated; and the rest of the circles b h, ci, dk, el,
corresponding circles BH, CI, DK, EL, were illumi- ferent re-
nated. In the figure F I, composed of the great circles frangibility
three of those, AG, B H, CI, are so expanded into each ,
other, that three sorts of rays, by which those circles ‘
are illuminated, together with innumerable other sorts
of intermediate rays, are mixed at QR in the middle of
the circle B H. And the like mixture happens throuo-h-
out almost the whole length of the figure FT. But&m
the figure pt, composed of the less circles, the three
less circles ag,bh,ci, which answer to those three
greater, do not extend into one another; nor are there
anywhere mingled so much as any two of the three sorts
of rays by which those circles are illuminated, and which
in the figure FT are all of them intermingled at QR.
bo then, if we would diminish the mixture of the rays,
we are to diminish the diameters of the circles. Now
these would he diminished if the sun’s diameter, to which
they answer, could be made less than it is, or (which
comes to the same purpose), if without doors, at great
distance from the prism towards the sun, some opaque
body were placed with a round hole in the middle of it
to intercept all the sun’s light, except so much as com¬
ing from the middle of his body could pass through that
hole to the prism. For so the circles AG, BH, and
the rest, would not any longer answer to the whole disk
of the sun, but only to that part of it which could be
seen from the prism through that hole ; that is, to the
apparent magnitude of that hole viewed from the prism.
But that these circles may answer more distinctly to
that hole, a lens is to be placed by the prism to cast the
image of the hole (that is, every one of the circles AG,
BH, &c.) distinctly upon the paper at PT ; after such;
a manner, as by a lens placed at a window the pictures
of objects abroad are cast distinctly upon the paper within
the room. If this be done, it will not be necessary ta
place that bole very far off, no not beyond the window.
And therefore, instead of that hole, I used a hole in
the window-shut as follows.
In the sun’s light let into my darkened chamber
through a small round hole in my window-shut, at about
10 or 12 feet from the window, I placed a lens MN, Fig.fT.
by which the image of the hole F might be distinctly
cast upon a sheet of white paper placed at I. Then im¬
mediately after the lens I placed a prism ABC, by which
the trajected light might be refracted either upwards or
sidewise, and thereby the round image which the lens
alone did cast upon the paper at I, might be drawn out
into a long one with parallel sides, as represented nipt.
This oblong image I let fall upon another at about the
same distance from the prism as the image at I, moving
the paper either towards the prism or from it, until L
found the just distance where the rectilinear sides of the
images p t became most distinct. For in this case the
circular images of the hole, which compose that image,
after the manner that the circles ag, bh, ci, &c. do
the figure pt, were terminated most distinctly, and
therefore extended into one another the least that they
could, and by consequence the mixture of the heteroge¬
neous rays was now the least of all. The circles ag,
bh, c i, &c. which compose the image p t, are each
equal to the circle at I; and therefore, by diminishing
the hote F, or by removing the lens farther from it, may
be diminished at pleasure, whilst their centres keep the
same distances from each other. Thus, by diminishing
the>
by simple
and homo
geneou<
light, cir¬
cular.
254 OPT
On the dif-the breadth of the image p t, the circle of heterogeneal
ferent re- rays that compose it may be separated from each other
frangibility as as y0U please. Yet instead of the circular hole
,of L,1^lt-, Fj it is better to substitute a hole shaped like a pa-
* rallelogram, with its length parallel to the length of
the prism. For if this hole be an inch or two long, and
but a 10th or 20th part of an inch broad, or narrower,
the light of the image p t will be as simple as before,
or simpler} and the image being much broader, is
therefore fitter to have experiments tried in its light
than before.
“ Homogeneal light is refracted regularly without any
dilatation, splitting, or shattering of the rays •, and the
confused vision of objects seen through refracting bodies
by heterogeneous light, arises from the difierent refran-
*ri, *°8 gibility of several sorts of rays. This will appear by the
ofthTsun experiments which will follow. In the middle of a
black paper I made a round bole about a fifth or a sixth
part of an inch in diameter. Upon this part I caused
the spectrum of homogeneous light, described in the for¬
mer article, so to fall that some part of the light might
pass through the hole in the paper. This transmitted
part of the light, I refracted with a prism placed be¬
hind the paper : and letting the refracted light fall per-
pendicnlarlv upon a white paper, two or three feet di¬
stant from the prism, I found that the spectrum formed
on the paper by this light was not oblong, as when it
is made in the first experiment, by refracting the sun’s
compound light, but was, so far as l could judge by
my eye, perfectly circular, the length being nowhere
greater than the breadth } which shows that this light
fs refracted regularly without any dilatation of the rays,
and is an ocular demonstration of the mathematical pro¬
position mentioned above.
“ In the homogeneous light I placed a paper circle of
a quarter of an inch in diameter: and in the sun’s un¬
refracted, heterogeneous, white light, I placed another
paper circle of the same bigness ; and going from these
papers to the distance of some feet, I viewed both cir¬
cles through a prism. rI lie circle illuminated by the
sun’s heterogeneous light appeared very oblong, as in the
second experiment, the length being many times greater
than the breadth. But the other circle, illuminated
with homogeneous light appeared circular, and distinctly
defined, as when it is viewed by the naked eye •, which
proves the whole proposition mentioned in the begin¬
ning of this article.
“ In the homogeneous light I placed flies and such
like minute objects, and viewing them through a prism
I saw their parts as distinctly defined as if I had viewed
them with the naked eye. The same objects placed in
the sun’s unrefracted heterogeneous light, which was
nieouTiglit.white, I viewed also through a prism, and saw them
& most confusedly defined, so that I could not distinguish
their smaller parts from one another. I placed also the
letters of a small print one while in the homogeneous
fight, and then in the heterogeneous } and viewing them
through a prism, they appeared in the latter case so
confused and indistinct that I could not read them •, but
in the former, they appeared so distinct that I could read
readily, and thought I saw them as distinct as when I
viewed them with my naked eye : in both cases, I view¬
ed the same objects through the same prism, at the same
distance from me, and 111 the same situation. T here
was no difference but in the lights by which the objects
209
Vision
.more di¬
stinct in
homogene¬
ous than in
I c s. Part I
were illuminated, and which in one case was simple, in On thedi
the other compound j and therefore the distinct vision ferentxe.
in the former case, and confused in the latter, could
arise from nothing else than from that diflerence in the
fights. Which proves the whole proposition.
“ In these three experiments, it is farther very re¬
markable, that the colour of homogeneous light was
never changed by the refractions. A.nd as these colours
were not changed by refractions, so neither were they
by reflections. For all white, gray, red, yellow, green,
blue, violet bodies, as paper, ashes, red lead, orpi-
ment, indigo, bice, gold, silver, copper, grass, blue
flowers, violets, bubbles of water tinged with various
colours, peacock feathers, the tincture of lignum ne-
phriticum, and such like, in red homogeneous light ap¬
peared totally red, in blue fight totally blue, in green
fight totally green, and so of other colours. In the
homogeneous light of any colour they all appeared to¬
tally of that same colour J with this only diflerence, that
some of them reflected that light more strongly, others
more faintly. I never yet found any body which by
reflecting homogeneous fight could sensibly change ijs
colour. ,
“ From all which it is manifest, that if the sun’s light
consisted of but one sort of rays, there would be hut one
colour in the world, nor would it be possible to produce
any new colour by reflections and refractions 5 and by
consequence, that the variety of colours depends upon
the composition of light.
“ The solar images t, formed by the separated rays
in the 6th experiment, did in the progress from its end
p, on which the most refrangible rays fell, unto its end
t, on which the least refrangible rays fell, appear tinged
with this series of colours; violet, indigo, blue, green,
yellow, orange, red, together with all their intermedi¬
ate degrees in a continual succession perpetually vary¬
ing ; so that there appeared as many degrees of colours
as there were sorts of rays differing in refrangibility.
And since these colours could not be changed by ic-
fractions nor by reflections, it follows that all homoge-
neal light has its proper colour answering to its degree
of refrangibility. < • r r? 2I^
“ Every homogeneous ray considered apart is retrac- ljVerU^
ed according to one and the same rule; so that it8ra^'jsr^j
sine of incidence is to its sine of refraction in a glV^n fracted ai
ratio : that is, every different coloured ray has a dif- cording t
ferent ratio belonging to it. This our author Hasoneand^
proved by experiment, and by other experiments has ^
determined by what numbers those given ratios are ex¬
pressed. For instance, if an heterogeneous white ray of
the sun emerges out of glass into air; or, which is the plate
same thing, if rays of ail colours be supposed to succeed ccctxix'
one another in the same line AC, and AD their com- §•
mon sine of incidence in glass be divided into 50 equal
parts, then EF and GH, the sines of refraction into
air, of the least and most refrangible rays, will be 77
and 78 such parts respectively. And since every co¬
lour has several degrees, the sines of refraction of all
the degrees of red will have all intermediate degrees
of magnitude from 77 to 77I, of all the degrees of
orange from 77I- to 77-f, of yellow from 77^ to 77p
of green from 774 to 774, of blue from 774 to 774,
of indigo from 774 to 774, and of violet from 77-5 t0
78.” See Chromatics, Supplement.
PART
’art II.
Of the
slaiabow.
OPTICS.
PART II. EXPLANATION OF OPTICAL PHENOMENA.
255
Of the
Rainbow^
Sect. I. Of the Rainbow.
.'very.
The observations of the ancients, and the philosophers
of the middle ages, concerning the rainbow, were such
as could not have escaped the notice of the most illiterate
an husbandmen; and their various hypotheses deserve no
/TlnJ6notice- .rt is a considerable time, even after the dawn of
ire* of the true philosophy, before we find any discovery of impor-
tinbow a tance on this subject. Maurolycus was the first who
oderndis-pretended to have measured the diameters of the two
rainbows with much exactness; and he found that of
the inner bow to be 450, and that of the outer bow 56°;
from which Descartes takes occasion to observe, how
little we can depend upon the observations of those
who were not acquainted with the cause of the pheno¬
mena.
Clichtovseus, who died in 1543, had maintained, that
the second bow is the image of the first, which he thought
was evident from the inverted order of the colours. For,
said he, when we look into the water, all the images
that we see reflected by it are inverted with respect to
the objects themselves; the tops of the trees, for in¬
stance, that stand near the brink, appearing lower than
the roots.
As the rainbow was opposite to the sun, it was
natural to imagine, that its colours were produced by
aia some kind of reflection of the rays of light from the
proach drops of rain. No person seems to have thought of
'deYy11 ascrihing tliese colours to refraction, till one Fktiher
tcher of°f Breslaw, in a treatise published in 1571, endeavoured
‘.slaw, to account for them by means of a double refraction and
one reflection. But ho imagined that a ray of light,
after entering a drop of rain, and suffering a refraction
both at its entrance and exit, was afterwards reflected
from another drop, before it reaches the eye of the spec¬
tator. He seems to have overlooked the reflection at
the posterior surface, of the drop, or to have imagined
that all the bendings of the light within the drop would
not make a sufficient curvature to bring the rays of the
sun to the eye of the spectator. That lie should think
of two refractions, was the necessary consequence of his
supposing that the ray entered the drop at all. This
supposition, therefore, was all that he instituted to ex¬
plain the phenomena. B. Porta supposed that the rain¬
bow is produced by the refraction of light in the whole
213 body of rain or vapour, but not in the separate drops.
; disco- It is to a man who had no pretensions to philosophy,
> we are indebted tor the true explanation. This was
1 Dominis^1^01^0 Do min is, bishop of Spalatro, whose treatise
* op of Dc Radas Visus et Lavisy was published by J. Bartolus
1 iatro. in 1611. He first maintained, that the double refrac¬
tion of Fletcher, with an intervening reflection, was
sufficient to produce the colours of the bow, and also to
bring the rays that formed them to the eye of the spec¬
tator, without any subsequent reflection. He distinctly
describes the progress of a ray of light entering the up¬
per part of the drop, where it suffers one refraction,
and after being thereby thrown upon the back part of
the inner surface, is thence reflected to the lower
part of the drop; at which place undergoing a second
refraction, it is thereby bent, so as to come directly to
the eye. To verify this hypothesis, De Dominis pro¬
ceeded in a very sensible and philosophical manner. He
procured a small globe of solid glass, and viewing it
when it was exposed to the rays of the sun, in the same
manner in which he had supposed that the drops of
rain were situated with respect to them, he actually
observed the same colours which he had seen in tire
true rainbow, and in the same order.
Thus the circumstances in which the colours of the
rainbow were formed, and the progress of a ray of light
through a drop of water, were clearly understood; but
philosophers were a long time at a loss when they endea¬
voured to assign reasons for all the particular colours, and
for the order of them. Indeed nothing but the doctrine
of the different refrangibility of the rays of light, could
furnish a complete solution of this difficulty. De Dominis
supposed that the red rays were those which had traversed
the least space in the inside of a drop of water, and there¬
fore retained more of theirnative force, and consequently,
striking the eye more briskly, gave it a stronger sensa¬
tion; that the green and blue colours were produced by
those rays, the force of which had been, in some measure,
obtunded in passing through a greater body of water;
and that all the intermediate colours were composed (ac¬
cording to the hypothesis which generally prevailed at
that time) of a mixture of these three primary ones.
rI hat the different colours were produced by some differ¬
ence in the impulse of light upon the eye, was an opi¬
nion which had been adopted by many persons, who had
ventured to depart from the authority of Aristotle.
Afterwards the same De Dominis observed, that all
the rays of the same colour must leave the drop of wa¬
ter in a part similarly situated with respect to the eye,
in order that each of the colours may appear in a circle,
the centre of which is a point of the heavens, in a line
drawn from the sun through the eye of the spectator.
The red rays, he observed, must issue from the drop
nearest to the bottom of it, in order that the circle of
red may be the outermost, and the most elevated in the
bow.
Though De Dominis conceived so justly the manner
in which the inner rainbow is formed, he was far from
having as just an idea of the cause of the exterior bow.
-f his he endeavoured to explain in the very same manner
as the interior, viz. by one reflection of the light within
the drop, preceded and followed by a refraction; sup¬
posing only that the rays which formed the exterior bow
were returned to the eye by a part of the drop lower
than that which transmitted the red of the interior bow.
He also supposed that the rays which formed one of the
bows came from the upper limb of the sun, and those
which formed the other from the lower limb, without
considering that the bows ought thus to have been con¬
tiguous; or rather, that an indefinite number of bows
would have had their colours all intermixed.
When Sir Isaac Newton discovered the different re¬
frangibility of the rays of light, he immediately applied
the discovery to the phenomena of the rainbow, taking
up
256
OPT
of the up the subject tvbere De Donnnts and Descartcsueic
Ilainbow. obliged to leave their investigations imperfect.
'1 “v ‘ Let a be a drop of water, and S a pencil o '^ ^
mi which, on its leaving the drop reaches the eye ot tic
cause of the spectator. This ray, at its entrance into the drop, be-
colours of gins to be decomposed into its proper colours j ant up
the rain- on leaving the drop, after one reflection and a secontl
hovt. refraction, .it is farther decomposed into as many small
ccclSxiu diffcrently-ccloured penclU as there are
1 C S. Part II,
rain come to the eye, those are called effectual which Of the
are able to excite a sensation. Rainbow.
Prop. II.
When rays of light come out of a drop of ram,
they will not be effectual, unless they are paral¬
lel and contiguous.
fig. 8.
lours in the light. Three of them only are drawn in
this figure, of which the blue is the most, and the red
the least, refracted. r r .
The theory of the different refrangihihty ot light
enables us to assign a reason for the size of a bow of each
particular colour. Newton, having found that the sines
of refraction of the most refrangible and least refrangible
rays, in passing from rain water into air, are m the ratio
of 18 c to 182, when the sine of incidence is 138, com¬
puted the size of the bow, and found, that if the sun
was only a physical point, the breadth of the inner bow
would be 2°; and if to this 30' were added for the ap¬
parent diameter of the sun, the whole breadth would
be 2^°. But as the outermost colours, especially the
violet, are extremely faint, the breadth of the how will
not appear to exceed two degrees. He found by the
same principles, that the breadth of the extenor how, it
it was everywhere equally vivid, would be 4 20 . out
in this case there is a greater deduction to be made, on
account of the faintness of the light of the exterior bow 5
so that it will not appear to be more than 3 degrees
broad. . .
The principal phenomena of the rainbow are explain¬
ed on Sir Isaac Newton’s principles in the following
propositions.
There are but few rays that can come to the eye at
all: for since the greatest part of those rays which enter
the drop XY between X and tt, pass out of the drop Fig, y.
through the hinder surface p g ; only few are thence re¬
flected, and come out through the nearer surface between
a and Y. Now, such rays as emerge, or come out of
the drop, between a and \, w ill be ineffectual, unless
they are parallel to one another, as r v and qt
because such rays as come out diverging from one an¬
other will be so far asunder when they come to the eye,
that all of them cannot enter the pupil; and the very
few that can enter it will not be sufficient to excite any
sensation. But even rays, which are parallel, as r v,
q t, will not be effectual, unless there are several of them
contiguous or very near to one another, Hie two rays
r v and q t alone will not be perceived, though both of
them enter the eye •, for so very few rays are not suf¬
ficient to excite a sensation.
Prop. III.
Prop. I.
When rays of light come out of a drop of rain
after one reflection, those will be effectual which
are reflected from the same point, and which
entered the drop near to one another.
Any rays, as sl> and c d, when they have passed out
Plate
Xxllj v v *-***'-*■ ~ 7 ^ • a . rrLXXX1
of the air into a drop of water, will be refracted towards '
,• 1 _ f 7 .7 7. „.wl „o c A foHe for-
2IS
Newton,
tfig- 9.
When the rays of the sun fall upon a drop of rain
and enter into it, some of them, after one re¬
flection and two refractions, may come to the
eye of a spectator who has his back towards the
sun, and his face towards the drop.
Explana- yf XY be a drop of rain, and if the sun shine upon it in
tion of the 1Jnes g r ^ s ^ most 0f the rays will enter
of thc rain-into the drop } some of them only will be reflected from
■ bow on the the first surlace j those rays which are thence reflected
principles of uot come under our present censideration, because
they are never refracted at all. The greatest part of the
rays then enter the drop, and those passing on to the se¬
cond surface, will most of them be transmitted through
the drop. At the second surface or hinder part of the
drop, atj> g., some few rays will be reflected, whilst the
rest are transmitted; those rays proceed in some such
lines as » r, n q: and coming out of the drop in the
lines r v, q t, may fall upon the eye of the spectator, who
is placed anywhere in those lines, with his face towards
the drop, and consequently with his back towards the
sun, which is supposed to shine upon the drop in the
lines sffsd, s a, &c. These rays are twice refracted
and once reflected j they are refracted when they pass
out of the air into the drop-, they, are reflected from the
second surface, and are refracted again when they pass
out of the drop into the air.
Def. When rays of light reflected from a drop of
the perpendiculars b /, d l} and as the ray s b lalls far
ther from the.axis a v than the l ay e rf, s b will be more
refracted than c d; so that these rays, though parallel
to one another at their incidence, may describe the lines
b c and rf e after refraction, and be reflected from the
same point e. Now all rays, which are thus reflected
from the same point, when they have .described the lines
€f e g, and after reflection emerge at /and g, will be
so refracted, when they pass out of the.drop into the
air, as to describe the parallel lines//z, g 1. It these
rays were to return from e in the lines e b, e d^ and weie
to emerge at b and rf, they would be refracted into the
lines of their incidence b s, d c. But if these rays, in¬
stead of being returned in the lines e bf e d, arc reflected
from the same point e.in the lines eg, ej, the lines 0
reflection e g and e f will be inclined to one another and
to the surface of the drop, just as much as the lines e 6
and e rf are. First, e b e g make the same angle
with the surface of the drop j for the angle hex, which
e b makes with the surface of the drop, is the comple¬
ment of incidence, and the angle g e v, which eg makes
with the surface, is the complement of reflection *, and
these two are equal to one another. In the same manner
it might be shown, that e d and c/make equal angles
with the surface of the drop. Secondly, The angle
b c d—f eg; or the reflected rays eg, ef, and the inci¬
dent rays be, d e, are equally inclined to each other.
For the angle of incidence b e l—g e l, the angle of re¬
flection, and the angle of incidence d e l—f e l, the
angle
Oftlic
|i Rainbow.
'ait II. q p -p
angle of reflection : consequently, the fliflerence bet ween
^ the angles of incidence is equal to the difference between
the angles of reflection, or b e l—d c l~g e l~fe /, or
b e d—g ef Since therefore either the lines eg, e f or
the lines e b, e d, are equally inclined both to one an¬
other and to the surface of the drop ; the rays will be
refracted in the same manner, whether they return in
the lines e b, e d, or are reflected in the lines eg ef
But if they return in the lines c b, e d, the refraction!
when they emerge at b and (/, Would make them parallel.
Therefore, if they are reflected from one and the same
point c in the lines <? g, e f the refraction, when they
emerge at g- and/; will likewise make them parallel.
But though such rays as are reflected from the same
point in the hinder part of a drop of rain, are parallel
to one another when they emerge, and so have one
condition that is requisite towards making them effec¬
tual, yet there is another condition necessary; for rays
that are effectual must he contiguous as well as paral¬
lel. And though rays, which enter the drop in different
places, may be parallel when they emerge, those only
will be contiguous which enter it nearly at the same place?.
Bet be a drop of rain, a g the axis or diameter
of the drop, and s a a ray of light that enters the drop
at a. This ray s a, being perpendicular to both the sur¬
faces, will pass through the drop in the line ag h without
being refracted; but any collateral rays, such as those
that fall about s b^ will be made to converge to the
axis, and passing out at n will meet the axis at h : Rays
which fall farther from the axis than s b, such as those
which fall about scy will likewise he made to converge ;
but their focus will be nearer to the drop than^h.
Suppose therefore i to be the focus of the rays that fall
about 5 c, any ray s c, when it has described the line
c o within the drop, and is tending to the focus i, will
pass out of the drop at the point o. The rays that fall
upon the drop about ,y d, will converge to a'focus still
neaier than i, as at Jc. I hese rays therefore go out of
the drop at p. The rays, that fail about ^ c, will con¬
verge to a focus nearer than k, as suppose at l; and the
vav s e, when it has described the line e o within the
drop, and is tending to /, will pass out at the point o.
Ibe rays that fall still more remote from the axis will
converge to a focus still nearer Thus the ray .?/will
after refraction converge to a focus at m, which is
nearer than /y and having described the line f n with¬
in the drop, it will pass out to the point n. Now we
may here observe, that as any rays.? b or s c, fall farther
above the axis .? o, the points or o, where they pass out
behind the drop, will be farther above g; or that, as
the incident ray rises from the axis s a, the arc g n o
me'eases, till we come to some ray s d, which passes
oiii of the drop at p ; and this is the highest point where
any ray that falls upon the quadrant or quarter ax can
pass out: for any rays / e, or sf that fall higher than
^ d, will not pass out on any point above p, but at the
points o, or which are below it. Consequently,
though the arc g no p increases, whilst the distance of
the incident ray from the axis s a increases, till we come
to the ray s d; yet afterwards, the higher the ray falls
above the axis 5 a, this arc pong will decrease.
Ve have hitherto spoken of the points on the pos¬
terior part of the drop, where the rays pass out of it ;
ut this was for the sake of determining the points
trom which those rays are reflected, which do not pass
Vql. XV. Part I. 1
I C S.
out behind the drop. For, in explaining tire rainbow,
we have no further reason to consider those rays which R
go through the drop; since they can never come to the
eye of a spectator placed anywhere in the lines r vox a t
with his face towards the drop. Now, as there are
many rays which pass out of the drop between and /,
so some rays will be thence reflected : and consequent!?
the several points between g and p, which are the points
where some of the rays pass out of the drop, are like-
wise the points of reflection for the rest which do not
pass out. 1 herefore m respect of those rays which are
reflected, We may call ^ p the arc of reflection ; and
may say, that this arc of reflection increases, as the dis¬
tance of the incident ray from the axis s a increases, til!
we come to the ray .9 d; the arc of reflection is g- „ for
the ray .9 b it w g.0 for the ray s c, and gp for the rav
s d. But after this, as the distance of thelncident rav
trom the axis sa increases, the arc of reflection de¬
creases ; for og less than/ig- is the arc of reflection for
the ray x e, and ng ,s the -arc of reflection for the ray .9 f
Hence it is obvious, that some ray, which falls abov?
s d, may be reflected from the same point with some
other ray which falls below 5 d. Thus, for instance, the
ray * 6 will be reflected from the point n, and the ravs
4/ will be reflected from the same point; and conse¬
quently, When the reflected rays n r,nq, are refracted
as they pass out of the. drop at r and q, they will be pa-
raHei. But since the intermediate rays, which enter
the drop between s/and 5 b, are not reflected from the
same point a, these two rays alone will be parallel
to one another when they come out of the drop, and the
intermediate rays will not be parallel to them. And
consequently these rays r v, q t, though they are parallel
after they emerge at r and q, will not he contiguous,
and for that reason \vill not be effectual ; the ray s din
reflected from p, which lias been shown to be the limit
of the arc of reflection ; such rays as fall just above * d
and just below s d, will be reflected from nearly the’
same point//, as appears from what has been already
shown. These rays therefore will be parallel, because
they are reflected from the same point /;; and they will
likewise be contiguous, because they all of them enter
the drop at the same place very near to d. Conse¬
quently such rays as enter the drop at d, and are re-
ileeted from p the limit of the arc of reflection, will
be effectual ; since, when they emerge at the part of
the drop between a and p, they will be hath parallel
and contiguous.
If it can he shown that the rainbow is produced by
the rays of the sun which are thus reflected from drops
of lam as they fall while the run shines upon them, this
proposition may serve to show us, that this appearance
is not produced by atip rays that fall upon am/ part,
and are reflected from any part of those drops*: since
this appealance cannot he produced by any rays but
those which are effectual; and effectual rays must al¬
ways enter each drop at one certain place in the ante-
nor part of it, and must likewise be reflected from one
certain place in the posterior surface.
Prop. IV.
When rays that are effectual emerge from a drop
of lain after one reflection and two refrac¬
tions, those which are most refrangible will,
K k at
.>58
Of the
Rainbow.
Plate
ecclxxxiii.
fe/ to.
O P T
at their immersion, make a less angle with the
incident rays than those which are least re¬
frangible 5 and by this means the rays oi clit-
ferent colours will be separated from one ano¬
ther.
Let fh and g i be effectual violet rays emerging from
the drop at fg } and/v;, g p, effectual red rays cmer-
criug from the same drop at the same place. Now,
though all the violet rays are parallel to one ano Her
because they are supposed effectual, and though all the
red rays are likewise parallel to one anotherhom the same
reason •, yet the violet rays will not be para lei to the
red rays. These rays, as they have different degrees .oi
refrangibility, will diverge from one another J any vio¬
let rayV which emerges at g, will diverge horn any
red ray g p, which emerges at the same place. Now,
both the violet ray g i, and the red ray g p, nsUiey pass
out of the drop of water into the air, will be retracted
from the perpendicular / o. But the vio et ray is more
refrangible than the red one ; and for that reason g i,
or the refracted violet ray, will make a greater angle
with the perpendicular than g p the refracted red ray *,
or the angle ig o will be greater than the angley, g o.
Suppose the incident ray * b to be continued m the di¬
rection s k, and the violet ray ig to be continued back¬
ward in the direction ik, till it meets the incident ray at k.
Supposelikewisethered rxypg to be continued backwards
in the same manner, till it meets the incident ray at u>.
The angle i k s is that which the violet ray, or most re¬
frangible ray at its immersion, makes with the incident
ray ; and the angle p w s, is that which the red ray or
least refrangible ray at its immersion, makes with the in¬
cident ray. The angle i k s is less than the angle p w s.
For, in the triangle, g w k, g w s, or p w s, is the exter¬
nal angle at the base, and gkw or ik s is one of the in¬
ternal opposite angles. (Euc. B. I. Prop. xvi.). Wha
has been shown to be true of the rays g i ami gp might
he shown in the. same manner of the rays / /i and / n, or
of any other rays that emerge respectively parallel tog i
and p. But all the effectual violet rays are parallel to
and all the effectual red rays are parallel to g p.
Therefore the effectual violet rays at their immersion
make a less angle with the incident ones than the eitec-
tual red ones. For the same reason, in all the other
sorts of rays, those which are most refrangible, at their
emersion from a drop of rain after one reflection, will
make a less angle with the incident rays, than those do
Which are less refrangible.
Otherwise : When the rays g i and g p emerge at
the same point g*, as they both come out of the water into
air * and consequently are refracted from the perpen¬
dicular, instead of going straight forwards in the line
< e <'■ continued, they will both be turned round upon the
point g from the perpendicular g o. Now it is easy to
conceive, that either of these lines might be turned in
this manner upon the point g as upon a centre, till
they became parallel to .9 b the Incident ray. but it
either of these lines or rays were refracted so much
from g a as to become parallel to s 4, the ray thus re¬
fracted, would, after emersion, make no angle with s /c,
because it would be parallel to it. Consequently that
ray which is most turned round upon the point g, or
that ray which is most refrangible, will after emer¬
sion be nearest parallel, to the incident ray, or will make
I c s.
Part II,
the least, angle with it. The same may be proved of
all other rays emerging parallel to gi and gp re-^
spectively, or of all effectual rays •, those which are most
refrangible will after emersion make a less angle with
the incident rays, than those do which are least refran-
glbBut since the effectual rays of different colours make
different angles with shot their emersion, they will be
separated from one another : so that if the eye were
placed in the beamf gh f, it would receive only rays of
one colour from the drop xag v; and if it were placed
in the beam fg np, it would receive only rays of some
other colour. „ . .
The angle .9 w p, which the least refrangible or red
ays make with the incident ones when they emerge so
_ I frmnfl hv calculation to be A2 2.
Of the
Rainbow,,
as to be effectual, is found by calculation to be 42 2'
And the angle s k i, which the most refrangible rays
make with the incident ones when they emerge so as to
be effectual, is found to be 40° 17'. The rays which
have the intermediate degrees of refrangilnlity, make
with the incident ones intermediate angles between 42
2', and 40° 17'.
Prop. V.
If a line be supposed to be drawn from the centre
of the sun through the eye of the spectator, the
angle which any effectual ray* after two refrac-
tions and one reflection, makes with the inci¬
dent ray, will be equal to the angle which it
makes with that line.
Pl&tc
Let the eye of the spectator be at z, and let <7 t be
the line supposed to be drawn from the centre of tbe sun fig. 10.
through the eye of the spectator; the angle g i t, which
any effectual ray makes with this line, will be equal to
the angle i k s, which the same ray makes with the in¬
cident ray s b or s k. If s 6 is a ray coming from the
centre of the sun, then since q t is supposed to be drawn
from the same point, these two lines, upon account of
the remoteness of the point from whence they are drawn,
may he looked upon as parallel to one another. But
the right line k i crossing these two parallel lines will
make the alternate angles equal. (Euc. B. 1. Prop,
xxix.). Therefore k i t ox g i t—ski.
Prop. VI.
When the sun shines upon the drops of ram as
they are falling, the rays that come from those
drops to the eye of a spectator, after one reflec¬
tion and two refractions, produce the primary
rainbow.
216
If the sun shines upon the rain as it falls, there arc Two rain
XI LUC »uu   • p , I ,
commonly seen two bows, as ATB, CHD , 01 ®
cloud and rain does not reach over that whole side ^
the skv where the bows appear, then only a part of one
or of both bows is seen in that place where the ram
falls. Of these two bows, the innermost AIB is the
more vivid of the two, and this is called the prirm ry
bow. The outer part TFY of the primary bow is red,
the inner part VEX is violet; the intermediate parts,
reckoning from the red to the violet, are orange, yel¬
low, green, blue, and indigo. Suppose the spectator s
eve to be at O, and let LOP be an imaginary bne
drawn
part II. OPT
Of the drawn from the centre of the sun through the eye of the
Rainbow spectator: if a beam of light S coming from the sun
—v—^ fall upon any drop F ; and the rays that emerge at F
in the line FO, so as to be eftectnal, make an angle
FOP of 420 2' with the line LP ; then these effectual
rays make an angle of 420 2' with the incident rays, by
the preceding proposition, and consequently these rays
will be red, so that the drop F will appear red. All
the other rays, which emerge at F, and would be ef¬
fectual if they fell upon the eye, are refracted more
than the red ones, and consequently will pass above the
eye. If a beam of light S fall upon the drop E, and
the rays that emerge at E in the line EO, so as to be
effectual, make an angle of 40° 17' with the line LP ;
then these effectual rays make likewise an angle of
40° 17' with the incident rays, and the drop E will
appear of a violet colour. All the other rays, which
emerge at E, and would be effectual if they came to
the eye, are refracted less than the violet ones, and
therefore pass below the eye. The intermediate drops
between F and E will for the same reasons be of the
intermediate colours.
Thus we have shown why a set of drops from F to
E, as they are falling, should appear of the seven pri¬
mary colours. It is not necessary that the several drops,
which produce these colours, should all of them fall at
exactly the same distance from the eye. The angle
FOP, for example, is the same whether the distance of
the drop from the eye is OF, or whether it is in any
other part of the line OF something nearer to the eye.
And whilst the angle FOP is the same, the angle made
by the emerging and incident rays, and consequently
the colour of the drop, will be the same. This is equal¬
ly true of any other drop. So that though in the figure
the drops F and E are represented as falling perpendicu¬
larly one under the other, yet this is not necessary in or¬
der to produce the bow.
But the coloured line FE, which we have already
accounted for, is only the breadth of the bow. It still
remains to be shewn, why not only the drop F should
appear red, but why all the other drops from A to B in
the arc ATFYB should appear of the same colour. Now
it is evident, that wherever a drop of rain is placed, if
the angle which the effectual rays make with the line
LP is equal to the angle FOP, that is, if the angle which
the ellectual rays make with the incident rays is 420 2',
any of those drops will be red, for the same reason that
the drop F is of this colour.
If FOP were to turn round upon the line OP, so that
one end of this line should always be at the eye, and
the other be at P opposite to the sun 5 such a motion
of this figure would be like that of a pair of compasses
turning round upon one of the legs OP with the open¬
ing FOP. In this revolution the drop F would de¬
scribe a circle, P would be the centre, and ATFYB
would be an arc in this circle. Now since, in this mo¬
tion of the line and drop OF, the angle made by FO
with OP, that is, the angle FOP, continues the same $
if the sun were to shine upon this drop as it revolves,
the effectual rays would make the same angle with the
incident rays, in whatever part of the arc ATFYB the
drop was to be. Therefore, whether the drop be at
A, or at T, or at Y, or at B, or wherever else it is in
this whole arc, it would appear red, as it does at F.—
The drops of rain, as they fall, are not indeed turned
259
Of the
I c s.
round in this manner: but then, as great numbers of ot lhe
them are fa) mg at once in right lines from the cloud, Rainbow,
whilst one drop is at F, there will be others at Y, at \—-
a’pt-V o’ at am* 111 every otller part of the arc
All IB : and all these drops will be red for the same
reason that the drop I would have been red, if it had
been in the same place. Therefore, when the sun shines
upon the rain as it falls, there will be a red arc ATFYB
opposite to the sun. In the same manner, because the
drop E is violet, we might prove that any other drop,
which, whilst it is falling, is in any part of the arc
AvEXB, will be violet j and consequently, at the same
time that the red arc ATFYB appears, there will like¬
wise be a violet arc AVEXB below or within it, FE
is the distance between these two coloured arcs j and
from what has been said, it follows, that the interme¬
diate space between these two arcs will be filled up
with arcs of the intermediate colours, orange, yellow,
blue, green, and indigo. All these coloured arcs to¬
gether make up the primary rainbow.
Prop. VII.
The primary rainbow is never a greater arc than a
semicircle.
Since the line LOP is drawn from the sun through Plate
the eye of the spectator, and since P is the centre of the ccclxxxiii,
rainbow ; it follows, that the centre of the rainbow is 9-
always opposite to the sun. The angle FOP is an angle *l7
of 40° 2', as was observed, or F the highest part of the Wty tJl*
bow is 420 2' from P the centre of it. If the sun is primal
more than 42° 2' high, P the centre of the rainbow, rainbow is
which is opposite to the sun, will be more than 420 2'never
below the horizon ; and consequently F the top of theSreatcr
bow, which is only 42° 2' from P, will be below the
horizon j that is, when the sun is more than 420 2' high, 1 6
no primary rainbow will be seen. If the altitude of the
sun be something less than 40° 2', then P will be
something less than 420 2! below the horizon ; and
consequently F, which is only 420 2' from P, will
be just above the horizon 5 that is, a small part of the
how at this height of the sun will appear close to the
ground opposite to the sun. If the sun be 20° high,
then P will be 20° below the horizon j and F the top
of the bow, being 420 2' from P, will be 22° 2' above
the horizon ; therefore, at this height of the sun, the
bow will be an arc of a circle whose centre is below the
horizon ; and consequently that arc of the circle which
is above the horizon, or the bow, will be less than a
semicircle. If the sun be in the horizon, then P, the
centre of the bow, will be in the opposite part of the
horizon j F, the top of the bow, will be 420 2' above
the horizon j and the bow itself, because the horizon
passes through the centre of it, will be a semicircle.
More than a semicircle can never appear} because if
the bow were more than a semicircle, P the centre of it
must be above the horizon } but P is always opposite to
the sun, therefore P cannot be above the horizon, un¬
less the sun is below it} and when the sun is set, or is
below the horizon, it cannot shine upon the drops of
rain as they fall j and consequently, when the sun is
below the horizon, no bow at all can be seen.
Prop VIII.
When the rays of the sun fall upon a drop of rain,
some of them, after two reflections and two re-
K k 2 fractions}
i6o
OPT
of t}ie fractions, may come to the eye of a spectator,
Rainbow. who has his back towards the sun and his race
v ' towards the drop.
fc> i2 If HGW is a drop of rain, and parallel rays coming
from the sun, as s n, y w, fall upon the lower part ot
it thev will be refracted towards the perpendiculars v i,
w 1, as they enter into it, and will describe some sue i
lines as r; h, w i. At h and i great part of these rays
will pass out of the drop; but some of them will be re¬
flected from thence in the lines hf, ig. At j and g
again, great part of the rays that were reflected thither
will pass out of the drop. But these rays will not come
to the eye of a spectator at o. Here however, all
the rays will not pass out •, but some will be reflected
from /’and g, in some such lines as / f/, g h; and these,
when they emerge out of the drop of water into the air
at b and r/, will be refracted from the perpendiculars,
and, describing the lines dt,bo, may come to the eye
of the spectator who lias his hack towards the sun and
his face towards the drop..
Prop. IX.
Those rays, which are parallel to one another af¬
ter they have been once refracted and once re¬
flected in a drop of rain, will be effectual when
they emerge after two refractions and two re¬
flections.
No rays can be effectual, unless they are contiguous
and parallel. It appears from what was said, that when
rays come out of a drop of rain contiguous to one ano¬
ther, either after one or after two reflections they must
enter the drop nearly at the same place. And it such
rays as are contiguous are also parallel after the first
reflection, thev will emerge parallel, and therefore wil
be effectual. Let * v and y w be contiguous rays which
come from the sun, and are parallel when they fall upon
the lower part of the drop *, suppose these rays to be re¬
fracted at v and and to be reflected at h and i; it
they are parallel, as h j\ g i, after this first reflection,
then, after they are reflected a second time fromy and
o and refracted a second time as they emerge at d and
A* they will go out of the drop in the parallel lines d t
and b o, and will therefore be effectual.
The rays %v,yw, are refracted towards the perpen¬
diculars c /, w l, when they enter the drop, and will be
made to converge. As these rays are very oblique,
their focus will not be far from the surface v w. if this
focus be at k, the rays, after they have passed the focus,
will diverge from thence in the directions k h, k i; and
if k i is the principal focal distance of the concave
reflecting surface h ?, the reflected rays h f, i g, will be
parallel. These rays c f, ig, are reflected again from
the concave surface fg, and will meet in a focus at e,
so that g e will be the principal focal distance ol this
reflecting surface fg. And because h i and /g are parts
of the same sphere, the principal focal distances gcand
k i will be equal. When the rays have passed the fo¬
cus e, they will thence diverge in the line e d, eb:
and we are to show, that when they emerge at d and b,
and are refracted there, they will become parallel.
Now if the rays v k, tv k, when they have met at k,
were to be turned back again in the directions k v, k w,
and were to emerge at v and R', they would be refract-
I c s. II.
ed into the lines of their incidence, v 2, w ij, and there- of the
fore would be parallel. But since ge—ik, as has al- Rainbow,
ready been shown, the rays e d, c b, that diverge from ' ^
c fall in the same manner upon the drop at d and b, as
the rays k v, k w, would fall upon it at v and w ; and
ed c b, are just as much inclined to the refracting sur¬
face db, as kv, kw would be to the surface v w.
Hence it follows, that the rays e d,eb, emerging at i/
and b, will be refracted in the same manner, and will
have the same direction in respect of one another, as
k V, k w would have. But k y and k w would he paral¬
lel 'after refraction. Therefore the rays e d and e b
wiH emerge in the lines dp, bo, parallel to one ano¬
ther, and consequently effectual.
Prop. X.
When rays that are effectual emerge from a drop
of rain after two reflections and two refractions,
those which are most refrangible will at their
emersion make a greater angle with the incident
rays than those do which are least refrangiole j
and by this means the rays of different colours
will be separated from one another.
If rays of different colours, which are differently re- piate
frangible, emerge at any point b, these rays will not be ccclxxxiii.
all of them equally refracted from the perpendicular. I'S- “•
Thus, if 6o is a red ray, which is of all others the
least refrangible, and is a violet ray, which is of
all others the most refrangible j when these two rays
emerge at b, tile violet ray will be refracted more from
the perpendicular b .r than the red ray, and the refrac¬
ted angle xbm will lie greater than the refracted angle
xbo. Hence it follows, that these two rays, after
emersion, will diverge from one another. In like man¬
ner, the rays that emerge at d will diverge from one
another j a red ray will emerge in the line dp, a violet
ray in the line d t. So that though all the effectual red
rays of the beam h dm t are parallel to one another, and
all the effectual red rays of the beam bdop are likewise
parallel, yet the violet will not be parallel to the red
beam. Thus the rays of different colours will be sepa¬
rated from one another. ,
This will appear farther, if we consider what the
proposition affirms, That any violet or most refran-
srihle ray will make a greater angle with the incident
rays, than any red or least refrangible ray makes with
the same incident rays. Thus if y w be an incident ray,
bm a violet ray emerging from the point b, and b o a
red ray emending from the same point; the ang e
which the violet ray makes with the incident one is
v r m, and that which the red ray makes with it is y s o.
Now y r m is greater than y so. For in the triangle
b r s, the internal angle r s is less than b s y the exter_‘
nal angle at the base. (Fuel. B. L Prep. xvi.). Bu
vrmts the complement oibrs or of Ary to two right
ones, and ys-o is the complement of b sy to two rig
ones. Therefore, since Ary is less than Asy, the com¬
plement of A r y to two right angles will be greater
than the complement of Asy to two right angles j or
v r m will be greater than y s o.
Otherwise : Both the rays A o and A m, when they
are refracted in passing out of the drop at A, are turned
round upon the point A from the perpendicular b tf.
Now either of these lines A o or btn might be turned
OPT
Of the round in this manner, till it made a right ano-le with
tlaillb0'v-, y w- Consequently, that ray which is most turncnl round
^ upon b, or which is most refracted, will make an angle
with y w, that will be nearer to a right one than that
ray makes with it which is least turned round upon b,
01 which is least refracted. Therefore that ray which
is most refracted will make a gieater angle with the in¬
cident ray than that which is least refracted.
But since the emerging rays, being diflerently re¬
frangible, make different angles with the same incident
iay y ll>i the refraction which they sutler at emersion
will separate them from one another.
The angle y r m, which the most refrangible or vio¬
let rays make with the incident ones, is found by cal¬
culation to be 54° 7'; and the angle y s o, which the
least refrangible or red rays make with the incident ones,,
is found to be 50° 57': the angles, which the rays of
the intermediate colours, indigo, bine, green, yellow,
and orange, make with the incident rays, are interme¬
diate angles between 540 7' and 50° 57'.
Prop. XI.
If a line is supposed to be drawn from the centre
of the sun through the eye of the spectator j
the angle which, after two refractions and two
reflections, any effectual ray makes with the in¬
cident ray, will be equal to the angle which it
makes with that line.
‘S' If y W is an incident ray, £ 0 an effectual ray, and
<7 ra a line drawn from the centre of the sun through 0
the eye of the spectator j the angle y s 0, which the
effectual ray makes with the incident ray, is equal to
son the angle which the same effectual ray makes with
the line <7 n. For y w and <7 n, considered as drawn
from the centre of the sun, are parallel; bo crosses them,
and consequently makes the alternate angles y s 0, s 0 n,
equal to one another. Fuel. B. I. Prop. xxix.
Prop. XII.
1 C 261
line OP will fall below the eye at O. For the same of ti,
betw Vh ray,Spmerg?g frT the intermediate drops Rainbow,
between H and G, and coming to the spectator’s eye v—'
will hftvt I?16-? at I?.terme,,1iate anS,es> and therefore
will have the intermediate colours. Thus if there are
wmiV'Tf r-0r H M0 G lnclusively> their colours
will be violet indigo blue, green, yellow, orange, and
lainbovv C° 0Ured inC 13 the breadth of the secondary
Now, if HOP were to turn round upon the line OP
J‘, 6 a Paff of compasses upon one of the legs OP with
he opening HOP, it is plain from the supposition,
mypin TiV rIevoIution of the drop H, the angle
liOF would be the same, and consequently the emer¬
ging rays would make the same angle with the inci¬
dent ones. But in such a revolution the drop would
(’NHKn C e °f Avl,icl1 P "■0,,UI be l,le centre, ami
FA HKD an arc. Consequently, since, when the drop
is at N, or at It, or anywhere else in that arc, the
emerging rays make the same angle with the incident
ones as when the drop is at H, the colour of the drop
will be the same to an eye placed at O, whether the
drop is at N, or at H, or at 11, or anywhere else in
tnat are. . ^ow, though the drop does not thus turn
round as it falls, and does not pass through the several
parts of this arc, yet, since there are drops of rain fall-
nig everywhere at the same time, when one drop is at
li, there will be another at R, another at N, and others
in all parts of the arc j and these drops will all be vio¬
let-coloured, for the same reason that the drop H would
have been of this colour if it had been in any of those
places. In like manner, as the drop G is red when it
is at G, it would likewise be red in any part of the arc
CWGQD ; and so will any other drop when, as it is
falling, it comes to any part of that arc. Thus as the
sun shines upon the rain, whilst it falls, there will be
two arcs produced, a violet-coloured arc CNHRD, and
a red one CWGQD 5 and for the same reasons the in¬
termediate space between these two arcs will be filled
up with arcs of the intermediate colours. All these arcs
together make up the secondary rainbow.
When the sun shines upon the drops of rain as
they are falling, the rays, that come from these
drops to the eye of a spectator, after two reflec¬
tions and two refractions, produce the secondary
rainbow.
1 218
lie secon- The secondary rainbow is the outermost CHD.
w raini ^ien ^ie sun shi1168 uP°n a drop of rain II; and the
fdbyTwo rays which emerge at H so as to be effectual,
flections mal<-e an ang,e HOP of 540 7' with LOP a line drawn
i id two bom the sun through the eye of the spectator; the same
fractions, effectual rays will make likewise an angle of 54° 7' with
jig. 11. the incident rays S, and the rays which emerge at this
angle are violet ones, by what was observed above.
Therefore, if the spectator’s eye is at O, none but violet
rays will enter it : for as all the other rays make a less
angle with OP, they will fall above the spectator’s eye.
In like manner, if the effectual rays that emerge from
the drop G make an angle of 50° 57'with the line OP,
they will likewise make the same angle with the inci¬
dent rays S; and consequently, from the drop G no
rays will come to the spectator’s eye at O but red ones ;
for all the other rays making a greater angle with the
Prop. XIII.
The colours of the secondary rainbow are fainter
than those of the primary rainbow ; and are
arranged in the contrary order.
The primary rainbow is produced by such rays as WhyW
have been only once reflected ; the secondary rainbow col°urs of
is produced by such rays as have been twice reflected.tlle sec?n-
But at every reflection some rays pass out of the drop ||ow ar™'
of rain without being reflected ; so that the oftener the faster than
rays are reflected, the fewer of them are left. There- those of the
fore the colours of the secondary bow are produced by Pr‘mary»
fewer rays, and consequently will be fainter, than the arraD&'
colours of the primary bow. f m a c°n~
in the primary bow, reckoning from the outside of
it, the colours are arranged in this order; red, orange,
yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet. In the secondary
bow, reckoning from the outside, the colours are violet,
indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, red. So that the
red, which is the outermost or highest colour in the
primary how, is the innermost or lowest colour in the
secondary one.
Now the violet rays, when they emerge so as to be
effectual
262
OPTICS.
Concavity effectual after one reflection, make a less ang^e with
of the Sky. the incident rays than the red ones j conseque >
^   ’ violet rays make a less angle with the lines OP than
P1;te the red ones. But, in the pnmary rainbow, the raj
°CC“n arc only once reflected, and the angle which the eftcc-
g* ' tual rays make with OP is the distance ot the colom-
ed drop^rom P the centre of the bow. Therefore the
violet drops, «r violet arc, in the pnmary bow, will b
nearer to the centre of the bow than the red drops or
red arc*, that is, the innermost colour m the primaly
bow will be violet, and the outermost colour will he red.
And, for the same reason, through the whole primary
bow, every colour will be nearer the centre 1, as the
rays of that colour are more refrangible.
But the violet rays, when they emerge so as to be
effectual after two reflections, make a greater angle
with the incident rays than the red ones 5 consequently
the violet rays will make a greater angle with the line
OP, than the red ones. But in the secondary rainbow
the rays are twice reflected, and the angle which the
effectual rays make with OP is the distance of the co¬
loured drop from P the centre, of the bow. Therefore
the violet drops or violet arc in the secondary bow will
he farther from the centre of the bow, than the red
drops or red arc ; that is, the outermost colour m the
secondary bow will he violet, and the innermost co¬
lour will be red. And, for the same reason through
the whole secondary bow, every Colour will be faither
from the centre P, as the rays of that colour are more
refrangible.
Sect. II. Oj Coronas, Parhelia, fyc.
Under the articles Corona and Parhelion, a pret-
« • _ i* aU~ Al-nmf Vixmritlipsps enn-
unuer me ai   ' A
ty full account is given of the different hypotheses con
cerning these phenomena, and likewise of the method
by which these hypotheses are supported, from the
known laws of refraction and reflection. See also the
article Chromatics in the Supplement.
Sect. III. Of the Concave Figure of the Sky.
Exten? of The apparent concavity of the sky is only an optical
the visible deception founded on the incapacity of oui organs o vi-
liorizon on g-on ‘to ;n very large distances. Dr Smith has de-
a plane sur-monstrated, that, if the surface of the earth wereperfect-
ly plane, the distance of the visible horizon from the eye
would scarcely exceed the distance of 5000 times the
height of the eye above the ground : beyond this di¬
stance, all objects would appear m the visible horizon.
For, let OP be the height of the eye above the line L A
dravvn upon the ground; and if an object AB—PO,
he removed to a distance PA equal to 5000 times that
height, it will hardly be visible by reason of the small¬
ness of the angle AOB. Consequently any distance
AC however great, beyond A, will be invisible. I or
since AC and BO are parallel, the ray CO will always
cut AB in some point D between A and B j and there-
fore the angle AOC, or AOD, will always be less than
fa s. AOB, and therefore AD or AC will he invisible. Con-
sequently all objects and clouds, as CE and IO, placed
at all distances beyond A, if they be high enough to he
Why a^oug visible, or to subtend a bigger angle at the eye than
row of ob- ’ AOB, will appear at the horizon AB j because the di¬
rects ap- stance AC is invisible.
pears circu- J-Jence, if we suppose a long row of objects, or a long
r[gv9. wall ABZY, built upon this plane, and its perpendicu-
Part II.
lar distance OA from the eye at O to he equal to or Concavity
creater than the distance O a of the visible horizon, it of the Sky,
will not appear straight, but circular, as it it were built '-—v
upon the circumference of the horizon a c c g y: and it
the wall be continued to an immense distance, its ex¬
treme parts YZ will appear in the horizon at y z,
where it is cut bv a line G y parallel to the wall, f or,
supposing a ray YO, the angle YO y wi 1 become in¬
sensibly small. Imagine this infinite plane OA\ y
with the wall upon it, to be turned about the horizontal
line O like the lid of a box, till it becomes perpendicu¬
lar to the other half of the horizontal plane LMy, and
the wall parallel to it, like a vast ceiling overhead ;
and then the wall will appear like the concave figure
of the clouds overhead. But though the wall in the
horizon appear in the figure of a semicircle yet the
ceiling will not, but much flatter. Because the hori¬
zontal plane was a visible surface, which suggested the
idea of the same distances quite round the eye : hut m
the vertical plane extended between the eye and the
ceiling, there is nothing that affects the sense with an
idea of its parts but the common line Oy; consequently
the apparent distances of the higher parts ot the ceiling
will be gradually diminished in ascending trom that line.
Now when the sky is overcast with clouds of equal
gravities, they will all float in the air at equal heights
above the earth, and consequently will compose a sur¬
face resembling a large ceiling, as flat as the visible
surface of the earth. Its concavity therefore is only
apparent: and when the heights of the clouds are un¬
equal, since their real shapes and magnitudes are all
unknown, the eye can seldom distinguish the unequal
distances ef those clouds that appear m the same di¬
rections, unless when they are very near us or are
driven by contrary currents of the air. ho that the
visible shape of the whole surface remains alike in both
cases. And when the sky is either partly overcast or
partly free from clouds, it is matter of fact that we re¬
tain much the same idea of its concavity as when it was
quite overcast. 222
The concavity of the heavens appears to the eye, why the
which is the only judge of an apparent figure, to be aconcant,
less portion of a spherical surface than a hemisphere.
Dr Smith'says, that the centre of the concavity ns thaI1 B he.
much below the eye: and by taking a medium amongmisphere.
several observations he found the apparent distance ot
its parts at the horizon to be generally between three
and four times greater than the apparent distance ot
Its parts overhead. For let the arch A BCD repre-Fig, 10.
sent the apparent concavity of the sky, O the place ot
the eye, OA and OC the horizontal and vertical ap¬
parent distances, whose proportion is required. T irst
observe when the sun or the moon, or any cloud or
star, is in such a situation at B, that the apparent arches
BA BC, extended on each side of this object towards
the horizon and zenith, seem equal to the eye ; then
taking the altitude of the object B with a quadrant,
or a cross staff, or finding it by astronomy from the
given time of observation, the angle AOB is known.
Drawing therefore the line OB in the position thus
determined, and taking in it any point B, in the ver¬
tical line CO produced downwards, find the centre E
of a circle ABC, whose arches BA, BC, intercepted
between B and the legs of the right angle AOC, shall
be equal to each other j then will this arch ABC1J re-
u present
Part 1L
Blue colour present the apparent figure of the sky. For by the eye
ef the Sky. vre estimate the distance between any two objects in tile
  r—'' heavens by the quantity of sky that appears to lie be¬
tween them ; as upon earth we estimate it by the quan¬
tity of ground that lies between them. The centre E
may be found geometrically by constructing a cubic
equation, or as quickly and sufficiently exact by trying
whether the chords liA, BC, of the arch ABC drawn
by conjecture are equal, and by altering its radius BE
till they are so. Now in making several observations
upon the sun, and some others upon the moon and stars,
they seemed to our author to bisect the vertical arch
ABC at B, when their apparent altitudes or the anode
AOB was about 23 degrees j which gives the propor¬
tion of OC to OA as 3 to 10 or as 1 to 3y nearly.
When the altitude of the sun was 30°, the upper arch
seemed always less than the under one 5 and, in our au¬
thor’s opinion, always greater when the sun was about
18 or 20 degrees high.
o P t i c s.
Sect. IV. Of the Elite Colour of the Sky, and of Blue
and Green Shadows.
223
he colour
il if the sky.
224
Opinions of The opinions of ancient writers concerning the colour
i jtheancients of the sky merit no notice. The first who gave anv ra-
respecting tional explanation wasFromondus. He supposed that the
blueness of the sky proceeded from a mixture of the
white light of the sun with the black space beyond the
atmosphere, where there is neither refraction nor reflec¬
tion This opinion very generally prevailed, and was
maintained by Otto Guerick and all his contemporaries,
who asserted, that white and black may be mixed in
such a. manner as to make a blue. M. Bouguer had re¬
course to the vapours diffused through the atmosphere,
to account for the reflection of the blue rays rather than
any other. He seems, however, to suppose, that it arises
from the constitution of the air itself, from which the
fainter-coloured rays are incapable of making their way
through any considerable tract of it. Hence he is of
opinion, that the colour of the air is properly blue ; to
which opinion Dr Smith seems also to have inclined.
To this blue colour of the sky is owing the appearance
of blue and green shadows in the morning and even-
reeiTslia-—These were first observed by M. Buffon in 1742,
ows obser-when he noticed that the shadows of trees which fell
«1 uy M. Upon a white wall were green. He was at that time
standing upon an eminence, and the sun was setting in
the elelt of a mountain, so that he appeared considerably
lower than the horizon. The sky ivas clear, excepting
in the west, which, through free from clouds, was light¬
ly shaded with vapours, of a yellow colour, inclining to
red. Then the sun itself was exceedingly red, and was
apparently at least four times as large as he appears to
he at mid-day. In these circumstances he saw very di¬
stinctly the shadows of the trees, which were 30 or 40
feet from the white wall, coloured with a light green
inclining to blue. The shadow' of an arbour, which
■was three feet from the wall, was exactly drawn upon
it, and looked as if it had been newly painted with ver-
digrise. This appearance lasted near five minutes ;
after which it grew fainter, and vanished at the same
time with the light of the sun.
1 he next morning at sunrise, he went to observe
db°rei °ther s'lla^ows5 uPon another white wall 3 but instead
1 °) ha ol finding them green as before, he observed that they
lue sha-
263
were of the colour of lively indigo. The sky was se-B!ue colour
lene, except a slight covering of yellowish vapours in of the Sky.
the east.; and the sun rose behind a hill, so that it was * v ' ''
elevated above his horizon. In these circumstances, the
blue shadows were only visible three minutes ; after
which they appeared black, and in the evening of the
same day he observed the green shadows exactly as be¬
fore. On another day at sunset he observed that the
shadows were not green, but of a beautiful sky-blue.
He also observed that the sky was in a great mea¬
sure free from vapours at that time, and that the sun
set behind a rock, so that it disappeared before it came
to his horizon. Afterwards, he often observed the ,
shadow's both at sunrise and sunset ; hut always per¬
ceived them to be blue, though with a great variety of
shades. • ■
ihe first person who attempted to explain this phe-Explana-
nomenon was the Abbe Mazeas. He observed that bon of these
when an opaque body was illuminated by the moon andPllenomena
a candle at the same time, and the two shadows were
cast upon the same white wall, that which tvas enlight- Mazeas\
ened by the candle was reddish, and that which was en¬
lightened by the moon was blue. He supposed, how¬
ever, the change of colour to he occasioned by the dimi-
nation of the light 5 but M-. Melville and M. Bouguer, Melville’s
both independent of one another, seem to have hit up- and Bou-
on the true cause of this curious appearance, and which Suer s ex'
has been already hinted at . The former of these gentle-^ ! "
men, in his attempts to explain the blue colour of the
sky, observes, that since it is certain that 110 body as¬
sumes any particular.colour, but because it reflects one
sort of rays more abundantly than the rest j and since it
cannot be supposed that the constituent parts of pure air
are gross enough to separate any colours of themselves ;
we must conclude with Sir Isaac Newton, that the violet
and blue making rays are reflected more copiously than
the rest, by the finer vapours diffused through the at¬
mosphere, whose parts are not big enough to give them
the appearance of visible opaque clouds. And he shows
that in proper circumstances, the bluish colour of the
sky light may he actually seen on bodies illuminated by
it, as, he says, it is objected should always happen upon
this hypothesis. For that if, on a cloudless day, a sheet
of wdiite paper be exposed to the sun’s beams, when any
opaque body is placed upon it, the shadow which is il¬
luminated by the sky only will appear remarkably bluish
compared with the rest of the paper, which receives the
sun’s direct rays.
M. Bouguer, who has taken the most pains with this
subject, observes, that as M. Buffon mentions the sha¬
dows appearing green only twice, and that at all other
times they w’ere blue, this is the colour which they re¬
gularly have, and that the blue wras changed into green
by some accidental circumstance. Green, he says, is
only a composition of blue and yellow, so that this ac¬
cidental change may have arisen from the mixture of
some yellow rays in the blue shadow j and that perhaps
the walls might have had that tinge, so that the blue
is the only colour for which a general reason is required.
This, he says, must be derived from the colour of pure
air, which always appears blue, and which always re¬
flects that colour upon all objects without distinction j
hut which is too faint to he perceived when our eyes
are strongly affected by the light of the sun, reflected
from other objects around us.
To
264
223
Curious ob
servations
Blue colour To confirm tills hypothesis, he ruhls some interesting
of the Sky ! observations ot his own, in which this appearance is
"’“"v ' 1 1 agreeably diversified. Being at the village of Boucholtz
in July 1764, he observed the shadows projected on the
white paper of his pocket-book when the sky was clear.
At half an hour past six in the evening, when the sun
    Was about 40 high, he observed that the shadow of his
on this sub- tinger was of a dark gray, while he held the paper op-
•ject' posite to the sun $ but when he inclined it almost hori-
z.ontalfy, the paper had a bluish cast, and the shadow
upon it was of a beautiful bright blue.
When his eye was placed between the sun and the
paper laid horizontally, it always appeared of a bluish
cast} but when he held the paper thus inclined between
his eye and the sun, he could distinguish, upon every
little eminence occasioned by the inequality of the sur¬
face of the paper, the chief prismatic colours. This
multitude of coloured points, red, yellow, green, and
blue, almost eflaced the natural colour of the objects.
At 6h 45' the shadows began to be blue, even when
the rays of the sun fell perpendicularly. The colour
was the most lively when the rays fell upon it at an
angle of 450 *, hut with a less -inclination of the paper,
he could distinctly perceive, that the blue shadow had a
border of a stronger blue on that side which looked to¬
wards the sky, and a red border on that side which was
turned towards the earth. To see these borders, it was
necessary to place the body that made the shadow very
near the paper j and the nearer it was, the more sensible
was the red border. At the distance of three inches,
the whole shadow was blue. At every observation, af¬
ter having held the paper towards the sky, he turned it
towards the earth, which was covered with verdure ;
holding it in such a manner, that the sun might shine
upon it while it received the shadows of various bodies ;
hut in this position he could never perceive the shadow
to be blue or green at any inclination with respect to
the sun’s rays.
At seven o’clock, the altitude of the sun being still
about two degrees, the shadows were of a bright blue,
even when the rays fell perpendicularly upon the paper,
hut were brightest when it was inclined 450. At this
time he was surprised to observe, that a large tract of
sky was not favourable to the production of this blue
colour, and that the shadow falling upon the paper pla¬
ced horizontally was not coloured, or at least the blue
was very faint. This singularity, he concluded, arose
from the small difference between the light of that part
of the paper which received the rays of the sun and that
which was in the shade in this situation. In a situation
precisely horizontal, the diflei’ence would vanish, and
there could be no shadow. Thus too much or too little
of the sun’s light produced, but for different reasons, the
same effect; for they both made the blue light reflected
from the sky become insensible. This gentleman ne¬
ver saw any green shadows •, but supposes that the cause
of those seen by Buffon might he the mixture of yellow
rays, reflected from the vapours, which he observes were
of that colour.
These blue shadows, our author observes, are not
confined to the times of the sunrising and sunsetting •,
confined to on j]ie jpth of July, when the sun has the greatest
the morn- force^ jie observed them at three o’clock in the after-
cvenines, noon, but the sun at that time shone through a mist.
If the sky be clear the shadows begin to be blue,
Q P T I C S. Part II
when, if they he projected horizontally, they are eight Blue colon
‘ 229
Blue sha¬
dows not
times as long as the height of the body that produces ofthelSk)
them, that is, when the altitude of the sun’s centre is v
70 8'. This observation, he says, was made in the be¬
ginning of August.
Besides these coloured shadows, which are produced
by the interception of the direct rays of the sun, our
author observed others similar to them at every hour ot
the day, in rooms into which the light of the sun was
reflected from some white body, if any part of the clear
sky could be seen from the place, and all unnecessary
light was excluded as much as possible. He remarks,
that the blue shadows may be seen at any hour of the
day, even with the direct light of the sun ; and that
this colour will disappear in all those places ot the sha¬
dow from which the blue sky cannot be seen.
All the observations that our author made upon the
yellow or reddish borders of shadows above mentioned,
led him to conclude, that they were occasioned by the
interception of the sky light, whereby part of the sha¬
dow was illuminated either by the red rays reflected
from the clouds when the sun is near the horizon, or
from some terrestrial bodies in the neighbourhood. This
‘conjecture is favoured by the necessity he was under of
placing any body near the paper, in order to produce
this bordered shadow, as he says it is easily demonstrat¬
ed, that the interception of the sky light can only take
place when the breadth of the opaque body is to its di¬
stance from the white ground on which the shadow falls,
as twice the line of half the amplitude of the sky to its
cosine.
At the conclusion of his observations on these blue Another
shadows, he gives a short account of another kind of kind of
them, which he supposes to have the same origin. These shadows,
he often saw early in the spring when reading by the
> light of a candle in the morning, and consequently with
the twilight mixed with that of his candle. In these
•circumstances, the shadow made by intercepting the
light of his candle, at the distance of about six feet, was
of a beautiful and clear blue, which became deeper as.
the opaque body which made the shadow was brought
nearer to the wall, and was exceedingly deep at the di¬
stance of a few inches only. But where the day light
did not come, the shadows were all black without the
least mixture of blue. 25I
The explanations of the blue colour of the sky given New n-
by Newton and Bouguer are far from satisfactory, and planation
we presume that the following method of accounting
for that phenomenon affords the true explanation. The ^
light which flows from any portion of the blue sky is
obviously reflected light, which is thrown out into the
atmosphere in all directions by the earth, and the clouds
and vapours which surround it. The red or least re¬
frangible rays of this light having a greater momentum
-than the blue or most refrangible rays, penetrate much
farther into the atmosphere, and though a few may be
reflected, yet almost all of them will be absorbed or lost
before they can return to the earth’s surface. On the
contrary, the blue rays, having less momentum, are not
capable of penetrating so far into a resisting medium,
and are therefore reflected to the earth’s surface, and
give a blue colour to the expanse of the heavens. Ihe
blue colour of the sky is exactly the converse of the red
colour which is perceived at great depths in the sea, and
of the red hue of the morning and evening clouds. These
4 phenomena
Fart Ifr ; OPT
Irradiations phenomena being produced by transmitted or refracted
of--the Sun's light j the red rays make their way through the medium
fLight, Sec. io the observer’s eye, while the blue ones are reflected
» or absorbed
Sect. V. Of f/ie Irradiations of the Surds Light ap¬
pearing through the interstices of the Clouds.
This is an appearance which every one must have
observed when the sky was pretty much overcast, and
the clouds have many breaks or openings. At that
time several large beams of light, something like the
appearance of the light of the sun admitted into a
smoky room, will be seen generally with a very consi¬
derable degree of divergency, as if the radiant point
was situated at no great distance above the clouds. Dr
Smith observes that this appearance is one of those
which serve to demonstrate that very high and remote
objects in the heavens do not appear to us in their real
shapes and positions, but according to their perspective
projections in the apparent concavity of the sky. He
acquaints us, that though these beams are generally seen
ccL*axxiv.diverSinS’ as.represented in fig. xi. it is not always the
fig. ii. case* He himself, in particular, once saw them con-
2t2 verging towards a point diametrically opposite to the
Conver- sun: for, as near as he could conjecture, the point to
which they converged was situated as much below the
..erved by horizon as the sun was then elevated above the opposite
Dr Smith, part of it. This part is represented by the line £ D I, and
the point below it in opposition to the sun is E •, towards
which all the beams v t, v t, &c. appeared to converge.
Perceiving that the point of convergency was oppo-
2^ site to the sun, he suspected that this unusual phenome-
?he pheiio non was but a case ol the usual apparent divergence of
aenon ex- the beams of the sun from his apparent place among the
Uuned by C10U{1S} as represented in fig. n.; for though nothing is
more common than for rays to diverge from a luminous
body, yet the divergence of these beams in such large
angles is not real, but apparent. Because it is impos¬
sible for the direct rays of the sun to cross one another
at any point, of the apparent concavity of the sky, in a
greater angle than about half a degree. For the dia¬
meter of the earth being so very' small, in comparison to
the distance of the sun, as to subtend an angle at any
point of his body of about 20 seconds ; and the diame¬
ter of our visible horizon being extremely smaller than
that of the earth ; it is evident, that all the rays which
fall upon the horizon from any given point of the sun,
must be inclined to each other in the smallest angles
imaginable : the greatest of them being as much smal¬
ler than that angle of 20v as the diameter of the visible
horizon is smaller than that of the earth. All the rays
that come to us from any given point of the sun may
r3* therefore be considered as parallel \ as the rays e B g from
the point e, oxfYth from the opposite point f; and
consequently the rays of these two pencils that come
Irom opposite points of the sun’s real diameter, and cross
each other in the sun’s apparent place B among the
clouds, can form no greater an angle with each other
than about half a degree ; this angle of their intersec¬
tions B/'being the same as the sun would subtend totan
eye placed among the clouds at B, or (which is much
the same) to an eye at O upon the ground. Because
the sun’s real distance OS is inconceivably greater than
his apparent distance OB. t herefore the pays of the
sun, as E g, B h do really diverge from his apparent
Vol. XV. Part I. *
ICS.
place B in no greater angles g B/i than about half a de¬
gree. Nevertheless they appear to diverge from the
place B in all possible angles, and even in opposite di¬
rections. Let us proceed then to an explanation of this
apparent divergence, which is by no means self-evident j
though at first sight we ».re apt to think it is, by not
distinguishing the vast dilference between the true and
apparent distances of the sun.
Supposing all the rays of the sun to fall accurately
parallel to each other upon the visible horizon, as they
do very nearly, yet in both cases they must appear to
diverge in all possible angles. Let us imagine the hea¬
vens to be partly overcast with a spacious stratum of bro¬
ken clouds, v, v, v, &c. parallel to the plane of the vi- r.
sible horizon, represented by the lineAOD ; and when F,S' I4’
the sun s rays lall upon these clouds in the parallel lines
s v, s v, &c. let some of them pass through their inter¬
stices in the lines vt,vt, &c. and fall upon the plane of
the horizon at the places t, t, &c. And since the rest
of the incident rays s v, sv, are supposed to be inter¬
cepted from the place of the spectator at O by the
cloud x, and from the intervals between the transmitted
rays v t, vt, &c. by the clouds v, v, &c. a small part of
these latter rays v t, v t, when reflected every way front •
some certain kind of thin vapours floating in the air,
may undoubtedly be sufficient to affect the eye with an
appearance of lights and shades, in the form of bright
beams in the places v t, v t, &e. and of dark ones in the
intervals between them ; just as similar beams of light
and shade appear in a room by reflections of the sun’?
rays from smoke or dust flying within it j the lights
and shades being here occasioned by the transmission of
the rays through some parts of the window, and by their
interruption at other parts.
Now, if the apparent concavity of this stratum of
clouds v, v, to the eye at O, be represented by the arch
ABCD, and be cut in the point B by the line OB.r pa¬
rallel to the beams tv; it wrill be evident by the rules
of perspective, that these long beams will not appear in
their real places, but upon the concave AB CD diver¬
ging everyway from the place B, where the sun himself
appears, or the cloud x that covers his body, as repre¬
sented separately in full view in fig. 11. Fig. ir;
And for the same reason, if the line BO be produced
towards E, below the plane of the horizon AOD, and
the eye be directed towards the region of the sky di¬
rectly above E, the lower ends of the same real beams
v t, vt, will now appear upon the part DF of this con¬
cave ; and will seem to converge towards the point E,
situated just as much below the horizon as the opposite
point B is above it: which is separately represented in
full view in fig. 12. Fig. 12.
For if the beams u t, v t, be supposed to be visible
throughout their whole lengths, and the eye be directed
in a plane perpendicular to them, here represented
by the line OF j they and their intervals will appear
broadest in and about this plane, because these parts of
them are nearest to the eye ; and therefore their
remoter parts and intervals will appear gradually nar¬
rower towards the opposite ends of the line BK. As
a farther illustration of this subject, we may conceive
the spectator at O to be situated upon the top of so
large a descent OHI towards a remote valley IK, and
the sun to be so very low, that the point E, opposite to
him, may be seen above the horizon of this shady val-
L 1 ley.
Irradiations'
of the Sun’s
Fight, Slc.
^ . ° P to
Irriaiationsley. In thiscase it is manifest, that the spectator at
of the Sun’s would now see these beams converging so far as to meet
Light, &c. gac], other at the point E in the sky itselt.
' « 1 This phenomenon is not seen in moonlight, probably
NotUterv-because her light is too weak after reflections from any
ed by moon-kind of vapours, to cause a sensible appearance of lights
ICS.
Part II.
light
summer
than in
winter.
and shades so as to form these beams. And in the phe¬
nomenon of fig. 12. the converging sunbeams towards
the point below the horizon were not quite so bright
and strong as those usually are that diverge from him *,
and the sky beyond them appeared very black fsevera
showers having passed that way), which certainly con¬
tributed to this appearance. Hence it is probable that
the thinness and weakness of the reflected rays from
the vapours opposite the sun, is the chief cause that this
appearance is so very uncommon in comparison to that
of diverging beams. For as the region of the sky
round about the sun is always brighter than the opposite
one, so the light of the diverging beams ought also to
be brighter than that of the converging ones. I1 or,
though rays are reflected from rough unpolished bodies
in all directions, yet more of them are reflected loi-
wards obliquely, than are reflected more directly back¬
wards. Besides, in the present case, the incident rays
upon the opposite region to the sun, are more diminish¬
ed by continual reflections from a longer tract of the
atmosphere, than the incident rays upon the region next
the sun. . . i
Vhe’oheno- The common phenomenon of diverging beams *5
menon of more frequent in summer than in winter, and also when
diverging tlip sun is lower than when higher up •, probably because
beams more tJie iower vapours are denser, and therefore morestrong-
ftcquentin flectlve than tlie hlgher. because the lower sky
light is not so bright as the upper •, because the air is
o-enerally more quiet in the mornings and evenings than
about noon-day j and lastly, because many sorts of va¬
pours are more plentifully exhaled in summer than m
winter, from many kinds of volatile vegetables *, which
vapours, when the air is cooled and condensed in the
mornings and evenings, may become dense enough to
reflect a sensible light.
Sfxt. YI. Of the Illumination of the Eai'tJi’s Shadow
in Lunar Eclipses.
The ancient philosophers, who knew nothing of the
refractive power of the atmosphere, were much perplex¬
ed to account for the body of the moon being visible
when totally eclipsed. At such times she generally ap¬
pears of a dull red colour, like tarnished copper. This,
6 they thought, was the moon’s native light, by which she
Why the became visible when hid from the brighter light of the
moon is vi- sun# Plutarch, indeed, attributes this appearance to the
sible when 0f t]Te bxe(j star3 reflected to us by the moon ; but
eh wede" tllis is to° weak to PTO<ll,ce t,1e effect* T1)e tl “e caUse
C li>oU‘ of it is the scattered beams of the sun bent into the
earth’s shadow by refractions through the atmosphere in
the following manner.
Plate Let the body of the sun be represented by the circle
scclxxxv. an(j tbat 0f the earth by cd; and let the lines ace
vnk b de touch them both, and meet in e beyond the
earth then the angular space ced will represent the
conical figure of the earth’s shadow, which would be
totally dark, were none of them bent into it by the re¬
fraction of the atmosphere. The rays a h and b i,
ivhich touch its opposite sides, will proceed unrefracted,
and meet each other at k. Then the two nearest rays ii!umina.
to these that flow within them, from the same points o tionoffe
amU, being refracted inwards SfS
the atmosphere, will cross each other at a point /, some , ^ 
what nearer to the earth than k; and in like manner,
two opposite rays next within the two last will cross
each other at a point m, somewhat nearer to the earth
than /, having suffered greater refractions, by passing
through longer and denser tracts of air lying somewhat
nearer to the earth. The like approach o the succes¬
sive intersections k, /, m, is to be understood of innumer¬
able couples of rays, till you come to the intersection «
of the two innermost-, which we may suppose just to
touch the earth at the points o and p. It is plain then,
that the space bounded by these rays on, np, will be
the only part of the earth’s shadow wholly unenlighten¬
ed. Let fm g be part of the moon’s orbit when it is
nearest the earth, at a time when the earth’s dark shadow
onp, is longest: in this case, the ratio of tm to tn is about
4 to V, and consequently the moon, though centially
eclipsed at w, may yet be visible by means of the scattered
rays, first transmitted to the moon by refraction through
the atmosphere, and thence reflected to the earth.
For let the incident and emergent parts a q, rn, oi Fig.2.
the ray 07or7?, that just touches the earth at 0, be
produced till they meet at «, and let aqit, produced
meet the axis st produced in x; and joining us and
u m, since the refractions of a horizontal ray passing
from 0 to r, or from 0 to 7, would be alike and equal,
the external angle nux h double the quantity of the
usual refraction of a horizontal ray ; and the angle aus
is the apparent measure of the sun’s senndiameter seen
from the earth ; and the angle u s t is that of the earth s
semidiameter tti seen from the sun fculled his hon%ontal
parallax); and lastly, the angle u m t is that of the
earth’s semidiameter seen from the moon (called her ho¬
rizontal parallax) ; because the elevation of the point
u above the earth is too small to make a sensible error
in the quantity of these angles j whose measures by astro¬
nomical tables are as follow :
— aus — 15—50
— u s t "XZ 00—10
— txuzz 15—40 * Tttcl
— n u x ~ 67—30
ag. x.
Sun’s least app. semidiam.
Sun’s horizontal parallax
Their difference * is
Twice horizontal refraction
Their sum f is - - zztnuz= 83—lot
Moon’s greatest horiz. parallax — tmu — 62 10
Therefore (by a preceding prop.) we have tm \ t n~
(ang. tnu : ang. tmu —83'—10" : 62'—ic'rr)4: 3
in round numbers j which was to be proved. It is easy
to collect from the moon’s greatest horizontal parallax
of 6^'—10", that her least distance t m is about 55^ se¬
midiameters of the earth 5 and therefore the greatest
length tn of the dark shadow, being three quarters of
tm, is about 41-^ semidiameters.
The difference of the last-mentioned angles tnu,
tmu is mu n—21 , that is, about two-thirds of 31'—
40A the angle which the whole diameter of the sun
subtends at u. Whence it follows, that the middle
point m of the moon centraiiy eclipsed, is illuminated
hy rays which come from two-thirds of every diameter
of the sun’s disk, and pass hy one side of the earth J and
also hy rays that come from the opposite two-thirds of
every
Part II. OPT
lllumina- every one of the said diameters, and pass bv the other
istdowS 8ide °f the eartlV .TJlis.wi11 aPPear by conceiving the
SSrth a Horn to be .nSetttble, and its middle point a to
 , slide upon the earth, while the part r « is approachintr
to touch the point m ; for then the opposite part q a
will trace over two thirds of the sun’s diameter. The
true proportion of the angles n u m, a u s, could not be
preserved in the scheme, by reason of the sun’s immense
distance and magnitude with respect to the earth.
Fig'S' Having drawn the line a £ «, it may be observed, that
all the incident rays, as a q, * K, flowing from any one
point of the sun to the circumference of the earth, will
be collected to a focus *, whose distance t x is less’ than
tm in the ratio of 62 to 67 nearly; and thus an image
of the sun will be formed at « /3, whose rays will diverge
upon the moon. For the angle txu is the difference
of the angles x u a, u a t found above ; and t a : t
ang. t mu': ang. t a «rr62/—10" : 67 30".
I he lays that flow next above ciq and u *, by pas¬
sing through a rarer part of the atmosphere, ivill be
united at a point in the axis a t ct farther from the earth
than the last focus and the same may be said of the
rays that pass next above these, and so on \ whereby
an infinite series of images of the sun will be formed,
whose diameters and degrees of brightness will increase
with their distances from the earth.
Hence it is manifest why the moon eclipsed in her pe¬
rigee appears always duller and darker than in her apo-
I C S. 267
gee. The reason why her colour is always of the cop- i;u!mi:v,-
per kind, between a dull red and orange, seems to be tion of tic.
this : The blue colour of a clear sky shows that the Skadow o.t‘
blue rays are more copiously reflected from pure air than ,hc Earlll‘
those of any other colour; consequently they are less
copiously transmitted through it among the rest that Why the
come from the sun, and so much the less as the tract of moon np
air through which they pass is the longer. Hence the Pears duller
common colour of the sun and moon is whitest in the " j6" T1*’
meridian, and grows gradually more inclined to diluted perigee ^
yellow, orange, and red, as they descend lower, that is, than inker
as the rays are transmitted through a longer tract of^S60'
air j which tract being still lengthened in passing to the
moon and back again, causes a still greater loss of the
blue rays in proportion to the restand so the resulting
colour of the transmitted rays must lie between a dark
orange and red, according to Sir Isaac Newton’s rule
for finding the result of a mixture of colours. The cir¬
cular edge of the shadow in a partial eclipse appears
red) because the red-making rays are the least re¬
fracted of all others, and consequently are left alone iu
the conical surface of the shadow, all the rest being re¬
fracted into it.
Dr Herschel, who believes that the moon is phospho¬
rescent, and that she shines by her native light, when
totally eclipsed by the sun, has endeavoured to shew, by
calculation, that the light refracted by the atmosphere
cannot in some cases fall upon the moon.
PART in. ON THE CONSTRUCTION OF OPTICAL INSTRUMENTS.
Chap. I. Description of Optical Instruments.
OF the mechanism of optical instruments, particular
accounts are given in this work under their respective
names. These it would be improper to repeat j but as
it belongs to the science of optics to explain, by the
laws of refraction and reflection, the several phenomena
which those instruments exhibit, we must here enume¬
rate the instruments themselves, omitting entirely, or
stating very briefly, such facts as are given at large in
other places.
Sect. I. The Multiplying Glass.
The multiplying glass is made by grinding down
Plate convex s^e ^ f ^ of a plano-convex glass AB, into
:cckxxvi. severa* flat surfaces, as h b, b l d, d k. An object C will
fig. 1. not appear magnified when seen through this glass by
238 the eye at H ; but it will appear multiplied into as ma-
” class" ny different objects as the glass contains plane surfaces.
° SdSS' For, since rays will flow from the object C to all parts
of the glass, and each plane surface will refract these
rays to the eye, the same object will appear to the eye
in the direction of the rays which enter it through each
surface. Thus, a ray g i H, falling perpendicularly on
the middle surface, will go through the glass to the eye
without suffering any refraction j and will therefore
show the object in its true place at C : whilst a ray a b
flowing from the same object, and falling obliquely on
the plane surface b h, will be refracted in the direction
b e, by passing through the glass; and, upon leaving it,
will go on to the eye in the direction e H ; which will
wake the same object C appear also at E, in the direc¬
tion of the ray H e, produced in the right line Men.
And the ray c d, flowing from the object C, and falling
obliquely on the plane surface d k, will in the same way
be refracted to the eye at II j which will cause the
same object to appear at D, in the direction H fm.—
If the gl ass be turned round the lineg/H, as an axis,
the object C will keep its place, because the surface bid
is not removed j but all the other objects will seem to go
round C, because the oblique planes, on which the rays
abed fall, will turn round by the motion of the glass.
Sect. II. Mirrors.
It has been already observed, that there are three
kinds of mirrors principally used in optical experiments
(see Catoptrics, Sect. I.)j the plane mirror, the sphe¬
rical convex mirror, and the spherical concave mirror.
Of these the plane mirror first claims our attention,
as it is more common, and of greater antiquity, than
the other two. We have shewn that the image reflect¬
ed by this mirror appears as far behind the surface ns
the object is before it ; that the image will appear of
the same size and in the same position with the object 3
that every plane mirror will reflect an image of twice
its own length and breadth j and that in certain cir¬
cumstances it will reflect several images of the same ob¬
ject. These phenomena we shall now explain by the
laws of reflection.
Let AB be an object placed before the reflecting Plate
surface g h i of the plane mirror CD •, and let the eye ccdxxxvii.
be at 0. Let A A be a ray of light flowing from the
top A of the object, and falling upon the mirror at /*,
and A m be a perpendicular to the surface of the mirror
at h ; the ray A h will be reflected from the mirror to
the eye at 0, making an angle m k 0 equal to the angle
L 1 2 A h m;
268
Optical In¬
struments.
OPT
2',9
Size of a
looking-
glass in
which a
man may
see his
whole
image.
Fig- 3-
A Tim: then will the top of the image E appear to the
eye in the direction of the reflected ray o h produced to
E, where the right line Ap E, from the top °t the ob¬
ject, cuts the right line oh E, at E. Let L z be a ray
of light issuing from the foot of the object at Ji to Uie
mirror at i; and n i a perpendicular to the mirror irom
the point where the ray B i falls upon it; thm ray vvi
be reflected in the line i o, making an angle n z o equal to
the angle Bin, with that perpendicular, and entering
the eye at o; then will the foot F of the image appear
in the direction of the reflected ray o z, produced to T,
where the right line BE cuts the reflected ray produced
to F All the other rays that flow from the intermedi¬
ate points of the object AB, and fall upon the mirror
between h and i, will be reflected to the eye at o; and
all the intermediate points of the image E 1' will appear
to the eye in the direction of these reflected rays pro¬
duced. But alt the rays that proceed from the object
and fall upon the miiror above h, will be reflected back
above the eye at o ; and all the rays that flow from the
object, and fall upon the mirror below z, will be reflect¬
ed'’ back below the eye at o; so that none of the rays
that fall above h, or below z‘, can be reflected to the
eye at o; and the distance between h and z is equal
to half the length of the object A B. . .
Hence it appears, that if a man sees his whole image
in a plane looking-glass, the part of the glass that re'
fleets his image must be just half as long and halt as
broad as himself, let him stand at any distance from it
whatever *, and that his image must appear just as
behind the glass as he is before it. Thus, the man A is
viewing himself in the plane mirror C D, which is just
half as long as himself, sees his whole image as at L t,
behind the glass, exactly equal to his own size. * or a
ray AC proceeding from his eye at A, and falling per¬
pendicularly upon the surface of the glass at C, is re¬
flected back to his eye, in the same line C A *, and the
eye of his image will appear at E, in the same line pro¬
duced to E, beyond the glass. And a ray BD, flowing
from his foot, and falling obliquely on the glass at D,
will be reflected as obliquely on the other side of the
perpendicular aZ»D, in the direction D A j and the foot
of his image wilt appear at F, in the direction of the
reflected ray A D, produced to F, where it is cut by the
right line B GF, drawn parallel to the right line AClk *,
just the same as if the glass were taken away, and the
real man stood at F, equal in size to the man standing
at B : For to his eye at A, the eye of the other »iau
at E would be seen in the direction of the line ACE*,
and the foot of the man at F would be seen by the eye
A, in the direction of the line ADF.
If the glass be brought nearer the man AB, suppose
to c b, he will see his image at C D G: for the reflected
ray C A (being perpendicular to the glass) will show the
eve of the image at C j and the incident ray B b, being
reflected in the line b A, will show the foot of his image
at G, the angle of reflection ab A being always equal
to the angle of incidence Bba; and so of all the inter¬
mediate rays from A to B. Hence, if the man AB
advances towards the glass CD, his image will approach
towards it j and if he recedes from the glass, Ins image
will also recede from it.
If the object be placed before a common looking-
glass, and viewed obliquely, three, four, or more images
«f it, will appear behind the glass.
j q g< Part III,
To explain this, let ABCD represent the glassy and Optical in.
let EF be the axis of a pencil of rays flowing from E, ^trumenn.
a point in an object situated there. The rays of this—
a point m an onjeci snuau-u - piate
pencil will in part be reflected at F, suppose mto the line
EG. What remains will (after refraction at T, winch fig,n.
we do not consider here) pass on to H *, from whence
fon account of the quicksilver which is spread over the
second surface of the glass) they will be strongly re¬
flected to K, where part of them will emerge and enter
an eye at L. By this means one representation of the
noint E will be formed in the line LK produced, sup- 240
nose in M : Again, Another pencil, whose axis is EN Why thre*
Lt reflected at N, thee at O, and afterwanlsat P w,U« t» ^
form a second representation of the same point at E objects art.
And, thirdly, Another pencil, whose axis is EM, altersccn in
successive reflections at the several points h, b, ±1,1 V,plane mb
will exhibit a third representation of the same point atrors.
X * and so on ad infinitum. The same being true of
each point in the object, the whole will be represented
in the like manner ; but the representations will be
faint in proportion to the number of reflections which
the rays suffer, and the length of their progress within
the glass. We may add to these another representation
of the same object in the line LO produced, made by
such of the rays as fall upon O, and are thence reflected
to the eye at L. This experiment may be tried by
placing a candle before the glass as at E, and viewing
it obliquely, as from L. .
2 Of Concave Mirrors. The effects of these in mag¬
nifying and diminishing objects, have in general been
already explained*, but in order to understand the
nature of reflecting telescopes, it will still be projiei to
subjoin the following particular description of the effects
of concave mirrors.
When parallel rays, as dfa,Cmb,ebc, fall upon a Plate
concave mirror A i B, they will be reflected back from cccW,
that mirror, and meet in a point zzz, at half the distance
of the surface of the mirror from C the centre ot its
concavity ; for they will he reflected at as great an angle
from a perpendicular to the surface of the mirror, as
they fell upon it with regard to that perpendicular, but
on the other side thereof. Thus, let C be the centre of
concavity of the mirror AbB y and let the parallel rays
dfa, C»zi, ande/e, fall upon it at the points c, 6,
and c. Draw the lines Cia, C m b, and C/z c, irom
the centre C to these points ; and all these lines will be
perpendicular to the surface of the mirror. Make the
angle Cah=da C, and draw the line amh, which will
be the direction of the ray dfia, after it is reflected
from the point a of the mirror j so that the angle ot in¬
cidence da C—C a h, the angle of reflection ; the rays
making equal angles with the perpendicular C z a on its
opposite sides.
Draw also the perpendicular C he to the point f,
where the ray elc touches the mirror j and haying
made the angle C e i=Cce, draw the line czzz z, which
will he the course of the ray elc, after it is reflected
from the mirror. The ray Cmb passing through the
centre of concavity of the mirror, and tailing upon it at
b is perpendicular to it *, and is therefore reflected back
from it in the same line b m C. All these reflected rays
meet in the point m ; and in that point the image o
the body which emits the parallel rays da, C b, anil
e c will he formed j which point is distant from the
mirror equal to half the radius b m C ot its concavity^
241
Aerial
images
formed
by con
mirrors,
F‘S- 5
Part III. OPT
Optical In. As the rays which proceed from any celestial object
Struments. may be esteemed parallel, the image of that object will
"V'—^ be formed at m, when the reflecting surface of the con¬
cave mirror is turned directly to the object. Hence
the focus m of parallel rays is not in the centre of the
mirror’s concavity, hut half way between the mirror
and that centre.
The rays which proceed from any remote terrestrial
object are not strictly parallel, but come diverging to
it, in sepaiate pencils, from each point ot the side of
the object next the mirror; and therefore they will not
be converged to a point at the distance of half the ra¬
dius of the mirror’s concavity from it’s reflecting surface,
but into separate points at a little greater distance from
the mirror. The nearer the object is to the mirror, the
farther these points will be from it: and an inverted
bv concaveimage of the 0^ect wiU be which will
mirrors. seem to hang in the air, and will be seen by an eye pla¬
ced beyond it (with regard to the mirror) in all respects
similar to the object, and as distinct as the object itself.
Let A c B be the reflecting surface of a mirror, whose
centre of concavity is at C ; and let the upright object
HE be placed beyond the centre C, and send out a c»-
nical pencil of diverging rays from its upper extremity
H, to every point of the concave surface of the mirror
A c B. But to avoid confusion, we only draw three
rays of that pencil, as D A, D c, D B.
From the centre of concavity C, draw the three
right lines CA, C c, CB, touching the mirror in the
same points where the three rays touch it; and all these
lirieA will be perpendicular to the surface of the mirror.
Make CA <fc=DAC, and draw the right line A d for
the course of the reflected ray HA: make C c d=D c C,
and draw’ the right line c d for the course of the reflect¬
ed ray H d: make also CBotrDBC, and draw the
right line B d for the course of the reflected rav HB.
All these reflected rays will meet in the point d, where
they will form the extremity d of the inverted image e d
similar to the extremity H of the upright object HE.
If the pencil of rays £f. Eg, E A, be also continued
to the mirror, and their angles of reflection from it be
made equal to their angles of incidence upon it, as in
the former pencil from H, they will all meet at the
point e by reflection, and form the extremity e of the
image e d, similar to the extremity E of the object HE.
And as each intermediate point of the object, between
B and E, sends out a pencil of rays in like manner to
every part of the mirror, the rays of each pencil will
he reflected back from it, and meet in all the interme¬
diate points between the extremities e and d of the
image; and so the whole image will be formed in an
inverted position not at i, half the distance of the mirror
tvom its centre of concavity C, but at a greater distance
between t and the object HE.
This being well understood, the reader will easily un¬
derstand how the image is formed by the. large concave
mirror of the reflecting telescope, when he comes to the
description of that instrument.
M hen the object is more remote from the mirror than
its centre of concavity C, the image will be less than
the object, and between the object and mirror: when
the object is nearer than the centre of concavity, the
image will be more remote and bigger than the object.
Thus, if EH be the object, de will be its image : For
as the object recedes from the mirror, the image ap-
I c s.
proaches nearer to it; and as the object approaches
nearer to the mirror, the image recedes farther from it;
on account of the lesser or greater divergency of the
pencil of rays which proceed from the object: for the
less they diverge, the sooner they are converged to
points by reflection ; and the more they diverge, the
farther they proceed before they meet.
If the radius of the mirror’s concavity, and the di¬
stance of the object after refraction, be known, the di¬
stance of the image from the mirror is found by this
rule : Hivide the product of the distance and radius by
double the distance made less by the radius, and the
quotient is the distance required.
If the object be in the centre of the mirror’s concavity,
the image and object will be coincident, and equal in bulk.
If a man place himself directly before a large con¬
cave mirror, but farther from it than its centre of con¬
cavity, he will see an inverted image of himself in the
air, between him and the mirror, and of a less size than
himself. It he holds out his hand towards the mirror,
the hand of the image will come out towards his hand,
and coincide with it, of an equal bulkr. when his hand
is in the centre of concavity ; and he will imagine he
may shake hands with his image. If he reaches his
hand farther, the hand of the image will pass by his
hand, and come between his hand and his body: and if
he moves his hand towards either side, the hand of the
image will move towards the other; so that whatever
way the object moves, the image will move the con¬
trary. All the while a bystander will see nothing of
the image, because none of the reflected rays that form
it enter his eyes.
Sect. III. Capiera Obscura.
The camera obscura having already been fully de¬
scribed under the word Bioptrics, we shall at present
only direct the readers attention to an improvement which
has lately been made upon this amusing instrument.
“ The improvements (says Hr Brewster) which have
been made upon the camera obscura since its first inven¬
tion, regard chiefly its external form; and no attempts
have been made to increase the brilliancy and distinct¬
ness of the image. When we compare the picture of
external objects, which is formed in a dark chamber by
the object-glass of a common refracting telescope, with
that which is formed with an achromatic object-glass,
we shall find the difference between their distinctness
much less than we should have at first expected. Al¬
though the achromatic lens form an image of the mi¬
nutest parts of the landscape, yet when this image is re¬
ceived on paper, these minute parts are obliterated by
the small hairs and asperities on its surface, and the ef¬
fect of the picture is very much impaired. In the Royal
Observatory at Greenwich the image is received upon
a large concave piece of stucco ; but this substance does
not seem to be more favourable for the reception of
images than a paper ground. In order to obviate these
imperfections, I tried a number of white substances of
different degrees of smoothness, and Several metallic
surfaces with different degrees of polish, but did not
succeed in finding any surface superior to paper. I hap¬
pened, however, to receive the image on the silvered
back of a looking-glass, and was surprised at the bril¬
liancy and distinctness with which external objects were
represented. The little spherical protuberances, how-
■ ever.
269
Optical In¬
struments.
2 7 o G P T
Optical In-ever, which arise from the roughness of the tinfoil, have
stiuments. a tendency to detract from the precision of the image,
anj certainly injure it considerably when examined nar¬
rowly with the eye. In order to remove these sma
eminences, I ground the surface caretully with a bed ot
hones which I had used for working the plane specula
of Newtonian telescopes.^ By this operation, wluc i is
exceedingly delicate, and may be performed without in¬
juring the mirror, I obtained a surface finely adapte
for the reception of images. The minute parts of the
landscape, when received on this substance, are forme
with so much precision, and the brilliance ot the colour¬
ing is so uncommonly fine, as to equal, it not suipass
the images formed in the air by means ot concave spe¬
cula. Notwithstanding the bluish colour of the metal¬
lic ground, white objects are represented in their tine
colour, and the verdure of the foliage is so rich and vi¬
vid, that the image seems to surpass in beauty even the
object itself. On account of the metallic lustre of the
surface, the distinctness of the image will always be
greatest when the eye of the observer is placed in the
direction of the inflected rays.
“ The common portable camera obscura, which has al¬
ready been described (see Dioptrics), is necessarily on
a small scale, and has many disadvantages. These dis¬
advantages are completely remedied in the camera ob¬
scura, invented by the llev. Mr 1 homson of Dudding-
Plate ston, which is represented in figures I. and 2. ot 1 late
tcccLxxxix. CCCLXXXIX. In fig. i. A is a metallic or wooden
I> 2* rjn^ jn which the four wooden bars AT, AI, AG,
AH, move by means of joints at A, and are kept asun¬
der by the cross pieces BC, DE, which move round B
and D as centres, and fold up along BA and DA,
when the instrument is not used. The surface IIGH,
on which the image is received, consists of a piece of
silk covered with paper. It is made to roll up at IH,
which moves in a joint at I, so that the whole surface
ITHG, when winded upon III, can be folded upon the
bar IA. By this means the instrument, which is cover¬
ed with green silk covered with a black substance, may
be put together and carried as an umbrella. It is
shewn more fully in fig. 2. where A is the aperture for
placing the lens, and BC a semicircular opening for
viewing the image. A black veil may be fixed to the cir-
tmmference of BC, and thrown over the head of the obser¬
ver to prevent the admission of any extraneous light.”
Sect. IV. Microscopes-
Under the article Microscope a full account has
1ieen given of the external construction of those instru¬
ments as they are now made by the most eminent artists.
It did not fall within the plan of that article to
explain the way in which an enlarged picture of the ob¬
ject is formed upon the retina by means of the micro¬
scope, and the means of ascertaining its magnifying
power *, but we shall now direct the readers attention to
this interesting subject.
I. T/ie Single Microscope, the simplest of all micro¬
scopes is nothing more than a small globule of glass, or
a convex lens whose focal distance is extremely short.
Plate magnifyinS pow61 ^is microscope is thus ascer-
ccclxxxix. tained by Dr Smith, “ A minute object p q, seen di¬
figs. <5, 7. stinctly through a small glass AE by the eye put close
to it, appears so much greater than it would to the na¬
ked eye, placed at the least distance q L from whence
5
ICS. Partin,
it appears sufficiently distinct, as this latter distance q L Optical In..
it greater than the former q E. For having put your strumenu
eye dose to the glass EA, in order to see as much ot
the object as possible at one view, remove the object/i ^
to and fro till it appear more distinctly, suppose at the
distance E q. Then conceiving the glass AE to be re¬
moved, and a thin plate, with a pin-hole in it, to be
put in its place, the object will appear distinct and as
large as before, when seen through the glass, only not
so bright. And in this latter case it appears so much
greater than it does to the naked eye at the distance
q L, either with a pin-hole or without it, as the angle.
71 E <7 is greater than the angle p L q, or as the latter
distance <7 L is greater than the former q E. Since the
interposition of the glass has no other effect than to ren¬
der the appearance distinct, by helping the eye to in¬
crease the refraction of the rays in each pencil, it is
plain that the greater apparent magnitude is entirely
owing to a nearer view than could be taken by the na¬
ked eye. As the human eye is so constiucted, as, for
reasons already assigned, to have distinct vision only
when the rays which fall upon it are parallel or
nearly so; it follows that if the eye he so perfect as
to see distinctly by pencils of parallel rays falling
upon it, the distance E q, of the object froni the
glass, is then the focal distance of the glass. Now,
if thq glass be a small round globule, of about tt™
of an inch diameter, its focal distance E q, being
three quarters of its diameter, is ^th of an inch ;
and if <7 L be eight inches, the distance at which we
usually view minute objects, this globule will magnify
in the proportion of 8 to or of 160 to 1.
Mr Gray’s Water Microscope is represented in Elate
CCCLXXXIX. fig. 4. The drop of water taken up
on the point of a pin is introduced into the small hole
D T_ of an inch in diameter, in the piece of brass DC,
about TV of an inch thick. The hole D is in the middle
of a spherical cavity, about ^ of an inch in diameter, and
a little deeper than half the thickness of the brass •, on
the opposite side of the brass is another spherical cavity,
half as broad as the former, and so deep as to reduce the
circumference of the small hole to a sharp edge. 1 he
water being placed in these cavties, will form a double
convex lens with unequal convexities. The object, it it
is solid, is fixed upon the point C of the supporter AB,
and placed at its proper distance from the water lens by
the screw EG. When the object is fluid, it is placed
in the hole A, but in such a manner as not to be sphe¬
rical *, and this hole is brought opposite the fluid lens by
moving the extremity G of the screw into the slit GEL.
2. The Double or Compound Microscope, consists ot F;gi s.
an object-glass c d, and an eye-glass e /. The small
object a b is placed at a little greater distance from the
glass c d than its principal focus; so that the pencils of
rays flowing from the different points of the object, and
passing through the glass, may be made to converge,
and unite in as many points between g and h, where the
image of the object will be formed; which image is
viewed by the eye through the eye-glass ef. lor the
eye-glass being so placed, that the image 5- h may be m
its focus, and the eye much about the same distance on
the other side, the rays of each pencil will be parallel
after going out of the eye-glass, as at <? and/, till they
come to the eye at k, where they will begin to con¬
verge by the refractive power of the humours ; and at-
Part III.
bound mi¬
croscope.
Optical In-ter having crossed each other in the pupil, they will he
strument^ collected illto points on the retina, and form upon it the
'—”v'*"“iarge inverted image AB.
I Use of se- By this combination of lenses, the aberration of the
treral leaseshght from the figure of the glass, which in a o-lobule of
Pa c°m; the kin(1 above mentioned is very considerable, is in
some measure corrected. This appeared so sensibly to
be the case, even to former opticians, that they very
soon began to make the addition of another lens. For,
says Mr Martin, it is not only evident from the theory
of tins aberration, that the image of any point is ren¬
dered less confused by refraction through two lenses than
by an equal refraction through one j but it also follows
from the same principle, that the same point has its
image still less confused when formed by rays refracted
through three lenses than by an equal refraction through
two j and therefore a third lens added to the other will
contribute to make the image more distinct, and conse¬
quently the instrument more complete. At the same
time the field of view is amplified, and the use of the
microscope rendered more agreeable, by the addition of
the other lens. Thus also we may allow a somewhat
laigei aperture to the object lens, and thus increase the
brightness of objects, and greatly heighten the pleasure
of viewing them. For the same reason, Mr Martin has
proposed a four-glass microscope, which answers the
purposes of magnifying and of distinct vision still more
perfectly.
I he magnifying power of double microscopes is ea¬
sily understood, thus : The glass L next the object PQ
is very small, and very much convex, and consequently
its focal distance LF is very short 5 the distance LQ
of the small object PQ is but'a little greater than LF:
Greater it must be, that the rays flowing from the ob¬
ject may converge after passing through "the glass, and
crossing one another, form an image of the object;
and it must be but a little greater, that the image p q
may be at a great distance from the glass, and conse¬
quently may be much larger than the object itself.
This picture p q being viewed through a convex glass
AE, whose focal distance is q E, appears distinct as
in a telescope. Now the object appears magnified for
two reasons; first, because, if we viewed its picture p q
with the naked eye, it would appear as much greater
than the object, at the same distance, as it really is
greater than the object, or as much as L y is greater
than LQ; and secondly, because this picture appears
magnified through the eye-glass as much as the least dis¬
tance at which it can be seen distinctly w’ith the naked
eye, is greater than q E, the focal distance of the eye-
glass. ^If this latter ratio be five to one, and the former
ratio ox L <7 to LQ be 20 to 1 ; then, upon both ac¬
counts, the object will appear 5 times 20, or 100 times
greater than to the naked eye.
I he section of a compound microscope with three
lenses is represented in fig. 10. By the middle one GK
the pencil of rays coming from the object-glass are re¬
fracted so as to tend to a focus at O j but being inter¬
cepted by the proper eye-glass DF, they are brought
together at I, which is nearer to that lens than its pro¬
per locus at L j so that the angle I)IF, under which
the object now appears, is larger than DLF, under
which it would have appeared without this additional
glass j and consequently the object is more magnified in
the same proportion. Dr Hooke informs us, that, in
OPTICS.
271
1%
most of his observations, he made use of a double mi-Optical l„
croscope with this broad middle glass when jie wanted
struments.
to see much of an object at one view, and taking it out'    
when he would examine the small parts of an obiect
more accurately ; for the fewer refractions there are,
the more bright and clear the object appears.
1 he following rule for finding the magnifying power
of compound microscopes with three lenses, has been
given by Dr Brewster in his Appendix to Ferguson’s
Lectures, vol. 11 p.468. “ Divide the difference between Magnifying-
.16 ^lstaHCe ol the two first lenses, or those next the ob - power of
ject, and the focal distance of the second or amplifyino*00.111?0^
glass, by the focal distance of the second glass, and them*cro' ..
quotient will be a first number. Square the distance be-tW*
tween the two first lenses, and divide it by the differ-lenses,
ence between that distance, and the focal distance of the
second glass, and divide this quotient by the focal di¬
stance of the third glass, or that next the eye, and a se¬
cond number will be obtained. Multiply together the
Jit st and seco/ul numbers, and the magnifying power of
the object glass (as found by one of the following ta¬
bles), and the product will be the magnifying power of
the compound microscope.”
Having in the historical part of this article given The ^ao.
a short account of the construction of Dr Smith’s double nifying
reflecting microscope, it may not be improper in thisPower°f
phice to point out the method of ascertaining its magni- D.r Smith,s
fymg power. This we shall do from the author himself, microscoPe*
because his symbols, being general, are applicable to
such microscopes of all dimensions.
Between the centre E and principal focus T of a Fig
concave speculum ABC, whose axis is EQTC, place
an object PQ ; and let the rays flowing from it be
reflected from the speculum AB towards an image
pq; but before they unite in it, let them be recei¬
ved by a convex speculum a b c, and thence be re¬
flected, through a hole BC in the vertex of the con¬
cave, to a second image w k, to be viewed through an
eye-glass /.
The object may be situated between the specula C,
c ; or, which is better, between the principal focus t
and vertex c of the convex one, a small hole being made
in its vertex for the incident rays to pass through.
In both cases we have TQ, TE, T q, continual
proportionals in some given ratio, suppose of 1 to n;
and also t q, t c, t x, continual proportionals in some
other given ratio, suppose of 1 to m. Then if d be the
usual distance at which we view minute objects distinct¬
ly with the naked eye, and x l the focal distance of the
least eye-glass, through which the object appears suffi¬
ciently bright and distinct, it will be magnified in the
ratio of m n d to x I.
lor the object PQ, and its first image p q, are ter¬
minated on one side by the common axis of the specula,
and on the other by a line PEyi, drawn through the
centre E of the concave ABC. Likewise the images
p q and tt x are terminated by the common axis and by
the line epn, drawn through the centre e of the con¬
vex a b c (Euclid, v. 12.). Hence, by the similar tri-
anglfis ir x e,p q e, and also g' E, PQE, w’e have tt x :
p q—x e : q e—m : 1, and 7?^ : PQrr^ E : QE=r?z : 1 y
and consequently n x : PQ=?« n : 1 whence vr x—m n~
X PQ. Now if /* be the focal distance of the eye-glass-
/, the points P, Q of the object, are seen through it by
the rays of two pencils emerging parallel to the lines
IF.I xd
272
O P T I
-* / j
Optical In- vlkI respectively J that is, PQ appears un er an
struments. 1 • 1 • '7l‘A and to the
angle equal to «• /», which is as ^ — - »
naked eye at the distance d from PQ, it appears under
PQ
an angle PoQ which is as and therefore is mag¬
nified in the ratio of these angles, that is, of m n d
t0 Cor, Having the numbers m, n, d, to find an eye-
glass which shall cause the microscope to magnify M
6 in nd
times in diameter, take * fa Tor the apparent
magnifying
power of
the most
common
micro¬
scopes.
magnitude is to the true as M: izzmnd: x. 1.
345 We shall conclude this part of our subject with the
metho/of following easy method of ascertaining t e magni ymg
ascertain power of such microscopes as are most in use.
ing the r The apparent magnitude of any object, as must ap¬
pear from what has been already said, is measured by
the angle under which it is seen *, and this angle is
greater"or smaller according as the object ^ nearer to
or farther from the eye j and of consequence the less the
distance at which it can be viewed, the largei it will
appear. The naked eye is unable to distinguish any ob-
ject brought exceedingly near it: but by looking through
a convex lens at an object placed in its locus, j°wever
near the focus of that lens be, an object may be distinct¬
ly seen •, and the smaller the lens is, the nearer will be
its focus, and in the same proportion the greater \vill
be its magnifying power. Prom these principles it is
easy to find the reason why the first or greates mag-
nifiers are so extremely minute j and also to calculate
the magnifying power of any convex lens employed in
a single microscope: For as the focal distance oi the
lens is to the distance at which we see objects distinct¬
ly with the naked eye, so is 1 to the magnifying power.
If the focal length of a convex lens, for instance, be
one inch, and the distance at which we look at small
obiects eight inches, which is the common standard, an
object may be seen through that lens at one inch di¬
stance from the eye, and will appear in its diameter
eight times larger than it does to the naked eye ; bu as
the object is magnified every way, rn length as well as
in breadth, we must square tins diameter to know bow
much it really is enlarged j and we then find that its
superficies is magnified 64 times.
Again, Suppose a convex lens whose focal distance is
only one-tenth of an inch •, as in eight inches, the com-
246
further
observa-
observa- only one-ienui ui au >
tions on the mon distance of distinct vision with the naked eye, there
magnifying'are go tentl>s? an object may be seen through this glass
power of than with the naked eye. It will, of
nncro-
seopes.
80 times nearer than with the naked eye. It will, of
consequence, appear 80 times longer, and as much
broader, than it does to common sight •, and is therefore
magnified 64OQ times. If a convex glass be so small
that its focus is only ^th of an inch distant, we find
that eight inches contain 160 of these twentieth parts j
and consequently the length and breadth of any object
seen through such a lens will be magnified 160 times,
and the whole surface 25,600 times. As it is easy to
melt a drop or globule of a much smaller diameter than
a lens can be ground, and as the focus of a globule is
no farther off than one-fourth of its own diameter, it
must therefore magnify to a prodigious degree. But
this excessive magnifying power is much more than
counterbalanced by its admitting sq little light, want of
J
g ^ ' Part 1IL
distinctness, and showing such a small portion of the optical [n
object to be examined j for which reason, these globules strunienu.
though greatly valued some time ago are now almost
entirely rejected. According to Mr Folkes s descrip¬
tion of the single microscopes of convex lenses which
Leeuwenhoek left to the Koyal Society, they were all
exceedingly clear, and showed the object very bright
and distinct *, which Mr Folkes considered as owing to
the great care this gentleman took in the choice ot
his glass, his exactness in giving it the true figure, and
afterwards reserving only such for his use as upon trial
he found to be most excellent. Their powers of mag¬
nifying are different, as different objects may require .
and as on the one hand, being all ground glasses, none
of them are so small, or consequently magnify to so
great a degree, as some of the globules frequently used
in other microscopes ; yet the distinctness of these very
much exceeds those which are commonly used.
In order to find the magnifying power of a single
microscope, no more is necessary than to bring it to its
true focus, the exact place of which will be known y
an object’s appearing perfectly distinct and sharp when
placed there. Then, with a pair of small compasses,
measure, as nearly as possible, the distance from the
. centre of the glass to the object which is viewed, and
how many parts of an inch that distance is. When this
is known, compute how many times those parts of an
inch are contained in eight inches, and the result wi
give the number of times the diameter is magnified :
squaring the diameter will give the superficies j aud it
the solid content is wanted, it will be shown by multi¬
plying the superficies by the diameter. ^
The superficies of one side of an object on y can be
seen at one view 5 and to compute how much that is
magnified, is most commonly sufficient: hut some¬
times it is satisfactory to know how many minute ob¬
jects are contained in a larger as suppose we desire
to know how many animalcules are contained in the
bulk of a grain of sand : and to answer this, the cube,
as well as the surface, must he taken into the account.
For the satisfaction of those who are not much versant
in these subjects, we shall here subjoin the following
tables taken from the Appendix to Ferguson , Lee ores hT
The first column contains the. focal length of tlicTabtafl
convex lens in hundredths of an inch. The second con-^^
tains the number of times which such a lens will magm- ot mjcr0,
fy the diameter of objects : The third shews the number scope;.
o^ times that the surface is magnified ; and the fourth
the number of times that the cube of the object is mag¬
nified. A table of a similar kind, though upon a much
smaller scale, has already been published; but the nearest
distance at which the eye can see distinctly, there su|-
posed to be eight inches, which we are confident, tron
experience, is too large an estimate for the generality of
eyes. Table I. is therefore computed upon the supposi¬
tion that the distance alluded to is seven inches.
it When we consider however (says the editor of the
work now quoted) that the eye examines very minute
obiects at a less distance than it does objects of a
greater magnitude, we sb'all find that the magmiy.ng
power of lenses ought to be deduced from the distance
It which the eye examines objects really microscopic.
This circumstance has been overlooked by every "'lie
on optics, and merits our attentive consideration, vve
have now before us two specimens of engrave^ cha-
Part III. O P T
OpticalIn-rat:^er6’ Tke one is. so large that it can be. easily
jiteuiwntx. read at the distance of ten inches ; and the other is so
—'exceedingly minute that it cannot be read at a greater
distance than five inches. Now we maintain that if
these two kinds of engraving are seen through the same
microscope, the one will be twice as. much magnified
as the other. T-his indeed is obvious j for as the magni¬
fying power of a lens is equal to the distance at which
the object is examined by the naked eye divided by the
focal length of the lens, we shall have ^ for the number
of times which the minute engraving is magnified, and
10
— for the number of times that the large engraving is
magnified, x being the focal length -of the lens. It fol¬
lows, therefore, that the number of times that any lens
magnifies objects really microscopic should be determin¬
ed, by making the distance at which they are examin¬
ed by the naked eye about five inches.
Upon this principle we ha%'e computed Table II.
which contains the magnifying power of convex lenses
when employed to examine microscopic objects.
Table I.
A New Table of tike magnifying power of small con¬
vex lenses or single microscopes, the distance at which
the eye sees distinctly being seven inches.
I c s.
Focal distance
the lens or micro¬
scope.
Number of
l imes that the
diameter of
an object is
magnified.
Number of
times that the
surface of an
object is mag
nified.
Times.
49
8?
196
506
544
1225
1354
1513
1697
1910
2181
2500
2894
3399
4045
4900
6053
7656
10000
13689
19600
30625
54289
122500
490000
Number of times
that the cube of
an object is mag
nified.
Times.
.343
810
2744
536o
12698
42875
49836
58864
69935
83453
101848
125000
155721
198156
257259
.343000
4709H
669922
,1000000
1601613
2744000
5359375
12649337
42875000
343000000
Table II.
A New Table of the magnifying power of small con¬
vex lenses or single microscopes, the distance at which
the eye sees distinctly being five inches.
273
Optical In¬
struments
Focal distance
the lens or micro¬
scope.
Number of
'of times that the
diameter of
an object is
magnified
Inches
and
parts of
an inch.
loodths
of an
inch
I or 100
75
50
40
30
20
*9
18
17
16
*5
*3
12
ii
10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2
1
Dec.
Times, of a
time
5.00
6.67
10.00
12.50
16.67
25.00
26.32
27.-78
29.41
3i-25
33-33
35-71
38.48
41.67
45-55
50.00
55-55
62. co
7i-43
83-33
100.00
125.00
166.67
250.00
qoo.oo
Number of
times that the
surface of an
object is mag¬
nified.
Times.
25
44
100
I56
278
62c
693
772
865
977
mi
1275
1481
i736
2075
2500
3° 86
3906
5102
6944
10000
i5625
27779
62500
250000
Number of times
that the cube of
an object is mag¬
nified.
Times.
I25
297
IOOO
I953
4632
I5^2S
*8233
21439
25438
3°Sl8
37026
45538
56978
72355
94507
125000
171416
244141
364453
578634
1000000
i953i25
4629907
15625000
125000000
f
The greatest magnifier in Mr Leeuwenhoek’s cabinet
of microscopes, presented to the Royal Society, has its
focus nearly at one^twentieth of an inch distance from
its centre j and consequently magnifies the diameter of
an object 16c times, and the superficies 25,600. But
the greatest magnifier in Mr Wilson’s single microscopes,
as they are now made, has usually a focal length only
of the 50th part of an inch j whereby it has a power of
enlarging the diameter of an object 400, and its super¬
ficies 160,000 times.
The magnifying power of the solar microscope must T.)c
be calculated in a different manner j for here the dis-nifying 0
tance of the screen or sheet on which the image of the power of
object is oast, divided by the focal length of the lens, t^e solar
gives its magnifying power. Suppose, for instance, the
lens made use of has its focus at half an inch, and the differently
screen is placed at the distance of five feet, the object from that
will then appear magnified 20 times, and the superficies of others.
14,400 times j and, by putting the screen at a greater
distance, you may magnify the object almost as much as
you please : but the screen should be placed just at
that distance where the object is seen most distinct and
clear.
M m "With
(I P T
274 . .
Optical In- With regard to the tlouhfe reflecting microscope,
strumcnts. Mr Baker observes, that the power ot the object-lens
v is indeed greatly increased by the addition ot two eye
glasses but as no object-lens can be used with them
of so minute a diameter, or which magnifies of itselt
near so much as those that can be used alone, the
glasses of this microscope, upon the whole, magnily
little or nothing more than those of Mr Wilson’s single
one *, the chief advantage arising from a combination
of lenses being the sight of a larger portion of the ob¬
ject.
Sect. V. Telescopes.
I. The Refracting Telescope.
Of the a- 1. T/ie Astronomical Telescope.—From what has been
stronomical said concerning the compound microscope, the nature of
telescope. tlie common astronomical telescope will easily be. under¬
stood : for it differs from the microscope only in this,
that the object is placed at so great a distance from it,
that the rays of the same pencil flowing from the object,
may be considered as falling parallel upon the object-
glass } and therefore the image made by that lens is con-
pi, sidered as coincident with its focus of parallel rays.
ccclxxKvii. I. This will appear very plain from fig. 4. in which
fig. 12. AB is the object emitting the several pencils of rays
A c of, B c d, &c. but supposed to be at so great a di¬
stance from the object-glass, c d, that the rays of the
same pencil may be considered as parallel to each other j
they are therefore supposed to be collected into their
respective foci at the points m and p, situated at the fo-
' cal distance of the object-glass c d. Here they form an
image E, and crossing each other proceed diverging to
the eye-glass hg ; which being placed at its own focal
distance from the points m and p, the rays of each pen¬
cil, after passing through that glass, will become paral¬
lel among themselves but the pencils themselves will
converge considerably with respect to one another, even
so as to cross at e, very little farther from the glass g h
than its focus 5 because, when they entered the glass,
their axes were almost parallel, as coming through the
object-glass at the point k, to whose distance the breadth
of the eye-glass in a long telescope bears very small pro¬
portion. So that the place of the eye will be nearly at
the focal distance of the eye-glass, and the rays of each
respective pencil being parallel among themselves, and
their axes crossing each other in a larger angle than
they would do if the object were to be seen by the na¬
ked eye, vision will be distinct, and the object will ap-
„ pear magnified.
/ts magni- The magnifying power in this telescope is as the fo-
iyingpower, cal length of the object-glass to the focal length of the
eye-glass.
In order to prove this, we may consider the angle
A A: B as that under which the object would be seen by
the naked eye •, for in considering the distance of the
object, the length of the telescope may be omitted, as
bearing no proportion to it. Now the angle under
which the object is seen by means of the telescope is
g e h, which is to the other A A: B, or its equal g k h, as
the distance from the centre of the object-irlass to that
of the eye-glass. The angle, therefore, which an ob¬
ject subtends to an eye assisted by a telescope of this
kind, is to that under which it subtends to the naked
3
I CS. PartlH
eve as the focal length of the object-glass to the focal Optical Ir-
length of the ^ye-glass. -
It is evident from the figure, that the visible area,
or space which can be seen at one view, when we look
through this telescope, depends on the breadth ot the
eye-glass, and not of the object-glass ; tor it the eye¬
glass be too small to receive the rays g m, p n, the ex ¬
tremities of the object could not have been seen at all :
a larger breadth of the object-lass conduces only to the
rendering each point of tbe image more luminous, by
receiving a larger pencil ot rays trom each point ot the
object. . 2Sl
It is in this telescope as in the compound microscope, Objects ,
where we see not the object itself, but only its •e™tl“
CED : now that image being inverted with respect to • |
the object, because the axis of the pencils that flow
from the object cross each other at kf objects seen
through a telescope of this kind necessarily appear in-
verted.
This is a circumstance not at all regarded by astro¬
nomers : but for viewing objects upon the earth, it is
convenient that the instrument should represent them m Plate
their natural posture ; to which use the telescope with cccW
three eye-glasses, as represented fig. 13. is peculiarly 0
adapted. 1 -t
AB is the object sending out the several pencils
A c d, B c d, &c. which passing through the object-
glass c d, are collected into their respective foci in CD, 25: |
where they form an inverted image. From this they Common
proceed to the first eye-glass ef, whose focus being atje^,
/, the rays of each pencil are rendered parallel among s])(ws obJ
themselves, and their axes, which were nearly paralleljects eret
before, are made to converge and cross each other:
the second eye-glass g Zi, being so placed that its focus
shall fall upon m, renders the axes of the pencils which
diverge from thence parallel, and causes the rays of
each, which were parallel among themselves, to meet
again at its focus EF on the other side, where they
form a second image inverted with respect to the for¬
mer, but erect with respect to the object. Now this
image being seen by the eye at a b through the eye¬
glass i k, affords a direct representation of the object,
and under the same angle that the first image CD
■would have appeared, had the eye been placed at /, sup¬
posing the eye-glasses to be ot equal convexity j and
therefore the object is seen equally magnified in this as
in the former telescope, that is, as the focal distance of
the object-glass to that of any one of the-glasses, and
appears erect. 253
2. The Galilean Telescope with the concave eye-glass Galilean
. 1 r n telescope,
is constructed as follows. plate
AB is an object sending forth the pencils of ray9 ccciXXxvih
g hi, kl m, &c. which, after passing through the ob- fig. 1.
ject-glass c d, tend towards eY.J (where we shall sup¬
pose "the focus of it to be), in order to form an inverted
image there as before j but in their way to it are made
to pass through the concave glass n 0, so placed that its
focus may fall upon E, and consequently the rays of
the several pencils which were converging towards those
respective focal points <?, E,/, will be rendered paralle],
but the axes of those pencils crossing each other at I ,
and diverging from thence, will be rendered more di¬
verging, as represented in the figure. Now these rays
entering the pupil of an eye, will form a large and di¬
stinct image a b upon the retina, which will be inverted
254
Vlagnify-
ig power.
Plate
Part III. O P T
Optical In-with respect to the object, because the axis of the pen-
stmments cils cross in F. The object of course will be seen erect
—v—and the angle under which it will appear will be equal
to that which the lines a F, b F, produced back through
the eye-glass, form at F.
It is evident, that the less the pupil of the eye is, the
less is the visible area seen through a telescope of this
kind; for a less pupil would exclude such pencils as
proceed from the extremities of the object AB, as is
evident from the figure. Ibis inconvenience renders
this telescope unfit for many uses; and is only to be re¬
medied by the telescope with the convex eye-glasses,
where the rays which form the extreme parts of the
image are brought together in order to enter the pupil
of the eye, as explained above.
It is apparent also, that the nearer the eye is placed
to the eye-glass of this telescope, the larger is the area
seen through it; for, being placed close to the glass,
as in the figure, it admits rays that come from A and
B, the extremities of the object, which it could not if
it was placed farther off.
The degree of magnifying in this telescope is in the
same proportion with that in the other, viz. as the fo¬
cal distance of the object glass is to the focal distance
of the eye-glass.
For there is no other difference but tins, viz. that as
the extreme pencils in that telescope were made to con-
aclmvii. verge and form the angle g c b or i n k (fig. 13.), these
Plate are now made to diverge and form the angle a F b
scclmviii. (fig. 1.) ■ which angles, if the concave glass in one has
an equal refractive power with the convex one in the
other, will be equal, and therefore each kind will exhi¬
bit the object magnified in the same degree.
There is a defect in all these kinds of telescopes,
not to he remedied in a single lens by any means what¬
ever, which was thought only to arise from the sphe¬
rical aberration of the object-glass. But it was dis¬
covered by Sir Isaac Newton, that the imperfection of
this sort of telescope, so far as it arises from the sphe¬
rical form of the glasses, bears little proportion to that
which is owing to the different refrangihility of light.
This diversity in the refraction of rays is about a 28th
part of the whole; so that the object-glass of a tele¬
scope cannot collect the rays which flow from any one
point in the object into less space than a circle whose
diameter is about the 56th part of the breadth of the
Plate glass.
pclsmili, To show this, let AB represent a convex lens, and
let CDF be a pencil of rays flowing from the point D ;
let H be the point at which the least refrangible rays
are collected to a focus ; and I, that where the most
refrangible concur. Then, if IH be the 28th part of
EH, IK will be a proportionable part of EC (the tri¬
angles HIK and HEC being similar) : consequently
LK will be the 28th part of FC. But MN will be the
least space into which the rays will be collected, as ap¬
pears by their progress represented in the figure. Now
MN is but about half of KL ; and therefore it is about
the 56th part of tlie breadth of that part of the glass
through which the rays pass; which was to he shown.
Since therefore each point of the object will be re¬
presented in so large a space, and the centres of those
spaces will be contiguous, because the points in the
object the rays flow from are so; it is evident, that
the image ©f an-object made by such a glass must be a
I C s. 275
most confused representation, though it does not appear Optical In-
so when viewed through an eye-glass that magnifies in struments.
a moderate degree ; consequently the degree of magni- »■*"" *
tying in the eye-glass must not be too great with re¬
spect to that of the object-glass, lest the confusion be¬
come sensible.
Notwithstanding this imperfection, a dioptrical te¬
lescope may be made to magnify in any given degree,
provided it be of sufficient length ; for the greater the
focal distance of the object-glass is, the less may be
the proportion which the local distance of the eye-glass
may hear to that of the object-glass, without render- 2
ing the image obscure. Thus, an object-glass, whose Refracting
focal distance is about four feet, will admit of an eye-te^esc°pes
glass whose focal distance shall be little more than an magnify *'*
inch, and consequently will magnify almost 48 times ; foThdr'01*
but an object-glass of 40 feet focus will admit of an kngtli!'
eye-glass of only four inches focus, and will therefore
magnify 120 times ; and an object-glass of too feet
focus will admit of an eye-glass of little more than six-
inches focus, and will therefore magnify almost 200
times.
The reason of this disproportion in their several de
grees of magnifying may be explained thus : Since the
diameter of the spaces, into which rays flowing from
the several points of an object arc collected, are as the
breadth of an object-glass, it is evident that the degree
of confusedness in the image is as the breadth of that
glass ; for the degree of confusedness will only be as
the diameters or breadth of those spaces, and not as the
spaces themselves. Now the focal length of the eye¬
glass, that is, its power of magnifying, must be as that
degree ; for, if it exceeds it, it will render the confused¬
ness sensible ; and therefore it must be as the breadth
or diameter of the object-glass. The diameter of the
object-glass, which is as the square root of its aperture
or magnitude, must be as the square root of the power
of magnifying in the telescope; for unless the aper¬
ture itself he as the power of magnifying, the image
will want light: the square root of the power of mag¬
nifying will he as the square root of the focal distance
of the object-glass; and therefore the focal distance
of the eye-glass must be only as the square root of
that of the object-glass. So that in making use of an
object-glass of a longer focus, suppose, than one that
is given, you are not obliged to apply an eye-glass of
a proportionably longer focus than what would suit
the given object-glass, but such a one only whose fo¬
cal distance shall be to the focal distance of that which
will suit the given object-glass, as the square root of
the focal length of the object-glass you make use of,
is to the square root of the focal length of the given
one. And this is the reason that longer telescopes
are capable of magnifying in a greater degree than
shorter ones, without rendering the object confused or
coloured.
Upon these principles the following new table, taken
from the appendix to Ferguson’s Lectures, vol. ii.
p. 471. second edition, has been computed. It is founded
on a telescope of Huygens, mentioned in his Astroscopia
Compendiat'ia, which had an object-glass 34 feet in fo¬
cal length, and which bore an eye-glass of 2-§ inches fo¬
cal distance, and therefore magnified 163 times. The
table for refracting telescopes, which has been given by
preceding optical writers, was copied from Smith’s Op-
M m 2 1 tics,
276
0 v
Optical In-tics, as the production of the celebrated Huygens,
struments. while it was calculated only by the editors of his Riop-
' ,l" ■1 tries, from a telescope made by that celebrated op¬
tician; which, however, seems to have been inferior to
that which is the foundation of the following table.
The table is suited toRhinland measure-, but the second
and third columns may be converted into English mea¬
sure by dividing them by .7, the focal distances of the
object-glasses being supposed English feet.
TICS.
Part III
A New Table of the apertures, focal lengths, and
magnifying power of ref'acting telescopes.
Focal length
of the
object-glass.
Feet.
Sine or aper¬
ture of the
eye-glass.
Focal distance
of the
eye-
inch. Dec.
9
10
r3
l5
20
25
3°
35
40
45
5°
55
60
70
80
0.65
1.03
1.3°
i-45
1.61
1.79
1.96
2.14
2.20
2.32
2.63
2.8 r
Magnifying
Power.
Inch. Dec.
90
IOO
200
300
400
500
3- 31
3*73
4.01
4- 34
4.64
4.92
c.20
5.48
5- 71
6.16
6.58
7.02
7-39
10.41
12.89
14.72
16.52
0.50
0.62
o-75
0.87
1.00
1.07
1- i5
1.21
1.30
1.38
1.58
1.70
i*95
2.15
2.40
2.58
2.76
2- 93
3.08
3.22
3- 36
3.64
3- 9°
4.12
4- 35
6.17
7-52
8.71
9-71
Times.
28
39
48
55
60
67
73
77
83
87
$
123
i39
i5°
163
174
184
i95
205
214
231
246
262
276
389
479
551
618
Sect. VI. On Achromatic Telescopes.
Th 'Shn incollveniency of very long telescopes is so great,
perfections that different attempts have been made to remove it.
remedied Of these, the most successful have been by Dollond and
by Dollond ]31air- and the general principles upon which these emi-
and Blair * • i 11 c  j .1—t:-
3-
nent opticians proceeded have been mentioned in the his¬
torical part of this article, and in the preceding section.
A fuller account of Dr Blair’s discovery will be seen in
the Transactions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh ;
and of Dollond’s, it may be sufficient to observe, in ad¬
dition to what has been alx-eady said, that the object-
glasses of his telescopes are composed of three distinct
lenses, two convex and one concave j of which the con¬
cave one is placed in the middle, as is represented in
fig. 3. where a and e show the two convex lenses, and Optical In
b b the concave one, which is by the British artists ^rument^
placed in the middle. The two convex ones are made T
of London crown glass, and the middle one of white
flint glass; and they are all ground to spheres of dif¬
ferent radii, according to the refractive powers of the
different kinds of glass and the intended focal distance
of the object-glass of the telescope. According to Bos-
covich, the focal distance of the parallel rays for the
concave lens is one-half, and for the convex glass one-
third of the combined focus. When put together, they
refract the rays in the following manner. Let a b, a 6,1 ig 4-
be two red rays of the sun’s light falling parallel on
the first convex lens c. Supposing there was no other
lens present but that one, they would be converged
into the lines be, be, and at last meet in the focus q.
Let the lines g h, g h, represent two violet rays falling
on the surface ot the lens. T hese are also refracted,
and will meet in a focus *, but as they have a greater
degree of refrangibility than the red rays, they must
of consequence converge more by the same power ol xe-
fraction in the glass, and meet sooner in a focus, sup¬
pose at r.—Let now the concave lens d r/ be placed in
such a manner as to intercept all the rays before they
come to their focus. Were this lens made of the same
materials, and ground to the same radius with the con¬
vex one, it would have the same power to cause the lays
diverge that the former had to make them converge. !u
this case, the red rays would become parallel, and move
on in the line 00,00: But the convex lens, being made
of flint glass, and upon a shorter radius, has a greatei
refractive power, and therefore they diverge a little al¬
ter they come out of it j and if no third lens was intei-
posed, they would proceed diverging in the lines opt,
opt; but, by the interposition of the third lens 0 v 0,
thev are again made to converge, and meet in a focus
somewhat "more distant than the former, as at x. By
the concave lens the violet rays are also refracted^and
made to diverge J but having a greater degree of refran¬
gibility, the same power of refraction makes them di¬
verge somewhat more than the red ones $ and thus, if
no third lens was interposed, they would proceed in such
lines as / m n, l m n. Now as the differently Coloured
rays fall upon the third lens with different degrees of
divergence, it is plain, that the same power of refraction
in that lens will operate upon them in such a manner as
to bring them all together to a focus very nearly at the
same point. The red rays, it is true, require the great¬
est power of refraction to bring them to a focus 5 but
they fall upon the lens with the least degree of diver¬
gence. The violet rays, though they require the least
power of refraction, yet have the greatest degree of di¬
vergence *, and thus all meet together in the point x,
or nearly so.
But, though we have hitherto supposed the refraction
of the concave lens to be greater than that of the con- p]atc
vex ones, it is easy to see how the errors occasioned by ccclxxxw
the first lens may be corrected by it, though it should V 5'
have even a less power of refraction than the convex
Thus, let ab, ab, be two rays of red light lalling
upon the convex lens c, and refracted into the focus q;
let alsog h, g h, be two violet rays converged into a fo¬
cus at r ; it is not necessary, in order to their conver¬
gence into a common focus at x, that the concave lens
should make them divei'ge: it is sufficient if the glass
ba‘s
Pai t BI. OPT
Optical In-^ias a Power dispersing the violet rays somewhat more
rtrument'. than the red ones j and many kinds have this power of
dispersing some kinds of rays, without a very great
power of refraction. It is better, however, to have the
object-glass composed of three lenses j because there is
then another correction of the aberration by means of
the third lens, and it might be impossible to find two
lenses, the errors of which would exactly correct each
other. It is also easy to see, that the efiect may be the
same whether the concave glass is a portion of the same
sphere with the others or not; the effect depending upon
a combination of certain circumstances, of which there is
an infinite variety.
By means of this correction of the errors arising from
the different refrangibility of the rays of light, it is pos¬
sible to shorten refracting telescopes considerably, and
yet leave them equal magnifying powers. The reason
of this is, that the errors arising from the object-glass
being removed, those which are occasioned by the eye¬
glass are inconsiderable : for the error is always in pro¬
portion to the length ol the locus in any glass •, and in
very long telescopes it becomes exceedingly great, being
no less than -g-g-th of the whole ^ but in glasses ot a few
Fig. 5. inches focus it becomes trifling. Refracting telescopes,
which go by the name of Dollond's, are therefore now
constructed in the following manner. Let AB repre¬
sent an object-glass composed of three lenses as above
described, and converging the rays i, 2, 3, 4, &c. to a
very distant focus as at x. By means of the interposed
lens CD, however, they are converged to one much
nearer, as at y, where an image of the object is formed.
The rays diverging from thence fall upon another lens
EF, where the pencils are rendered parallel, and an
eye placed near that lens would see the object magnified
and very distinct. To increase the magnifying powrer
still more, however, the pencils thus become parallel are
made, to fall upon another at GH ; by which they are
again made to converge to a distant focus: but, being
intercepted by the lens IK, they are made to meet at the
nearer one % ; whence diverging to LM, they are again
rendered parallel, and the eye at N sees the object very
distinctly.
From an inspection of the figure it is evident, that
Dollond’s telescope thus constructed is two telescopes
combined together; the first eryling with the lens EF,
and the second with LM. In the first we do not per¬
ceive the object itself, but the image of it formed at y ;
and in the second we perceive only the image of that
image formed at «. Such telescopes are nevertheless
exceedingly distinct, and represent objects so clearly as
to be preferred, in viewing terrestrial things, even to
reflectors. The latter indeed have greatly the advan¬
tage in their powers of magnifying, but they are much
deficient in point of light. Much more light is lost by
reflection than by refraction : and as in these telescopes
the light must unavoidably suffer two reflections, a great
deal of it is lost j nor is this loss counterbalanced by the
greater aperture which these telescopes will bear, which
enables them td receive -a. greater quantity of light than
the refracting ones. The metals of reflecting telescopes
also are very much subject to tarnish, and require much
more dexterity to clean them than the glasses of refrac¬
tors •, which makes them more troublesome and expen¬
sive, though for making discoveries in tire heavens they
ICS. !
are undoubtedly tile only proper Instruments tvbioli h
freen hitherto constructed.
277
ave Optical In¬
stillments.
II. The Reflecting Telescope.
The inconveniences arising from the great length ofNewtonian
retracting telescopes, before the discovery of the achro-te^cscoPe’
matic telescope, are sufficiently obvious j and these, to¬
gether with the difficulties occasioned by the different
refrangibility of light, induced Sir Isaac Newton to turn
his attention to the subject of reflection, and endeavour
to lealize the ideas ot himself and others concerning the
possibility of constructing telescopes upon that princi-
P‘e- Ike instrument which he contrived is represented,
fig. 7. where ABCD is a large tube, open at AD and Fin-. 7;
closed at BC, and of a length at least equal to the di¬
stance of the focus from the metallic spherical concave
speculum GH placed at the end BC. The rays EG,
EH,&c. proceeding from a remote object PE, intersect
one. another somewhere before they enter the tube, so
that EG, e are those that come from the lower part
of the object, and/EH from its upper part: these
rays after tailing on the speculum GH, will be reflected
so as to converge and meet in m n, where they will form
a perfect image ot the object.——But as this image can¬
not be seen by the spectator, they are intercepted by a
small plane metallic speculum KK, intersecting theaxis
at an angle of 45°, by which the rays tending to m n
will be reflected towards a hole LL in the side of the
tube, and the image will he less distinct, because some
of the rays which would otherwise fall on the concave
speculum GH, are intercepted by the plane speculum :
nevertheless it will appear in a considerable degree di¬
stinct, because the aperture AD of the tube, and the
speculum GH, are large. In the lateral hole LL is fix¬
ed a convex lens, whose focus is at S ^; and therefore
this lens will refract the rays that proceed from any point
ol the image, so as at their exit they will be parallel,
and those that proceed from the extreme points S 7 will
converge after refraction, and form an angle at O, where
the eye is placed ; which will see the image S 7, as if it
were an object through the lens LL j consequently
the object will appear enlarged, inverted, bright, and
distinct. In LL lenses of difi’erent convexities may
be placed, which by being moved nearer to the image
or farther from it, would represent the object more or
less magnified, provided that the surface of the speculum
GH be of a perfectly spherical figure. If, in the room
ol one lens LL, three lenses be disposed in the same
manner with the three eye-glasses of the refracting te¬
lescope, the object will appear erect, but less distinct
than when it is observed with one lens. 2c;8
On account of the position of the eye in this telescope, it New finder-
is extremely difficult to direct the instrument towards any fo.r Newto-
object. Huygens, therefore, first thought of adding to itman tele"
a small refracting telescope, the axis of which is parallel to SC°pe’
that of the reflector. This is called a Jinder or director.
When the Newtonian telescope is large, and placed upon
its lower end to view bodies in great altitudes, the com¬
mon finder can be of no use, from the difficulty of get¬
ting the eye to the eye-piece. On this account Dr
Brewster proposes (Appendix to Ferguson’s Lectures,
vol. ii p. 478.) to bend the tube of the finder to a right
angle, and place a plane mirror at the angular point, so
as to throw the image above the upper part of the tube
that
278
OPTICS.
Part III
Vlate
ccclxxxix
%• 3*
2J9 .
PrTagnifying
Optical la-ttat the eye-piece of tl« finJer may he “ ““ w P«e-
stmmcnts sible to the eye-piece of the telescope. .
' ' v "" 1 part where the plain mirror is to be fixe , 81011
placed as near as possible to the focal image, m order
that only a small part of the finder may stand above the
tube j and in this way the eye can be transferred wi 1
the greatest facility from the one eye-piece to the other.
The advantages of this construction will be understood
from fig. 3. Plate CCCLXXXIX. where 11 is part
of a Newtonian telescope, D the eye-piece, and Al.t,
the finder. The image formed by the object-glass A is
reflected upwards by the plain mirror B, placed at an
angle of 45° with the axis - of the tube, and the image
is viewed with the eye-glass AC. Those who have
been in the habit of using the Newtonian telescope with
the common finder will be sensible of the convenience
resulting from this contrivance.
Magnifying In order to determine the magnifying power ot this
power of telescope, it is to be considered that the plane speculum
fltZT KK is of no use in this respect. Let us then suppose
telescopes. ^ ^ F0Ceeding from the object coincides with
Plate the axis GLIA of the lens and speculum j let 6 6 be
ccclxxxviii. another ray proceeding from the lower extreme 0 ie
% . object, and passing through the focus I of the speculum
KH : this will be reflected in the direction Ol d, paral¬
lel to the axis G L A, and falling on the lens dhd, will
be refracted to G j so that G L will be equal to LI,
and dG—d I. To the naked eye the object would ap¬
pear under the angle I b izzb I A ; but by ^
telescope it appears under the angle riGL—«> L—i( J •
and the angle I dt is to the angle I £ * :: I & : I d; con¬
sequently the apparent magnitude by the telescope is 0
that by the naked eye as the distance of the focus ot
the speculum from the speculum, to the distance of the
focus of the lens from the lens.
The following new table of the apertures and magm-
fying power of Newtonian telescopes is taken from the
Appendix to Ferguson’s Lectures, vol. 11. p. 400. It
is founded on a Newtonian telescope constructed by
Hadley, in which the focal length of the great speculum
was three feet three inches, and the magnifying power
226. Its aperture varied from three and a hair to tout
and a half inches according to the want of brightness
in the objects to be examined. The first column contains
the focal length of the great speculum m feet, ami the
second its linear aperture in inches, and hundredths ot
an inch. The third and fourth columns contain bir
Isaac Newton’s numbers, by means of which the aper¬
tures of anv kind of reflecting telescopes may be easily
computed. " The fifth column contains the local length
of the eye-glasses in thousandths of an inch, and the
sixth contains the magnifying power of the instrument.
Optical la.
A NEJF TABLE of the apertures and magnifying stnimcms.
power of Newtonian Telescopes. v—-''
Focal
length of
the con¬
cave spe¬
culum.
Feet.
Aperture
of the con¬
cave spe¬
culum.
Inch. Dec.
Sir Isaac New¬
ton’s numbers.
Focal
length of
the eye¬
glass.
Aperture
of the
speculum
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
3
*4
J5
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
i-34
2.23
3-79
S-l4
6.36
7-51
8.64
9.67
10.44
11.69
12.65
.14.50
I5*4I
16.25
17.11
17.98
18.82
19.63
20.45
21.24
22.06
22.85
23.62
24.41
Focal
length
of the
eye-glass
IOO
168
283
383
476
562
645
800
946
1084
1345
I59I
Inch. Dec
1824
100
119
141
*57
168
178
186
200
2X2
221
238
251
263
Magnify¬
ing
power.
Times.
0.107
0.129
0.152
0.168
0.181
0.192
0.200
O.209
0.2l8
0.222
0 228
0.233
O.238
O.243
O.248
0.252
O.256
0.260
O.264
0.268
O.27I
O.274
O.277
O.280
O.283
56
93
158
214
265
3r3
360
403
445
487
527
566
604
642
677
7>3
749
784
818
852
885
9x9
952
984
1017
. ido
Let TYYT be a brass tube, in which L /</D is aoegoriaa
metallic concave speculum, perforated in the middle attelcscope.
X‘, and EF a less concave mirror, so fixed by the aim ccckMviii
or strong wire RT, which is moveable by means of a f|g
long screw on the outside of the tube, as to be moved
nearer to or farther from the larger speculum L l (ID,
its axis being kept in the same line with that ot the
great one. Let AB represent ft very remote object,
from each part of which issue pencils of rays, e. g. cd,
CD, from A the upper extreme of the object, and ID,
i l, from the lower part B j the rays IL, CD, from the
extremes crossing one another before they enter the
tube. These rays falling upon the larger mirror L D,
ure reflected from it into the focus X H, where they
form an inverted image of the object A B, as m the
Newtonian telescope. From this image the rays, issu¬
ing as from an object, fall upon the small mirror El,
the centre of which is at e; so that after reflection thej
would meet in their foci atQQ, and there form an erect
image. But since an eye at that place could see but a
small part of an object, in order to bring ray8/™*
more distant parts of it into the pupil, they are inter¬
cepted by the plano-convex lens MN, by which mean
a smaller erect image is formed at P V, which is viewed
Part III.
Optical ’In from the meniscus SS by an eye at O.
OPTICS.
4
This meniscus
etniments both makes the rays of each pencil parallel and mag-
1 Unifies the image PV. At the place of this image all
the foreign rays are intercepted by the perforated parti¬
tion ZZ. For the same reason the hole near the eye
O is very narrow. When nearer objects are viewed by
this telescope, the small speculum EF is removed to a
greater distance from the larger LD, so that the second
image may be always formed in PV; and this distance
is to be adjusted (by means of the screw on the outside
of the great tube) according to the form of the eye of
the spectator. It is also necessary, that the axis of the
telescope should pass through the middle of the specu¬
lum EF, and its centre, the centre of the speculum
LL, and the middle of the hole X, the centres of the
lenses MN, SS, and the hole near O. As the hole X
in the speculum LL can reflect none of the rays issuing
from the object, that part of the image which corre¬
sponds to the middle of the object must appear to the
observer more dark and confused than the extreme
parts of it. Besides, the speculum EF will also inter¬
cept many rays proceeding from the object; and there¬
fore unless the aperture TT be large, the object must
appear in some degree obscure.
In the best reflecting telescopes, the focus of the
small mirror is never coincident with the focus of the
great one, where the lirst image KH is formed, but
a little beyond it (with respect to the eye), as at ?i;
the consequence of which is, that the rays of the peii'-
cils will not be parallel after reflection from the small
mirror, but converge so as to meet in points about
QyQ, where they would form a larger upright image
than PV, if the glass R was not in their way ; and
this image might be viewed by means of a single eye¬
glass properly placed between the image.and the eye;
but then the field of view would be less, and conse¬
quently not so pleasant; for which reason, the glass
R is still retained, to enlarge the scope or area of the
field.
To find the magnifying power of this telescope;
mutiply the focal distance of the great mirror by the
distance of the small mirror from the image next the
eye, and multiply the focal distance of the small mirror
by the focal distance of the eye-glass ; then divide the
former product by the latter, and the quotient will ex¬
press the magnifying power. For a table of the aper¬
tures and powers of Gregorian telescopes, see Appendix
to Ferguson’s Lectures, vol. ii. p. 472, 473-
One great advantage of the reflecting telescope is;
that it will admit of an eye-glass of a much shorter
focal distance than a refracting telescope ; and con¬
sequently it will magnify so much the more : for the
rays are not coloured by reflection from a concave mir.
ror, if it be ground to a true figure, as they are by
passing through a convex glass, let it be ground ever
so truei
The nearer an object is to the telescope, the more
its pencils of rays will diverge before they fall upon
the great mirror, and therefore they will be the longer
of meeting in points after reflection ; so that the first
image KH will be formed at a greater distance from
the large mirror, when the object is near the tele¬
scope, than when it is very remote. But as this image
must be formed farther from the small mirror than its
principal focus nt this mirror must bp always set at a
279
greater distance from the larger one, in viewing near Optical In-
objects, than in viewing remote ones. And this is done struments.
by turning the screw on the outside of the tube, until v——^
the small mirror he so adjusted, that the object (or
rather its image) appears perfect.
In looking through any telescope towards an object,
we never see the object itself, but only that image of
it which is formed next the eye in the telescope. For
if a man holds his finger or a stick between his bare
eye and an object, it will hide part (if not the whole)
ot the object from his view : But if he ties a stick
across the mouth of a telescope before the object-glass,
it will hide no part of the imaginary object he saw
through the telescope before, unless it covers the whole
mouth of the tube : for all the effect will he, to make
the object appear dimmer, because it intercepts part
ol the rays. Whereas, if he puts only a piece of wire
across the inside of the tube, between the eye-glass and
his eye, it will hide part of the object which he thinks
he sees ; which proves, that he sees not the real object,
but its image. This is also confirmed by means of the
small mirror EF, in the reflecting telescope, which
is made of opaque metal, and stands directly between
the eye and the object towards which the telescope
is turned ; and will hide the whole object from the eye
at O, if the two glasses ZZ and SS are taken out of the
tube. 25s-
If the small mirror of the preceding instrument be Cassegrai--
convex instead of concave, it is then called the Cihy.ye’-n,an te e~ "
graifiian telescope. As the small mirror is in this caseSC°*>C‘
placed between the great speculum and its focus, a Cas-
segrainian telescope will be shorter than a Gregorian one
of the same magnifying power by twice the real length
of the small mirror. For a table of the apertures, &c.
of this instrument, see Appendix to Ferguson’s Lec¬
tures, vol. ii. p 474, 475.
| 261
i s magni-
rins
! nver.
Sect. VII. On the Merits of different Microscopes and
Telescopes.
263
The advantages arising from the use of microscopes Merits cf
and telescopes depend, in the first place, upon their pro- m*cro-
perty of magnifying the minute parts of objects, so ^kscopef
that they can by that means be more distinctly viewed compared
by the eye; and, secondly, upon their throwing more
light into the pupil of the eye than what is done with¬
out them. The advantages arising from the magnify¬
ing power would be> extremely limited, if they were not
also accompanied by the -latter : for if the same quan¬
tity of light is spread over- a large portion of surface,
it becomes proportionably diminished in force ; and
therefore the objects, though magnified, appear pro¬
portionably dim. Thus, though any .magnifying glass
should enlarge the diameter of the object 10 times, and
consequently magnify the surface 100 times, yet if the
focal distance of the glass was about eight inches (pro¬
vided this was possible), and its diameter only about the
size of the pupil of the eye, the object would appear
100 times more dim when we looked through the glass,
than when we beheld it with our naked eyes; and this, .
even on a supposition that the glass transmitted all the
light which fell upon it, which no glass eau do. But
if the focal distance of the glass was only four inches,
though its diameter remained as before, the inconveni¬
ence would be vastly diminishedj because the glass could.
then.
280 o p r
Mcrjts of then be placed twice -as-near the. ofcject as before, anil
Micro- consequently would receive four times as many rays as
scopes and former case, and therefore we would see it
^commred* oouch brighter than before. Going on thus, still xli-
» ^ ■ minishing the focal distance of the glass, and keeping
its diameter as large as possible, we will perceive the
object more and more magnified, and at the same time
very distinct and bright. It is evident, however, that
with regard to optical instruments of the microscopic
kind, we must sooner or later arrive at a limit which
. cannot be passed. Ibis limit is formed by the follow
ing particulars. The quantity of light lost in passing
through the glass. 2. The diminution of the glass itsell,
by which it receives only a small quantity ot lays.
3. The extreme shoitness of the focal distance of great
magnifiers, whereby the free access of the light to the
object which we wish to view is impeded, and conse¬
quently the reflection of the light from it is weakened.
4. The aberrations of the rays, occasioned by their dif¬
ferent refrangibility.
To understand this more fully, as well as to see how
far these obstacles can be removed, let us suppose the
lens made of such a dull kind of glass that it transmits
only one half of the light which falls upon it. It is
evident that such a glass, of four inches focal distance,
and which magnifies the diameter of an lObjecti twice,
still supposing its own breadth equal to that of the
pupil of the eye, will show it four times magnified in
surface, but only half as bright as if it was seen by
the naked eye at the usual distance *, for the light
which falls upon the eye from the object at eight inches
distance, and likewise the surface of the object in its
natural sixe, being both represented by 1, the surface
of the magnified object will be 4, and the light which
makes that magnified object visible only 2: because
though the glass receives four times as much light as
the naked eye does at the usual .distance of distinct vision,
yet one half is lost in passing through the glass. 1 he
inconvenience in this respect can therefore.he removed
only ns far as it is possible to increase the clearness of
the glass, so that it shall transmit nearly all the rays
which fall upon it y and how far this can be done, hath
not yet been ascertained.
The second obstacle to the perfection of microscopic
glasses is the small size, ot great magnifiers, by which,
notwithstanding their near, approach to the object, they
receive a smaller quantity of rays than might be ex¬
pected. Thus suppose, a glass of only ^th of an
inch focal distance ; such a glass would increase the
visible diameter 80 times, and the surface 6400 times.
If the breadth of the glass could at the same time be
preserved as great as that ot the pupil of the eye,
which we, shall, -suppose Wths ot an inch, the object
would appear magnified 6400 times, at the same time
that every part of it would be as bright as it appears
to the naked eye. But if we suppose that this mag¬
nifying glass is only -^--tli of an inch m diametei, it
will then only receive ^th of the light which otherwise
would have fallen upon it ^ and therefore, instead of
communicating to the magnified object a quantity of
illumination equal to 6400, it would communicate on¬
ly one equal to 1600, and the magnified object would
appear four tunes as dim as it does to the naked eye.
This inconvenience, however, is still capable of being
removed, not indeed by increasing the diameter of the
2
1 c s. Part nil
lens, because this must he in proportion t« its focal di- Merit* oi
stance, but by throwing a greater quantity of light on Micro,
the object. Thus, in the above-mentioned example,
if four times the quantity of light which naturally falls
upon it could be thrown upon the object, it is plain t——y—.
that the reflection from it would be four times as great
as in the natural way 5 and consequently the magnified
image, at the same time that it was as many times
magnified as before,;would be as bright as when seen
by the naked eye. In transparent objects this can be
done very effectually by a concave speculum, as in the
reflecting microscope already described : but in opaque
objects the case is somewhat more doubtful j neither do
the contrivances for viewing these objects seem entirely
to make up for the deficiencies of the light from the
smallness of the lens and shortness of the focus.——
When a microscopic lens magnifies the diameter of an
object forty times, it hath then the utmost possible mag¬
nifying power, without diminishing the natural bright¬
ness of the object.
The third obstacle arises from the shortness of the
focal distance in large magnifiers : but in transparent
objects, where a sufficient quantity ot light is thrown
on the object from below, the inconvenience arises at
last from straining the eye, which must be placed nearer
the glass than it can well bear-, and this entirely super¬
sedes the use of magnifiers beyond a certain degree.
The fourth obstacle arises from the different refran-
gibility of the rays of light, and which frequently causes
such a deviation from truth in the appearances oi things
that many people have imagined themselves to have
made surprising discoveries, and have even published
them to the world : when in fact they have been only
as many optical deceptions, owing to the unequal re¬
fractions of the rays. For this there seems to he no
remedy, except the introduction of achromatic glasses
into microscopes as well as telescopes. How far this
is practicable, hath not yet been tried j but when these
glasses shall be introduced (if such introduction is prac¬
ticable,) microscopes will then undoubtedly have re¬
ceived their ultimate degree of perfection. _ 364 '
With regard to telescopes, those of the refractingDollond;
kind have evidently the advantage of all others, whereand^lail
the aperture is equal, and the aberrations of the rays^e]esc0p(
are corrected according to Mr Dollond’s method j ^superior
cause the image is not only more perfect, but a much others,
greater quantity of light is transmitted than what can
be reflected from the best materials hitherto known.
Unluckily, however, the imperfections of the glass set
a limit to these telescopes, as has been already ob¬
served, so that they cannot be made above thiee feet
and a half long. On the whole, therefore, the reflect¬
ing telescopes are preferable in this respect, that they
may be made of dimensions greatly superior •, by which
means they can both magnify to a greater degree,
and at the same time throw much more light into the
eye.
With regard to the powers of telescopes, however,
they are all of them exceedingly less than what we
would be apt to imagine from the number of times
which they magnify the object. Thus, when we
hear of a telescope which magnifies 20Q times, we
are apt to imagine, that, on looking at any distant ob¬
ject through it, we should perceive it as distinctly as
we would with our naked eye at the 2QOth part of
Part III. OPT
Merits of the distance. But this is by no means the case $
Micro- neither is there any theory capable of directing us in
scopes and j-],^ matter : we must therefore depend entirely on ev
i,erience-
The best method of trying the goodness of anv tele¬
scope is to observe how much farther otF you are able
to read with it than with the naked eye. But that all
deception may be avoided, it is proper to choose some¬
thing to be read where the imagination cannot give any
assistance, such as a table of logarithms, or something
which consists entirely of figures ; and hence the
truly useful power of the telescope is easily known.
In this way Mr Short’s large telescope, which magni¬
fies the diameter of objects 1200 times, is yet unable
to afford sufficient light for reading at more than 200
times the distance at which we can read with oitr naked
eye*
The Gre- With regard to the form of reflecting telescopes, it
gorian te- is now pretty generally agreed, that when the Gre-
lescope^su- g0rian ones are we]l constructed, they have the advan-
common1 ta?e t*10Se ^ie Newtonian form. One advantage
use to the evident at first sight is, that with the Gregorian tele-
Newtonian. scope an object is perceived by looking directly through
it, and consequently is found with much greater ease
than in the Newtonian telescope, where we mast look
into the side. The unavoidable imperfection of the spe¬
cula common to both, also gives the Gregorian an ad¬
vantage over the Newtonian form. Notwithstanding
the utmost care and labour of the workmen, it is found
impossible to give the metals either a perfectly sphe¬
rical or a perfectly parabolical form. Hence arises some
indistinctness of the image formed by the great specu¬
lum 5 which is frequently corrected by the little one,
provided they are properly matched. But if this is not
done, the error will be made much worse •, and hence
many of the Gregorian telescopes are far inferior to the
Newtonian ones; namely, when the specula have not
been properly adapted to each other. There is no me¬
thod by which the workman can know the specula which
will fit one another without a trial ; and therefore it is
necessary to have many specula ready made of each
sort, that in fitting up a telescope those may be chosen
which best suit each other.
The brightness of any object seen through a tele¬
scope, in comparison with its brightness when seen by
the naked eye, may in all eases be easily found by the
following formula. Let n represent the natural di¬
stance at which an object can be distinctly seen j and
let d represent its distance from the object-glass of the
instrument. Let m be the magnifying power of the
instrument; that is, let the visual angle subtended at
the eye by the object when at the distance «, and
viewed without the instrument, be to the visual angle
produced by the instrument as I to m. Let a be the
diameter of the object-glass, and p that of the pupil.
Let the instrument be so constructed, that no parts of
the pencils are intercepted for want of sufficient aper¬
tures of the intermediate glasses. Lastly, Let the
light lost in reflection or refraction be neglected.
The brightness of vision through the instrument will
be expressed by the fraction the brightness of na-
mpd1
tural vision being I. But although this fraction may
exceed unity, the vision through the instrument will not
Voi>. XV. Part I. +
1 ^ ^ 28l
be brighter than natural vision. For, when this is the Merits 0f
case, the pupil does not receive all the light transmitted Micro-
through the instrument. scopes and
In microscopes, n is the nearest limits of distinct vi- TdcscoP's
sion, nearly seven inches. But a difference in this cir- .
cumstance, arising from a difference in the eye, makes
no change in the formula, because m changes in the
same proportion with n.
In telescopes n and d may be reckoned equal, and
the formula becomes ——.
m p2
A view of the history and construction of tlie tele¬
scope is given in the article Achromatic Glasses, in
the Supplement.
Sect. VIII. Apparatus for Measuring the Intensity
of Light.
lhat some luminous bodies give a stronger, and
others a weaker light, and that some reflect more lieht
than otfiers, was always known j but no person, before
M. Bouguer hit upon a tolerable method of ascertain- VT. Bon¬
ing the proportion that two or more lights bear to qneguer’s con-
anotber. ihe methods he most commonly used weretdyanccs
the following. for measur-
He took two pieces of wood or pasteboard F.C aud^S*
CD 111 which he made (wo equal holes P and Q, over ccclxxxv.
whicn he drew pieces of oiled or white paper. Upon fig- 4.
these holes he contrived that the light of the different
bodies lie was comparing should fall ; while he placed
a third piece ol pasteboard FC, so as to prevent the two
lights iioni mixing with one another. Then placing
himself sometimes on one side, and sometimes on the
other, but generally on the opposite side of this instru¬
ment, with respect to the light, he altered their position
till the papers in the two holes appeared to be equally
enlightened. This being done, he computed the pro¬
portion of their light by the squares of the distances at
which the luminous bodies were placed from the objects.
II, for instance, the distances were as three and nine, he
concluded that the lights they gave were as nine and
eighty-one. Where any light was very faint, he some¬
times made use ol lenses, in order to condense it j and
he enclosed them in tubes or not as his particular appli¬
cation of them required.
To measure the intensity of light proceeding from
the heavenly bodies, or reflected from any part of the
sky, he contrived an instrument which resembles a kind
of portable camera obscura. He had two tubes, of
which the inner was black, fastened at their lower ex¬
tremities by a binge C. At the bottom of these tubes Fig. 5.
were two holes, R and S, three or four lines in diame¬
ter, covered with two pieces of fine white paper. The
two other extremities had each of them a circular aper¬
ture, an inch in diameter j and one of the tubes con¬
sisted of two, one of them sliding into the other, which
produced the same effect as varying the aperture at the
end. When this instrument is used, the observer has
his head, and the end of the instrument €, so covered,
that no light can fall upon his eye, besides that which ’
comes through (he two holes S and R, while an assist
ant manages the instrument, and draws out or shortens
the tube HE, as the observer directs. When the (wo
holes appear equally illuminated, the intensity of the
lights is judged to be inversely as the squares of the
tubes.
Nn
In
282
OPTICS.
Part III,,
Apparatus
for
Measuring
Iriglit.
Fig- 6.
Fig. 7.
In using this instrument, it is necessary that the ob-
iect should subtend an angle larger than the aperture A
or D, seen from the other end ot the tube ; lor, other¬
wise, the lengthening of the tube has no ellect. lo
avoid, in this case, making the instrument ot an incon¬
venient length, or making the aperture D too narrow,
he has recourse to another expedient. He constructs an
instrument, represented (fig. 6.), consisting ot two 0 -
iect-glasses, AE and DF, exactly equal, fixed 111 the
ends'of two tubes six or seven feet, or, in some cases,
30 or 12 feet long, and having their foci at the other
ends. At the bottoms of these tubes B, are two holes,
three or four lines in diameter, covered with a piece ot
white paper ; and this instrument is used exactly like
the former. .. . , .
If the two objects to be observed by this instrument
be not equally luminous, the light that issues from them
must be reduced to an equality, by diminishing the
aperture of one of the object-glasses ■, and then the re¬
maining surface of the two glasses will give the propor¬
tion of their lights. But for this purpose, the central
parts of the glass must be covered in the same propor¬
tion with the parts near the circumference, leaving the
aperture such as is represented (fig. 7.), because the
middle part of the glass is thicker and less transparent
than the rest. . . .
If all the objects to be observed he nearly in the sam^
direction, Bouguer remarks, that these two long tubes
may be reduced into one, the two object-glasses being
placed close together, and one eye-glass sufficing for
them both. The instrument will then be the same with
that of which he published an account in 1748, and
which he called a heliometer, or astrometer.^
. It is not, however, the absolute quantity, but only
" rn'i"; the intensity of the light that is measured these two
measure on-instruments, or the number of rays, in propo
ly the in- suvface of the luminous body j and it is ot great miport-
tensity of ance ti,at these two things be distinguished. Ihe in-
llSht tensity of light may be very great, when the quantity,
and its power of illuminating other bodies, may be
very small, on account of the smallness of its surface *,
or the contrary may be the case, when the surface is
Having explained these methods which M. Bouguer
took to measure the different proportions of light, we
shall subjoin a few examples of his application ol
them. . . ,
It is observable, that when a person stands in a place
where there is a strong light, fie cannot distinguish ob¬
jects that are placed in the shade 5 nor can he see any
thing upon going immediately into a place where there
is very little light. It is plain, therefore, that the ac¬
tion of a strong light upon the eye, and also the impres¬
sion which it leaves upon it, makes it insensible to the
effect of a weaker light. M. Bouguer had the curiosity
to endeavour to ascertain the proportion between the in¬
tensities of the two lights in this case •, and by throwing
the light of two equal candles upon a board, he found
that the shadow made by intercepting the fight of one
of them, could not be perceived by his eye, upon the
place enlightened by the other, at little more than eight
times the distance} from whence he concluded, that
when one fight is eight times eight, or 64 times less
than another, its presence or absence will not be per¬
ceived. He allows, however, that the effect may be
267
These in¬
different on different eyes ; and supposes that theboun- Apparatus
daries in this case, with respect to different persons, tor
may he between 60 and oO. . . LHit.
Applying the two tubes ol his instrument, mentioned , ^ ,
above, to measure the intensity ol the light reflected
from different parts of the sky; he found that when the >
sim was 25 degrees high, the fight was four times strong¬
er at the distance of eight or nine degrees from his bo¬
dy, than it was at 31 or 32 degrees. But what struck
lam the most was to find, that when the sun is 15 or
20 decrees high, the fight decreases on the same pa-
rallel to the horizon to no or 120 degrees, and then
increases again to the place exactly opposite to the
SUThe fight of the sun, our author observes, is too
strong, and that of the stars too weak, to determine the
variation of their fight at different altitudes ; but as, 111
both cases, it must be in the same proportion with the
diminution of the fight of the moon in the same circum¬
stances, he made his observations on that luminary, and
found, that its fight at 190 16', is to its fight at 66 11 ,
as 1681 to 2500 ; that is, the one is nearly two thirds
of the other. He chose those particular altitudes, be- Grcat ya
cause they are those of the sun at the two solstices at riation of
Croisic where he then resided. When one limb of the the light of
moon touched the horizon of the sea its >#1 'vas MOO the
times less than at the altitude of 66u 11 . But this pro-
portion he acknowledges must be subject to many vac¬
ations, the atmosphere near the earth varying so much
in its density. From this observation he concludes,
that at a medium fight is diminished in the proportion
of about 2500 to 1681, in traversing 7469 toises of
dense air. 269
M. Bouguer also applied his instrument to the dit-Variation
ferent parts of the sun’s disk, and found that the centre in different
is considerably more luminous than the extremities of parts of t j
it. As near as he could make the observation, it ^ ^
was more luminous than a part of the disk ^ths ol pianets. j
the semidiameter from it, in the proportion ol 35 to
28; which, as he observes, is more than in the pro¬
portion of the sines of the angles ol obliquity. On the
other hand, he observes, that both the primary and se¬
condary planets are more luminous at their edges than
near their centres..
The comparison of the light of the sun anu moon is
a subject that has frequently exercised the thoughts ol
philosophers ; but we find nothing but random conjec¬
tures, before Bouguer applied his accurate measures in
this case. In general, the fight of the moon is ima¬
gined to bear a much greater proportion to that ot the
sun than it really does : and not only are the imagina¬
tions of the vulgar, but those of philosophers also, im¬
posed upon with respect to it. It was a great surprise
to M. de la Hire to find that he could not, by the help
of any burning mirror, collect the beams of the moon
in a sufficient quantity to produce the least sensible heat.
Other philosophers have since made the like attempts
with mirrors of greater power, though without any
greater success ; but this will not surprise us, when we
see the result of M. Bouguer’s observations on this sub-
. 270
ject. * 4-i
In order to solve this curious problem concerning the g(icr-s cal
comparison of the fight of the sun and moon, he com- cU]ation
pared each of them to that of a candle in a dark room, concernii
one in the day-time, and the other in the night follow-the bg^
mg,
Part III. OPT
Apparatus ing> when the moon was at her mean distance from the
for earth; and, after many trials, he concluded that the
Measuring hght of the sun is about 300,000 times greater than that
0 t le m00n> which is such a disproportion, that, at he
observes, it can be no wonder that philosophers have
had so little success in their attempts to collect the light
of the moon with burning glasses. For the largest"of
them will not increase the light 1000 times; which will
still leave the light of the moon, in the focus of the mir¬
ror, 300 times less than the intensity of the common
light of the sun.
To this account of the proportion of light which we
actually receive from the moon, it cannot be displeasing
to the reader, if we compare it with the quantity which
would have been transmitted to us from that opaque
body, if it reflected all the light it receives. Dr Smith
thought that he had proved, from two different consi¬
derations, that the light of the full moon would be to
our day-light as i to about 90,900, if no rays were lost
at the moon.
Dr Smith’s In the first place, he supposes that the moon enlight-
calculation. ened by the sun, is as luminous as the clouds are at a
medium. He therefore supposed the light of the sun to
he equal to that of a whole hemisphere of clouds, or as
many moons as would cover the surface of the heavens.
But on this Dr Priestley observes, that it is true, the
light of the sun shining perpendicularly upon any sur¬
face would be equal to the light reflected from the whole
hemisphere, if every part reflected all the light that fell
upon it; but the light that rvould in fact be received
from the whole hemisphere (part of it being received
obliquely) would be only one-half as much as would
be received from the whole hemisphere, if every part
of it shone directly upon the surface to be illumi¬
nated.
In his Remarks, par. 97. Dr Smith demonstrates his
method of calculation in the following manner.
Plate “Let the little circle <7/7/g- represent the moon’s
ccclxxxiv. body half enlightened by the sun, and the great circle
% 8. a e b, a spherical shell concentric to the moon, and
touching the earth; a b, any diameter of that shell per¬
pendicular to a great circle of the moon’s body, repre¬
sented by its diameter c d; e the place of the shell re¬
ceiving full moon light from the bright hemisphere^'dg.
Now, because the surface of the moon is rough like that
of the earth, we may allow that the sun’s rays, incident
upon any small part of it, with any obliquity, are re¬
flected from it every way alike, as if they were emitted.
And, therefore, if the segment d f shone alone, the
points «, e, would be equally illuminated by it; and
likewise if the remaining bright segment d g shone
alone, the points b e would be equally illuminated by
it. Consequently, if the light at the point a was in¬
creased by the light at &, it would become equal to the
lull moon light at e. And conceiving the same transfer
to be made from every point of the hemispherical sur¬
face hb 1 k to their opposite points in the hemisphere
ka e h, the former hemisphere would be left quite-dark,
and the latter would he uniformly illuminated with full
moon light; arising from a quantity of the sun’s light,
which immediately before its incidence on the moon,
would uniformly illuminate a circular plane equal to a
great circle of her body, called her disk. Therefore the
quantities of light being the same upon both surfaces,
tie density of the sun’s incident light is to the density of
I c s.
28
moon light, as that hemispherical surface h e k is to Apnaratu
the said disk ; that is, as any other hemispherical surface for
w lose centre is at the eye, to that part of it which the Mcasurins
moon s disk appears to possess very nearly, because it , Li^iit'
subtends but a small angle at the eye : that is, as ra- v~~”"
dn.s oi the hemisphere to the versed sine of the moon’s
apparent semidiameter, or as 10,000,000 to iic6^- or
as 90,400 to 1 ; taking the moon’s mean horizontal dia¬
meter to be 16' 7".
“ StrJct]y speaking, this rule compares moon light at
the earth with daylight at the moon; the medium of
which, at her quadratures, is the same as our day-lio-ht;
but is less at her full in the duplicate ratio of 26? to
366, or thereabout, that is, of the sun’s distances from
the earth and full moon; and therefore full moon light
would be to our day light as about 1 to 90,900, Ao
lays were lost at the moon.
“ Secondly, I say that full moon light is to any other
moon light as the whole disk of the moon to the part
that appears enlightened, considered upon a plane sur¬
face. lor now let the earth be at b, and let if/be Fig. 9.
perpendicular to/g, and gm to c d: then it is plain,
that g l is equal to d m; and that g / is equal to a
perpendicular section of the sun’s rays incident upon the
arch dg which at 6 appears equal to dm; the eye
being unable to distinguish the unequal distances of its
parts. In like manner, conceiving the moon’s surface
to consist of innumerable physical circles parallel to efdo
as represented at A, the same reason holds for every one
of these circles as for cfdg. It follows then, that the
bright part of the surface visible at b, when reduced to
a fiat as represented at B, by the crescent 7? t/y
wih lie equal and similar to a perpendicular section of all
the rays incident on that part, represented at C by the
crescent pg <jlp. Now the whole disk being in pro¬
portion to this crescent as the quantities of light inci¬
dent upon tiiem; and the light falling upon every rough
particle, being equally rarefied in diverging to the eye
at b, considered as equidistant from them all; it follmvs,
that full moon light is to this moon light as the whole
disk p d q c to the crescent p d q mp.
“ Therefore by compounding this ratio with that
in the former remark, day-light is to moon-light as the
surface of an hemisphere whose centre is at the eye, to
the part of that surface which appears to be possessed
by the enlightened part of the moon.” 2„„
Mr Michell made his computation in a much more Mr Mi-
simple and easy manner, and in which there is much chell’s csl-
loss danger of falling into any mistake. Considering the cu^at*oa•
distance of the moon from the sun, and that the density
of the light must decrease in the proportion of the square
of that distance, he calculated the density of the sun’s
light, at that distance, in proportion to its density at
the surface of the sun; and in this manner he found,
that if the moon reflected all the light it receives from
the sun, it would only he the 45,000th part of the light :
we receive from the greater luminary. Admitting,
therefore, that moon-light is only a 300,000th part of
the light of the sun, Mr Michell concludes, that it re¬
flects no more than between the 6th and 7th jiart of
what falls upon it.
Could Rumford, has constructed a photometer, in Rum ford s
which the shadows, instead of being thrown upon apkotomc-
paper spread out upon the wainscot, or side of theter
room, are projected upon the inside of the back part
Nn2 of
Plate
cccvxxxix
5-
O P T
of a Vvaodea box 7^ inches wide, 10J inches long,
and 31 inches deep, in the clear. The light is admitted
into it through two horizontal tubes in the Iront, placed
so as to form an angle of 6o° ; their axes meeting at the
centre of the field of the instrument. In the middle ot
the front of the box, between these two tubes, is an
opening through which is viewed the field ol the pho¬
tometer (see fig. 5.). This field is formed of a piece oi
white paper, which is not fastened immediately upon the
inside of the hack of the box, but is pasted upon a sma l
pane of very fine ground glass •, and this glass, thus covered,
is let down into a groove, made to receive it, in the back
of the box. The whole inside of the box, except the field
of the instrument, is painted of a deep black dead colour.
To the under part of the box is fitted a ball and socket,
j)Y which it is attached to a stand which supports it 5
and the top or lid of it is fitted with hinges, in order
that the box may he laid quite open, as often as it is
necessary to alter any part of the machinery it contains.
The count had found it very inconvenient to com¬
pare two shadows projected by the same cylinder, as
these were either necessarily too far from each other to
be compared with certainty, or, when they were near¬
er, were in part hid from the eye by the cylinder, lo
remedy this inconvenience, he now makes use ot two
cylinders, which are placed perpendicularly in the bot¬
tom of the box just described, in a line parallel to the
back part of it, distant from this hack 2tct inches, and
from each other 3 inches, measuring from the centres
of the cylinders; when the two lights made use ot 111
the experiment are properly placed, these two cylinders
project four shadows upon the white paper upon the m-
feide of the back part of the box, or the field ol the in¬
strument ; two of which shadows are in contact, pre¬
cisely in the middle of that field, and it is these two
alone that are to be attended to. To prevent the at¬
tention being distracted by the presence of unnecessaiy
objects, the two outside shadows are made to disappear;
which is done by rendering the field of the instrument
so narrow, that they fall without it, upon a blackened
surface, upon which they are not visible. It the cy¬
linders he each A of an inch in diameter, and 2A inches
in height, it will he quite sufficient that the field be
o-1- inches wide 5 and as an unnecessary height ol the
field is not only useless, but disadvantageous, as a large
surface of white paper not covered by the shadows pro¬
duces too strong a glare of light, the field ought not to
be more than A of an inch higher than the tops ot
the cylinders. That its dimensions, however, may be
occasionally augmented, the covered glass should be
made A inches long, and as wide as. the box is deep,
viz. 3^ inches; since the field of the instrument can be
reduced to its proper size by a screen of black pasteboard,
interposed before the anterior surface of this covered
Flass, and resting immediately upon it. A hole in this
pasteboard, in the form of an oblong square, iTo- inch
wide and two inches high, determines tlm dimensions,
and forms the boundaries of the field. 'Hus screen
should be large enough to cover the whole inside ol the
back of the box, and it may be fixed in its place l>y
means of grooves in the sides ot the box, into which it
may be made to enter. The position of the opening
above mentioned is determined by the height ot the
cylinders; the top of it being A of an inch higher
than the tops of the cylinders; and as the height ol it
ICS. Partlll,,
is only two inches, while the height of the cylinders is Apparatus
2t— inches, it is evident that the shadows of the lower for
X of tile cylinders do not enter the field. No m-
convenience arises from that circumstance; on toe con-
trary, several advantages are derived horn that arrange¬
ment. ... .
That the lights may be placed with lacility ami pre¬
cision, a fine black line is drawn through the middle of
the field, from the top to the bottom of it, and another
(horizontal) line at right angles to it, at the height ol
the top of the cylinders. When the tops of the shadows
touch this last mentioned line, the lights are at a proper
height; and farther, when the two shadows are in con¬
tact with each other in the middle of the field, the
lio-hts are then in their proper directions.
&\Ve have said that the cylinders, by which the sha¬
dows are projected, are placed perpendicularly in the
bottom of the box; hut as the diameters of the shadows
of these cylinders vary in some degree, in proportion as
the lights are broader or narrower, and as they are
brought nearer to or removed farther from the photo¬
meter, in order to be able in all cases to bring these sha¬
dows to be of the same diameter, which is very advan¬
tageous, in order to judge with greater facility and cer¬
tainty when they are ot the same density, the count
renders the cylinders moveable about their axes, and
adds to each a vertical wing A an ;nc^ vvhle, to 01
an inch thick, and ot equal height with the cylinder
itself, and firmly fixed to it from the top to the bot¬
tom. ’ This wing commonly lies in the middle of the
shadow of the cylinder, and as long as it remains in that
situation it has no effect whatever; but when it is ne¬
cessary that the diameter of one of the shadows be in¬
creased, the corresponding cylinder is moved about its
axis, till the wing just described, emerging out of the
shadow, and intercepting a portion of light, brings the
shadow projected upon the field ot the instrument to
be of the width or diameter required. In this opera¬
tion it is always necessary to turn the cylinder outwards,
or in such a manner that the augmentation of the width
of the shadow may take place on that side of it which
is opposite to the shadow corresponding to the other
light. The necessity for that precaution will appear
evident to any one. who has a just idea of the instrument
in question, and of the manner of making use ol it.
They are turned likewise without opening the box, by
taking hold of the ends of their axes, which project
below its bottom.
As it is absolutely necessary that the cylinders should
constantly remain precisely perpendicular to the bottom
of the box, or parallel to each other, it will be best to
construct them of brass; and, instead of fixing them im¬
mediately to the bottom of the box (which, being or
Wood, may warp), to fix them to a strong thick piece
of well-hammered plate brass; which plate ot brass may
be afterwards fastened to the bottom ol the box by
means of one strong screw. In this manner two of the
count's best instruments are constructed; and, in order
to secure the cylinders still more firmly in their vertical
positions, they are furnished with broad flat rings, or
projections, where they rest upon the brass plate; which
rings are A of an inch thick, and equal in diameter to
the projection of the wing of the cylinder, to Hie bot¬
tom of which they afford a firm support. These cy¬
linders are likewise forcibly pushed, or rather pulled,
against
Part III. OPT
Apparatus agaIilst tIie l>r4S3 plate upon which they rest, by means
‘for of compressed spiral springs placed between the under
Measuring- gJ/Je of that plate and the lower ends of the cylinders.
, Llsht , Of whatever material the cylinders be constructed, and
* whatever be their forms or dimensions, it is absolutely
necessary that they, as Well as every other part of the
photometer, except the field, should be well painted of
a deep black dead colour.
In order to move the lights to and from the photo¬
meter with greater ease and precision, the observer
should provide two long and narrow, but very strong
and Steady, tables; in the middle of each of which
there is a straight groove, in which a sliding carriage,
upon which the light is placed, is drawn along by
means of a cord which is fastened to it before and be¬
hind, and Which, passing over pulleys at each end of
the table, goes round a cylinder; which cylinder is fur¬
nished with a winch, and is’ so placed, near the end of
the table adjoining the photometer, that the observer
can turn it about, without taking his eye from the field
of the instrument.
Many advantages are derived from this arrangement:
First, the observer can move the lights as he finds ne¬
cessary, without the help of an assistant, and even with¬
out removing his eye from the shadows ; secondly, each
light is always precisely in the line of direction in which
it ought to be, in order that the shadows may be in con¬
tact in the middle of the vertical plane of the photo¬
meter; and, thirdly, the sliding motion of the lights
being perfectly soft and gentle, that motion produces
little or no effect upon the lights themselves, either to
increase or diminish their brilliancy.
These tables must be placed at an angle of 60 de¬
grees from each other, and in such a situation, with re¬
spect to the photometer, that lines drawn through their
middles, in the direction of their lengths, meet in a
point exactly under the middle of the vertical plane or
field of the photometer, and from that point the distan¬
ces of the lights are measured; the sides of the tables
being divided into English inches, and a vernier, shew¬
ing tenths of inches, being fixed to each of the sliding
carriages upon which the lights are placed, and which
are so contrived that they may be raised or lowered at
pleasure; so that the lights may be always in a hori¬
zontal line with the tops of the cylinders of the photo¬
meter.
In order that the two long and narrow tables or plat¬
forms, just described, may remain immoveable in their
proper positions, they are both firmly fixed to the stand
which supports the photometer; and, in order that the
motion of the carriages which carry the lights may be
as soft and gentle as possible, they are made to slide up¬
on parallel brass wires, pinches asunder, about of an
inch in diameter, and well polished, which are stretch¬
ed out upon the tables from one end to the other.
Plate The structure of the apparatus will be clearly under-
A'mxix. stood by a hare inspection of Plate CCCLX^CXlX.
% 5- Fig. 5. is a plan of the inside of the box, and the adjoin¬
ing parts of the photometer. Fig. 6. Plan of the two
tables belonging to the photometer. Fig. 7. The box
of the photometer on its stand. Fig. 8. Elevation of
the photometer, with one of the tables and carriages.
Having sufficiently explained all the essential parts
of this photometer, it remains for us to give some ac-
I C S. 285
count of the precautions necessary to be observed in Apparata-'4
using it. And, first, with respect to the distance at for
which lights, whose intensities are to to be compared, Measuring
should be placed from the field of the instrument, the , L‘sllt‘ „
ingenious and accurate inventor found, that when the ’
weakest ol the lights in question is about as strong as a
common wax candle, that light may most advantageously
lie placed from 30 to 36 inches from the centre of the-
field ; and when it is weaker or stronger, proportionally
nearer or farther oil. When the lights are too near,
the shadows will not be well defined ; and when they
are too far oQ, they will be too weak.
It will greatly facilitate the calculations necessary in
drawing conclusions from experiments of this kind, if
some steady light, of a proper degree of strength for
that purpose, be assumed as a standard by which all
others may be compared. Our author found a good
Argand’s lamp much preferable for this purpose to any
other lamp or candle whatever. As it appears, he
says, from a number of experiments, that the quantity
of light emitted by a lamp, which burns in the same
maimer with a clear flame, and without smoke, is in all
cases as the quantity of oil consumed, there is much
reason to suppose, that, if the Argand’s lamp be so ad¬
justed as always to consume a given quantity of oil in a
given time, it may then be depended on as a just stand¬
ard of light.
In order to abridge the calculation necessary in these
inquiries, it will always be advantageous to place the
standard-lamp at the distance of 100 inches from the
photometer, and to assume the intensity of its light at
its source equal to unity ; in this case (calling this stand¬
ard light A, the intensity of the fight at its source
=r.r=ri, and the distance of the lamp from the field
of the photometer rrmrzioo), the intensity of the il¬
lumination at the field of the photometer (= — j will
be expressed by the fraction ; and the re-
Too-
lative intensity of any other fight which is compared
with it, may be found by the following proportion : Call¬
ing this light B, putting y— its intensity at its source,
and n ~ its distance from the field of the photometer,
expressed in English inches, as it is — or, in-
«*, mry
X V
stead of —■ writing its value =rT^^, it will be ~ —
ToSo^- J an^ consequently y is to 1 as n* is to 10000 ;
or the intensity of the light B at its source, is to the
intensity of the standard light A at its source, as the
square of the distance of the light B from the middle
of the field of the instrument, expressed in inches, is to
n*
10000 ; and hence it is ?/=   .
7 10000
Or, if the light of the sun, or that of the moon, be
compared with the light of a given lamp or candle C,
the result of such comparison may be best expressed in
words, by saying, that the light of the celestial luminary
in question, at the surface of the earth, or, which is the
same thing, at the field of the photometer, is equal to
the light of the given lamp or candle, at the distance
found by the experiment; or, putting a or the intensity
of the light of this lamp C at its source, and p — its
distance,
235
OPTICS.
Part III
Apparatus distance, in inches, from the field, when the shadows
for corresponding to this light, and that corresponding to
Measuring j.jie celestial luminary in question, are found to be of
, kqjM1 cti ual densities, and putting 25~ the intensity of the
-rays of the luminary at the surface of the earth, the re-
a
suit of the experiment may be expressed thus, 7
or the real value of a being determined by a particular
experiment, made expressly for that purpose \Vith the
standard lamp, that value may be written instead of it.
When the standard lamp itself is made use of, instead
of lamp C, then the value of A will be I.
The count’s first attempts with his photometer were
to determine how far it might be possible to ascertain,
by direct experiments, the certainty of the assumed law
of the diminution of the intensity of the light emitted
by luminous bodies •, namely, that the intensity ot the
light is everywhere as the squares of the distances from
the luminous body inversely. As it is obvious that this
law can hold good only when the light is propagated
through perfectly transparent spaces, so that its inten¬
sity is weakened merely bv the divergency of its rays,
he instituted a set of experiments to ascertain the
transparency of the air and other mediums.
With this view, two eqpal wax candles, well trim¬
med, and which were found, jby a previous experiment,
to burn with exactly the .same degree of brightness,
were placed together, on one, side, before the photome¬
ter, and their united light was counterbalanced by the
light of an Argand’s lamp, wrell trimmed, and burning
very equally, placed on the other side over against them.
The lamp was placed at the distance of 100 inches from
the field of-the photometer, and it was found that the
two burning candles (which were placed as near toge¬
ther as possible, without their flames affecting each
other by the currents of air they produced) were just
able to counterbalance the light of the lamp at the
field of the photometer, when they were placed at the
distance of 60.8 inches from that field. One ot the
candles being now taken away and extinguished, the
other was brought nearer to the field of the instru¬
ment, till its light was found to be just able, singly, to
counterbalance the light of the lamp; and this was
found to happen when it had arrived at the distance of
43.4 inches. In this experiment, as the candles burnt
with equal brightness, it is evident that the intensities
of their united and single lights-were as 2 to I, and in
that proportion ought, according to the assumed theory,
the squares of the distances, 60.8 and 43.4, to be; and,
in fact, 6o.S2=2)6()6.6'\. is to 43.42= 1883.56 as 2 is to
1 very nearly.
Again, in another experiment, the distances were,
With two candles =. 54 inches. Square =2916
With one candle = 38.6 - = 1489.96
Upon another trial,
With twro candles r= 54.6 inches. Square r= 2981.16
With one candle =r 39.7 - = 1576.09
And, in the fourth experiment,
With two candles rr 58.4 inches. Square =r 3410.56
With one candle n 42.2 - - = 1780.84
And, taking the mean of the results of these four
experiments,
Squares of the distances
With two candles. With one candle.
In the experiment N° 1. 3696.64
N° 2. 2916
N° 3. 2981.16
N° 4. 3410.56
Apparatu:
1883.56 Measuriw
1489.96 Light.
1576.09' ^
1780.84
4)13004.36
4)673°-45
and 1682.61
Means 3251.09
which again are very nearly as 2 to l.
With regard to these experiments, it may he ob¬
served, that were the resistance of the air to light, or
the diminution of the light from the imperfect trans¬
parency of air, sensible within the limits of the incon¬
siderable distances at which the candles were placed
from the photometer, in that case the distance of the
two equal lights united ought to be, to the distance of
one of them single, in a ratio less than that of the square
root of 2 to the square root of I. For if the intensity
of a light emitted by a luminous body, 2/2 a space void
of all resistance, be diminished in the proportion of the
squares of the distances, it must of necessity be dimi¬
nished in a still higher ratio when the light passes through
a resisting medium, or one which is not perfectly trans¬
parent j and from the difference of those ratios, name¬
ly, that of the squares of the distances, and that other
higher ratio found by the experiment, the resistance of
the medium might be ascertained. This he took much
pains to do with respect to air, but did not succeed •,
the transparency of air being so great, that the dimi¬
nution which light suffers in passing through a few
inches, or even through several feet of it, is not sen¬
sible.
Having found, upon repeated trials, that the light
of a lamp, properly trimmed, is incomparably more equal
than that of a candle, whose wick, continually growing
longer, renders its light extremely fluctuating, he sub¬
stituted lamps to candles in these experiments, and
made such other variations in the manner of conducting
them as he thought bid fair to lead to a discovery of
the resistance of the air to light, were it possible to ren¬
der that resistance sensible within the confined limits of
his machinery. But the results of them, so far from af¬
fording means for ascertaining the resistance of the air
to light, do not even indicate any resistance at all; on
the contrary, it might almost be inferred, from some of
them, that the intensity of the light emitted by a lu¬
minous body in air is diminished in a ratio less than that
of the squares of the distances 5 but as such a conclu¬
sion would involve an evident absurdity, namely, that
light moving in air, its absolute quantity, instead of be¬
ing diminished, actually goes on to increase, that con¬
clusion can by no means be admitted.
Why not ? Theories must give place to facts 5 and
if this fact can be fairly ascertained, instead of rejecting
the conclusion, we ought certainly to rectify our no¬
tions of light, the nature of which we believe no man
fully comprehends. Who can take it upon him to
say, that the substance of light is not latent in the at¬
mosphere, as heat or caloric is now acknowledged to he
latent, and that the agency of the former is not called
forth by the passage of a ray through a portion of air,
as the agency of the latter is known to be excited
: by
Vt III. OPT
Apparatus by the combination of oxygen with any combustible
for substance ?
for substance r
^■ZnS , The, inSe,nious autIlor’s experiments all conspired to
shew that the resistance of the air to light is too incon¬
siderable to be perceptible, and that the assumed law of
the diminution of the intensity of light may be depend¬
ed upon with safety. He admits, however, that means
may be found for rendering the air’s resistance to light
apparent •, and he seems to have thought of the very
means which occurred for this purpose to M. de Saus-
274 sure.
:,onuivan That eminent philosopher, wishing to ascertain the
es of Saus-tranSparenCy 0f the atmosphere, by measuring the di¬
stances at which determined objects cease to be visible
perceived at once that his end would be attained, if he
should find objects of which the disappearance might
be accurately determined. Accordingly, after many
tnals, he found that the moment of disappearance can
be observed with much greater accuracy when a black
object is placed on a white ground, than when a white
object is placed on a black ground r that the accuracy
was still greater when the observation was made in the
sun than in the shade ; and that even a still greater de¬
gree of accuracy was obtained, when the white space
surrounding a black circle, was itself surrounded by a
circle or ground of a dark colour. This last circum¬
stance was particularly remarkable, and an observation
quite new.
If d cncle totally blacky of about two lines m diame-
ter, be fastened on the middle of a large sheet of paper
or pasteboard, and if this paper or pasteboard be pla¬
ced in such a manner as to be exposed fully to the light
of the sun, if you then approach it at the distance^of
three or four feet, and afterwards gradually recede from
it, keeping your eye constantly directed towards the
black circle, it will appear always to decrease in size
the farther you retire from it, and at the distance of 33
or 34 feet will have the appearance of a point. If you
continue still to recede, you will see it again enlarge it¬
self; and it will seem to form a kind of cloud, the dark¬
ness of which decreases more and more according as the
circumference becomes enlarged. The cloud will ap¬
pear still to increase in size the farther you remove from
it; but at length it.will totally disappear. The mo¬
ment of the disappearance, however, cannot be accurate¬
ly ascertained : and the more experiments were repeat¬
ed, the more were the results different.
M. de Saussure, having reflected for a long time on
the means of remedying this inconveniency, saw clear-
ly, that as long as this cloud took place, no accuracy
could be obtained ; and he discovered that it appeared
in consequence ot the contrast formed by the white
parts which were at the greatest distance from the black
circle. He thence concluded, that if the ground was
left white near this circle, and the parts of the paste¬
board at the greatest distance from it were covered with
a dark colour, the cloud would no longer be visible, or
at least almost totally disappear.
Ibis conjecture was confirmed by experiment. M.
de Saussure left a white space around the black circle
equal in breadth to its diameter, by placing a circle of
black paper a line in diameter, on the middle of a white
circle three lines in diameter, so that the black circle
was only surrounded by a white ring a line in breadth.
I he whole was pasted upon a green ground. A green
4
C S% 28
colour was chosen, because it was dark enough to make t ^
the cloud disappear, and the easiest to be procured. PPfor
e ac' cacle surrounded in this manner with ^easur*nS
white on a green ground, disappeared at a much less. LiSht-
distance than when it was on a white ground of a large ’ ~
, A Pei*ct,y ]»lack circle, a line in diameter, be
pasted on the middle of a white ground exposed to the
open light, it may be observed at the distance of from
44 to 45 icct j but if this circle be surrounded bv a
white ring a line in breadth, while the rest of the ground
is green, all sight of it is lost at the distance of only
15^ teet. J
According to these principles M. de Saussure deline¬
ated several black circles, the diameters of which in¬
creased in a geometrical progression, the exponent of
which was 4. His smallest circle was f or o 2 of a
line in diameter; the second, 0.3 ; the third, 0.4 c; and
so on to the sixteenth, which was 87.527, or about 7
inches 3y lines. Each of these circles was surrounded
by a white ring, the breadth of which was equal to the
diameter of the circle, and the whole was pasted on a
green ground.
M. de Saussure, for his experiments, selected a straight
road or plain of about 1200 or 1500 feet in circumfer¬
ence, which towards the north was bounded by trees or
an ascent. Those who repeat them, hoAvever, must pay
attention to the following remarks : When a person
retires backwards, keeping his eye constantly fixed on
the pasteboard, the eye becomes fatigued, and soon ceases
to perceive the circle ; as soon therefore as it ceases to
be distinguishable, you must suffer your eyes to rest; not,
however, by shutting them, for they would when again
opened be dazzled by the light, but by turning them
gradually to some less illuminated object in the horizon.
When you have done this for about half a minute, and
again directed your eyes to the pasteboard, the circle
will be again visible, and you must continue to recede
till it disappear once more. You must then let your
eyes rest a second time in order to look at the circle
again, and continue in this manner till the circle be¬
comes actually invisible.
If you wish to find an accurate expression for the
want of transparency, you must employ a number of
circles, the diameters of which increase according to a
certain progression ; and a comparison of the distances
at which they disappear will give the law according to
which the transparency of the atmosphere decreases at
different distances. If you wish to compare the trans¬
parency of the atmosphere on two days, or in two dif¬
ferent places, two circles will be sufficient for the expe¬
riment.
According to these principles, M. de Saussure caused
to be prepared a piece of white linen cloth eight feet
square. In the middle of this square he sewed a per¬
fect circle, two feet in diameter, of beautiful black wool;
around this circle he left a white ring two feet in
breadth, and the rest of the square was covered with pale
green. In the like manner, and of the same materials,
he prepared another square ; which was, however, equal
to only xrT of the size of the former, so that each side
of it was 8 inches ; the black circle in the middle was
two inches in diameter, and the white space around the
circle was 2 inches also.
If two squares of this kind be suspended vertically
and
2 oB
OPT
Amtaraius aad parallel to each other, so that they may he hoth ij-
ior lumlnated in an equal degree by the sun j and it the at-
Measmins mosphere, at the moment when the experiment i« macit,
Ligllt be perfectly transparent, the circle ot the large square,
' v ' whicli is twelve times the size of the other, must lie seen
at twelve times the distance. In M. de Saussure s ex¬
periments the small circle disappeared at the instance ot
qi4 feet, and the large one at the distance of 35^
ft et whereas it should have disappeared at the distance
of 2768. The atmosphere, therefore, was not perfectly
transparent. This arose from the thin vapours which
at that time were floating in it. M. de oaussure, cal s
his instrument a diaphanometer; hut it serves one 0
the purposes of a photometer. ,
From a number of experiments made with the pfiOiO-
meter Count Romford found, that, by passing through
a pane of line, clear, well polished glass, such as is com¬
monly made use of in the construction of looking-glas¬
ses, light loses .1973 or its whole quantity, 1. e. ot the
quantity which impinged on the glass; that when lig)
is made to pass through two panes of such glass stand-
in» parallel, but not touching each other, the loss is
*84 of the whole ; and that in passing through a very
thin clear, colourless pane of window-glass, the loss
is only .1263. Hence he infers, that this apparatus
might be very usefully employed by the optician, to
determine the degree of transparency of glass, and di¬
rect his choice in the provision of that important article
of his trade. The loss of light when reflected from the
very best plain glass mirror, the author ascertained, by
five experiments, to be }d of the whole which fell upon
the mirror. . , ,
T *7,5 An ingenious photometer has also been invented by
photometer.Professor Leslie, a,„l fully described „t h.s celebrated
F ivork on Heat, to which we must refer the reader foi a
complete description of this instrument. It measures the
calorific effect of heat, and is founded upon this princi¬
ple “ that if a body be exposed to the sun’s rays, it
will in every possible ease, he found to indicate a mea¬
sure of heat exactly proportioned to the quantity of
light which it has absorbed.” See Essay on Heat,
p. 103.
Chap. II. On the method of forming the Lenses
and Specula, of Refracting and Refecting Tele¬
scopes.
Sect. I. On the Method of grinding and polishing
Lenses.
276 Having fixed upon the proper aperture and focal
f* fS± distance of the lens, take a piece of sheet copper; and
mg lenses. ^ fme arch upon }ts surface, with a radius equal to
I C s. Part M
half that distance, if it is to he plano-convex, and let the Method oli
length of this arch be a little greater than the g»ven Gnndin,
aperture. Remove with a file that part of the copper
which is without the circular arch, and a convex gage   j
will be formed. Strike another arch with the same ra- a77 :
diu«, and having removed that part of the coppiT winch Formation
is within it, a concave gage, will be obtained. I lejiaie
two circular plates of brass, about To of an inch thick,
and half an inch greater in diameter than the breadth
of the lens, and solder them upon a cylinder of lead of ^
the same diameter, and about an inch high. Iliese Pormatim
tools are then to be fixed upon a turning lathe, and one of tketool,
of them turned into a portion of a concave sphere, so as
to suit the convex gage; and the other into a portion
of a convex sphere, so as to answer the concave gage.
After the surfaces of the brass plates are turned as ac¬
curately as possible, they must be ground upon one ano¬
ther, alternately, with flour emery ; and when the two
surfaces exactly coincide, the grinding tools will beready
for use. . . 279
Procure a piece of glass whose dispersive power is as Formation j
small as possible, if the lens is not for achromatic instru-oftheglaui
ments, and whose surfaces are parallel; and by means of
a pair of large scissars or pincers, cut it into a circular
shape, so that its diameter may be a little greater than
the required aperture of the lens. When the roughness
is removed from its edges by a common grindstone (a),
it is to be fixed with black pitch to a wooden handle of
a smaller diameter than the glass, and about an inch
high, so that the centre of the handle may exactly coin¬
cide with the centre of the glass. 2So
The glass being thus prepared, it is then to be ground Mode of
with fine emery upon the concave tool, if it is to be grinding,
convex, and upon the convex tool, if it is to he concave.
To avoid circumlocution, we shall suppose that the lens
is to lie convex- The concave tool, therefore, which is
to he used, must he firmly fixed to a table or bench, and
the glass wrought upon it with circular strokes, so that
its centre may never go beyond the edges of the tool.
For every 6 circular strokes, the glass should receive 2
or 3 cross ones along the diameter of the tool, and in dif¬
ferent directions. When the glass has received its pro¬
per shape, and touches the tool in every poinUof its sur¬
face, which may be easily known by inspection, the eme¬
ry is to be washed away, and finer kinds (b) successive¬
ly substituted in its room, till by the same alternation ot
circular and transverse strokes, all tire scratches and as¬
perities are removed from its surface. After the finest
emery has been used, the roughness which remains may
be taken away, and a slight polish superinduced by grind¬
ing the glass with pounded pumice-stone in the same
manner as before. While the operation of grinding is
going on, the convex tool should, at the end of every
(A-) When the focal distance of the lens is to he short, the surface of the piece of glass sljonli he ^.undhpon
llTe’ havered as',rnfy as they can he done into their proper fornr. By this means much labour
StelL may be made in the foliowing manner Take five or si, clean ve,
sels and having filled one of them with water, put into it a considerable quantity ot flour emery. S‘l's‘ J about
•’ fwoo,i and after standing for c seconds pour the water into the second vessel. After t ,
12 seconds, pour it out of this into a third vessel, and so on vyith the rest; and at the bottom “ ^ffast *
found emery*of different degrees of fineness, the coarsest being in the first vessel, and the fine
/vy J
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Part III.
OPT
281
Made of
polishing.
282
Method of five minutes, be wrought upon the concave one for a few
Grinding seconds, in order to preserve the same curvature to the
and Polish-tools and the glass. When one side is finished oif with
; the pumice-stone, the lens must be separated from its
handle by inserting the point of a knife between it and
the pitch, and giving it a gentle stroke. The pitch
which remains upon the glass may be removed by rub¬
bing it with a little oil, or spirits of wine; and after
the ground side of the glass is fixed upon the handle,
the other surface is to be wrought and finished in the’
very same manner.
When the glass is thus brought into its proper form,
the next and the most difficult part of the operation is
to give it a fine polish. The best, though not the sim¬
plest way of doing this, is to cover the concave tool
with a layer of pitch, hardened by the addition of a
little rosin, to the thickness of one-fifteenth of an inch.
Then having taken a piece of thin writing paper, press
it upon the surface of the pitch with the convex tool,
and pull the paper quickly from the pitch before it has’
py means adhered to it; and if the surface of the pitch is marked
fpitch. everywhere with the lines of the paper, it will be truly
spherical, having coincided exactly with the surface of
the convex tool. If any paper remains on the surface
of the pitch, it may be removed by soap and water;
and if the maiks of the paper should not appear on every
part of it, the operation must be repeated till the po¬
lisher, or bed of pitch, is accurately spherical. The
glass is then to be wrought on the polisher by circular
and cross strokes, with the oxide of tin, called the
flowers of putty in the shops, or with the red oxide of
iron" otherwise called colcothar of vtriol, till it has re¬
ceived on both sides a complete- polish (c). The po¬
lishing will advance slowly at first, but will proceed ra¬
pidly when the polisher becomes warm with the friction.
When it is nearly finished, no more putty or water
should he put upon the polisher, which should be kept
warm by breathing upon it; and if the glass moves with
difficulty from its adhesion to the tool, it should he
quickly removed, lest it spoil the surface of the pitch.
When any particles of dust or pitch insinuate themselves
between the glass and the polisher, which maybe easily
known from the very unpleasant manner of working,
they should be carefully removed, by washing both the
polisher and the glass, otherwise the lens will be
scratched, and the bed of pitch materially injured.
The operation of polishing may also be performed by
covering the layer of pitch with a piece of cloth, and
giving it a spherical form by pressing it with the con¬
vex tool when the pitch is warm. The glass is wrought
as formerly, upon the surface of the cloth, with putty
or colcothar of vitriol, til a sufficient polish is induced.
By this mode the operation is slower, and the polish less
perfect ; though it is best fitted for those who have but
little experience, and would therefore be apt to injure
the figure of the lens by polishing it on a bed of pitch.
Vol. XV. Part I. ^ p f
283
v means
cloth.
I c s. 28g
In this manner the small lenses of simple and com. Method of
pound microscopes, the eye-glasses and the object-glasses Grinding
of telescopes, are to be ground. In grinding concave811^ Polish-
lenses, Mr Imison * employs leaden wheels with the jng Tenses,
same radius as the curvature of the lens, and with their 1 ? ..
circumferences of the same convexity as the lens is toArts^pnrt'
be concave. These spherical zones are fixed upon amp. 145.
turning lathe, and the lens, which is held steadily in 2S4
the hand, is ground upon them with emery, while they I"1ProI«'!ety
are revolving on the spindle of the lathe. In the same&c^on a
way convex lenses may be ground and polished, by fix-lathe,
ing the concave tool upon the lathe ; but these methods,
however simple and expeditious they may be, should
never be adopted for forming the lenses of optical in¬
struments, where an accurate spherical figure is indis¬
pensable. It is by the band alone that we can perform
with accuracy those circular and transverse strokes, the
proper union of which is essential to the production of a
spherical surface. Appendix to Ferguson’s Lectures,
vol. ii. p. 452.
Sect. II. On the Method of Castings Grinding, and
Polishing the Specula of Reflecting Telescopes.
I lie metals of reflecting telescopes are generallycomposi-
composed of 32 parts of copper, and 15 of grain tin, tion of the
with the addition of two parts of arsenic, to render the metal*
composition more white and compact. The Reverend
Mr Edwards found, from a variety of experiments, that
if one part of brass, and one of silver, be added to the
preceding composition, and only one part of arsenic
used, a most excellent metal will be obtained, which is
the whitest, hardest, and most reflective, that he ever
met with. I he superiority of this composition, indeed,
has been completely evinced by the excellence of Mr
Edwards’ telescopes, which excel other reflectors in
brightness and distinctness, and show objects in their na~
tural colours. But as metals of this composition are
extremely difficult to cast, as well as to grind and po¬
lish, it will be better for those who are inexperienced
in the art, to employ the composition first mentioned.
Alter the flasks of sand (d) are prepared, and a mould Method of
made for the metal by means of a wooden or metallic casting the
pattern, so that its face may be downwards, and a fewmetalf
small boles left in the sand at its back, for the free egress
of the included air;—melt the copper in a crucible by it¬
self, and when it is reduced to a fluid state, fuse the tin in
a separate crucible, and mix it with the melted copper,
by stirring them together with a wooden spatula. The
proper quantity of powdered arsenic, wrapt up in a piece
of paper, is then to be added, the operator retaining his
breath till its noxious fumes are completely dissipated ;
and when the scoria is removed from the fluid mass, it
is to be poured out as quickly as possible into the flasks.
As soon as the metal is become solid, remove it from
the sand into some hot ashes or coals, for the purpose of
O o annealing
f th* colcothar of vitriol is obtained by the decomposition of martial vitriol, it sometimes retains a portion
ol this salt. When this portion of martial vitriol is decomposed by dissolution in water, the yellow ochre which
results penetrates the glass, forms an incrustation upon its surface, and gives it a dull and yellowish tinge, which
is communicated to the image which it forms.
(D) The finest sand which we have met with in this country, is to be found at Roxburgh castle, in the neidi*
oourhood of Kelso.
29©
Method of
Grinding
and Polish¬
ing Lenses
287
Grinding
tools, &c,
O P T
annealing It, and let It teoiaii. among tbem «■« tW
ave completely cold. The ingate ,s then to he taken
from the metal by means of a file; and the 1
the speculum must he ground upon a common grim
stone, till all the imperfections and asperities aie taken
away When Mr Edwards’ composition is employed,
the copper and tin should be melted according to the
preceding directions, and, when mixed together, should
be poured into cold water, which will separate the mass
into* a number of small particles. These small pieces of
metal are then to be collected and put into the ciucible,
along with the silver and brass, after they have been
melted together in a separate crucibk •, the prope
ouantity of arsenic is to be added, and a little powder-
id rosin thrown into the fluid metal before it is pomed
'^Whi/the metal is cast, and prepared by the com¬
mon grindstone for receiving its proper hgure, the gages
and grinding tools are to be formed m the same man¬
ner as for convex lenses, with this difference only, that
the radius of the gages must always be double the focal
{ength of the speculum. In addition to the convex and
concave brass tools, which should be only a htt e bioad-
er than the metal itself, a convex elliptical tool °.f lea
and tin should also be formed with the same radius, so
that its transverse may be to its conjugate diameter as
jo to 9, the latter being exactly equal to the diameter
of the metal. On this tool the speculum is to be ground
finnr emery in the same manner as lenses, with
Scufar and crS sfroke* uHernafely, till its surface ts
freed from every imperfection, and ground to a sphen
cal limire. It is then to be wrought with great cir-
cumspection, on the convex brass tool, with emery of
different degrees of fineness, the concave tool being
sometimes ground upon the convex one, to keep them
all of the same radius *, and when every scratch and ap¬
pearance of roughness is removed from its surface it
will be fit for receiving the final polish. Before t
speculum is brought to the polisher, it has been the
practice to smooth it on a bed of hones, or a convex tool
made of common blue hones. This additional tool, in¬
deed, is absolutely necessary, when silver and brass en¬
ter into the composition of the metal, in order to re¬
move that roughness which will always remain after the
finest emery has been used •, but when these metals are
not ingredients in the speculum, there is no occasion for
the bed of hones. Without the intervention of this tool
I have finished several specula, and given them as ex¬
quisite a lustre as they could poss.bly have received.
Mr Edwards does not use any brass tools in his process,
but transfers the metal from the elliptical leaden tool to
the bed of hones. By this means the operation is sim¬
plified, but we doubt much if it is, in the least degree,
1 c s. ^
imnroved. As a bed of hones is more apt to change its Method of
form than a tool of brass, it is certainly of great conse-
quence that the speculum should have as true a %uieingLme^
as possible before it is brought to the hones ; and we are   ¥ 
persuaded, from experience, that this figure may be
better communicated on a brass tool, which can always
be kept at the same curvature by its correspondmg tool,
than on an elliptical block of lead. We are certain,
however, that when the speculum is required to be of a
determinate focal length, this length will be obtained
more precisely with the brass tools than without them.
But Mr Edwards has observed, that these tools are not
only unnecessary, but ‘ really detrimental. lhat Mr
Edwards found them unnecessary, we cannot doubt
from the excellence of the specula which he formed
without their assistance •, but it seems inconceivable how
the brass tools can be in the least degree detrimental
If the mirror is ground upon 20 different tools before it
is brought to the bed of hones, it will receive from
the last of these tools a certain figure, which it would
have received even if it had not been ground on any of
the rest j and it cannot be questioned, that a metal
wrought upon a pair of brass tools is equally, if not
more; fit for the bed of hones, than if it had been ground ^
merely on a tool of lead. Method of
When the metal is ready for polishing, the elliptical
leaden tool is to be covered with black pitch, about themetalj
one-twentieth of an inch thick, and the polisher formed
in the same way as in the case of lenses, either with the
concave brass tool, or with the metal itself. Ihe col-
cothar of vitriol should then be triturated between two
surfaces of glass, and a considerable quantity of it ap¬
plied at first to the surface of the polisher. The specu¬
lum is then to he wrought in the usual way upon the
polishing tool till it has received a bri hant lustre, tak¬
ing care to use no more of the colcothar, if it can be
avoided, and only a small quantity of it, if» .should be
found necessary. When the metal moves stifly onthe
polisher, and the colcothar assumes a dark muddy hue
the polish advances with great rapidity. The tool will
then grow warm, and would probably stick to the spe¬
culum, if its motion were discontinued for a moment.
At this stage of the process, therefore, we must proceed
with great caution, breathing continually on the polisher
till the friction is so great as to retard the motion of the
speculum. When this happens, the metal is to be slip¬
ped off the tool at one side, cleaned with soft leather,
and placed in a tube for the purpose of trying its per¬
formance •, and if the polishing has been conducted with
care, it will be found to have a true parabolic figure.
Appendix to Ferguson’s Lectures vol. n. p. 457*
See the articles Achromatic Glasses, Chroma¬
tics, and Optics, in the Supplement.
INDEX.
A.
jUBERRATION, theory of, N° 199.
Evils of—remedy, 200. Light distri¬
buted by, over the smallest circle oi dit-
fusion, 201. Contrary aberrations cor¬
rect each other, 203. e
Adams's method of making globules lor
large magnifiers, 98.
Aerial speculums mentioned by Mr Grey,
N° 46. Aerial images formed by con¬
cave mirrors, 241.
Aethers, supposed, do not solve the pheno¬
mena of inflection, 60.
Air, refractive power of, 13, 14* Strong¬
ly reflects the rays proceeding from be¬
neath the surface of water, 36.
Alembert, M. d’, his discoveries concerning
achromatic telescopes, p. 177* c0_e
Alha-zen's discoveries concerning t
fraction of the atmosphere, JN 0.
conjectures about the cause 0 ‘ O
He gave the first hint of the mat,
ing power of glasses, ib. f ct;0:
Alkaline salt diminishes the meatirelrac ^
ndex.
but not the dispersive power of glass,
N° 18.
Angles refracted, tables of, published by-
Kepler and Kircher, II.
Antonio de Dominis, bishop of Spalatro,
discovered the nature of the rainbow,
213.
ipparatus for measuring light, p. 281.
Apparent place of objects seen by reflection,
first discovered by Kepler, 27. Barrow’s
theory respecting, 181. M. de la Hire’s
observations, 182. Berkeley’s hypothe¬
sis on distance by confused vision, 184.
Objected to by Dr Smith, 185. The
objection obviated by Robins, 186. M.
Bouguer adopts Barrow’s maxim, 187.
Porterfield’s view of this subject, 188.
[tmosphere varies in its refractive power at
different times, 20. Illumination of the
shadow of the earth by the refraction of
the atmosphere, 236.
[ttractive force supposed to be the cause of
reflection, 163. The supposition objec¬
ted to, 164. Obviated, 165. Another
hypothesis, 166. Sir Isaac Newton’s
hypothesis, 167. Untenable, 168.
\%out, Mr, makes an object-glass of an
extraordinary focal length, 82. On the
apertures of refracting telescopes, 84.
B.
iacow, Roger, his discoveries, 6, 8.
Wo/*, Lord, his mistake concerning the
possibility of making images appear in
the air, 26.
arker's, Dr, reflecting microscope, 101.
arrow's theory of the apparent place of
objects, 181. Adopted by Bouguer,
187.
earn of light, the phenomenon of diver¬
ging, more frequent in summer than in
winter, 235.
eaume, Mr, cannot fire inflammable li¬
quids with hot iron or a burning coal,
unless those substances be of a white
heat, 44.
1 erkeley's theory of vision, 72. His hypo¬
thesis concerning the apparent place of
objects, 166. Objected to by Dr Smith,
*85. The objection obviated by Mr
Robins, 186.
mcular telescope invented by Father
Rheita, 80.
lack marble reflects very powerfully, 33.
lair, Dr Robert, makes an important dis¬
covery, 19. Blair and Dollond’s refrac-
hng telescopes superior to others, 263.
idies which seem to touch one another
are not in actual contact, 45.
’Jiiguer's experiments on the quantity of
light lost by reflection, 33. His disco¬
veries concerning the reflection of glass,
34. His observations on the appa¬
rent place of objects, 187. Throws
^jght on the fallacies of vision, 191.
Explains the green and blue shadows
OPTICS.
seen in the sky, N° 227. Contrivances
lor measuring light, 266. Calculations
concerning the light of the moon, 270.
JSoy/e's experiments on the light of colour¬
ed substances, 28.
Brewster, Dr, his fluid microscopes of var-
nisli, 100. Improvement on the camera
obscura. p. 269, col. 2. New finder for
Newtonian telescopes, N° 258. Tables
for microscopes, p. 273. Tables for tele¬
scopes, 276, 279.
Briggs's theory of single vision, N° 146.
Brilliant, the cut in diamonds, produces
total reflection, 116.
Bristle, curious appearance of the shadow
of one, 55.
Buffon's experiments on the reflection of
light, 33. Observed green and blue sha¬
dows in the sky, 224, 225.
Burning glasses of the ancients described,
25-
C.
Camera obscura improved by Dr Brewster,
p. 269. Portable one, ib.
Campani's telescope, N° 81.
Candle, rays of light extended from, in se¬
veral directions, like the tails of comets,
5°*
Cassegrainian telescope, 262.
Cat, M. le, explains the magnifying of ob¬
jects by the inflection of light, 62. Ac¬
counts for the large appearance of ob¬
jects in mist, 183. Explains a remark¬
able deception of vision, 197
Clairaut's calculations respecting tele¬
scopes, 17.
Colours discovered to arise from refraction,
15. Supposed by Decbales to arise from
the inflection of light, 49. Produced by
a mixture of shadows, 56. Colours sim¬
ple or compound, 206.
Concave glasses : an object seen through a
concave lens is seen nearer, smaller, and
less bright than with the naked eye, 157.
Law of reflection from a concave surface,
170. Proved, 172. Concave min ors, 241.
Convex lens, an object seen through, ap¬
pears brighter, larger, and more distant,
than when seen by the naked eye, 1 35.
In certain circumstances it appears in¬
verted and pendulous in the air, 156.
Law of reflexion from a convex surface,
171. Proved mathematically, 172. Me¬
thod of finding the focal distance of rays
reflected from a convex surface, 176
Contact of bodies in many cases apparent
without being real, 45.
Coronas, p. 262.
Cylinders: experiments by Maraldi con¬
cerning their shadows, N° 53.
D.
Deception in vision •, a remarkable one ex¬
plained by M. le Cat, 197.
Dechules's observations on the inflection of
%ht, 49*
291
Descartes: his discoveries concerning vi¬
sion, N° 65. Account of the invention
of telescopes, 68.
Diamond, the brilliant cut in, produces to¬
tal reflection, 1 16.
Diaphanometer, Saussure’s, p. 288.
Dioptric instruments: difficulties attending'
the construction of them, N° 108.
Distance of objects, p. 240, &c. Berke¬
ley’s account of the judgment formed
concerning distance by confused vision,
N° 184. Smith’s account, 18,. Objected
to by Robins, 186. Bouguer adopts
Barrow’s maxim, 187. Porterfield’s
view of it, 188.
Dirini, a celebrated maker of telescopes*
81. His microscope, 94.
Diverging beams more frequent in summer-
than in winter, 235.
Dollond, Mr, discovers a method of cor¬
recting the errors arising from refraction,
17* He discovers a mistake in one of
Newton’s experiments, ib. Discovers
the different refractive and dispersive
power of glass, ib. Difficulties in the
execution of his plan, p. ,176 His im¬
provements in the refracting telescope,
N° 88. Dollond and Blair’s refracting
telescopes superior to all others, 263.
Dominis, De, discovered the cause of tb©
colours of the rainbow, 213.
E.
Edward's, Mr, improvements in the re¬
flecting telescope, 86.
Emergent rays, the focus of, found, 131.
Equatorial telescope, or portable observato¬
ry, 89. New one invented by Ramsden,
ib.
Euler, Mr, first suggested the thougl t
of improving refracting telescopes, 17.
His controversy with Clairaut, &c. ib.
His scheme for introducing vision by re¬
flected light into the solar microscope
and magic lantern, 104. His theory of
undulation contrary to fact, 123 j and
therefore misleads artists, 124.
Eye: the density and refractive powers of
its humours first ascertained by Scheiner,
64. Description of it, 132. Dimen¬
sions of the insensible spot of it, 138.
Seat of vision in, dispute about, 137.
Arguments for the retina being the seat
of vision in, 139.
Eyes, single vision with two, 145. Various
hypotheses concering it, 146, 147. 148,.
&c. Brightness of objects greater when
seen with two eyes than only with one,
150. When one eye is closed, the pupil
of the other is enlarged, 151.
F.
Fallacies, several, of vision explained, 190.
Great light thrown on this subject by
M. Bouguer, 191.
Focus, the, of rays refracted by spherical
surfaces ascertained, 128. Focus of pa-
0 0 2 laflef
292
rallel rays falling perpendicular upon any
lens, N° 130. Focus of emergent rays
found, 131. Proportional distance of the
focus of rays reflected I com a sphei ical
surface, 175* Method of finding the lo¬
cal distance of rays reflected irom a con¬
vex surface, 176-
'Force, repulsive, supposed to be the cause
of reflection, 161. I he supposition ob¬
jected to, 162. Attractive, supposed,
163. The supposition objected to, 164.
The objection obviated, 165*
Funk, Baron Alexander, his observation
concerning the light in mines, 46.
G.
Galilean telescope, more difficult of con¬
struction than others, 76-
Galileo made a telescope without a pat¬
tern, 71. An account of his discoveries
with it, 72. Account of his telescopes,
73. Was not acquainted with their ra-
tionale, 74. His telescope, 253- Mag¬
nifying power of, 254.
Glass globes, their magnifying powersknown
to the ancients, 3* Different kinds oi
them, ib. T-able of the different com¬
positions of glass lor correcting the er¬
rors in refracting telescopes, 18. Shows
various colours when split into thine la¬
minae, 30* fable of the quantities of
light reflected from glass not quicksil¬
vered, at different angles of incidence,
p. 138. Glass, multiplying, phenomena
of, N° 238.
Glasses, difference in their powers of retrac¬
tion and dispersion of the light, p 176*
Globes have shorter shadows than cylinders,
N° 53. And more light in their sha¬
dows, 54.
Globules used for microscopes by Hart-
socker, 95. Adams’s method ol making
them, 98. ■ . • .
Gregory's invention of the reflecting tele¬
scope, 85. Gregorian telescope, 260.
Magnifying power of, 261. Gregorian
telescope superior for common uses to the
Newtonian, 265.
Grey, Mr, observation on aerial speculums,
46. Temporary microscopes, 99.
* Grimaldi first observes that colours arise
from refraction, 15. Inflection of light
first discovered by him, p. 186. ^ His
discoveries concerning inflection, N° 48.
11
Hairs, remarkable appearance of their sha¬
dows, 51. .
Hull, Mr, discovers the achromatic tele¬
scope, 18.
HartsockePs miscroscope. 95.
HerschePs improvements on reflecting tele-
scopea, 87.
Hire, M. de la, kis reason why rays ot
light seem to proceed from luminous bo¬
dies when viewed with the eyes half shut,
OPTICS.
N° 50. Observations on the apparent
place of objects, 182. .
Hooke, Dr, his discoveries concerning the
inflection of light, 5°* . .
Horizon, an object situated in, appears a-
bove its true place, 153* Extent of the
visible horizon on a plane surface, 220.
Horizontal moon. Ptolemy’s hypothesis
concerning it, 5.
Huygens greatly improves the telescopes ot
Scheiner and Rheita, 79. Improves the
Newtonian telescope, 258.
I. .
Jansen, Zacharias, the first inventor of the
telescope,69. Made the first microscope,
92.
linages, Lord Bacon’s mistake concerning
the possibility of making them appear in
the air, 26. Another mistake in the
same subject by Vitellio, ib. B. 1 orta s
method of producing this appearance, ib.
Kircher’s method, ib. Images, aerial,
formed by concave mirrors, 241,
Incidence, ratio of the sine of, to that of
refraction, 113.
Incident velocity,increase of,diminishes re¬
fraction, 117. _ ,
Inflection of li^ht,discoveries concerning it,
'p. 186. Dr Hooke’s discoveries con¬
cerning it, N°47- Grimaldi’s observa¬
tions, 48. Dechales’s observations, 49.
Newton’s discoveries, 51. Maraldi’s, 52.
Probably produced by the same forces
with reflection and refraction, 61.
Inversion, a curious instance of it observed
by Mr Grey, 46.
Irradiations of the sun’s light appealing
through the interstices ot the clouds,
p. 265, &c. Converging, observed by
Dr Smith, N° 232. Explained by him,
233. Not observed by moonlight, 234.
Jupiter's satellites discovered by Jansen, 70.
By Galileo, and called him by Medicean
planets, 72.
K.
Kepler first discovered the true reason of the
apparent place of objects seen by reflect¬
ing mirrors, 27. His discoveries con¬
cerning vision, 63. Improved the con¬
struction of telescopes, 77* method
first put in practice by Scheiner, 78.
Kircher attempted a rational theory of re¬
fraction, 11.
Xi.
Lambert on light, 41.
Lead increases the dispersive power of glass,
J?* . '
Leeuwenhoek's microscope, 90.
Lenses, their effects first discovered by Kep¬
ler, 74. Lenses, how many, 1 29. rI be
focus of parallel rays falling perpendicu¬
lar upon any lens, 130. Convex, an ob¬
ject seen through, appears larger, bright-
3
Index.
er, and more distant, than by the naked
eye, N° 155. In some circumstances it
appears inverted, and pendulous in the air,
156. An object seen through a concave
lens is seen nearer, smaller, and less
bright, than with the naked eye, 157.
Method of grinding and polishing them,
276.
Leslie's photometer, p. 288.
Light discovered not to be homogeneous, N0
16. Quantity of, reflected by different
substances, 39. Quantity of it absorbed
by plaster of Paris, 40. By the moon, ib.
Observations on the manner in which bo¬
dies are heated by it, 42. No heat pro¬
duced by it 011 a transparent medium,
unless it is reflected from tin? surface, ib.
Newton’s experiments with respect to its
inflection, 51. Reflected, refracted, and j j
inflected by the same forces, 61. Dif¬
ferent opinions concerning the nature of,
109. It issues in straight lines from each
point of a luminous surface, 110. In
what case the rays of light describe a
curve, in. Its motion accelerated or
retarded by refraction, 114. Light of
all kinds subject to the same laws, 119.
The law of refraction when light passes
out of one transparent body into another
contiguous to it, 120. Some portion of
light always reflected from transparent
bodies, 158. Light is not reflected by
impinging on the solid part of bodies at
the first surface, 159. Nor at the se¬
cond, 160. Light consists of several
sorts of coloured rays differently refran¬
gible, 204. Reflected light differently re- I |
frangible, 205. Bouguer’s contrivances
for measuring light, 266. These instru¬
ments measure only the intensity of light, \
267. Great variation of the light of the
moon at different altitudes, 268. \ ari-
ation in different parts of the disks ol the
sun and planets, ib. Bouguer’s calcula¬
tions concerning the light of the moon,
270. Dr Smith’s, 271 • Mr Michell’s,
262. Density of, in different points ot
refraction, 20 2.
Lignum nephriticum, remarkable proper-
des of its infusion, 29.
Lines can be seen under smaller angles than
spots, and why, 144.
Liquid substances cannot be fired by the so¬
lar rays concentrated, 44.
Long-sightedness, 142.
M.
Magic lantern, Mr Euler’s attempt to in¬
troduce vision by reflected light into,
104.
Magnitudes of objects, p. 240, &c. _
Mairan, M. his observations on the inflec¬
tion of light, N° 47. . .
Maraldi's discoveries concerning the mike
<1
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fJ
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ft,
ft
(f,
itl
ft
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;it
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Index.
tion of light, N° 51, 52. Pursues Gri¬
maldi’s and Sir Isaac Newton’s experi¬
ments, 54, 55. His experiments with
a mixture of coloured shadows, 56.
i Martin’s, Mr, improvement of the solar
microscope, 105.
, Maurolycus, his discoveries, 9, 63.
i Mazeas, Abbe, attempts to explain the
phenomena of green and blue shadows,
| 226.
Media, the various appearances of objects
through different, stated and investigated,
132. An object seen through a plane
medium, appears nearer and brighter
than seen by the naked eye, 154.
Melville, Mr, his observations on the heat¬
ing of bodies by light, 42. Discovers
that bodies which seem to touch are not
in actual contact, 45. Explains a cu¬
rious phenomenon of vision, 198. Ex¬
plains the phenomena of green and blue
shadows in the sky, 227.
MichelPs, Mr, calculation of the light of
the moon, 272.
Microscopes, their history, 92. Made by
Jansen, 93. By Divini, 94. By Hart-
socker, 95. By Leeuwenhoek, 96. By
Wilson, 97. Adams’s method of mak¬
ing globules for large magnifiers, 98.
Temporary microscopes, by Air Grey,
99. Varnish ones, by Dr Brewster, too.
Dr Barker’s reflecting microscope, 101.
Smith’s reflecting microscope superior to
all others. 102. Solar microscopes and
that for opaque objects, 103. Mr Eu¬
ler’s scheme of introducing vision by re¬
flected light into the solar microscope
and magic lantern, 104. Alartin’s im¬
provement, 105. Di Torre’s extraordi¬
nary magnifying microscope, 106. Could
not be used by Air Baker, 107. Alicro-
scope compound, use of several lenses in,
242. Dr Smith’s, magnifying power of,
244. Easy method of ascertaining the
magnifying power of, 245. Further ob¬
servations on the magnifying power of,
246. Table of the magnifying powers
1 of glasses used in, ib. Solar, magnifying
power of, 248. Merits of, compared
with the telescope, 263.
I Mines better illuminated in cloudy than in
clear weather, 46.
Mirrors, size of, in which a man may see
his whole image, 239. Why three or
four images of objects are seen in plane
mirrors, 140. Aerial images formed by
concave mirrors, 241.
Mist, account of the largeness of objects in,
by Al. le Cat, 1 83.
Moon, why visible when totally eclipsed,
236. Why the moon appears duller
I when eclipsed in her perigee than in her
apogee, 237. Great variation of the
fight of the moon at different altitudes,
OPTICS.
N° 268. AI. Bouguer’s calculations
concerning the light of, 270. Dr Smith’s,
270. Air Alichell’s, 272.
Motion of light accelerated or retarded by
refraction, 114.
Multiplying glass, 238.
N.
2\ewlon, Sir Isaac, his discovery concern¬
ing colours, j6. Alistaken in one of his
experiments, 18. His discoveries con¬
cerning the inflection of light, 51.
Theory of refraction objected to, 121.
These objections are the necessary con¬
sequences ol the theory, and therefore
confirm it, 122. Deflecting telescope,
257. Alagnifying power of, 259. In¬
ferior to Gregorian, 265.
jSollet, Abbe, cannot fire inflammable li¬
quids by burning-glasses, 43.
o.
Objects on the retina of the eye appear in¬
verted, 133. Why seen upright, 134.
An object when viewed with both eyes
does not appear double, because the op¬
tic nerve is insensible of light, 135. Pro¬
ved by experiments, 136. Seen with
both eyes brighter than rvhen seen only
with one, 130. The various appearan¬
ces of objects seen through different me¬
dia stated and investigated, J32. An
object situated in the horizon appears
above its true plane, 153. An object
seen through a plane medium appears
nearer and brighter than seen by the na¬
ked eye, 134. Object seen through a
convex lens appears larger, brighter, and
more distant, 137. In some circumstan¬
ces an object through a convex lens ap¬
pears inverted and pendulous in the air,
136. Barrow’s theory respecting the
apparent place of objects, 181. AL de
la Hire’s observations, 182. AL le
Cat’s account of the largeness of objects
in mist, 183. W hy objects seen from a
high building appear smaller than they
are, 189. Dr Porterfield’s account of
objects appearing to move to a giddy
person when they are both at rest, 193.
Wells’s account, 194. Upon what data
we judge visible objects to be in motion
or at rest, 193. Experiments to ascer¬
tain it, 196.
Object-glasses improved by Dollond, 17,
and by Blair, 19.
Observatory, portable. See Equatorial
Telescope.
Opaque objects, microscope for, 103.
Optic nerve insensible of light; and there¬
fore an object viewed by both eyes is not
seen double, 133. Proved by experi¬
ments, 136.
Optical instruments, p. 267.
, 293
Optics^ the first treatise of, by Claudius
Ptolemy, N° 4. Vitellio’s treatise, 7.
Treatise attributed to Euclid, 24.
P.
Parallel rays falling perpendicularly upon
any lens, the focus of, found, 130.
Parhelion, p. 262.
Photometer, Bumford’s, N° 273. Saus-
sure’s, p. 287. Leslie’s, p. 288.
Plane medium, an object seen through, ap¬
pears nearer and brighter than by the
naked eye, N° x 34.
Plane surfaces, law's of refraction in, 127.
Lxtcnt of the visible horizon on, 220.
Planets more luminous at their edges than
in the middle of their disks, 40, 269.
Plates. Maraldi’s experiments concern¬
ing their shadows, 33.
Porta, Joannes Baptista, his discoveries,
10.
PorierfiehPs solution of single vision with
two eyes, 147- Of the judging of the
distance of objects, 188. Fallacies of vi¬
sion explained, 190. Porterfield’s ac¬
count of objects appealing to move to a
giddy person when they are both at rest,
*93.
Primary rainbow never greater than a se¬
micircle, and why, 217. Its colours
stronger than those of the secondary,
and ranged in contrary order, 219.
Prisms in some cases reflect as strongly as
quicksilver, 38. Why the image of
the sun by heterogeneous rays passing
through a prism is oblong, 207.
Ptolemy fii-st treated of refraction scientL
fically, 4.
R.
Rainbow, knowledge of the nature of, s
modern discovery, 211. Approach to¬
wards it by Fletcher of Breslaw, 212.
The discovery of, made by Antonio de
Dominis bishop of Spalatro 213. True
cause of its colours, 214. Phenomena
of the rainbow explained on the princi¬
ples of Sir Isaac Newton, 215. Two
rainbows seen at once, 216. Why the
arc of the primary rainbow is never
greater than a semicircle, 217. The
secondary rainbow produced by two re¬
flections and two refractions, 218. Why
the colours of the secondary rainbow are
fainter than those of the primary, and
ranged in a conti'ary order, 219.
Ramsden’s, Air, new equatorial telescope,
89-..
Rays of light extinguished at the surface of
transparent bodies, 37. Why they seem
to proceed from any luminous object
when viewed with the eyes half shut,
30. Rays at a certain obliquity are
wholly reflected by ti’ansparent substan¬
ces, 115. The focus of rays refracted
2p4
by spherical snr faces ascertained, N°i 28.
The focus of parallel rays falling perpen¬
dicularly upon any lens, 130. Emer¬
gent rays, the focus of, found, 13
Rays proceeding from one point and fall¬
ing on a parabolic concave surface are all
reflected from one point, 174. Propor¬
tional distance of the focus of rays re¬
flected from a spherical surface, 175.
Several sorts of coloured rays differently
refrangible, 204. Why the image of
the sun bv heterogeneous rays passing
through a prism is oblong, 207. Every
homogeneous ray is refracted according
to one and the same rule, 210.
Reflected light, table of its quantity from
'different substances, 39.
Reflecting telescopeofNewton, 257. Mag¬
nifying power of, 259.
Reflection of light, opinions of the ancients
concerning it, 23. Bouguer’s experi¬
ments concerning the quantity of light
lost by it, 32. Method of ascertaining
the quantity lost in all the varieties of re¬
flection, ib. Buffon’s experiments on the
same subject, 33. Bouguer’s discoveries
concerning the reflection of glass and ot
polished metal, 34. Great difference of
the quantity of light reflected at difter-
cnt angles of incidence, 35. No reflec¬
tion but at the surface ot a medium, 42.
Rays at a certain obliquity are wholly
reflected by transparent substances, 115*
Total reflection produced by the bril¬
liant cut in diamonds, it6. Some por¬
tion of light always reflected from trans¬
parent bodies, 158* Light is not re¬
flected by impinging on the solid parts
of bodies at the first surface, 159; norat
the second, 160. Fundamental law of
reflection, 169. Laws of, from a con¬
cave surface, l*]0> Irom a convex, I71,
These preceding propositions proved ma¬
thematically, 172. Reflected rays from
a spherical surface never proceed from
the same point, 173. Rays proceeding
from one point and falling on a parabo¬
lic concave surface are all reflected from
one point, I74* Proportional distance
of the focus of rays reflected from a spho
xical surface, 175* Method of finding
the focal distances of rays reflected from
a convex surface, 176. The appearance
of objects reflected from plane surfaces,
j77j from convex, 178} from concave,
179. The apparent magnitude of an ob-
yect seen by reflection from concave sur-
Jtce, 180. Reflected light differently re¬
frangible, 205. _ 11 n/r tv 1
Refracting telescopes improved by Mr JJol-
lend, 17. By Dr Blair, 19. Magnify
in proportion to their lengths, 255*
perfections in, remedied, 256.
Refraction, known to the ancients, 2. Its
o P T I C s.
laws discovered by Snellius, N° 11. Ex¬
plained by Descartes, 12—.Fallacy of
his hypothesis, 13. Experiments ot the
Royal Society for determining the re¬
fractive powers of different substances, ib.
 M. de la Hire’s experiments on the
same subject, ib. Refraction ot air ac¬
curately determined, 13, 14. Mistake
of the Academy of Sciences concerning
the refraction of air, 13* Allowance
for refraction in computing the height of
mountains, first thought of by Dr Hooke,
14. Mr Dollond discovers how to cor¬
rect the errors of telescopes arising from
refraction, 17* Die same discovery
made by Mr Hall, 18. Important dis¬
covery of Dr Blair for this purpose, 19.
Refraction defined, ill. Phenomena
of refraction solved by an attractive
power in the medium, 11 2. Retraction
explained and illustrated, pages 206,
207, &.c—Ratio of the sine of inci¬
dence to the sine of refraction, N US*
Refraction accelerates or retards the mo¬
tion of light, 114. Refraction dimi¬
nishes as the incident velocity increases,
117. Refraction of a star greater in
the evening than in the morning, 118.
Laws of refraction when light passes out
of one transparent body into another
contiguous to it, 120. 'I he Newtonian
theory of refraction objected to, 121.
Which objections, as they are the neces¬
sary consequences of that theory, con¬
firm it, 122. Laws of refraction in
plane surfaces, 127. The focus of rays
refracted by spherical surfaces ascertain¬
ed, 128. Light consists of several sorts
of coloured rays differently refrangible,
194.—Reflected light differently refran¬
gible, 205. Every homogeneous ray is
refracted according to one and the same
rule, 210.
Reid's solution of single vision with two
eyes, 148.
Repulsive force supposed to be the cause of
reflection, 161. Objected to, 162. An¬
other hypothesis, 266. Sir Isaac New¬
ton’s, 167. Untenable, 168.
Retina of the eye, objects on, inverted,
133. Why seen upright, 134. When
viewed with both eyes, not seen double,
because the optic nerve is insensible of
light, 135. Arguments for the retina’s
being the seat of vision, 139.
Rheita's telescope improved by Huygens,
79. His binocular telescope, 80.
Robins's, Mr, objection to Smith’s account
of the apparent place of objects, 186.
S.
(Sartam’s ring discovered by Galileo, 72«
Secondanj rainbow produced by two reflec¬
tions and two refractions, 218. Its
Index,
colours why fainter than those of the
primary, and ranged in contrary order,
N° 219.
Scheiner completes the discoveries concern-
ing vision, 64. Puts the improvements
of the telescope by Kepler in practice,
78- . . .
Shadows of bodies, observations concerning
them, 47, 48, 49. Green shadows ob¬
served by Buffon, 224. Blue ones, 225.
Explained by Abbe Mazeas, 226.—
Explained by Melville and Bouguer,
227. Curious observations relative to
this subject, 228. Blue shadows not
confined to the morning and evenings,
227.—Another kind of shadows, 230.
Illumination of the shadow of the earth
by the refraction of the atmosphere, 236.
Short's, Mr, equatorial telescope, 89.
Short-sightedness, 142.
Sky, concave figure of, p. 262, &c. Why
the concavity of the sky appears less
than a semicircle, N° 222. Opinions of
the ancients respecting the colour of the
sky, 223. No explanation of its blue
colour, 231.
Smith's, Dr, reflecting microscope superior
to all others, 102. Account of the ap¬
parent place of objects, 185. Objected
to, 186. Converging irradiation of the
sun observed and explained by, 232, 233.
He never observed them by moon-light,
234. Diverging beams more frequent in
summer than in winter, 235. Calculation
concerning the light of the moon, 271.
His microscope, magnifying power of,
244. _
Solar microscope, 103. Mr Euler’s at¬
tempt to introduce vision by reflected
light into the solar microscope, 104.
Martin’s improvement, 105. Magnify¬
ing power of, 248.
Spectacles, when first invented, 67.
Specula for reflecting telescopes, how to
grind and polish them, 285.
Spots of the sun discovered by Galileo, 72.
Not seen under so small an angle as lines,
I44‘ . , , .
Stars, how to be observed in the day-time,
90. The refraction of a star greater in
the evening than in the morning, 118.
Sun, image of, by heterogeneous rays pas¬
sing through a prism, why oblong, 207.
The image of, by simple and homogene¬
ous light, circular, 208. Variation of
light in different parts of the sun’s disk,
269.
Surfaces of transparent bodies have the pro¬
perty of extinguishing light, and why,
37. Supposed to consist of small trans¬
parent planes, 39, 41. Laws ol refrac¬
tion in plane surfaces, 127- The teens
of rays refracted by spherical surfaces
ascertained, 128. Reflected rays Irom
a
a spherical surface never proceed from
the same point, N° 173. The appearance
of objects from plane surfaces, 177.
From convex, 178. From concave, 179.
The apparent magnitude of an object
seen by reflection from a concave sur¬
face, 180.
T.
Telescopes : different compositions of glass
for correcting the faults of the refracting
ones, 18. Descartes’s account of the in¬
vention of them, 68. Other accounts,
69. The first one exceeding good, 70.
Galileo made one without a pattern, 71.
His discoveries on this head, 72. Ac¬
count of his telescopes, 73. Rationale
of the telescope first discovered by Kep¬
ler, 74. Reason of the effects of tele¬
scopes, 75. Galilean telescope difficult
of construction, 76. Telescopes im¬
proved by Kepler, 77. His method
first practised by Scheiner, 78.—Huy¬
gens improves the telescopes of Scheiner
and Rheita, 79. Rheita’s binocular te¬
lescope, 80. Telescopes of Campani
and Divini, 81. Azout makes a tele¬
scope of an extraordinary focal length,
82. Telescopes used without tubes, 83.
On the apertures of refracting telescopes,
84. History of the reflecting telescope,
85. Mr Edwards’s improvements in it,
86. Herschel’s improvements, 87. Mr
Dollond’s improvements, 88. The equa¬
torial telescope, 89. How to observe
stars in the daytime, 90. Mr Epinus’s
proposal for bending the tubes of tele¬
scopes, 91. Telescope, astronomical,
249. Magnifying power of, 250. In¬
verts objects, 251. Common refracting,
OPTICS,
shows objects erect, 252. Galilean te¬
lescope, N° 253. Magnifying power of,
254. Refracting, magnify in proportion
to their length, 255. Achromatic ones,
256. Reflecting telescope of Newton,
257. Magnifying power of, 259. Gre¬
gorian telescope, 260. Magnifying-
power of, 261. Cassegrainian telescope,
262. Merits of, compared with the mi¬
croscope, 263. Refracting telescopes
improved by Dollond and Blair, superi¬
or to all others, 264. Gregorian tele¬
scope superior for common uses to the
Newtonian, 265.
Thin plates : Mr Boyle’s account of the
colours observable in them, 30. Dr
Hooke’s, account, 31.
Thomson’s, Mr, portable camera obscura.
Torre's, F. di, extraordinary magnifying
microscope, 106.
Tour, M. de, his observations on the in¬
flection of light, 58. The hypothesis
by which he accounted for the pheno-
mena, 59. Unsatisfactory and ill-found¬
ed, 60.
Transparent bodies, a portion of light al¬
ways reflected from, 158.
V.
Variation of the intensity of attraction and
repulsion unknown, 125. The law of
variation in the action of many particles
different from that of one ; but may be
known if it be known, 126. Varia¬
tion of the light of the moon at differ¬
ent altitudes, 268. In different parts
of the disks of the sun and planets,
269.
Visible objects how judged to be in motion
or at rest, 195. Curious experiments to
ascertain it, N° 196. \ isible horizon on
a plane surface, extent of, 220.
Vision: its nature first discovered bvMau-
rolycus, 9. Discoveries concerning it,
p. 193. Seat of, dispute about, N° 137.
Dimensions of the spot in the eye where
there is no vision, 138. Arguments for
the retina’s being the seat of vision, 139.
^ ision bright and obscure, 140. Distinct
at different distances, 141. Least angle
of vision, 156. C)1 single vision with
two eyes, 145. Briggs’s solution, 146.
Porterfield’s, 147. Reid’s, 148. Wells’s,
149. Vision more distinct in homoge¬
neous than heterogeneous light, 209.
Several fallacies of vision explained, 190.
Great light thrown on this subject by
M. Bouguer, 191. A remarkable de¬
ception explained by M. Je Cat, 197.
Curious phenomenon explained by Mr
Melville, 198.
Vitellio's discoveries, 7.
U.
Undulation, Euler’s theory of, contrary to
fact, 123 3 and misleads artists, 124.
W.
JViter in some cases reflects more power¬
fully than quicksilver, 35. Table of the
quantity of light reflected from it at dif¬
ferent angles, ib. Remarkably strong
reflection into it from air, 36.
Tf ells's solution of single vision with two
eyes, 149. Accounts for objects ap¬
pearing to move to a giddy perso» when
at rest, 194.
White bodies reflect more light than others,
28.
Wilson's microscope, 97.'
OPT
Abates, OPTIMATES, one of the divisions of the Roman
Optic, people, opposed to populat es. It is not easy to ascer-
tain the characteristic differences betwixt these two
parties. Some say the optimates were warm supporters
of the dignity of the chief magistrate, and promoters
of the grandeur of the state, who cared not if the in¬
ferior members suffered, provided the commanding
powers were advanced : \\ hereas the populares boldly
stood up for the rights of the people, pleaded for larger
privileges, and laboured to bring matters nearer to a
level. In short, they resembled, according to this ac¬
count, the court and country parties amongst the people
of this island.
Tully says, that the optimates were the best citizens,
who wished to deserve the approbation of the better
sort j .and that the populares courted the favour of the
populace, not so much considering what was right, as
what would please the people and gratify their own
thirst of vain glory and empty applause.
OPl 10, an officer in the Roman army, being an
OPT
assistant or lieutenant to every centurion. The optio Optio,
was so called because he was the choice or option of Option,
the centurion in later times 3 at first, however, he had * 'v ‘-1
been chosen by the tribune, or chief commander of
the legion. These optionee are also sometimes called
succenturiones and tergiductores j the last name was
given them because their post was in the rear of the
company. Some authors make mention of sub-optiones
or sub-lieutenants.
It is proper, however, to add, that optiones were not
peculiar to the camp, but were also used in a variety of
other offices of life.
OPTION, the power or faculty of wishing, or choos¬
ing 3 or the choice a person makes of any thing.
When a new suffragan bishop is consecrated, the arch¬
bishop of the province, by a customary prerogative,
claims the collation of the first vacant benefice, or dig¬
nity, in that see, according as he shall choose 3 which
choice is called the archbishop’s option.
But in case the bishop dies, or is translated, before
the
Option
ii
Oracle.
ORA [
the present incumbent of the promotion chosen by the
archbishop shall die or be removed, it is generally sup¬
posed that the option is void ; inasmuch as the granter,
1 singly and by himself, could not convey any right or
title beyond'the term of his continuance in that see.
And if the archbishop dies before the avoidance shall
happen, the right of filling up the vacancy shall go to
his executors or administrators.
OPUNTIA, a species of cactus, bee Cactus,
Botany Index. .
OR, the French word for gold, by which this metal
is expressed in heraldry. In engraving it is denoted
by small points all over the field or bearing. It may
be supposed to signify of itself, generosity, splendour,
or solidity ; according to G. Leigh, it it is compounded
with
Gul. ]
Az.u
f Courage.
Trust.
Ver. j.;|<| Joy..
Pur
Sab. j
I Charity.
^ Constancy.
ORA, in antiquity, was a term equivalent to an
ounce : hut it has been much debated among our an¬
tiquaries, whether the ora, the mention of which so
often occurs, was a coin or only money of account.
Dr Hickes observes, that the mode of reckoning
money by marks and oras was never known in Eng¬
land till after the Danish settlements j and by ex¬
amining the old nummulary estimates among the prin¬
cipal Gothic states upon the Baltic, it appears, that
the ora and solidus were synonymous terms, and that
the ora was the eighth part of the mark. F rom seve¬
ral of the Danish laws, it likewise appears, that the
Danish ora, derived by corruption from aureus, was
the same as the Frank solidus of twelve pence. As. a
weight, the ora was regarded as the uncia or unit,
by which the Danish mark was divided *, and in
Doomsday book the ora is used for the ounce, or the
twelfth part of the nummulary Saxon pound, and the
fifteenth of the commercial j as a com it was an au¬
reus, or the Frank solidus of twelve pence. And
from the accidental coincidence ot the Frank aureus
with the eighth part of their mark, the Danes pro¬
bably took occasion to give it the new name of ora.
There was another ora mentioned in the rolls of the
S^tb of Henry III. the value of which was sixteen
pence *, and this was probably derived from the half
mancus of the Saxons. Such, in all appearance, was
the original of these two oras j as there were no aurei
of that period, to which these two denominations of
money of sixteen and twelve pence can possibly be
ascribed. It is observed farther, that the name o? (i
distinguishes the gold coins in several parts of Europe
to this day. The Portuguese moidue is nothiug else
but moeda d'oro, from the Latin moneta de auro; the
French Louis d'or's come from the same use of the word,
and owe their appellation to the ora. See Clarke on
Coins.
ORACH. See Atriflex, 1 Botany Istf-
Wild Orach. See Chenopodium, $ dex.
ORACLE, among the heathens, was the answer
which the gods were supposed to give to those who con¬
sulted thern upon any affair of importance. It is also
used for the god who was thought to give the answer,
and for the place where it was given.
296 ] ORA
The credit of oracles was so great that in all doubts Oracle,
and disputes their determinations were held sacred and“-y-—.
inviolable : whence vast numbers flocked to them for
advice about the management of their aflairs j and no
business of any consequence was undertaken, scarce
any peace concluded, any war waged, or any new form
of'gover nment instituted, without the advice and ap¬
probation of some oracle. The answers were usually
given by the intervention of the priest or priestess of the
god who w is consulted j and generally expressed in such
dark and unintelligible phrases, as might be easily wrest¬
ed to prove the truth of the oracle whatever was the
event/ It is not, therefore, to be wondered at, that
the priests who delivered them were in the highest cre¬
dit and esteem, and that they managed this reputation
so as greatlv to promote their own particular advan¬
tage. They accordingly allowed no man to consult
the gods, before he had offered costly sacrifices, and
made rich presents to them. And to keep up the ve¬
neration for their oracles, and to prevent their being
taken unprepared, they admitted persons to consult the
gods only at certain stated times j and sometimes Ihej
were so cautious, that the greatest personages could
obtain no answer at all. Tims Alexander himself was
peremptorily denied by the Pythia, or priestess of Apollo,
till she was by downright force obliged to ascend the
tripos ; when, being unable to resist any longer, she .
cried out, Thou art invincible : and these words were
accepted instead of a farther oracle. >
Of the ambiguity of oracles, the following, out of
a great many examples, may be mentioned.
having received from the Pythoness this answer, lhat
by passing the river Halys, he would destroy a great
empire •, he understood it to be the empire of his ene¬
my, whereas he destroyed his own—The oracle con¬
sulted by Pyrrhus gave him an answer, which might be
equally understood of the victory of Pyrrhus, and the
victory of the Romans his enemies :
Aio te, JEacida, Romanos vincere posse.
The equivocation lies in the construction of the Latin
tongue, which cannot be rendered in English. Ihe
Pythoness advised Croesus to guard against the mule.
The king of Lydia understood nothing ot the oracle,
which denoted Cyrus descended from two different na¬
tions ; from the Medes, by Mandana his mother, the
daughter of Astyages •, and from the Persians, by his
father Cambyses, whose race was by far less grand and
illustrious.—Nero had for answer, from the oracle of
Delphos, that seventy-three might prove fata to him.
He believed he was safe from all danger till that age}
hut, finding himself deserted by every one, and hear¬
ing Galba proclaimed emperor,^ who was 73 years ot
age, he was sensible of the deceit of the oracle.
When men began to be better instructed by he
lights philosophy had introduced into the world, the
false oracles insensibly lost their credit. Chrysippus
filled an entire volume with false or doubtful oracles.
Oenomaus, to he revenged of some oracle that had
deceived him, made a compilation of oracles, to show
their ridiculous vanity. Eusebius has preserved some
fragments of this criticism on oracles by Oenomaus.
“ I might (says Origen) have recourse to the autho¬
rity of Aristotle and the Peripatetics, to make the
Pythoness much suspected: I might extract °
Oracle.
ORA [ 297 ]
writings of Epicurus and his sectators an abundance of divinities,
things to discredit oracles j and l might show that the
Greeks themselves made no great account of them.”
The reputation of oracles was greatly lessened when
they became an artihce of politics. Themistocles,
with a design of engaging the Athenians to quit
Athens, and to embark, in order to he in a better
condition to resist Xerxes, made the Pythoness deliver
an oracle, commanding them to take refuge in wooden
walls. Demosthenes said, that the Pythoness Philip-
pixed; to signify that she was gained over by Philip’s
presents.
Ine cessation of oracles is attested by several pro¬
fane authors 5 as Strabo, Juvenal, Lucan, and others.
Plutarch accounts for it, by saying, that the benefits
of the gods are not eternal as themselves are ; or that
the genii, who presided over oracles, are subject to
death ; or that the exhalations of the earth had been
exhausted, it appears that the last reason had been
alleged in the time of Cicero, who ridicules it in his
second book of Divination, as if the spirit of prophecy,
supposed to be excited by subterraneous effluvia, had
evaporated by length of time, as wine or pickle by be¬
ing long kept.
Suidas, Nicephorus, and Cedrenus, relate, that Au¬
gustas, having consulted the oracle ofDelphos, could
obtain no other answer but this : “ The Hebrew child,
whom all the gods obey, drives me hence, and sends me
back to hell : get out of this temple without speaking-
one word.” Suidas adds, that Augustus dedicated an
altar in the Capitol, with this inscription, “ To the
eldest son of God.” Notwithstanding these testimonies,
the answer of the oracle of Delphos to Augustus seems
very suspicious. Cedrenus cites Eusebius for this ora¬
cle, which is not now found in his works; and Aiums-
tus’s peregrination into Greece was 18 years before the
birth of Christ.
Suidas and Cedrenus give an account also of an an¬
cient oracle delivered to Thulis, a king of Egypt, which
they say is well authenticated. The king having con¬
sulted the oracle of Serapis, to know if there ever was,
or would be, one so great as himself, received this
answer: First God, next the Word, and the Spirit
with them. They are equally eternal, and make but
one whose power will never end. But thou, mortal,
go hence, and think that the end of the life of man is
uncertain.”
. Dale, in his treatise of oracles, does not be¬
lieve that they ceased at the coming of Christ. He
relates several examples of oracles consulted till the
death of Theodosius the Great. He quotes the laws
of the emperors Theodosius, Gratian, and Valentinian,
against those who consulted oracles, as a certain proof
that the superstition of oracles still subsisted in the time
of those emperors.
According to others, the opinion of those who be¬
lieve that demons had no share in the oracles, and that
the coming of the Messiah made ho change in them,
and the contrary opinion of those who pretend that
the incarnation of the Word imposed a general silence
on all oracles, should be equally rejected. They allege,
t lat two sorts of oracles ought to be distinguished:
the one dictated by the spirits of darkness, who de¬
ceived men by their obscure and doubtful answers ; the
0 R A
As to the oracles given out by demons, the
reign of Satan was destroyed by the coming of the Sa¬
viour; truth shut the mouth of lies ; but Satan conti¬
nued his old craft among idolaters. All the devils were
not forced to silence at the same time by the coming of
the Messiah ; it was on particular occasions that the
truth of Christianity, and the virtue of Christians, im¬
posed silence on the devils. St Athanasius tells the
Pagans, that they have been witnesses themselves that
the sign of the cross puts the devils to flight, silence?
oracles, and dissipates enchantments. This power of
silencing oracles, and putting the devils to flight, is also
attested by Arnobius, Lactantius, Prudentius, Minutius
Jelix and several others. Their testimony is a certain
proof that the coming of the Messiah had not imposed a
general silence on oracles.
. Plutarch relates, that the pilot Hiamusjieard a Voice
in the air, crying out, “ The great Pan is dead
whereupon Eusebius observes, that the accounts of the
death of the demons were frequent in the reign of Ti-
berms, when Christ drove out the wicked spirits.
The same judgment, it is said, may be passed on
oracles as on possessions. It was on particular occa¬
sions, by the divine permission, that the Christians cast
out devils, -or silenced oracles, in the presence, and even
by the confession, of the Pagans themselves, _4nd thus
it is we should, it seems, understand the passages of St
Jerome, Eusebius, Cyril, Theodoret, Prudentius, and.
other authors, who said that the coming of Christ had
imposed silence on the oracles.
As to the second sort of oracles, which were pure
artiflees and cheats of the priests of false divinities*
and which probably exceeded the number of those
that immediately proceeded from demons, they did not
cease till idolatry was abolished, though they had lost
their credit for a considerable time before the coming
of Christ. It was concerning this more common and
general sort of oracles that Minutius Felix said, they
they began to discontinue their responses, according as,
other, the pure artifice and cheat of the priests of false
V ol. XV. Part I.
men began to be more polite. But, however oracles
were decried, impostors always found dupes, the gross¬
est cheats having never failed.
Daniel discovered the imposture of the priests of(
Bel, who had a private way of getting into the temple*
to take away the offered meats, and who made the
king believe that the idol consumed them.—Mundus,
being in love witli 1 aulina, the eldest of the priestesses
of Isis, went and told her, that the god Anubis, be¬
ing passionately fond of heiy commanded her to give
him a meeting. She was afterwards shut up in a dark
room, where her lover Mundus, whom she believed to
he the god Anubis, was concealed. This imposture
having been discovered, Tiberius ordered those detest¬
able priests and priestesses to be crucified, and with them
Idrca, Mundus’s free woman, who had conducted the
whole intrigue. He also commanded the temple of Isis
to be levelled with the ground, and her statue to be
thrown into the liber ; and, as to Mundus, he content¬
ed himself with sending him into banishment.
rheonliilus, bishop of Alexandria, not only de¬
stroyed the temples of the false gods, but discovered
the cheats of the priests, by ■showing that the statues,
some of which were of brass, and others of wood, were
hollow within, and led into dark passages made in the
wall.
f Pp
Oracle.
Lucian,
ORA
Oracle Lucian, in discovering the ..~r 
 prophet Alexander, says, that the oracles were chietty
afraid of the subtilties of the Epicureans and Christi¬
ans. The false prophet Alexander sometimes feigned
himself seized with a divine fury, and by means ot the
herb sopewort, which he chewed, frothed at the mouth
in so extraordinary a manner, that the ignorant people
attributed it to the strength of the god he was pos¬
sessed by. He had long before prepared a head ot a
dragon made of linen, which opened and shut its
mouth by means of a horse hair. He went by night
to a place where the foundations of a temple were dig-
<nmr: and having found water, either of a spring, or
rain that had settled there, he hid in it a goose egg,
in which he had enclosed a little serpent that had been
just hatched. The next day, very early in the morn¬
ing he came quite naked into the street, having on y
a scarf about his middle, holding in his hand a scythe,
and tossing about his hair as the priests of Cybele j then
netting a-top of a high altar, he said that the place
was happy to be honoured by the birth of a god-—
Afterwards, running down to the place where be luu
hid the goose egg, and going into the water, he be-
<ran to sing the praises of Apollo and TEsculapius, and
to invite the latter to come and show himself to men.
With these words, he dips a bowl into the water,
and takes out the mysterious egg,, which had a god en¬
closed in it ; and when he had it in his hand, he began
to say that he held iEsculapius. Whilst all were eager
to have a sight of this fine mystery, he broke the egg,
and the little serpent starting out, twisted itself about
fils fingers. , .
These examples show clearly, that both Christians
and Pagans were so far agreed as to. treat the gvrafr/
number of oracles as purely human impostors. Ihat,
in fact all of them were so, will be concluded A
those who give equal credit to demoniacal inspiration,
and demoniacal possession. The most ancient oracle
was that of Dodona (see Dodona) *, but the most
famous was that of Delphi, to which article we a.so
refer for farther particulars on this subject, so famous
in Pagan antiquity. Another celebrated one was the
oracle of Trophonius, in the neighbourhood of Leba-
dia, a city of Bceotia, which was held in high estima-
lion. It received its name from 1 rophonius, bi other of
Agamedes, who lived in a subterraneous dwelling near
Lebadia, and pretended t,o the faculty of foretelling fu¬
ture events. He died in his cave, and was deified as
an oracular god. This oracle owed its reputation to
one Saon. . f .
Those who repaired to this cave for information,
were required to offer certain sacrifices, to anoint
themselves with oil, and to bathe in a certain rivei .
They were then clothed in a linen robe, took a ho¬
neyed cake in their hands, and descended into the sub¬
terraneous chamber by a narrow passage. Here it was
that futurity was unfolded to them, either by visions
or extraordinary sounds. The return from the cave
was by the same passage, but the persons consulting
were "obliged to walk backwards. They generally
came out astonished, melancholy, and dejected j hence
the proverb sis T^aip&'vieu fctftctfhvloti. fhe piiests on
their return placed them on an elevated seat, called tbe
seat of Mnemosyne, where an account was taken of what
they had seen and heard. They were then conducted to
[ 298 ] ORA
mpostarcs of the false the chapel of good Genius by their companlons. Khere,
by degrees, they recovered their usual composure and
cheerfulness. . .
Besides these three principal oracles of Greece, it is
proper to take notice of that of Amphiaraus at Gro¬
pius in Attica. It was so called from Amphiaraus,
the son of Oicleus, a man skilled in magic, the inter¬
pretation of dreams, &c. and who after his death was
deified and delivered oracles in a temple erected to
his divinity. (See Amphiaraus). They who ap¬
plied to them for information, were to purify them¬
selves, offer sacrifice, fast twenty-four hours, abstain
from wine two days, and make an offering of a ram
to Amphiaraus •, on the skin of which they were to
sleep, and see their destiny in a dieam. ISear the
temple was Amphiaraus’s fountain, which was sacred,
and the waters of it forbidden to be used for ordinary
purposes.
At Delos also there was an oracle ot the Dehan
Apollo ; in Milesia was that of the Branchidae, with
others of less note, which require not a particular de¬
scription, such as that of the camps at Lacedaemon,
that of Nabarcha, that of Chrysopohs, that of Claros
in Ionia, that of Mallos, that of Patarea, that of 1 ella,
that of Phasellides, that of Sinope, that of Orpheus.s
ll C cl cl C)«
Though the Bomans consulted the Grecian oracles
upon many occasions, and had few oracles in their own
country ; yet we must not omit mentioning the Cumsean
oracles which were delivered by the Sibyl of Cunne.
For an account of the Sibyls, see the article SlBYL.
See also Da:mont and Demoniac.
We have hitherto only considered the oracles of false
gods, of which there was a far greater number than
our limits permit us to observe, and before either Greeks
or Romans had risen to any distinction. Oracle is in
sacred history sometimes used for the mercy seat, or the
cover of the ark of the covenant •, and by others it is
taken for the sanctuary, or for the most holy place,
wherein the ark was deposited. .
A mono- the Jews we may distinguish several sorts ot
real oracles. They had first oracles that were delivered
viva voce ; as when God spake to Moses face to face,
as one friend speaks to another, (Numb. xn. 8.).
Secondly, Prophetical dreams sent by God ; as the
dreams which God sent to Joseph, and which^foretold
his future greatness, (Gen. xxxvii. 5, 6.). Third y,
Visions; as when a prophet in an ecstasy, being nei¬
ther properly asleep nor awake, had supernatural reve¬
lations, (Gen. xv. 1. xlvi. 2.). Fourthly, The oracle
of Urim and Thummim, which was accompanied with
the ephod or the pectoral worn by the high priest, and
which God had endued with the gift of foretelling
thintrs to come, (Numb. xii. 6. Joel ii. 28.). 'Hus man¬
ner of inquiring of the Lord was often made use ot,
from Joshua’s time to the erection of the temple at
Jerusalem. Fifthly, After the building ot the temple,
they generally consulted the prophets, who were fre¬
quent in the kingdoms of Judah and Israel. From Hag-
rai, Zechariah, and Malachi, who are the last of the pro¬
phets that have any of their writings remaining, the Jews
pretend that God gave them what they call Bathco!, ^
daughter of the voice, which was a supernatural manifes¬
tation of the will of God, which was performed either by
a strong inspiration or internal voice, or else by a sensible
Oracle.-
o n a
Oracle.
find external voice, which was heard by a number of
J persons sufficient to hear testimony of it. For example,
such was the voice that was heard at the baptism of
Jesus Christ, saying, This is my beloved Son, &c.
(Matth. iii. 17.).
1 he Scripture affords us examples likewise of profane
oracles. Balaam,, at the instigation of Ins own spirit,
and urged on by his avarice, fearing to lose the recom¬
pense that he was promised by Balak king of the Moa¬
bites, suggests a diabolical expedient to this prince, of
making the Israelites fall into ulolatory and fornication
(Numb, xxiv, 14. xxxi. 16.), by which he assures him
of a certain victory, or at least of considerable advan¬
tage against the jieople of God.
Micaiah the son of Imlah, a prophet of the Lord, says
(1 Kings xxii. 21, &c.), that he saw the Almighty sit¬
ting upon his throne, and all the host of heaven round
about him ; and the Lord said, who shall tempt Ahab
king of Israel, that he may go to war with Ramoth-
gtlead, and fall in the battle ? One answered after one
manner, and another in another. At the same time an
evil spirit presented himself before the Lord, and said, I
will seduce him. And the Lord asked him, How ? To
which Satan answered I will go and be a lying spirit in
the mouth of his prophets. And the Lord said, Go
and thou shall prevail. This dialogue clearly proves
these two things : first, that the devil could do nothing
by his own power; and, secondly, that with the per¬
mission of God, he could inspire the false prophets,
sorcerers, and magicians, and make them deliver false
oracles.
Respecting the cessation of profane oracles there have
been a variety of opinions; some of which we have
already remarked. It has been generally held, indeed,
that oracles ceased at the birth of Jesus Christ : Yet
some have endeavoured to maintain the contrary, by
showing that they were in being in the days of Julian,
commonly called the Apostate, and that this emperor
himself consulted them ; nay, farther, say they, history
makes mention of several laws published by the Chris¬
tian emperors Theodosius, Gratian, and Valentinian, to
punish persons who interrogated them, even in their
days ; and that the Epicureans were the first who made
a jest of this superstition, and exposed the roguerv of its
priests to the people. As we suspect most of the facts
here asserted should be understood in a qualified sense,
we shall endeavour to discuss this point of controversy in
as few words as possible, although it is undoubtedly a
matter of some consequence.
isf, The question, properly stated, is not, Whether
[ 299 ]
O It A
willingness to acknowledge, that when the world hud re¬
ceived the light oj Christ, the dominion oj the devil was
at an end.
$dly, I lie Christian emperors do indeed seem to con¬
demn the superstition and idolatry of those who were
still for consulting oracles ; but the edictsof those princes
do not prove that oracles actually existed in their times,
any more than that they ceased in consequence of their
laws. It is certain that they were for the most part
extinct before the conversion of Constantine.
4f/dl/, Some Epicureans might make a jest of this su¬
perstition: however, the Epicurean philosopher Celsus,
m d16 second century of the church, was for crying up
the excellency of several oracles, as appears at large
irom Origen’s seventh book against him.
OR/EA, certain solemn sacrifices of fruits which
were offered in the four seasons of the year, in order
to obtain mild and temperate weather. They were of¬
fered to the goddesses who presided over the seasons,
who attended upon the sun, and who received divine
worship at Athens.
ORAL, something delivered by word of mouth, with¬
out being committed to writing; in which sense we say
oral law, oral tradition, &e. 7
ORAN, a very strong town of Africa, in Barbarv,
with several forts, and an excellent harbour. It is seat¬
ed partly on the side of a hill, and partly on a plain,
about a stouecast from the sea, almost opposite to Car-*
thagena in Spain, and is about a mile and a half in cir¬
cumference. In 1790, 2000 of the inhabitants perish¬
ed by an earthquake which nearly destroyed the whole
town. It was taken by the Spaniards in 1509, and re¬
taken by the Algerines in 1708 ; but in 1732 the Spa¬
niards became masters of it, and have continued so ever
since. E. Long. o. 8. N. LaU 36. 2.
ORANG outang. See Sjmia, Mammalia Index.
ORANGE, a city, and capital of a province of the
same name, united to Hauphiny, with a university and
a bishop’s see, suffragan of Arles. It is seated in a
fine large plain, watered by a vast number of little
rivulets on the east side of the river Rhone, and in the
department of Vaucluse. It is a very large ancient
place, and was considerable in the time of the Romans,
who adorned it with several buildings, of which there
are still some ruins left, particularly of an amphitheatre,
and a triumphal arch which is almost entire, dedicated
to Marius. The town contained 7270 inhabitants in
1800. The wall was in 1682 entirely demolished by
order of Louis XIV . and the inhabitants were exposed
to the fury of the soldiers. The town was restored to
oracles became extinct immediately upon the birth of King William by the treaty of Ryswiok ; buCafter his
Christ, or from the very moment he was born ; but, If death the French took it again, and expelled the Pro-
they feU gradually into disesteem and ceased, as Christ testant inhabitants. By the treaty of Utrecht it was
and his gospel became known to mankind. And that confirmed to the crown of France, though the title is still
they did so, is most certain .from the concurrent testi- retained in the house of Nassau. The title was first in-
tiouuced into the family of Nassau, by the marriage of
Claude de Chalons, the prince of Orange’s sister, with
■the count of Nassau, 1530. The principality is a very
small district, it being only twelve miles in length and
nine in breadth, and tlie revenue amounts to about 3000!.
a-year.. The country is pleasant, and abounds with corn
and fruit, but is exposed to violent winds. E. Long.
4. 49. N. Lat. 44. 9.
Maurice Prince of Orange. See Maurice.
Orange River, also known by the name of the
P p 2 Great
monies of the fathers, which, whoever would endeavour
to invalidate, may equally give up the most respectable
traditions and relations of every kind.
idly, But did not Julian the apostate consult
these oracles ? Wre answer in the negative : he had
indeed recourse to magical operations, but it was
because oracles had already ceased ; for he bewailed
the loss of them, and assigned pitiful reasons for
it; which St Cyril has vigorously, refuted, adding,
that he never could have offered such, hut from an un~
Oriu-fo
!l
Cr;:i):rc,
ORA [ 3°° ]
is situated in southern Africa, and is ot the
ORA
Grange. Oreat ii\ci7 —   . . , o
——v ^ considerable extent. It seems to take its rise about
Tiat. 30°, and E. Long. 28° from Greenwich, and joins
the sea, after a west by north course for a number ot
leagues, between the great and little Nam aquas, two
tribes supposed to be of the same origin with the Hot¬
tentots. There are high cataracts in it, and it is subjet
to inundations like the Nile. Carnelians, calcedo-
nies, agates, and variolites are found upon the shores.
The* rains in the great mountains along the foot of
which the Orange river runs, collecting their streams in
its passage, commence in the month ot November, and
cause the inundations to take place towards the Namaqua
country in the month of December. The nauseous
custom of greasing the skin, from the great scarcity of
water in many parts of South Africa^ is rendered un¬
necessary among the people who inhabit the banks of
this grand river ; and of consequence they exhibit none
of that filthy appearance which is characteristic of the
Hottentots on the skirts of the colony.
OnASGE-Tree, in Botamj. See Citrus, Botany
Index.—Orange flowers are justly esteemed one of the
finest perfumes; and though little used in medicine, yet
the water distilled from them is accounted stomachic,
cordial, and carminative. The fruit is cooling, and
good in feverish disorders, and particularly in diarrhoeas.
Orange-peel is an agreeable aromatic, proper to repair
and strengthen the stomach, and gives a very grateful
flavour to any infusions or tinctures into whose com¬
positions it enters. It is particularly useful in pre¬
parations of the bark: gives an agreeable warmth to'
ihe infusion ; and, according to Dr Percival, consider¬
ably increases its virtue.
In the Philosophical Transactions, N° 114. there is
a very remarkable account of a tree standing in a grove
near Florence, having an orange stock, which had been
so grafted upon, that it became in its branches, leaves,
flowers and fruit, three-formed : some emulating the
orange, some the lemon or citron, and some partaking
of both forms in one; and what was very remarkable
was, that these mixed fruits never produced any perfect
seeds: sometimes there were no seeds at all in them,
and sometimes only a few empty ones.
ORANGE-Dew, a kind of dew which falls in the
spring time from the leaves of orange and lemon trees,
which is extremely fine and subtile. M. de la Hire ob¬
serving this, placed some flat pieces of glass under the
leaves to receive it : and having procured some large
drops of it, was desirous of discovering what it was.
He soon found that it was not merely an aqueous fluid,
because it did not evaporate in the air ; and that it was
not a resin, because it readily and perfectly mixed with
water: it was natural then to suppose it a liquid gum;
but neither did this, on examination, prove to be the
case; for being laid on paper, it did not dry as the
ether liquid^gums do. Its answering to none of thesa
characters, and its being of the consistence of honey,
and of a sweet sugar-like taste, gave a suspicion of its
being a kind of manna; and whatever in the other
trials had proved it not a resin, a gum, &c. all equally
tends to prove that it is this substance.
Orange, Sea, in Natural History, a name given by
Count Marsigli to a very remarkable species of marine
substance, which he denominates a plant. It is tough
and firm in its structure, and in many things resembles
common fucus; but instead of growing in the
branched form which the generality of those substan- _
ces have, it is round and hollow, and in every respect
resembles the shape of an orange, It has, by way oi
root, some exceeding fine filaments, which tasten them¬
selves to the rocks, or to shells, stones, or any thing else
that comes in the way. From these there grows no
pedicle; but the body of the orange, as it is called,
is fastened by them to the rock, or other solid sub¬
stance. The orange itsell is usually of about thiee oi
four inches in diameter ; and while in the sea, is full
of water, and even retains it when taken up. In this
state it frequently weighs a pound and a half; but
when the water is let out, and it is dried, it becomt s
a mere membrane, weighing scarce any thing. It is
best preserved, by stuffing it with cotton as soon as
the water is let out of it, and then hanging it up to
drv. Its surface is irregular and rough, and its colour
a dusky green on the outside, and a clearer but some¬
what bluish green within; and its thickness is about
an eighth part of an inch. When viewed by the mi¬
croscope, it is seen to be all over covered with small
glandules, or rather composed of them ; for they stand
so thick one by another as to leave no space between,
and seem to make up the whole substance ; so that it
appears very like the rough shagreen skin used to co¬
ver toys. These are indeed so many hollow ducts,
through which the sea-water finds a passage into the
globe°formed by this skin, and by this means it is
kept always full and distended; on cutting it with a
pair of scissars, the water immediately runs out, and
the skins collapse ; but there is something extremely re¬
markable in thisj for the whole substance, near the
wounded place, is in motion, and seems as if alive, and
sensible of the wound. The glandules are found full
of water, and resembling small transparent bottles ; and
what goes to the structure of the plant beside these, is
an assemblage of a vast number of filaments, all which
are likewise hollow, and filled with a clear and transpa¬
rent fluid.
There is another substance of this kind, mentioned
and described by Count Marsigli, Triumfetti, and
others, and called the ramose or branched orange.
This is very much of the nature of the former ; but
instead of consisting of one round globule, it is formed
of several oblong ones all joined together, and repre¬
senting the branches of some of the fucuses, only they
are shorter; and these are all hollow and full of water,
in the same manner as the single globes of the com¬
mon kind. This has, by way of root, certain fine
and slender filaments, which fasten it to the stones or
shells near which it is produced; and it is of a dusky
(rreenish colour on the surface, and of a fine bluish
green within. 1 he surface viewed by the microscope,
appears rough, as in the other, and the glandules aie
of the same kind, and are always found full of clear
water.
ORATION, in Rhetoric, a speech or harangue,
composed according to the rules of oratory, but spoken
in public. Orations may be reduced to three kinds,
viz. the demonstrative, deliberative, and judicial, lo
the demonstrative kind belong panegyrics, genethbaca,
epithalamia, congratulations, &c. To the deliberative
kind belong persuasion, exhortation, &c. And to the
judicial kind belong accusation, confutation, &c.
Orange,
Oration.
o B A C 301 ] O B A
Ovation, Funeral Oration. See Funeral Oration.
Orator. OKA I OR, among the Romans, differed from a
patronus : The latter was allowed only to plead causes
on behalf of his clients; whereas the former might
quit the forum and ascend the rostra or tribunal, to
harangue the senate or the people. The orators had
rarely a profound knowledge of the law, but they
were eloquent, and their style was generally correct
and concise. They were employed in causes of im¬
portance, instead of the common patrons. Orators
in the violence of elocution used all the warmth of
gesture, and even walked backwards and forwards with
great heat and emotion. This it was which occasion¬
ed a witticism of Flavius Virginius, who asked one of
those walking orators, Quot millia passuum ileclamds-
set? “ How many miles he had declaimed ?” Similar
to the Roman orators were the Grecian Fhetores. See
Rhetores.
Public Orator, an office of very considerable dig¬
nity, and of some emolument, in the English universi¬
ties.
Ihe public orator is the principal, and in many cases
the only ostensible, agent for the university, in all those
matters or forms which are merely external. He carries
on or superintends all correspondences which are calcu¬
lated to promote the dignity, or raise the utility, of
the seminary which constitutes him. He has little to
do, indeed, with the internal government of the body,
for which a variety of officers in different departments
are appointed 5 but in all public affairs he is, as it were,
the mouth of the whole j putting their deliberations
into proper form, and communicating or publishing
them, according to the intention of the university.
Thus, if the whole university, or a committee appoint¬
ed by them, or by statute, or by the will of any parti¬
cular benefactor, have, after a comparative trial, ad¬
judged a prize to any person or persons, it is the busi¬
ness of the public orator to inform the successful parties
of the issue of the trial. Again, If for singular learn¬
ing, or for any remarkable good will shown to the uni¬
versity by any person or persons, the senate or convoca¬
tion are pleased to declare their grateful sense of it
either by conferring degrees, or otherwise, as they think
fit, the public orator is to notify this intention to the
person or persons concerned j and so in other cases.
Another part of the public orator’s business is to
present young noblemen, or those who take honorary
degrees, tanquam nobiles, to the vice-chancellor; this Orator,
he does in a Latin speech, which, according to cir- Oratorio,
cumstances, is either short or long; and of which the“
subject is generally a defence of that particular statute
which allows the sons of noblemen, and some few others,
to proceed to degrees before what is called the statuta¬
ble time. In doing this, encomiums, often stronger than
just, are made upon the learning and virtue of the no¬
ble candidate ; a view is taken of the dignity of his an¬
cient house ; the honour is mentioned which has accru¬
ed to the university from the accession of such a mem¬
ber; and the oration concludes with promising great
credit from his future conduct, as well as benefit from
the influence of his rank in the state. These circum¬
stances are deemed sufficient grounds for exempting the
sons of noblemen from that tedious course of study,
through which the duller sons of commoners must all
pass before they be thought worthy of academical
honours.
ORATORIO, in the Italian music, a sort of sacred
drama of dialogues ; containing recitatives, duettos,
trios, ritornellos, choruses, &c. The subjects of those
pieces are usually taken from Scripture, or the life of
some saint, &c. The music for the oratorios should be
m the finest taste and best chosen strains. These ora¬
torios are greatly used at Rome in the time of Lent,
and of late in England.
Menestrier attributes the origin of oratorios to the
crusades, and says that the pilgrims returning from Je¬
rusalem and the Holy Land, &c. composed songs recite
ing the life and death of the Son of God, and the myste¬
ries of the Christian faith, and celebrating the achieve¬
ments and constancy of saints and martyrs. Others,
with more probability, observe, that the oratorio was
an avowed imitation, of the opera, with only this differ¬
ence, that the foundation of it was always some religi¬
ous or at least some moral subject. Crescimbeni ascribes*
its origin to San Filippo Neri, who was born at Flo¬
rence in 1515, and who, in his chapel after sermons,
and other devotions, in order to allure young people to
pious offices, had hymns, psalms, and such like prayers,
sung by one or more voices. Among the spiritual
songs were dialogues; and these entertainments be¬
coming more frequent, and improving every year, were
the occasion that in the seventeenth century oratorios
were first invented, so called from the place of their
origin. See Hawkins''s History of Music.
ORATORY;
THE ART OF SPEAKING WELL UPON ANY SUBJECT, IN ORDER TO PERSUADE.
. INTRODUCTION.
§ I. Of the Rise and Progress of Oratory.
file origin THE invention of oratory is, by the Egyptians, and
51 the art _ the fables of the poets, ascribed to Mercury. And
1 oratory, it is well known, that the Greeks made their deities the
authors likewise ftt other arts, and supposed that they
presided over them. Hence they gave Mercury the
titles of and E^ij?, both which names come from
words that signify “ to speak.” And Aristides calls
eloquence the gift of Mercury ; and for the same rea¬
son anciently the tongue who consecrated to him. He
was likewise said to be the interpreter or messenger of
the gods; which office very well suited him, as he ex¬
celled in eloquence. Hence we read in the Sacred Writ¬
ings, that when the people of Lystra took Barnabas and
1 aul for gods in human shape, because of that sudden and
surprising cure which was wrought upon the lame man,
4 they
302
0 R
they called Barnabas JupiUr, ami Baul Mercury; for
this reason, as the inspired writer tells Ub> because ic
was the chief speaker,’ that is (as the spectators then
thought), the interpreter or spokesman of Barnabas.
But to pass over these fictions of the heathen deities,
let us hear what Quintilian says of the origin of this art;
who seems to give a very probable account of it in the
following passage. “ The faculty of speech (says he)
we derive from nature (a) ) but the art from observa¬
tion. For as in physic, men, by seeing that some things
promote health, and others destroy it, formed the art
upon those observations •, in like manner, by perceiving
that some things in discourse are said to advantage, and
others not, they accordingly marked those things, in
order to imitate the one and avoid the other. They al¬
so added some things from their own reason and judge¬
ment, which) being confirmed by use, they began to
teach others what they knew themselves.” But no
certain account can be given when, or by whom, this
method of observation first began to take place. And
Aristotle supposes, not without reason, that the first h-
neame'hts of the art were very rude and imperfect.
Pausanias, indeed, in his Description oj Greece, tells us,
that Pittheus, the uncle of Theseus, taught it at Iroe-
zene, a city of Peloponnesus, and wrote a book concern¬
ing it, which he read himself, as it was published by one
of Epidaurus. But as Pittheus lived above rooo years
before Pausanias, who flourished in the time of the em¬
peror Hadrian, some are of opinion he might be im¬
posed upon by the Epidaurian, who published this book
under the name of Pittheus. But be that as it will, it
is very reasonable to believe, that the Greeks had the
A T O R Y. Introil.
Leontium m the same island, who is said to have been
the scholar of Empedocles, and by reason of his great
age (for he lived to be I09 years old) had many cotem- ^ ’
poranes. Thrasymachus of Chalcedon, 11 odious of t ta, 0f
Protagoras of Abdera, Hippias of Elis, and Aleidamus Greece,
of Elea, lived in his time j as likewise Antiphon, who
first wrote orations, and also upon the art, and is said to
have spoken admirably welkin his own defence j and
besides these, Polycrates, and Theodore of Byzantium.’
These persons contributed different ways towards the
improvement of the art. ;Gorax and lisias gave rules
for methodizing a discourse, and adjusting its particular
parts j as may he conjectured from Cicero s account ot
them, who says, “ Though some had spoke well before
their tune, *' yet none with order and method. But
■ Gorgias seems to have excelled all the rest in tame and
-.reputation: for Tie was -so highly applauded by all
Greece, that a golden statue was erected to him at Del-
-phos, which was a distinguishing honour conferred upon
him only. And he is said to have been so great a ma¬
ster of oratory, that in a public assembly he could un¬
dertake to declaim immediately upon any subject pro¬
posed to him. He wrote, as Cicero informs us, in the
demonstrative or laudatory way; which requires most
-of the sublime, and makes what Diodorus Siculus says
of him the more probable, that “ he first introduced the
c strongest figures, members of periods opposite in sense,
of an equal length, or ending with a like sound, and
.other ornaments of that nature.” And hence those fi¬
gures, which give the greatest force and lustre to a dis¬
course, wrere anciently called by his name. Cicero tells
us further, * that Thrasymachus and Gorgias were the
is very reasona e 0 e mve ^ . f pitt]ieus< . first who introduced numbers into prose, which Isocrates
Cltseus ur„:lw Uveb „ot long letre the ta- .afterwards brought to perfection Quintilian hkew.se
king of Troy which, according to Sir Isaac-Newton, mentions Protagoras, Gorgias Prodicus, am L hrasy-
hinined QOd’years before the birth of Chirst > at which maebus, as the first who treated ol common places, and
lPe efeero tlonght it was in much esteem among them, showed the use of them lor the mvent.on of arguments
O Homer f says he) would never have given Ulysses and Nor must we om.t Plato, whose elegant d.alogue upon
Nestor in theVroian war -so great commendations on this subject is still extant, which he entitles Oorgmi.
account of their speeches (to one of whom he attributes For though he does not ay down the common rules ot
force, and to the other sweetness of expression), if elo¬
quence had not in those times-been in great repute.’
And lest any one should imagine, that T11 those days
they made use only of such helps as nature and practice
could afford them, the same poet -informs us, that Pe-
Teus sent‘Phoenix with his son Achilles to the Irojan
war, to instruct him* not only in the art of war, but
likewise of eloquence. : But who were the professors of
this art for some ages following is not known. For
Quintilian says, that afterwards Empedocles is the first
upon record who attempted any thing concerning it.
And he, by Sir Isaac Newton’s account, flourished
about 50Q years after Troy was taken. At which time,
as Cicero observes, men being now sensible of the power¬
ful charms of oratory, and the influence it had upon the
mind, there immediately arose several masters of it •, the
' chief of whom are mentioned by Quintilian, who tells
us, that ‘ the oldest writers upon this art are Corax and
’Tisias, both of Sicily. After them came Gorgias of
the art", yet he very well explains the nature ol it, and
maintains its true end and use against the generality ol
its professors, who had greatly perverted the original de¬
sign of it. Thus by the study and industry ot so many
ingenious and great men, the art of oratory was then
carried to a considerable height among the Grecians :
though many of those who professed it in those times
employed their skill rather to promote their own repu¬
tation and applause, than to serve the real interests ol
truth and virtue. “ For they proposed in an arrogant
manner (as Cicero says) to teach how a bad cause might
be so managed, as to get the better ol a good one.
That is, they would undertake to charm the ears and
strike the passions of their hearers in so porverful a man¬
ner, by sophistical reasonings, turns of wit, and fine
language, as to impose falsehood upon them for truth :
than which nothing could he either more disingenuous
in itself, or prejudicial to society.
But those who succeeded them seem to have consult¬
ed
(a') If Quintilian meant that the human race speak an articulate language by nature or instinct, l,e certainly
deceived himself (see Language) ; but if his meaning was only that men have from nat".Ij? a JaPa V Jar.
speech, the observation is true, but not of much value. 1 arrots and other birds have a capabilit) of g
ticulate sounds.
Introd. O ft A
cd better, both for their own honour and that of their
profession. Isocrates was the moftt renowned of all Gur-
gias’s scholars, whom Cicero frequently extols with the
highest commendations, as the greatest master and
teacher of oratory; “ whose school (as he says) like the
Trojan horse, sent forth abundance of great men.” A-
ristotle was chiefly induced to engage in this province
from an emulation of his glory ; and would often say
in a verse of Sophocles, somewhat varied to his pur¬
pose,
To be silent it is a shame;
While Isocrates gets such fame.
Quintilian says they both wrote upon the art, though
there is no system of the former now extant. But that
of Aristotle is esteemed the best and most complete of
any in the Greek language. In this age the Grecian
eloquence appeared in its highest perfection. Demos¬
thenes was a hearer both of Isocrates and Plato, as also
of Isseus (ten of whose orations are yet extant) ; and by
the assistance of a surprising genius, joined with indefa¬
tigable industry, made that advantage of their precepts,
that he has been always esteemed by the best judges the
prince of Grecian orators. His great adversary and ri¬
val -ZEschines, after his banishment, is said to have gone
to Rhodes, and employed his time there in teaching of
rhetoric. Theodectes and Theophrastus, both of them
scholars of Aristotle, imitated their master in writing,
upon the art. And from that time the philosophers^
especially the Stoics and Peripatetics, applied them¬
selves to lay down the rules of oratory; which Socrates
bad before separated from the province of a philosopher.
And there is yet preserved a treatise upon this subject,
which some have ascribed to Demetrius Pbalereus the
Peripatetic, and scholar of Theophrastus, though others
more probably to Dionysius of Halicarnassus. Quinti-.
lian mentions several other famous rhetoricians in the
following ages, who were likewise writers : As Herma-
goras, Athemeus, Apollonius Molon, Areus Ccecilius,
Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Apollonius of Pergamus,
and Theodore of Gadara. But of these nothing now
remains upon the subject of oratory, except some tracts
of Dionysius, who flourished in the reign of Augustus
Caesar. Nor have there been wanting some eminent
writers of this kind among the Greeks since the time of
Quintilian : two ol whom we cannot omit to mention,
Hermogenes, and Longinus the author of the incompa¬
rable treatise Ot the Sublime, a book which can scarce-
^ ly he too much commended or too often read,
tiseand .I1 was ,loilg before Rome received this art, and not
irogrcss of without difficulty at first. The reason was, because the
^tory in Romans were for several ages wholly addicted to milita-
onic- ry aflairs, and to enlarge their territories; so that they
not only neglected to cultivate learning, hut thought
the pursuit of it a thing of ill tendency, by diverting
the minds of their youth from the cares and toils of war,
to a more soft and indolent kind of life. Therefore so
late as the year of their city 592, when by the industry
of some Grecians the liberal arts began to flourish in
Italy, a decree passed the senate, by which all philoso¬
phers and rhetoricians were ordered to depart out of
Itome. But in a few years after, when Carneades, Cri-
tolaus, and Diogenes, who were not only philosophers
hut orators, came ambassadors from Athens to Rome,
the Roman youth were so charmed with the eloquence
r O R Y.
of their harangues, that they eould no longer he stopfr
from pursuing the study of oratory. And by a further
acquaintance with the Greeks, it soon gained such
esteem, that persons of the first quality employed their
time and pains to acquire it. And a young gentleman,;
wdio was ambitious to advance himself in the service of-
his country, could have little hopes of success, unless he
had laid the foundation of his future prospects in that
study.
Seneca tells us, that Lucius Plotius, a Gaul, was the-
first who taught the art of oratory at Rome in Latin p
which, Cicero says, was while he was a boy; and when
the most studious persons went to hear him, he lament¬
ed that he could not go with them ; being prevented by
the regard he paid to the opinion ot some of his friends,,
who thought that greater improvements were made by
exeicises in the Greek language under Grecian masters.
Seneca adds, that this profession continued for some time
in the hands of freedmen ; and that the first Roman
who engaged in it was Blandus of the equestrian order,
who was succeeded by others; some of whose lives are
yet extant,.written hy Suetonius, as many of the Gre¬
cians are by Philostratus and Eunapius. Quintilian like¬
wise gives us the names of those among the Romans, who
wrote upon the art. “ The first (he says) as far as I
can learn, w'ho composed any thing upon this argument^
was M. Cato the censor. After hinv Antony the ora¬
tor began upon the subject, which is the only wmrk he
has left, and that imperfect; 1 hen followed some of
less note. But he who carried eloquence to its highest
pitch among us, was Cicero ; who has likewise by hia
rules given the best plan both to practise and teach the
art. After whom modesty would require us to mention
no more, had he not told us himself that his books of
rhetoric slipt out of his hands, while he was but a youth.
And those lesser things, which many persona want, he-
has purposely omitted, in his discourses of oratory. Cor-
nificius wrote largely upon the same subject; Stertiniua
and Gallio the father, each of them something. But
Celsus and Lenas were more accurate than Gallio; and
in our times \ irginius, Pliny, and Rutilius. And there
are at this day some celebrated authors of the same kind,
who, if they had taken in every thing, might have sa¬
ved my pains.” lime has since deprived us of most of
the writers mentioned here hy Quintilian. Rut we have
the less reason to regret this loss, since it has preserved'
to us Cicero’s treatises upon this subject; which wre may
well suppose to have been chiefly owing to their own
excellency, and the great esteem they have always had
in the world. Besides his Two books of Invention,
which Quintilian here calls his Books of Rhetoric, there
are extant of his, Three books of an Orator; one Of
famous Orators; and another, which is called The Ora¬
tor; as also his lopics, a preface Concerning the best-
sort of Oiators, and a treatise Of the parts of Oratory.
Lach of which treatises, whether we regard the justness-
and delicacy of the thoughts, the usefulness of the rules,,
or the elegance and beauty of the style, deserves to be
frequently perused by all who are lovers of eloquence.
For who can be thought so well qualified to give the
rules of any art, as he who excelled.all mankind in the
practice of them ? Rut those I our Books to Herennius,.
which are published among Cicero’s works, seem with
good reason to he attributed to Cornificius, whom Quin¬
tilian here mentions. And Celsus is by some affirmed.
to
3°3
304 ORA
to have taught oratory, whom he also places among the
rhetoricians, ami whose Eight Books of Medicine are
yet extant, written in so beautiful a stile as plainly
shows him to be a master of eloquence. But Quintilian
himself outdid all who went before him in diligence and
accuracy as a Writer. His Institutions are so compre¬
hensive, and written with such great exactness and
judgment, that they are generally allowed to be the
most perfect work ot the kind With this excellent
author we shall finish the account ot the Batin rhetori-
xians.
There were indeed some others in the following ages,
whose works are yet extant-, hut as they contain nothing
of moment which is not to be found in those already
mentioned, we shall forbear to name them. Much less
Shall we descend to that numerous body ot writers, who
since the revival of learning have treated upon this sub-
* Archbp. iect’ f01' the same reason. And a. very good judge* has
Cambray, not long since given it as his opinion, that the method
Xetf.p. 213-of forming the best system of oratory, is to collect it
from the finest precepts of Aristotle, Cicero, Quintilian,
Longinus, and other celebrated authors •, with proper
examples taken from the choicest parts of the purest
antiquity. And this is the method attempted to be
pursued in the following treatise.
§ 2. Of the Nature of Oratory.
The terms rhetoric and oratory, having no other dif¬
ference hut that one is taken from the Greek language
and the other from the Latin, may be used promiscu¬
ously , but the case is not the same with respect to the
words rhetorician and orator. For although the Gre¬
cians used the former, both to express those who taught
the art, and those who practised it; yet the Romans af¬
terward, when they took that word into their language,
confined it to the teachers of the art, and called the rest
orators. And there seems to have been a sufficient ica-
son for this distinction, since the art was the same in
both, and might therefore go by either name : but the
diflerent province of rhetoricians and orators made it not
improper that they should be called by different names.
Besides, anciently, before rhetoric was made a separate
and distinct art from philosophy, the same persons taught
both. And then they were called not only rhetoricians
but sophists. But because they often employed their art
rather to vindicate what was false and unjust, than to
support truth and virtue ; this disingenuous conduct,
bv which they frequently imposed upon weak minds,
brought a discredit both upon themselves and their pro¬
fession. And therefore the name sophist or sop hist tr,
has been more generally used in an ill sense, to signify
one skilled rather in the arts of cavilling, than qualified
4 to speak well and accurately upon any subject.
Oratory an It is not necessary to use many words, to prove that
art. oratory is an art. For it is comprised under certain
rules, agreeable to reason, delivered in a regular me¬
thod, and suited to attain the end it proposes 5 which
are characters sufficient to denominate it an art. In¬
deed the case is the same here as in most other things,
that a good genius is of itself more serviceable than
the most exact acquaintance with all the rules of art,
where that is wanting. But it is sufficient that art
help nature, and carry it farther than it can otherwise
advance without it. And he who i° desirous to gain the
TOR Y. ' bitrod;
reputation of a good orator, will find the assistance of
art very necessary. Some persons have thought, that
many of the common systems written upon the subject
of oratory have been attended with this inconvenience,
that, by burdening the mind with too great a number of
rules about things of less importance, they have often¬
times rather discouraged than promoted the study of elo^
quence. This undoubtedly is an extreme winch should
be always carefully avoided. But, however, an indif¬
ferent guide in a strange road is better than none at all.
It may be worth while to hear Quintilian’s opinion up¬
on this head. “ I would not (says he) have young per¬
sons think they are sufficiently instructed, it they have
learned one of those compends which are commonly
handed about, and fancy themselves safe in the decrees,
as it were, of these technical writers. The art of speak¬
ing requires much labour, constant study, a variety of
exercise, many trials, the greatest prudence, and readi¬
ness of thought. However, these treatises are usefin,
when they set you in a plain and open way, and do not
confine you to one narrow track, from which he who
thinks it a crime to depart must move as slowly as one
that walks upon a rope.” We see lie is not for having
us confine ourselves too closely to systems, though he
thinks they are of service at first, till use and experience
render them less necessary. 5
The business of oratory is to teach us to speak well; The object
which, as Cicero explains it, is to justly, methodi-oOit,
cally, floridly, and copiously.
Now, in order to speak or pertinently, a per¬
son must be master of his subject, that he may be abie
to say all that is proper, and avoid whatever may ap¬
pear foreign and trifling. And he must clothe his
thoughts with such words and expressions as are most
suited to the nature of the argument, and will give it
the greatest force and evidence.
And as it teaches to speak justly, so likewise met no-
dically. This requires, that all the parts of a discourse
be placed in their proper order, and with such just con¬
nexion, as to reflect a light upon each other, and
thereby to render the whole both clear in itself, and
easy to be retained. But the same method is not pro¬
per for all discourses. And very frequently a different
manner is convenient in handling the same subject.
For it is plain, that art, as well as nature, loves variety;
and it discovers the speaker’s judgment, when the dis¬
position of his discourse is so framed, as to appear easy
and natural, rather than the effect of industry and la¬
bour.
To speak/om//y, is so peculiar a property ot this art,
that some have wholly confined it to the pomp and or¬
naments of language. But that it extends farther, and
respects things as well as words, we shall have occasion
to show hereafter. It contains indeed the whole subject
of elocution, but does not wholly consist in it._ Irue
and solid eloquence requires not only the beauties and
flowers of language, but likewise the best sense and
clearest reasoning. Besides, rhetoric gives rules for
the several sorts of style, and directs the use of them
agreeably to the nature of the subject.
But the force of oratory appears in nothing more than
a copiousness of expression, or a proper manner of en¬
largement, suited to the nature of the subject; which is
of great use in persuasion, and forms the last property,
required by Cicero, of speaking well. A short and con
Introd.
else account of things is often attended with obscurity,
from an omission of some necessary circumstances rela¬
ting to them. Or, however, where that is not the case,
yet for want of proper embellishments to enliven the dis¬
course, and thereby to excite and fix the hearers atten¬
tion, it is apt to slip through their minds without lea¬
ving any impression. But where the images of things
are drawn in their full proportion, painted in their pro¬
per colours, set in a clear light, and represented in dif¬
ferent views, with all the strength and beauties of elo¬
quence, they captivate the minds of the audience with
the highest pleasure, engage their attention, and by an
irresistible force move and bend them to the design of
the speaker.
The principal end and design of oratory is to per¬
suade : for which reason it is frequently called the art
of persuasion. Indeed the orator has often other subor¬
dinate views; as when he endeavours either to delight
his hearers with what is pleasant and agreeable, or to
conciliate their good opinion by a smooth and artful ad¬
dress j but still both these are in order to persuade and
excite them to action.
An objection may, perhaps, hence be formed against
eloquence, as an art which may be employed for per¬
suading to ill as well as to good. There is no doubt
that it may ; and so reasoning may also be, and too of¬
ten is, employed for leading men into error. But who
would think of forming an argument from this against
the cultivation of our reasoning powers ? Reason, elo¬
quence, and every art which ever has been studied
among mankind, may be abused, and may prove dan¬
gerous in the hands of bad men : but it were perfectly
childish to contend, that upon this account they ought
'to be abolished.
While the orator employs his art in pursuing only
those ends for which it was at first designed, the per¬
suading men to good and virtuous actions, and dissua¬
ding them from every thing that is ill and vicious ; no¬
thing can be more commendable in itself or useful to
buman societies.
ORATOR Y.
*
§ 3* Q/" rf‘c Division of Oratory.
Oratory consists of four parts ; invention, disposition, Oratory
elocution, and pronunciation. 'Ibis will appear by colt-consists of
sidering the nature of each of them, and what it contri-tour parts,
butes in forming an orator. Every one who aims to
speak well and accurately upon any subject, doesnatu-
rally, in the first place, inquire after and pursue such
thoughts as may seem most proper to explain and illus¬
trate the thing upon which he designs to discourse.
And if the nature of it requires that he should bring
reasons to confirm what he says, he not only seeks the
strongest, and such as are like to be best received j but
also prepares to answer any thing which may be offered
to the contrary. This is invention.—khev this hi de¬
liberates with himself in what method to dispose of those
things which have occurred to his mind, that they may
appear in the plainest light, and not lose their force by
disorder and confusion. This is the business of disposi¬
tion —liis next concern is to give his thoughts art
agreeable dress ; by making choice of the fittest words,
clearest expressions, smooth and harmonious periods,
with other ornaments of style, as may best suit the na¬
ture of his subject, brighten his discourse, and render it
most entertaining to his hearers. And this is called
elocution.— Ihe last thing he attends to, is to deliver
what he has thus composed, with a just and agreeable
pronunciation. And daily experience convinces us, bow
much this contributes both to engage the attention and
impress what is spoken upon the mind. This then is the
method which nature directs, in order to qualify our¬
selves for discoursing to the best advantage : Though
by custom and habit these things become so familiar to
us, that we do not always attend to them separately in
their natural order. However, it is the business of art
to follow nature, and to treat of things in that manner
which she dictates,
PART I. OF
Chart I. Of Invention in general ^ and particularly
of Common Places, and State of a Cause.
w-ention ENTION, considered in general, is the disco-
be disco- vei7 suc^ things as are proper to persuade. And in
eryof order to attain this end, the orator proposes to himself
jHth things three things: To prove or illustrate the subject upon
which he treats 5 to conciliate the mind of his hearers ;
c*and to engage their passions in his favour. And as these
require different kinds of arguments or motives, inven¬
tion furnishes him with a supply for each of them, as
will be shown in their order.
An argument, as defined by Cicero, is a reason
whicn induces us to believe what before w'e doubted
ef.
And as different kinds of discourses require different
arguments, rhetoricians have considered them two ways 5
in general, under certain heads, as a common fund for
ail subjects ; and, in a more particular manner, as they
Vol. XV. Part I. ’
INVENTION.
are suited to demonstrative, deliberative, or judicial Jus-
courses. At present we shall treat only upon the for¬
mer ot these. And now, that one thing may receive
proof and confirmation from another, it is necessary that
there be some relation between them ; for all things are
not equally adapted to prove one another. Thus, in
measuring the quantity of two things which we would
show to be either equal or unequal, if they are of such
a nature that one cannot be applied to the other, then
we take a third thing, which may be applied to them
both ; and that must be equal at least to one of the two,
which if applied to the other, and found equal to that
also, we presently conclude that these two things are
equal 5 but if it be unequal to the other, we say that
these two things are unequal. Because it is the certain
and known property of all quantities, that whatsoever
two things are equal to a third, are equal to one an¬
other-, and where one of any two things is equal to a
third, and the other unequal, those two things are urn
equal to one another. W hat has been said of quantities,
Q ‘l wilL
3
These call
cd argu¬
ments.
9.
Learning
-necessary
to an ora¬
tor.
O R A T
will hold true in all other cases, that so far as any two
things or ideas agree to a third, so tar they agiee to one
another. So likewise, on the contrary, as far as one
of any two things or ideas does agree to a third, and tie
other does not,"so far they disagree with one another;
in which respect, one of them cannot be truly attnmed
of the other. Since, therefore, in every proposition,
one thing is spoken of another, if we would find out
whether the two ideas agree to each other or not, where
this is not evident of itself, we must find out some thud
thing, the idea of which agrees to one of them ; and
then that being applied to the other, as it does agree 01
disagree with it, so we may conclude, that the two
things proposed do agree or disagree with one another.
This will be made more clear by an example or two.
Should it be inquired, Whether virtue is. to be lomd;
the argument between virtue and love might be round
by comparing them separately with happiness, as a com¬
mon measure to both. 1‘or since the idea ol happiness
agrees to that of love, and the idea of virtue to that ox
happiness •, it follows, that the ideas of virtue and love
agree to one another: and therefore it may be affirme ,
That virtue is to be loved. But, on the contrary, be¬
cause the idea of misery disagrees with that of love, but
the idea of vice agrees to that of misery, the two ideas
of vice and love must consequently disagree with one
another ; and therefore it would be false to assert, Lhut
vice is to be loved. Now, this third thing logicians call
the medium, or middle term, because it does as it were
connect two extremes ; that is, both parts of a pro¬
position. But rhetoricians call it an argument, be¬
cause it is so applied to what was before proposed, as
to become the instrument of procuring our assent to
it. Thus far as to the nature and use of arguments.
We shall next explain by what methods they are to be
sought.
A lively imagination, and readiness of thought, are
undoubtedly a very great help to invention. Some
persons are naturally endued with that quickness of
fancy, and penetration of mind, that they are seldom
at a loss for arguments either to defend their own opi¬
nions, or to attack their adversaries. However, these
things being the gift of nature, and not to be gain¬
ed by art, do not properly fall under our present con¬
sideration.
It will be readily granted, that great learning and
extensive knowledge are a noble fund for invention.
An orator therefore should be furnished with a stock of
important truths, solid maxims of reason, and a variety
of knowledge, collected and treasured up both from
observation and a large acquaintance with the liberal
arts, that he may not only be qualified to express
himself in the most agreeable manner, but likewise to
support what he says with the strongest and clearest
arguments.
But because all are not born with a like happy
genius, and had not the same opportunity to cultivate
their minds with learning and knowledge ; and be¬
cause nothing is more difficult than to dwell long
upon the consideration of one thing, in order to find
out the strongest arguments which may he offered for
and against it; upon these accounts, art has prescribed
a method to lessen, in some measure, these difficulties,
and help every one to a supply of arguments upon any
O R V. Parti.
subject. And this is done by the contrivance of com- Invention,
mon places, which Cicero calls the seats or heads ofar-v-—y—j
guments, and by a Greek name topics. They arc of two
sorts, internal and external. _ to
I. Internal topics. Though things, with regard to Rules of art
their nature and properties, are exceedingly various, to ^supply
yet they have certain common relations, by me*ns tensive *
whereof the truth of what is either aflirmed 01 denied }eaniingor
concerning them in any respect may be evinced. The acute ge-
ancient Greek rhetoricians therefore reduced these re-nius.
lations to some general heads, which are termed loci or
common places; because the reasons or arguments suited
to prove any proposition are reposited in them, as a
common fund or receptacle. And they are called in¬
ternal heads, because they arise from the subject upon
which the orator treats; and are therefore distinguish¬
ed from others named external, which he fetches from
without, and applies to his present purpose, as will be
shown hereafter. Cicero and Quintilian make them
16 ; three of which comprehend the whole thing they
are brought to prove, namely, definition, enumeration,
and notation : of the remaining 13, some contain a pait
of it, and the rest its various properties and circumstan¬
ces, with other considerations I’elating to it; and these
are, genus, species, antecedents, conseepuents, aujunets,
conjugates, cause, eject, contraries, opposites, similitude,
dissimilitude, and comparison.
Definition explains the nature of the thing defined,
and shows what it is. And to whatsoever the defini¬
tion agrees, the thing defined does so likewise. If
therefore Socrates he a rational creature, he is a man ;
because it is the definition of a man, that he is a lationai
creature. .
Enumeration takes in all the parts of a thing. And
from this we prove, that what agrees to all the paits
agrees to the whole ; and what does not agree to any
one or more parts, does not agree to the whole : As
when Cicero proves to Biso that all the Homan state
hated him, by enumerating the several ranks and orders
of Roman citizens who all did so.
Notation, or etymology, explains the meaning or sig¬
nification of a word. Irom which wTe reason thus : “ If
he cannot pay his debts, he is insolvent;” for that is
the meaning of the word insolvent.
Genus is what contains under it two or more sorts
of things, differing in nature. From this head logi¬
cians reason thus : “ Because every animal is mortal,
and man is an animal, therefore man is mortal.” But
orators make a further use ol this argument, which
they call ascending from the hypothesis to the thesis;
that is, from a particular to a general : As should a
person, when speaking in praise of justice, take occa¬
sion from thence to commend and show the excellency
of virtue in general, with a view to render that parti¬
cular virtue more amiable. For since every species
contains in it the whole nature of the genus to which it
relates, besides what is peculiar to itself, whereby it is
distinguished from it; what is affirmed of the genus,
must of necessity he applicable to the species.
Species is that which comprehends under it all the
individuals of the same nature. From hence we may
argue, “ He is a man, therefore he has a rational
soul.” And orators sometimes take occasion from
this head to descend from the thesis to the hypothesis;
that
Part I. ORA
Invention, that is, in treating upon what is more general, to in-
''■—‘-v'—troduce some particular contained under it, for the
greater illustration of the general.
Antecede?its are such things, as being once allowed,
others necessarily, or very probably, follow. From this
head an inseparable property is proved from its subject:
as, It is material, and therefore corruptible.
Consequents are such things as, being allowed, ne¬
cessarily or very probably infer their antecedents.
Hence the subject is proved from an inseparable pro¬
perty, in this manner: It is corruptible, and therefore
material.
Adjuncts are separable properties of things, or cir¬
cumstances that attend them. These are very nume¬
rous, and afford a great variety of arguments, some
of which usually occur in every discourse. They do
not necessarily infer their subject j but, if fitly chosen,
render a thing credible, and are a sufficient ground for
assent. The way of reasoning from them we shall show
presently.
Conjugates are words deduced from the same origin
with that of our subject. By these the habit is proved
from its acts : as, He who does justly is just. He does
not act wisely, therefore he is not wise. But this infe¬
rence will not hold, unless the actions appear continued
and constant.
A cause is that, by the force of which a thing does
exist. There are four kinds of causes, matter, form,
efficient^ and end, which afford a great variety of argu¬
ments. The way of reasoning from them is to infer
the effect from the cause c as, Man is endued with rea¬
son, therefore he is capable of knowledge.
An effect is that which arises from a cause, therefore
the cause is proved by it: as, He is endued with know¬
ledge, therefore with reason.
Contraries are things, which, under the same genus,
are at the utmost distance from each other; so that
what we grant to the one, we utterly deny the other ;
as, Virtue ought to be embraced, therefore vice should
he avoided.
Opposites are such things, which, though repugnant,
to each other, yet are not directly contradictory; as,
To love and to injure, to hate and to commend. They
difier from contraries in this, that they do not absolute¬
ly exclude one another. An argument is drawn from
things repugnant, thus : He will do a man a mischief,
therefore he does not love him. He loves a man, there¬
fore he will not reproach him.
Similitude is an agreement of things in quality. Thus
Cicero proves, that pernicious citizens ought to be
taken out of the state, by the likeness they bear to cor¬
rupted members, which are cut off to prevent further
damage to the body.
Dissimilitude is a disagreement of things in quality.
From this head Cicero shows the preference of his own
exile to Piso’s government of Macedonia ; by the dif¬
ference between their conduct, and the people’s esteem
of them.
Comparison is made three ways : for either a thing is
compared with a greater, with a less, or with its equal.
Phis place, therefore, differs from that of similitude on
this account, that the ejuality was considered in that,
but here the quantity. An argument from the greater
is thus drawn: If five legions could not conquer the
enemy, much less will tw'o.
TORY. 307
We_ shall just give one example of the manner of Invention,
reasoning from these heads, whereby the use of them *—v-—»
may farther appear. If any one, therefore, should , 11
have endeavoured to persuade Cicero not to accept of Je1)e0™an'
Jiis life upon the condition ofi'ered him by Antony, "oningTrom
That he would burn his Philippic orations which had these heads,
been spoken against him, he might be supposed to
use such arguments as these ; partly taken from the
adjuncts of Cicero, partly from those of Antony, and
partly from the thing itself. And first, with regard to
Cicero, it might be said, That so great a man ought
not to purchase his life at so dear a price as the loss of
that immortal honour which by so great pains and
labour he had acquired. And this might he confirm¬
ed by another argument, That now he was grown
old, and could not expect to live much longer. And
from the character of Antony he might argue thus ;
That he was very crafty and deceitful ; and only de¬
signed, by giving him hopes of life, to have the Phi¬
lippics first burnt, which otherwise he knew would
transmit to posterity an eternal brand of infamy upon
him, and then he would take oft the author. And
this might be shown by comparison. For since he
would not spare others, who had not so highly exas¬
perated him, and from whom he had not so much to
fear, certainly he would not forgive Cicero, since he
knew well enough, that so long as he lived, he him¬
self could never be in safety. And, lastly, An argu¬
ment might also be fetched from the nature of the thing
itsell in the following manner: That Cicero, by this ac¬
tion, would shamefully betray the state, and the cause of
liberty, which he had through his whole life most cou¬
rageously defended, with so great honour to himself, and
advantage to the public. Upon such an account, a per¬
son might have used these or the like arguments with
Cicero, which arise from the fore-nientioned heads.
I'rom this account of common places, it is easy to They are
conceive what a large field of discourse they open to the of no solid
mind upon every subject. At the same time, though we utility un-
have mentioned them from our respect for the orators !ess t^ere
of Greece and Rome, we heartily subscribe to the opi-viouf foim
nion of a celebrated modern, who gives of them the fol-dation of
lowing account. learning
“ The Grecian sophists were the first inventors of thisaudScnius<
artificial system of oratory; and they showed a prodi¬
gious subtility and fertility in the contrivance of these
loci. Succeeding rhetoricians, dazzled by the plan,
wrought them into so regular a system, that one would
think they meant to teach how a person might mecha¬
nically become an orator, without any genius at all.
They gave him receipts for making speeches on all man¬
ner of subjects. At the same time, it is evident, that Blairs
though this study of common places might produce very Lectures.
showy academical declamations, it could never produce
useful discourses on real business. The loci indeed sup¬
plied a most exuberant fecundity of matter. One who
had no other aim, but to talk copiously and plausibly,
by consulting them on every subject, and laying hold of
all that they suggested, might discourse without end $
and that, too, though he had none but the most superfi¬
cial knowledge of his subject. But such discourse could
be no other than trivial. What is truly solid and per¬
suasive, must be drawn ex visceribus causce, from a
thorough knowledge of the subject, and profound me¬
ditation on it. They who would direct students of ora-
Q q 2 tory
308
Invention
13
Of external
topics, ge
rurally call¬
ed testimo
T4
Reduced
to three
heads, and
separately
vxplainedt
OKA 'I
tory la any ether sources of argumentation, only de¬
lude them ; and by attempting to render rhetoric too
perfect an art, they render it, in truth, a trifling and
childish study.”
II. Of external topics. When the orator reasons irom
such topics as do not arise from his subject, but from
things of a different nature, these are called external.
They are all taken from authorities, and are by one ge¬
neral name called testimonies.
Now a testimony may be expressed by writing,
speech, or any other sign proper to declare a person’s
mind. And all testimonies may be distinguished into
two sorts, divine and human. A divine testimony,
when certainly known to he such, is incontestable, and
admits of no debate, but should he acquiesced in with¬
out hesitation. Indeed the ancient Greeks and Ko-
mans esteemed the pretended oracles ot their deities,
the answers of their augurs, and the like fallacies, di¬
vine testimonies : but with us no one can be ignorant ot
their true notion, though they do not so directly come
under our present consideration. Human testimonies,
considered as furnishing the orator with arguments, may
be reduced to three heads ; writings, witnesses, and con¬
tracts.
1. By Writings, here, are to be understood written
laws, wills, or other legal instruments, expressed and
conveyed in that manner. And it is not so much the
force and validity of such testimonies considered in
themselves, that is here intended, as the occasion of
dispute which may at any time arise concerning^ then
true design and import, when produced in proof upon
either side of a controversy. And these are live y Am¬
biguity, Disagreement between the words and inten¬
tion, Contrariety, Reasoning, and Interpretation.^ .
A writing is then said to he ambiguous, when it is
capable of °two or more senses, which makes the wri¬
ter’s design uncertain. Now ambiguity may arise ei¬
ther from single words, or the construction of senten¬
ces. From single words •, as when either the sense of
a word, or the application ot it, is doubtful. As,
should it be questioned, whether ready money ought
to he included under the appellation of chattels left by
a will ; or, if a testator bequeath a certain legacy to
his nephew Thomas, and he has two nephews of that
name. But ambiguity is also sometimes occasioned
from the construction of a sentence; as when several
things or persons having been already mentioned, it
is doubtful to which of them that which follows ought
to be referred. For example, a person writes thus in
his will: ‘Let my heir give as a legacy to litius a
horse out of my stable, which he pleases.’ Here it
may he questioned, whether the word he refers to the
heir or to Titius y and consequently, whether the heir
he allowed to give Titius which horse he pleases, or
Titius may choose which he likes best. Now as to
controversies of this kind, in the first case above men¬
tioned, the party who claims the chattels may plead,
that all moveable goods come under that name, and
therefore that he has a right to the money. This he
will endeavour to prove from some instances where
the word has been so used. The business of the oppo¬
site party is to refute this, by showing that money
is not here included. And if either side produce pre¬
cedents in his favour, the other may endeavour to show
that the cases are not parallel. As to the second case,
O E Y. Part t
arising from an ambiguity in the name, if any other Invention,
words or expressions in the will seem to countenance ^ ^
either of the claimants, he will not fait to interpret
them to his advantage. So likewise, if any thing said
by the testator, in his lifetime, or any regard shown
to either of these nephews more than the other, may
help to determine which of them was intended, a pro¬
per use may be made of it. And the same may he said
with regard to the third case. In which the legatee
may reason likewise from the common use of language,
and show that in such expressions it is usual to make
the reference to the last or next antecedent y and from
thence plead, that it was the design of the testator to
give him the option. But in answer to this, it may be
said, that allowing it to be very often so, yet in this in¬
stance it seems more easy and natural to repeat the verb
give after pleases, and so to supply the sentence, w hich
he pleases to give him, referring it to the heir, than
to bring in the verb choose, which was not in the sen¬
tence before j and so, by supplying the sense, which he
pleases to choose, to give the option to Titius. But
where controversies ot this kind arise from a law, re¬
course may be had to other laws where the same thing
has been expressed with greater clearness ; which may
help to determine the sense of the passage in dispute.
A second controversy from writings is, when one
party adheres to the words, and the other ter what he
asserts was the writer’s intention. Now he who op¬
poses the literal sense either contends, that what he
himself offers is the simple and plain meaning of the
writing, or that it must be so understood in the parti¬
cular case in dispute. An instance of the former is
this, as we find it in Cicero. A person who died
without children, but left a wulotv, had made this
provision in his will: “ If I have a son born to me, he
shall be my heir.” And a little after : “ If my son
die before he comes of age, let Curius be my heir. ’
There is no son born : Curius therefore sues for the
estate, and pleads the intention of the testator, who
designed him for his heir, if he should have no son
who arrived at age y and says, there can be no reason
to suppose he did not intend the same person for his
heir if he had no son, as if he should have one who af¬
terwards died in his minority. But the heir at law in¬
sists upon the words of the will y which, as he says,
require, that first a son should he born, and afterwards
die under age, before Curius can succeed to the inhe¬
ritance; and there being no son, a substituted heir,
as Curius was, can have no claim where the first heir
does not exist, from whom he derives his pretension,
and was to succeed by the appointment of the will.-—
Of the latter case, rhetoricians give this example:
“ It was forbidden by a iawr to open the city gates in
the night. A certain person notwithstanding, in time
of war, did open them in the night, and let in some
auxiliary troops, to prevent their being cut off by the
enemy, who was posted near the town.” Afterwards,
when the war was over, this person is arraigned, and
tried for his life, on account of this action. Nowr, in
such a case, the prosecutor founds his charge upon the
express words of the law y and pleads, that no suffi¬
cient reason can be assigned for going contrary to the
letter of it, which would be to make a new law, and
not to execute one already made. The defendant, on
the other hand, alleges, That the fact he is charged
with
Part T.
Invention, with cannot, however, come witliiti tlie intention of
the law ; since he either coulil not, or ought not, to
have complied with the letter of it in that particular
case, which must therefore necessarily be supposed to
have been excepted in the design of that law when it
was made, But to this the prosecutor may reply,
That all such exceptions as are intended by any law,
are usually expressed in it: and instances may be
brought of particular exceptions expressed in some
laws ; and if there be any such exception in the law
i under debate, it should especially be mentioned. He
may further add, That to admit of exceptions not ex¬
pressed in the law itself, is to enervate the force of all
laws, by explaining them away, and in effect to ren¬
der them useless. And this he may further coiToborate,
by comparing the law under debate with others, and
considering its nature and importance, and how far the
public interest of the state is concerned in the due and
regular execution of it; from whence he may infer,
that should exceptions be admitted in other laws of less
consequence, yet, however, they ought not in this.
Lastly, He may consider the reason alleged by the de¬
fendant, on which he founds his plea, and show there
was not that necessity of violating the law in the pre¬
sent case, as is pretended. And this is often the more
requisite, because the party who disputes against the
words of the law, always endeavours to support his al¬
legations from the equity of the case. If, therefore,
this plea can be enervated, the main support of the
defendant’s cause is removed. For as the former ar¬
guments are designed to prevail with the judge, to de¬
termine the matter on this side the question from the
nature of the case; so the intention of this argument
is to induce him to it, from the weakness of the de¬
fence made by the opposite party. But the defendant
will, on the contrary, use such arguments as may best
demonstrate the equity of his cause, and endeavour to
vindicate the fact from his good design and intention
in doing it. He will say, That the laws have allottttd
punishments for the commission of such facts as are evil
in themselves, or prejudicial to others •, neither of which
can be charged upon the action of which he is accused :
That no law can be rightly executed, if more regard be
had to the words and syllables of the writing, than to
the intention of the legislator. To which purpose he
may allege that direction of the law itself, which says,
“ The law ought not to be too rigorously interpreted,
nor the words of it strained ; but the true intention and
design of each part of it duly considered.” As also that
saying of Cicero, “ What law may not be weakened
and destroyed, if wTe bend the sense to the words, and
do not regard the design and view of the legislator ?”
Hence he may take occasion to complain of the hardship
of such a procedure, that no difference should be made
between an audacious and wilful crime, and an honest
or necessary action, which might happen to disagree
with the letter of the law', though not with the intent
of it. And as it was observed before to be of consider¬
able service to the accuser, if he could remove the de¬
fendant’s plea of equity, so it will be of equal advantage
to the defendant, it he can fix upon any words in the
law, which may in the least seem to countenance his
case, since this will take off the main force of the
charge.
The third controversy of this kind is, when two
S09
writings happen to clash with each other, or at least Invention,
seem to do so. Of this Hermogenes gives the fol- l—
lowing instance. One law enjoins : “ He who conti¬
nues alone in a ship during a tempest, shall have the
property of the ship.” Another law says, “ A disin¬
herited sou shall enjoy no part of his father’s estate.”
Now' a son, who had been disinherited by his father,
happens to be in his father’s ship in a tempest, and
continues there alone, when every one else had de¬
serted it. He claims the ship by the former of these
law's, and his brother tries his right with him by the
latter. In such cases, therefore, it may first be consi¬
dered, “Whether the two laws can be reconciled.
And if that cannot be done, then, Which of them aji-
pears more equitable. Also, Whether one be positive
and the other negative : because prohibitions are a sort
of exceptions to positive injunctions. Or, If one be a
general law, and the other more particular, and come
nearer to the matter in question. Likewise, Which
was last made : since former laws are often abrogated,
either wholly or in part, by subsequent laws, or at
least were designed to be so. Lastly, it may be ob¬
served, W bether one of the laws be not plain and ex¬
press j and the other more dubious, or has any ambi¬
guity in it. All, or any of which things, that party
will not omit to improve for his advantage whose inte¬
rest is concerned in it.
The fourth controversy is reasoning. As when
something, not expressly provided for by a law, is in¬
ferred by a similitude, or parity of reason, from what
is contained in it. Quintilian mentions this instance
of it. “ There was a law made at Tarentum, to pro¬
hibit the exportation of wool ; but a certain person
exports sheep.” In this case, the prosecutor may first
compare the thing which occasions the charge, with,
the words of the law, and show their agreement, and
bow unnecessary it was that particular thing should
have been expressly mentioned in the law, since it is
plainly contained in it, or at least an evident conse¬
quence from it. He may then plead, that many
things of a like nature arc omitted in other laws for
the same reason. And, lastly, He may urge the rea¬
sonableness and equity of the procedure. The de¬
fendant, on the other hand, will endeavour to show
the deficiency of the reasoning, and the difference be¬
tween the two cases. He will insist upon the plain
and express words of the law, and set forth the ill
tendency of such inferences and conclusions drawn
from similitudes and comparisons, since there is scarce
any thing but in some respect may bear a resemblance
to another.
The last controversy under this head is interpreta¬
tion, in which the dispute turns upon the true mean¬
ing and explication of the law in reference to that
particular case. We have the following instance of
this in the Pandects : “ A man who had two sons
both under age, substitutes Titius as heir to him who
should die last, provided both of them died in their
minority. They both perish together at sea before
they came to age. Here arises a doubt, whether the
substitution can take place, or whether the inheritance
devolves to the heir at law.” The latter pleads, That
as neither of them can be said to have died last, the
substitution cannot take place j which was suspended,
upon the condition that one died after the other.
But
oratory.
ORATOR Y.
310
Invention. But to tills it may he said, It was the intention of the
—y -1 testator, that if both died in their nonage, 1 itms
should succeed to the inheritance $ and therefore it
makes no difference whether they died together, or one
after the other: and so the law determines it.
2. The second head of external arguments are Wit¬
nesses. These may either give their evidence, when ab¬
sent, in writing subscribed with their name 5 or present,
by w-ord of mouth. And what both of them testify,
may either be from hearsay ; or what they saw them¬
selves, and were present at the time it was done. As
the weight of the evidence may be thought greater or
less on each of these accounts, either party will make
-such use of it as he finds for his advantage. The cha¬
racters of the witnesses are also to be considered } and
if any thing be found in their lives or behaviour that is
justly exceptionable, to invalidate their evidence, it
uught not to be omitted. And how they are affected to
the contending parties, or either of them, may deserve
consideration; for some allowances may be judged rea¬
sonable in case of friendship, or enmity, where there is
no room for any other exception. But regard should
chiefly be had to what they testify, and how far the
cause is affected by it. Cicero is very large upon most
■of these heads in his defence of Marcus Fonteius, with a
design to weaken the evidence of the Gauls against him.
And where witnesses are produced on one side only, as
orators sometimes attempt to lessen the credit of this
kind of proof, by pleading that witnesses are liable to be
corrupted, or biassed by some prevailing interest or pas¬
sion, to which arguments taken from the nature and cir¬
cumstances of things are not subject pit may be answer¬
ed on the other hand, that sophistical arguments and
false colourings are not exposed to infamy or punish¬
ment, whereas witnesses are restrained by shame and
penalties, nor would the law require them if they were
not necessary.
3. The third and last head of external arguments are
Contracts ; which may be either public or private. By
public are meant the transactions between differentstates,
as leagues, alliances, and the like ; which depend on the
law's of nations, and come more properly under delibe¬
rative discourses, to which we shall refer them. Those
are calledwhich relate to lesser bodies or socie¬
ties of men, and single persons ; and may be either
written or verbal. And it is not so much the true
meaning and purport of them that is here considered as
their force and obligation. And, as the Roman law
declares, “ Nothing can be more agreeable to human
•faith, than that persons should stand to their agree¬
ments.” Therefore in controversies of this kind, the
party whose interest it is that the contract should be
maintained, will plead, that such covenants have the
force of private laws, and ought religiously to be observ¬
ed, since the common affairs of mankind are transacted
in that manner; and therefore to violate them, is to
destroy all commerce and society among men. On the
other side it may be said, that justice and equity are
chiefly to be regarded, which are immutable; and be¬
sides, that the public laws are the common rule to de¬
termine all differences, which are designed to redress
those who are aggrieved. And indeed, where a com-
-pact has been obtained by force or fraud, it is in itself
void, and has no effect either in law or reason. But on
the other hand, tht Roman lawyers seem to have very
Part I.
rightly determined, that all such obligations as are Invention,
founded on natural equity, though not binding by na-v——v—^
tional laws, and are therefore called nuda pacta, ought,
however, in honour and conscience, to be performed, of the state
III. Of the State of a Controversy. The ancients, 0facontr0s
observing that the principal question or point of dis-versy, or
pate in all controversies might be referred to some par-the manner
ticular head, reduced these heads to a certain number,
that both the nature of the question might by that pa,
means be better known, and the arguments suited to it in dispute
be discovered with greater ease. And these heads they to some
- Ej1*'
By the state of a controversy, then we arc to under- greater
-stand the principal point in dispute between contending ease of ar«
parties, upon the proof of which the whole cause or con- gument.
troversy depends. We find it expressed by several other
names in ancient writers: as, the constitution of the cause,
the general head, and the chief question. And as this is
the principal thing to be attended to in every such dis-
•course; so it is what first requires the consideration of the
speaker, and should be well fixed and digested in his
mind, before he proceeds to look for arguments proper
to support it. Thus Antony, the Roman orator, speak¬
ing of his own method in his pleading, says : “ When
I understand the nature of the cause, and begin to con¬
sider it, the first thing I endeavour to do is, to settle
with myself rvhat that is to which all my discourse rela¬
ting to the matter in dispute ought to be referred : then
I diligently attend to these other two things. How to
recommend myself, or those for whom I plead, to the
good esteem of my hearers ; and bow to influence their
minds, as may best suit my design.” This way of pro¬
ceeding appears very agreeable to reason and pimdence.
For what can be more absurd, than for a person to at¬
tempt the proof of any thing, before he has well settled
in his own mind a clear and distinct notion what the
thing is which he would endeavour to prove? Quinti¬
lian describes it to be, ‘ That kind of question which
arises from the first conflict of causes.’ In judicial cases,
it immediately follows upon the charge of the plaintiff,
and plea of the defendant. Our common law expresses
it by one word, namely the issue. Which interpreters
explain, by describing it to be, “ That point of matte'
depending in suit, whereupon the parties join, and put
their cause to the trial.” Examples will further help
to illustrate this, and render it more evident; In the
cause of Millo, the charge of the Clodian party is,
Milo killed Clodius. Milo’s plea or defence, Ikilled him,
but justly From hence arises this grand question, or
state of the cause, Whether it was lawful for Milo to
kill Clodius ? And that Clodius was lawfully killed by
Milo, is what Cicero in his defence of Milo principally
endeavours to prove. This is the main subject of that
fine and beautiful oration. The whole ol his discourse
is to be considered as centering at last in this one point.
Whatever different matters are occasionally mentioned,
will, if closely attended to, be found to have been intro¬
duced some way or other the better to support and cany¬
on this design. Now in such cases, where the fact is
not denied, but something is offered in its defence, the
state of the cause is taken from the defendant’s plea,
who is obliged to make it good: As in the instance here
given, the chief point in dispute was the lawfulness of
Milo’s action, which it was Cicero’s business to demon¬
strate. But when the defendant denies the fact, the state
of
Part I. OKA
Invention the cause arises fj'om the accusation 5 the proof of
which then lies upon tiie plaintiff, and not, as in the
former case, upon the defendant. (So in the cause of
lioscius, the charge made against him is, That he
killed his father. But he denies the fact. -The grand
question therefore to be argued is, Whether or not he
killed his father: The proof of this lay upon his ac¬
cusers. And Cicero’s design in his defence of him is
to show, that they had not made good their charge.
But it sometimes happens, that the defendant neither
absolutely denies the fact, nor attempts to justify it \
but only endeavours to qualify it, by denying that it
is a crime of that nature, or deserves that name, by
which it is expressed in the charge. We have an ex¬
ample of this proposed by Cicero : “ A person is ac¬
cused of sacrilege, for taking a thing, that was sacred,
out of a private house. He owns the fact, but denies
it to be sacrilege \ since it was committed in a private
house, and not in a temple ” Hence this question
arises, Whether to take a sacred thing out of a private
house, is to be ilecnieel sacrilege, or only simple theft $ It
lies upon the accuser to prove what the other denies;
and therefore the state of the cause is here also, as
well as in the preceding case, taken from the indict¬
ment.
But besides the principalquestion,there are other sub¬
ordinate questions, which follow upon it in the course
of a dispute, and should be carefully distinguished from
it. Particularly that which arises from the reason, or
argument, which is brought in proof of the principal
question. For the principal question itself proves no¬
thing, but is the thing to be proved, and becomes at
last the conclusion of the discourse. Thus, in the cause
of Milo, his argument is, I killed Clodius justly, because
he assassinated me. Unless the Clodian party be suppo¬
sed to deny this, they give up their cause. From hence
therefore this subordinate question follows, Whether Clo-
dius assassinated Milo ! Now Cicero spends much time
in the proof of this, as the hinge on which the first
question, and consequently the whole cause, depended.
For if this was once made to appear, the lawfulness of
Milo’s killing Clodius, which was the grand question or
thing to be proved, might be inferred as an allowed con¬
sequence from it. This will be evident, by throwing
Milo’s argument, as used by Cicero, into the form of a
syllogism.
An assassin is lawfully killed:
Clodius was an assassin:
Therefore he teas lawfully killed by Milo whom he
assassinated.
If the minor proposition of this syllogism was granted^
no one would deny the conclusion : for the Romon law
allowed of self-defence. But as Cicero was very sensi¬
ble this would not be admitted, so he takes much pains
to bring the court into the belief of it. Now where
the argument brought in defence of the second question
is contested, or the orator supposes that it may be so,
and therefore supports that with another argument, this
occasions a third question consequent upon the former 3
and in like manner he may proceed to a fourth.
But be they more or fewer, they are to be considered
but as one chain of subordinate questions dependent
upon the first. And though each of them has its
particular state, yet none of these is what rhetoricians
3
TORY.
call Lhe state oj the Cause, which is to be understood
only of the principal question. And if, as it frequently
happens, the first or principal question is itself directly
proved from more than one argument 3 this makes no
othei difference, but that each of these arguments, so
lar as they are followed by others to support them, be¬
come a distinct series of subordinate questions, all depen¬
dent upon the first. As when Cicero endeavours to
prove, that Roscius did not kill his father, from two
icasons or arguments: Tccause he had neither any cause
to move him to such a barbarous action, nor any oppor¬
tunity for it.
Moreover, besides these subordinate questions, there
are also incidental ones often introduced, which have
some reference to the principal question, and contribute
towards the proof of it, though they are not necessarily
connected with it, or dependent upon it. And each of
these also has its state, though different from that of the
cause. lor every question, or point of controversy,
must be stated, before it can be made the subject of dis¬
putation. And it is for this reason, that every new ar¬
gument advanced by an orator is called a question; be¬
cause it is considei’ed as a fresh matter of controversy.
In Cicero’s defence of Milo, we meet with several of
this sort of questions, occasioned by some aspersions,
which had been thrown out by the Clodian party to the-
prejudice of Milo. As, “ That he was unworthy to
see the light, who owned he had killed a man For.
Milo before his trial had openly confessed he killed Clo¬
dius. So likewise, “That the senate had declared thes
killing of Clodius was an illegal action.” And further,
“ I hat Pompey, by making a new law to settle the
manner of Milo’s trial, had given his judgment against
Milo.” Now to each of these Cicero replies, before he
proceeds to the principal question. And therefore,
though the question, in which the state of a controversy
consists, is said by Quintilian to arise from “ the first
conflict of causes,” yet we find by this instance of Cice¬
ro, that it is not always the first question in order, upon
which the orator treats. .
But it sometimes happens, that the same cause or con¬
troversy contains in it more than one state. Thus in
judicial causes, every distinct charge occasions a new-
state. All Cicero’s orations against Verres relate to
one cause, founded upon a law of the Romans against
unjust exactions made by their governors of provinces
upon the inhabitants 3 hut as that persecution is made
up of as many charges as there are orations, every
charge, or indictment, has its different state. So like¬
wise his oration in defence of Coelius has two states, in
answer to a double charge made against him by his ad¬
versaries : one, “ for borrowing money of Clodia, in or¬
der to bribe certain slaves to kill a foreign amhassadorj”
and the other, “ for an attempt afterwards to poison
Clodia herself.” Besides which, there were several
other matters of a less heinous nature, which had been
thrown upon him by his accusers, with a design, very
likely, to render the two principal charges more credi¬
ble 3 to which Cicero first replies, in the same manner
as in his defence of Milo.
Though all the examples we have hitherto brought
to illustrate this subject have been taken from judicial
cases, yet not only these, but very frequently discourses
of the deliberative kind, and sometimes those of the
demonstrative, are managed in a controversial way.
And
312
O R A T
Invention. Ami all controversies have tbeir state. And therefore
i,. —-y— ■ > Quintilian very justly observes, that “ states belong k> i
to general and particular questions ; and to all sorts ot
causes, demonstrative, deliberative, and judicial. n
Cicero’s oration for the Manilian law, this is the main
point in dispute between him and those who opposed
that law : “ Whether Pompey was the fittest person to
be intrusted with the management ol the war against
Mithridates ?” This is a subject of the deliberative
kind. And of the same nature was that debate m the
senate concerning the demolition of Carthage. 1 or the
matter in dispute between Cato, who argued for it, and
those who were of the contrary opinion, seems to have
been this • “ Whether it was for the interest ot the Ro¬
mans to demolish Carthage ?” And so likewise in those
two fine orations of Cato and Caesar, given us by Sal¬
lust, relating to the conspirators with Catiline, who ivire
then in custody, the controversy turns upon this :
m Whether those prisoners should be punished with
death, or perpetual imprisonment ?” Examples ot the
demonstrative kind are not socommon; but Cicero’s ora¬
tion concerning the ‘ Answers of the soothsayers,’ may
afford us an instance of it Several prodigies had lately
happened at Rome; upon which the soothsayers being
consulted, assigned this as the reason ot them, Because
some places consecrated to the gods had been afterwards
converted to civil uses. Clodius charged this upon Ci¬
cero *, whose house was rebuilt at the public expence, af¬
ter it had been demolished by Clodius, and the ground
consecrated to the goddess Liberty. Cicero in this ora¬
tion retorts the charge ; and shows that the prodigies did
not respect him, but Clodius. So that the question in
dispute was, “ To which ot the two those prodigies re¬
lated ?” This oration does not appear to have been
spoken in a judicial way, and must therefore belong to
the demonstrative kind. His invective against Piso is
likewise much of the same nature, wherein he compares
his own behaviour and conduct with that of Piso.
As to the number of these states, both Cicero and
Quintilian reduce them to three. “ We must (says
Quintilian) agree with those whose authority Cicero fol¬
lows, who tells us, that three things may be inquired
into in all disputes : Whether a thing is ; what it is ;
and how it is. And this is the method which nature
prescribes. For, in the first place, it is necessary the
thing should exist about which the dispute is : because
no judgment can be made either of its nature or quality
till its existence be manifest; which is therefore the first
question. But though it be manifest that a tiling is, it
does not presently appear what it is; and when this is
the quality yet remains • and after these three
are settled, no farther inquiry is necessary.” Now the
first of these three states is called the conjectural state ;
as if it be inquired, “ Whether one person killed ano¬
ther ?” This always follows upon the denial of a fact
by one of the parties ; as was the case of Roscius. And
it receives its name from hence, that the judge is left,
as it were, to conjecture, whether the fact was really
committed or not, from the evidence produced on the
other side. The second is called the definitive state,
when the fact is not denied ; but the dispute turns upon
the nature of it, and what name it is proper to give it:
as in that example of Cicero, “ Whether to take a sa¬
cred thing out of a private house be theft or sacrilege ?”
For in this .case it is necessary to settle the distinct no-
j
O R Y. Part h
tionof those two crimes, and show their difference. Invention.
The third is called the state of qualitij ; when the con- v—^
tending parties are agreed both as to the fact, and the
nature of it; but the dispute is, “ W hether it be^ just
or unjust, profitable or unprofitable, and the like; as
in the cause of Milo.
From what has been said upon this subject, the use
of it may in a good measure appear. For whoever en¬
gages in a controversy, ought in the first place to consi¬
der with himself the main question in dispute, to fix it
well in his mind, and keep it constantly in his view }
without which he will be very liable to ramble from
the point, and bewilder both himself and bis hearers.
And it is no less the business of the hearers principally
to attend to this; by which means they will be helped
to distinguish and separate from the principal question
what is only incidental, and to observe how far the prin¬
cipal question is affected by it ; to perceive what is of¬
fered in proof, and what is only brought in for illustra¬
tion ; not to be misled by digressions, but to discern when
the speaker goes off from his subject, and when he re¬
turns to it again ; and, in a word, to accompany him
through the whole discourse, and carry with them the
principal chain of reasoning upon which the cause de¬
pends, so as to judge upon the whole, whether he has
made out his point, and the conclusion follows from the
premises.
Chap. II. Of Arguments suited to Demonstrative
Discourses.
16
These consist either in praise or dispraise ; and>ofargu-
agreeably to the nature of all contraries, one of them merits
will serve to illustrate the other. demon-0
Now we either praise persons or things. _ t strative
I. In praising or dispraising persons, rhetoriciansdiscours£Si
prescribe two methods. One is, to follow the order in
which every thing happened that is mentioned in the
discourse ; the other is, to reduce what is said under cer¬
tain general heads, without a strict regard to the order
of time.
i. In pursuing the former method, the discourse may
be very conveniently divided into three periods. The
first of which will contain what preceded the person’s
birth ; the second, the whole course of his life ; and tne
third what followed upon his death.
Under the first of these may be comprehended what
is proper to be said concerning his country or family.
And therefore, if these were honourable, it may be
said to his advantage, that he nowise disgraced them,
but acted suitably to sucli a descent. But if they were
not so, they may he either wholly omitted ; or it may
be said, that, instead of deriving thence any advantage
to his character, he has conferred a lasting honour up
on them ; and that is not of so much moment where,
or from whom, a person derives his birth, as how he
In the second period, which is that of his life, the
qualities both of his mind and body, with his circum¬
stances in the world, may be separately considered.
Though, as Quintilian rightly observes, “ All exter¬
nal advantages are not praises for themselves, but ac¬
cording to the use that is made of them. For riches,
and power, and interest, as they have great influence,
and may be applied either to good or bad purposes, are
Part I. ORA1
Invention. a proof oi tlui temper of* our itunds j and therefore we
‘•—•V—are either made better or worse by them.” But these
things are a just ground for commendation, when they
are the reward of virtue or industry. Bodily endow¬
ments are health, strength, beauty, activity, and the
like ; which are more or less commendable, according
as they are employed. And where these, or any of
them, are wanting, it may be shown, that they are
abundantly compensated by the more valuable endow¬
ments of the mind. Nay, sometimes a defect in these
may give an advantageous turn to a person’s charac¬
ter ; for any virtue appears greater, in proportion to
the disadvantages the person laboured under in exert¬
ing it. But the chief topics of praise are taken from
the virtues and qualifications of the mind. And here
the orator may consider the disposition, education,
learning, and several virtues, whicli shone through the
whole course of the person’s life. In doing which,
the preference should always be given to virtue above
knowledge or any other accomplishment. And in ac¬
tions, those are most considerable, and will be heard
with greatest approbation, which a person either did
alone, or first, or wherein he had fewest associates; as
likewise those which exceeded expectation, or were
done for the advantage of others rather than his own.
And further, as the last scene of a man’s life generally
commands the greatest regard, if any thing remark¬
able at that time was either said or done, it ought par¬
ticularly to be mentioned. Nor should the manner of
his death, or cause of it, if accompanied with any com¬
mendable circumstances, be omitted ; as if he died in
the service of his country, or in the pursuit of any other
laudable design.
The third and last period relates to what followed
after the death of the person. And here the public
loss, and public honours conferred upon the deceased,
are proper to he mentioned. Sepulchres, statues, and
other monuments to perpetuate the memory of the
dead at the expence of the public, were in common
use both among the Greeks and Romans. But in the
earliest times, as these honours were more rare, so they
were less costly. For as in one age it was thought
a sufficient reward for him who died in tire defence of
his country, to have his name cut in a marble inscrip¬
tion, with tire cause of bis death ; so in others it was
very common to see the statues of gladiators, and per¬
sons of the meanest rank, erected in public places.
And therefore a judgment is to be formed of these
things from the time, custom, and cirumstances, of
different nations ; since the frequency of them renders
them less honourable ; and takes off from their evi¬
dence as the rewards of virtue. But, as Quintilian
says, “ Children are an honour to their parents, cities
to their founders, Jaws to those who compiled them,
arts to their inventors, and useful customs to the au¬
thors of them.”
And this may suffice for the method of praising
persons when we propose to follow the order of time,
as Isocrates has done in his funeral oration upon Eva-
goras king of Salamis, and Pliny in his panegyric
upon the emperor Trajan. But as this method is very
plain and obvious, so it requires tl»e more agreeable
dress to render it delightful ; lest otherwise it seem
rather like a history than an oration : For which reason,
we find, that epic poets, as Homer, Virgil, and others,
Vojl. XV. Part. L b +
F G H Y*
begin with the middle of their story, and afterwards
take a proper occasion to introduce what preceded, to
diversify the subject, and give the greater the pleasure
and entertainment to their readeis.
2. The other method above hinted was, to reduce
the discourse to certain general heads, without regard¬
ing the order of time. As if any one, in praising the
elder Cato, should propose to do it, by showing that
he was a most prudent senator, an excellent orator,
and most valiant general ; all which commendations
are given him by Pliny. In like manner, the charac¬
ter of a good general may be comprised under four
heads; skill in military affairs, courage, authority, and
success : from all which Cicero commends Pompey.
And agreeably to this method Suetonius has written the
lives of the first twelve Caesars.
But in the praising of persons, care should always be
taken to say nothing that may seem fictitious or out of
character, which may call the orator’s judgment or in¬
tegrity in question. It was not without cause, there¬
fore, that Lysippus the statuary, as Plutarch tells us,
blamed Apelles for painting Alexander the Great with
thunder in his hand ; which could never suit his cha¬
racter as a man, Imvever he might boast of his divine
descent: for which reason Lysippus himself made an
image of him holding a spear, as the sign of a warrior.
Light and trivial things in commendations are likewise
to be avoided, and nothing mentioned but what may
carry in it the idea of something truly valuable, and
which the hearers may be supposed to wish for, and is
proper to excite their emulation. These are the prin¬
cipal heads of praise with relation to men. In dispraise,
the heads contrary to these are requisite ; which being
sufficiently clear from what has been said, need not
particularly be insisted on.
II- We proceed therefore to the other part of the
division, which respect things, as distinguished from
persons. By which we are to understand all beings
inferior to man, whether animate or inanimate ; as
likewise the habits and dispositions of men, either good
or bad, when considered separately, and apart from
their subjects, as arts and sciences, virtues and vices,
with whatever else may be a proper subject for praise
or dispraise. Some writers, indeed, have, for their
own amusement and the diversion of others, displayed
their eloquence in a jocose manner upon subjects of
this kind. So Lucian has written in praise of a fly,
and Synesius an elegant encomium upon baldness.
Others, on the contrary, have done the like in a sa¬
tirical way. Such is Seneca’s apotheosis or consecra¬
tion of the emperor Claudius; and the Mysopogou
or beard-hater, written by Julian the emperor. Not
to mention several modern authors, who have imitated
them in such ludicrous compositions. But as to these
things, and all of the like nature, the observation of
Antony in Cicero seems very just: “ That it is not
necessary to reduce every subject we discourse upon to
rules of art.” For many are so trivial, as not to de¬
serve it; and others so plain and evident of themselves,
as not to require it. But since it frequently comes in
the way both of orators and historians to describe
countries, cities, and facts, we shall bi'iefly mention the
principal heads of invention proper to illustrate each
of these.
Countries, then, may be celebrated from the plea-
' R r santnesi
3U
Inventiop.
3,4 O R A T
Invention, sanlness of their situation, the clemency ami whoksome-
V-—ness of the air, and goodness of the soil j to which last
may be referred the springs, rivers, woods, plains, moun¬
tains, and minerals. And to all these may be added their
extent, cities, the number and antiquity of the inha u-
tants ; their policy, laws, customs, wealth, character tor
cultivating the arts both of peace and war; their princes,
and other eminent men they have produced. ,us
Pacatushas given us a very elegant description of Spain,
in his panegyric upon the emperor Theodosius, who was
horn there.
Cities are praised from much the same topics as
countries. And here, whatever contributes either to
their defence or ornament ought particularly to be
mentioned 5 as the strength of the walls and fortifica¬
tions, the beauty and splendour of the buildings, whether
sacred or civil, public or private. We have 111 Hero¬
dotus a very fine description of Babylon, which was
once the strongest, largest, and most regular city m the
world. And Cicero has accurately described the city
of Syracuse, in the island Sicily, in one of his orations
against Verres.
But facts come much oftener under the cognizance
of an orator. And these receive their commendation
from their honour, justice, or advantage. But in de¬
scribing them, all the circumstances should be related
in their proper order} and that in the most lively and
affecting manner suited to their different nature. Livy
has represented the demolition of Alba by the Roman
army, which was sent thither to destroy it, through
the whole course of that melancholy scene, in a style
so moving and pathetic, that one can hardly forbear
condoling with the inhabitants, upon reading his ac¬
count.
But in discourses of this kind, whether of praise or
dispraise, the orator should (as he ought indeed upon
all occasions) well consider where, and to whom, he
speaks, lor wise men often think very differently
both of persons and things from the common people.
And we find that learned and judicious men are fre¬
quently divided in their sentiments, from the several
ways of thinking to which they have been accustomed.
Besides, different opinions prevail, and gain the ascen¬
dant, at different times. hile the Romans continued
a free nation, love of their country, liberty, and public
spirit, were principles in the highest esteem among them.
And therefore, when Cato killed himself, that he might
not fall into the hands of Caesar, and survive the li¬
berty of his country, it was thought an instance of the
greatest heroic virtue j but afterwards, when they had
been accustomed to an arbitrary government, and the
spirit of liberty was now. lost, the poet Martial could
venture to say,
Death to avoid 'tis madness sure to die.
A prudent orator therefore will be cautious or oppos¬
ing any settled and prevailing notions of- those whom
he addresses, unless it be necessary; and then he will
do it in the softest and most gentle manner.
Chap. HI. Of Arguments suited to Deliberative
Discourses.
This kind of discourses must certainly have been
very ancient 5. since, doubtless, from the first beginning
O R Y. Fart l-
of men’s conversing together, they deliberated upon Invention,
their common interest, and offered their advice to each v~ '
other. But neither those of the laudatory nor ju 1- 0f ^7^
cial kind could have been introduced, till mankind rath.e dis
were settled in communities, and found it necessary to courSeS,and
encourage virtue by public re"T“ds’ Bb™f;
under the restraint of laws. T e ^ V p suited to
suasory discourses appears from sacred writ, where wetliem>
find, that when Moses was ordered upon an embassy
into Egypt, he would have excused himself lor want
of eloquence. And Homer represents the Greeks at
the siege of Troy, as flocking like a swarm of bees to
hear their generals harangue them. IS or is this part
of oratory less conspicuous for its usefulness to man¬
kind, than for its antiquity, being highly beneficial ei¬
ther in councils, camps, or any societies of men. How
many instances have we upon record, where the fury
of an enraged multitude has been checked and appeas¬
ed by the prudent and artful persuasion of some par¬
ticular person ? The story of Agnppa Menemus, when
the commons of Rome withdrew from the senators
and retired out of the city, is too well known to need
reciting. And how often have armies been animated
and fired to the most dangerous exploits, or recalled to
their duty, when ready to mutiny, by a moving speech
of their general ? many instances of which we find in
lnSAUydeliberation respects something future, for it is
in vain to consult about what is already past. > Hie
subiect matter of it is, either things public or private,
sacred or civil 5 indeed all the valuable concerns of
mankind, both present and future, come under its re¬
gard. And the end proposed by this kind of dis¬
courses is chieflv profit or interest. But since nothing
is truly profitable hut what is in some respect good;
and every thing which is good in itself may not 111
all circumstances be for our advantage *, properly speak¬
ing what is both good and profitable, or henehcial
good, is the end here designed. And therefore, as it
sometimes happens, that what appears profitable may
seem to interfere with that which is strictly just and
honourable ; in such cases it is certainly most advise-
able to determine on the safer side of honour and jus¬
tice, notwithstanding some plausible things may be of¬
fered to the contrary. But where the dispute lies ap¬
parently between what is truly honest, and_ some ex¬
ternal advantage proposed in opposition to it, all goo
men cannot but agree in favour of honesty. Such was
the case of Regulus, who, being taken prisoner by the
Carthaginians, was permitted to go to Rome upon giv¬
ing his oath, that unless he 'could persuade the senate
to^set at liberty some young Carthaginian noblemen,
then prisoners at Rome, in exchange for him, he should
return again to Carthage. But Regulus, when he
came to Rome, was so far from endeavouring to pre¬
vail with the senate to comply with the desire of the
Carthaginians, that he used all his interest to dissuade
them from hearkening to the proposal. Nor could
the most earnest entreaties of his nearest relations and
friends, nor any arguments they were able to offer,
engage him to continue at Rome, and not return again
to Carthage. He had then plainly in his view, on the
one side, ease, security, affluence, honours, and the en-
iovment of his friends; and on the other, certain death,
attended with cruel torments. However, thinking the
former,.
ORATOR Y.
Part I.
Invention, former iTot consistent with truth and justice, he chose
v—the latter. And he certainly acted as became an ho¬
nest and brave man, in choosing death, rather than to
violate his oath. Though whether he did prudently
in persuading the senate not to make the exchange, or
they in complying with him, we shall leave others to
determine. Now, when it proves to be a matter of de¬
bate, whether a thing upon the whole be really be¬
neficial or not; as here arise two parts, advice and
dissuasion, they will each require proper heads of argu¬
ment. But as they are contrary to each other, he who
is acquainted with one, cannot well be ignorant of the
other. We shall therefore chiefly mention those pro¬
per for advice, from whence such as are suited to dis¬
suade will easily he perceived. Now the principal heads
of this kind are these following, which are taken from
the nature and properties of the thing itself under con¬
sideration.
1. Pleasure often affords a very cogent argument in
discourses of this nature. Every one know’s what an
influence this has upon the generality of mankind.
Though, as Quintilian remarks, pleasure ought not
of itself to be proposed as a fit motive for action in
serious discourses, but when it is designed to recom¬
mend something useful, which is the case here. So,
would any one advise another to the pursuit of polite
literature, Cicero has furnished him with a very strong
inducement to it from the pleasure which attends that
study, when he says, “ If pleasure only was proposed
by these studies, you would think them an entertain¬
ment becoming a man of sense and a gentleman. For
other pursuits neither agree with all times, all ages,
nor all places *, but these studies improve youth, de¬
light old age, adorn prosperity, afford a refuge and
comfort in adversity, divert us at home, are no hinder-
ance abroad, sleep, travel, and retire with us into the
country.”
2. Profit, or advantage. This has no less influence
upon many persons than the former; and when it re¬
spects things truly valuable, it is a very just and lauda¬
ble motive. Thus Cicero, when he sends his Pook of
Offices to his son, which he wrote in Latin for his use,
advises him to make the best advantage both of his tu¬
tor’s instructions and the conveivsation at Athens, where
he then was; but withal to peruse his philosophical
treatises, which would be doubly useful to him, not only
upon account of the subjects, but likewise of the lan¬
guage, as they would enable him to express himself up¬
on those arguments in Latin, which before had only
been treated of in Greek.
3. Honour; than which no argument will sooner
prevail with generous minds, or inspire them with great¬
er ardour. Virgil has very beautifully described Hec¬
tor’s ghost appearing to Hineas the night Troy was
taken, and advising him to depart, from this motive of
honour :
O goddess-born, escape by timely flight
The flames and horrors of this fatal night.
The foes already have possess’d the wall j
Troy nods from high, and totters to her fall.
Enough is paid to Priam’s royal name;
More than enough to duty and to fame.
If by a mortal hand mv father’s throne
Con’d be defended, ’twas by mine alone.
The argument here made use of to persuade ./Eneas to invention
leave Troy immediately, is, that he had done all that u—
could be expected from him, either as a good subject or
brave soldier, both for his king and country; which
were sufficient to secure his honour j and now there
was nothing more to he expected from him when the
city was falling, and impossible to be saved 5 which,
could it have been preserved by human power, he him¬
self had done it.
But although a thing considered in itself appear be¬
neficial it it could be attained, yet the expediency of
undertaking it may still be questionable 5 in which case
the following heads, taken from the circumstances
which attend it, will afford proper arguments to engage
in it.
(if) The possibility of succeeding may sometimes be
argued, as one motive to this end. So Hannibal en¬
deavoured to convince King Antiochus, that it was
possible for him to conquer the Romans, if he made
Italy the seat of the war ; by observing to him, not on¬
ly that the Gauls had formerly destroyed their city, but
that he had himself defeated them in every battle he
fought with them in that country.
(2.) But an argument founded upon prohabiliti)
will be much more likely to prevail. For in many af¬
fairs of human life, men are determined either to pro¬
secute them or not, as the prospect of success appears
more or less probable. Hence Cicero, after the fatal
battle at Pharsalia, dissuades those of Pompey’s partv,
with whom he was engaged, from continuing the war
any longer against Caesar •, because it was highly im¬
probable, after such a defeat, by which their main
strength was broken, that they should be able to stand
their ground, or meet with better success than they had
before.
(3.) But further, since probability is not a motive
strong enough with many persons to engage in the pro¬
secution of a thing which is attended with considerable
difficulties, it is often necessary to represent the facility
of doing it, as a further reason to induce them to it.
And therefore Cicero makes use of this argument to en¬
courage the Roman citizens in opposing Mark Antony
(who upon the death of Caesar had assumed an arbitrary
power), by representing to them, that his circumstances
were then desperate, and that he might easily be van¬
quished.
(4.) Again, If the thing advised can be shown to
be in any respect necessary, this will render the mo¬
tive still much stronger for undertaking it. And there¬
fore Cicero joins this argument with the former, to
prevail with the Roman citizens to oppose Antony,
by telling them, that “ The consideration before them
was, not in what circumstances they should live, but
whether they should live at all, or die with ignominy
and disgrace.” This way of reasoning will sometimes
prevail when all others prove ineffectual. For some
persons are not to be moved till things are brought to
an extremity, and they find themselves reduced to the
utmost danger.
(5.) To these heads may be added the consideration
of the event, which in some cases carries great weight
wdth it. As when we advise to the doing of a thing
from this motive. That whether it succeed or not, it
will yet be of service to undertake it. So after the great
victory gained by Themistocles over the Persian fleet at
R r 2 the
o,
3*6
Invention,
O R A T
the straits of Salamis, Mardonius advised Xerxes to
1 return into Asia himself, lest the report ot his defeat
should occasion an insurrection in his absence : but to
leave behind him an army of 300,000 men under his
command 5 with which, if he should conquer Greece,
the chief glory of the conquest would redound to Xerxes;
but if the design miscarried, the disgrace would iall upon
his generals. t
These are the principal heads which furnish the ora¬
tor with proper arguments in giving advice. Cicero,
in his oration for the Manilian law, where he endea¬
vours to persuade the Roman people to choose Pom-
pey for their general in the Mithridatic war, reasons
from three of these topics, into which he divides Ins
whole discourse 5 namely, the necessity of the war, the
greatness of it, and choice of ‘ a proper general.—
Under the first of these he shows, that the war was ne¬
cessary, from four considerations ; the honour of the
Roman state, the safety of their allies, their own re¬
venues, and the fortunes of many ot their fellow citi¬
zens, which were all highly concerned in it, and called
upon them to put a stop to the growing power of
King Mithridates, by which they were all greatly en¬
dangered. So that this argument is taken from the
head of necessity. The second, in which he treats of
the greatness of the war, is founded upon the topic ot
possibility. For though he shows the power of Mithn-
dates to be very great, yet not so formidable, but that
he might be subdued } as was evident from the many
advantages Lucullus had gained over him and his as¬
sociates. In the third head, he endeavours to prevail
with them to intrust the management of the war 111 the
hands of Pompey, whom he describes as a consummate
general, for his skill in military aflairs, courage, au¬
thority, and success *, in all which qualities he lepre-
sents him as superior to any other of their generals
whom they could at that time make choice of. I he
design of all which was, to persuade them, that they
had verv good reason to hope for success, and a happy
event of the war, under his conduct. So that the
whole force of his reasoning under this head is drawn
from probability. These are the three general topics
which make up that fine discourse. Each of which
is indeed supported by divers other arguments and con¬
siderations, which will be obvious in perusing the ora¬
tion itself, and therefore need not be here enumerated.
On the contrary, in another oration he endeavours to
dissuade the senate from consenting to a peace with
Mark Antony, because it was base, dangerous, and
impracticable. .
But no small skill and address are required in giving
advice. For since the tempers and sentiments of man¬
kind, as well as their circumstances, are very different
and various; it is often necessary to accommodate the
discourse to their inclinations and opinions of things.
And therefore the weightiest arguments are not al¬
ways the most proper and fittest to be used on all occa¬
sions. Cicero, who was an admirable master of this
art, and knew perfectly well how to suit what he said
to the taste and relish of his hearers, in treating upon
this subject, distinguishes mankind into two sorts •, the
ignorant and unpolished, who always prefer profit to
honour *, and such as are more civilized and polite, who
prefer honour and reputation to all other things.
YVherefore they are to be moved by these different
O R Y. - Part I.
views : Praise, glory, and virtue, influence the one : Invention,
while the other is only to be engaged by a prospect ofv—v—
gain and pleasure. Besides, it is plain, that the gene¬
rality are much more inclined to avoid evils than to
pursue what is good: and to keep clear of scandal and
disgrace, than to practise what is truly generous and
noble. Persons likewise of a different age act from
different principles *, young men lor the most part view
things in a different light from those who are older and
have had more experience, and consequently are not to
be influenced by the same motives.
Chap. IV. Of Arguments suited to Judicial Dis¬
courses.
iS
In judicial controversies there are two parties ; the Of judicial
plaintiff or prosecutor, and the defendant or person discourses ^
charged. The subject ot them is always. something
past. And the end proposed by them Cicero calls sujte(j
equity, or right and equity; the former of which arises them,
from the laws of the country, and the latter from lea-
son and the nature of things. lor at Rome the prae¬
tors had a court of equity, and were empowered, in
many cases relating to property, to relax the rigour
of the written laws. But as this subject is very copi¬
ous, and causes may arise from a great variety of things,
writers have reduced them to three heads, which they
call states, to some one of which all judicial proceedings
may be referred j namely, whether a thing is, what it
is, or how it is. By the sttite of a cause, therefore,, is
meant the principal question in dispute, upon which
the whole affair depends. Which, if it stops in the
first inquiry, and the defendant, denies the fact, the
state is called conjectural; but if the fact be acknow¬
ledged, and yet denied to be what the adversary calls
it, it is termed definitive; but if there is no dispute-
either about the fact or its name, but only the justice
of it, it is called the state of quality: as was shown
more largely before (see N° 15.). But we there con¬
sidered these states only in a general view, and deferred
the particular heads of argument proper for each of
them to this judicial kind of discourses ; where they
most frequently occur, and from which examples may
easily he accommodated to other subjects.
Ail judicial causes are either private or public. Those
are called private, which relate to the right of parti¬
cular persons; and they are likewise called ciu/7causes,
as they are conversant about matters of property.—
Public causes are those which relate to public justice
and the government of the state ; which are also called
criminal, because by them crimes are prosecuted, whe¬
ther capital, or those of a less heinous nature. We.
shall take the heads of the arguments only from this,
latter kind, because they are more copious, and easy
to be illustrated by examples; from which such as
agree to the former, namely, civil causes, will sufficient¬
ly appear.
1. The conjectural state. When the accused person
denies the fact, there are three things which the pro¬
secutor has to consider; whether lie would have done
it, whether he could, and whether lie did it. And
hence arise three topics; from the will, the power,
and the signs or circumstances which attended the,
action. The affections of the mind discover the will ;
as passion, an old grudge, a desire of revenge, a re-
r sentment
art L ORA
ityentfon. sentrnent of a?) injury, and the like. Therefore Ci-
J cero argues from Clodius’s hatred of Milo, that he de¬
signed his death j and from thence infers, that he was
the aggressor in the combat between them, wherein
Clodius was killed. This is what he principally endea¬
vours to prove, and comes properly under this state :
for Milo owned that he killed him, but alleged that
he did it in his own defence. So that in regard to this
point, which of them assaulted the other ? the charge
was mutual. The prospect of advantage may also be
alleged to the same purpose. Hence it is said of L,
Cassius, that whenever he sat as judge in a case of
murder, he used to advise and move the court to exa¬
mine to whom the advantage arose from the death of
the deceased. And Cicero puts this to Antony con¬
cerning the death of Caesar. “ If any one (says he)
should bring you upon trial, and use that saving of Cas¬
sius Cui bono? ‘ Who got by it ?’ look to it, I beseech
you, that you are not confounded. To these argu¬
ments may be added, hope of impunity, taken either
from the circumstances of the accused person, or of him
who suffered the injury. For persons, who have the
advantage of interest, friends, power, or money, are
apt to think they may easily escape j as likewise such
who have formerly committed other crimes with impu¬
nity. Thus Cicero represents Clodius as hardened in
vice, and above all the restraint of lavvs, from having
so often escaped punishment upon committing the
highest crimes. On the contrary, such a confidence
is sometimes raised from the condition of the injured
party, if he is indigent, obscure, timorous, or desti¬
tute of friends; much more if he has an ill reputa¬
tion, or is loaded with popular hatred and resentment.
It was this presumption of the obscurity of Koscius,
who lived in the country, and his want of interest at
Home, which encouraged his accusers to charge him
with killing his father, as Cicero shows in his defence
of him. Lastly, The temper of a person, his views,
and manner of life, are considerations of great mo¬
ment in this matter. For persons of bad morals, and
such as are addicted to vice, are easily thought ca¬
pable of committing any wickedness. Hence Sallust
argues from the evil disposition and vicious life of Ca¬
tiline, that he affected to raise himself upon the ruins
of his country.--—The second head is the power of do¬
ing a thing: and there are three things which relate
to this, the place, the time, and opportunity. As if a
crime is said to have been committed in a private place,
where no other person was present; or in the night;
or when the injured person was unable to provide for
his defence. Under this head may likewise be brought
in the circumstances of the persons ; as if the accused
person was stronger, and so able to overpower the
other; or more active, and so could easily make his
escape. Cicero makes great use of this topic in the
case of Milo, and shows, that Clodius had all the advan¬
tages of place., time, and opportunity, to execute, his de¬
sign of killing him. The third head comprehends the
signs and circumstances which either preceded, accom¬
panied, or followed, the commission of the fact. So
threats, or the accused person being seen at or near the
place before the fact was committed, are circumstances
that may probably precede murder j fighting, crying
out, bloodshed, are such as accompany it •, paleness,
trembling, iaconsistentaiiswers, hesitation, or {altering of
T O R Y.
the speech, something found upon the person accused
which belonged to the deceased, are such as follow it.
Thus Cicero proves, that Clodius had threatened the
death of Milo, and given out that he should not live
above three days at the farthest—These arguments,
taken from conjectures, are called presumptions, which,
though they do not directly prove that the accused per¬
son committed the fact with which he is charged j yet
when, laid together-, they appeared very strong, sentence
by the Roman law might sometimes be given upon them,
to convict him.
These are the topics from which the prosecutor takes
his arguments. Now the business of the defendant is to
invalidate these. Therefore such as are brought from
the will, he either endeavours to show are not true, or
so weak as to merit very little regard. And he refutes
those taken from the power, by proving that he wanted
either opportunity or ability : as, if he can show, that
neither the place nor time insisted on was at all proper;
or that he was then in another place. In like manner
he will endeavour to confute the circumstances, they
cannot be directly denied, by showing that they are not
such as do necessarily accompany the fact, but might
have proceeded from other causes, though nothing of
what is alleged had been committed; and it will be of
great service to assign jsome other probable cause. But
sometimes the defendant does not only deny that he did
the fact, but charges it upon another. Thus Cicero, in
his oration for Roscius, not only defends him from each
of these three heads, but likewise charges the fact upon
his accusers.
2. The definitive state, which is principally con¬
cerned in defining and fixing the name proper to the
fact: though orators seldom make use of exact de¬
finitions, but commonly choose larger descriptions, ta¬
ken from various properties of the subject or thing de¬
scribed.
The heads of argument in this state are much the
same to both parties. For each of them defines the
fact his own way, and endeavours to refute the othej-’s
definition. We may illustrate this by an example from
Quintilian : “ A person is accused of sacrilege, for steal¬
ing money out of a temple, which belonged to a private
person.” The fact is owned; blit the question is, Whe*
ther it be properly sacrilege^ The prosecutor calls it so,
because it was taken out of a temple. But since tfie
money belonged to a private person, the defendant de¬
nies it to be sacrilege, and says it is only simple theft.
Now the reason wiry the defendant uses this plea, and
insists upon the distinction, is, because by the Roman
law the penalty of theft was only four times the value
of what was stolen ? whereas sacrilege was punished
with death. The prosecutor then forms his definition
agreeable to his charge, and says, “ To steal any thing
out of a sacred place is sacrilege.” But the defendant
excepts against this definition, as defective ; and urges,
that it does not amount to sacrilege, unless the thing
stolen was likewise sacred. And this case might once,
perhaps, have been a matter of controversy, since we find
it expressly determined in the Pandects, that “An ac--
tion of sacrilege should not lie, but only of theft, against
any one who should steal the goods of private perspns
deposited in a temple.”
The second thing is the proof brought by each
party to support his definition; as in the example
given
317
Invention.
given us by Cicero, of one “who carried his cause
by bribery, and was afterwards prosecuted again up¬
on an action of prevarication.” Now, if the defen¬
dant was cast upon this action, he was, by the lio-
man law, subjected to the penalty of the former pro¬
secution. Here the prosecutor defines prevarication
to be, Any bribery or corruption in the defendant, with
xi design to pervert justice. The defendant, therefore,
on the other hand, restrains it to bribing only the prose¬
cutor.
And if this latter sense agrees better with the com¬
mon acceptation of the word, the prosecutor in the
third place pleads the intention of the law, which
was to comprehend all bribery in judicial matters
under the term of prevarication. In answer to which
the defendant endeavours to show, cither from the
head of contraries, that a real prosecutor and a pre¬
varicator are used as opposite terms in the law, or
from the etymology of the word, that a prevaricator
denotes one who pretends to appear in the prosecution
of a cause, while in reality he favours the contrary
side j and consequently, that money given for this end
only can, in the sense of the. law, be called prevanca-
tion.
Lastly, The prosecutor pleads, that it is unreasonable
that he who does not deny the fact should escape by a
cavil about a word. But the defendant insists upon his
explication as agreeable to the law •, and says, the fact
is misrepresented and blackened, by affixing to it a
-wrong name.
3. The third state is that of quality, in which the dis¬
pute turns upon the justice of an action. And here the
defendant does not deny he did the thing he is charged
ivithj but asserts it to be right and equitable, from the
circumstances of the case, and the motives which indu-
veed him to it. • —
And, first, He sometimes alleges, the reason of doing
it was in order to prevent some other thing of worse
consequence, which would otherwise have happened.
We have an instance ot this in the life ot Epaminon-
das, who, with two other generals joined in the com¬
mand with him, marched the Theban army into Pelo¬
ponnesus against the Lacedaemoniansj but by the influ¬
ence of a contrary faction at home, their commissions
were superseded, and other generals sent to command
the army. But Epaminondas, being sensible that, if
he obeyed this order at that time, it would be attended
with the loss of the whole army, and consequently' the
ruin of tiie state, refused to do it 5 and having persuad¬
ed the other generals to do the like, they happily finish¬
ed the war in which theyr were engaged; and upon their
return home, Epaminondas taking the whole matter
upon himself, on his trial was acquitted. The argu¬
ments proper in this case are taken from the justice, use¬
fulness, or necessity, of the action. The accuser there¬
fore will plead, that the fact was not just, profitable,
nor necessary, considered either in itself or comparative¬
ly with that for the sake of which it is said to have been
done: and he will endeavour to show, that what the
defendant assigns for the reason of what he did might
not have happened as he pretends. Besides, he will re¬
present of what ill consequence it must be, if such crimes
p-o unpunished. The defendant, on the other hand,
will argue from the same heads, and endeavour to prove
the fact was just, useful, or necessary. And he will
5
ORATOR Y. I
further uro-e, that no just estimate can be made of invention,
any action,^ but from the circumstances which attendv /—■-
it •, as the design, occasion, and motives for doing it,
which he will represent in the most favourable light
to his own cause, and endeavour to set them in
such a view, as to induce others to think they could
not but have done the same in the like circumstan-
CCS#
Again, The cause of an action is sometimes charged
by the defendant upon the party who received the
damage, or some other person, who either made it
necessary, or enjoined him to do it. The first ot these
was Milo’s plea for killing Clodius, because he as¬
saulted him with a design to take away his life. Heie
the fact is not denied, as in the case ot Roscius above
mentioned, under the conjectural state j but justified
from the reason of doing it. For that an assassin might
be justly killed, Cicero shows both from law and rea¬
son. The accuser, therefore, in such a case, will, if
there be room for it, deny the truth of this allega¬
tion. So the friends of Clodius affirmed that Milo
was the aggressor, and not Clodius j which Cicero, in
his defence of Milo, principally labours to refute. In
the second case, the prosecutor will say, No one ought
to offend because another has offended first-, which de¬
feats the course of public justice, renders the laws use¬
less, and destroys the authority of the magistrate. The
defendant, on the other hand, will endeavour to repre¬
sent the danger and necessity of the case, which required
an immediate remedy, and in that manner -, and urges,
that it was vain and impracticable to wait tor redress in
the ordinary way, and therefore no ill consequence can
arise to the public. Thus Cicero, in defending Sextius,
who was prosecuted for a riot in bringing armed men
into the forum, shows that his design was only to repel
force with force j which was then necessary, there being
no other means left for the people to assemble, who
were excluded by a mob of the contrary party. Of the
third case we have also an example in Cicero, who tells
us, that, “ in making a league between the Romans and
Samniles, a certain young nobleman was ordered by the
Roman general to hold the swine (designed for a sacri¬
fice) ; but the senate afterwards disapproving the terms,
and delivering up their general to the Samnites, it was
moved, Whether this young man ought not likewise to
be given up.” rlhose who were for it might say, that,
to allege the command of another, is not a sufficient
plea for doing an ill action j and this is what the Ro¬
man law now expressly declares. But in answer to that,
it might be replied, that it was his duty to obey the
command of his general, who was answerable for his
owrn orders, and not those who were obliged to execute
them 5 and therefore, to give up this young noble¬
man would be to punish one person for the fault of ano¬
ther.
Lastly, A fact is sometimes rather excused than de¬
fended/by pleading that it was not done designedly,
or with any ill intent. This is called concession; and
consists of two parts, apology and entreaty. The former
represents the matter as the effect of inadvertency,
chance, or necessity. Aristotle gives us an example of
inadvertency or imprudence in a woman at Athens, who
gave a young man a love potion, which killed him \ for
which she was tried, but acquitted: though afterwards
this was made criminal by the Roman law. 'Hie case
of
?art I. O li A
ihmention, of Aurastus, as related by Herodotus, is au instance of
 v chance j who being intrusted by Croesus with the care
of his son, as they were hunting, killed him accidental¬
ly with a javelin which he threw at a boar. It is ne¬
cessity, when a person excuses his making a default,
from stress of weather, sickness, or the like. Thus Ci¬
cero pleaded his illness, contracted by the fatigue of a
long journey, as an excuse for not appearing in the se¬
nate upon the summons of Mark Antony, who threaten¬
ed to oblige him to it by pulling his house down. But
what the defendant here attributes to inadvertency,
chance, or necessity, the opposite party will attribute to
design, negligence, or some other culpable reason ; and
represent it as a matter injurious to the public to intro¬
duce such precedents; and also produce instances, if
that can be done, where the like excuses have not been
admitted. On the other hand, the defendant will insist
on his innocence, and show the hardship and severity of
judging men’s a'ctions rather by the event, than from
the intention : that such a procedure makes no difference
between the innocent and the guilty j but must neces¬
sarily involve many honest men in ruin and destruc¬
tion, discourage all virtuous and generous designs, and
turn greatly to the prejudice of human society. He
will also consider the instances alleged by the accuser,
and show the difference between them and his own case.
And, lastly, He will have recourse to entreaty, or a
submissive address to the equity and clemency of the
court, or party offended, for pardon ; as Cicero has
done in his oration to Caesar, in favour of Li<>-a-
rius.
Chap. V. Of the Character and Address of an Ora¬
tor.
ropriety Having considered and explained the first part of
manners Invention, which furnishes the orator with such argu-
pecssary ments as are necessary for the proof of his subiect, we
r, both are next to show what are the proper means to coneili-
ithres- ate the minds of his hearers j to gain their affection j
tcttocha- and to recommend both himself, and what he says, to
IdlessaIUl t^e“” S00^ opinion and esteem. For the parts of inven-
iess' tion are commonly thus distinguished j that the first re¬
spects the subject of the discourse, the second the speakery
and the third the hearers. Now the second of these,
what we have at present to explain, is by Quintilian
called a propriety of manners. And in order to express
this it is necessary, as he tells us, “ that every thing up¬
per easy and natural, and the disposition of the speaker
be discovered by his words.” We may form an easy
conception of this from the conduct of such persons as
are most nearly concerned in each others welfare. As
when relations or friends converse together upon any
affairs of importance, the temper and disposition of the
speaker plainly shows itself by his words and manner of
address. And what nature here directs to without co¬
louring or disguise, the orator is to endeavour to per¬
form by his art. Though indeed, if what a person says
be inconsistent with his usual conduct and behaviour at
other times, he cannot expect it should gain much credit,
©r make any deep impression upon his hearers j which
may be one reason why the ancient rhetoricians make it
so necessary a qualification in an orator, that he be a
good man ; since he should always be consistent with
bjnjself, and as we say, talk in character. And there-
T O R Y.
fore it is highly requisite, that he should not only gain
the skill of assuming those qualities which the nature
and circumstances of his discourse require him to ex¬
press j but, likewise, that he should use his utmost en¬
deavours to get the real habits implanted in his mind.
For as by this means they will be always expressed with
greater ease and facility ; so, by appearing constantly in
the course of his life, they will have more weight and
influence upon particular occasions.
Now there are four qualities, more especially suited
to the character of an orator, which should always ap¬
pear in his discourses, in order to render what he says
acceptable to his hearers j and these are wisdom, in¬
tegrity, benevolence, and modesty.
1. Wisdom is necessary ; because we easily give into
those whom we esteem wiser and more knowintr than
ourselves. Knowledge is very agreeable and pleasant
to all, but few make very great improvements in it j
either by x-eason they are employed in other necessary
affairs, and the mind of man cannot attend to many
things at once ; or because the wfay to knowledge at
first is hard and difficult, so that persons either do not
care to enter upon the pursuit of it, or, if they do, they
are many times soon discouraged, and drop it, for
want of sufficient resolution to surmount its difficulties.
Such, therefore, as either cannot, or do not care to give
themselves the trouble of examining into things them¬
selves, must take up with the representation of others :
and it is an ease to them to hear the opinion of per¬
sons whom they esteem wiser than themselves. No one
loves to be deceived j and those who are fearful of
being misled, are pleased to meet with a person in whose
wisdom, as they think, they can safely trust. The cha¬
racter of wisdom therefore is of great service to an ora¬
tor, since the greater part of mankind are swayed by
authority rather than arguments.
2. But this of itself is not sufficient, unless the opi¬
nion of integrity be joined with it. Nay so far from
it, that the greater knowledge and understanding a
man is supposed to have, unless he likewise have the
character of an honest man, he is often the more sus¬
pected. For knowledge without honesty, is generally
thought to dispose a person, as well as qualify him, to
deceive.
3. And to both these qualities the appearance of
kindness and benevolence should likewise be added. For
though a person have the reputation of wisdom and
honesty, yet if we apprehend he is either not well af¬
fected to us, or at least regardless of our interest, we
are in many cases apt to be jealous of him. Mankind
are naturally swayed by their affections, and much in¬
fluenced through love or friendship ; and therefore na-
thing has a greater tendency to induce persons to cre¬
dit what is said, than intimations of affection and kind¬
ness. The best orators have been always sensible
what great influence the expressions of kindness and
benevolence have upon the minds of others, to induce
them to believe tin; truth of what they say y and therer
fore they frequently endeavour to impress them with
the opinion of it. Thus Demosthenes begins his cele¬
brated oration for Ctesiphon. “ It is my hearty prayer
(says he) to all the deities, that this my defence may
be received by you with the same affection which I
have always expressed for you and your city.” And
it is a very fine image of it which we have in Cicero;
where,
319
Invention.
32°
Invention vvliere, in orJer to influence the judges in favour of
'Milo, he introduces him speaking thus, as became a
brave mail, and a patriot, even upon the supposition he
should be condemned by them: “ I bid my fellow ci¬
tizens adieu : may they continue flourishing and pros¬
perous j may this famous city be preserved, my most
dear country, however it has treated me j may my tel-
lott citizens enjoy peace and tranquillity without me,
since I am not to enjoy it with them though I have
procured it for them: I will withdraw, I will be
S 4. Modesty. It is certain, that what is modestly
spoken is generally better received than what carries
in it an air of boldness and confidence. Most persons,
though ignorant of a thing, do not Care to be thought
so; and would have some deference paid to their un¬
derstanding. But he who delivers himself in an arro¬
gant and assuming way seems to upbraid his hearers
with ignorance, While he does not leave them to
judge for themselves, but dictates to them, and as it
Were demand their assent to what he says j which is
certainly a very improper method to win upon them.
For hot a few, when convinced of an error in such a
Wav, Will hot own it; but will rather adhere to their
former opinion, than seem forced to think right, when
it gives another the opportunity of a triumph. A pru¬
dent orator therefore will behave himself with modesty,
that he may not seem to insult his hearers ; and will
set things before them in such an engaging manner,
as may remove all prejudice either from his person
6r what he asserts. This is particularly necessary in
the exordium of a discourse. If the orator set out
With an air of arrogance and ostentation, the self-love
and pride of the hearers will be presently awakened, and
will follow him with a very suspicious eye throughout
all his progress. His modesty should discover itself not
only in his expressions at the beginning, but m his whole
manner} in his looks, itt his gestures, in the tone of his
voice. Every auditory take in good part those marks oi
respect and awe, which are paid to them by one who
addresses them. Indeed the modesty of an introduction
should never betray arty thing mean or abject. _ It is
always of great use to an orator, that together with mo¬
desty and deference to his hearers, he should show a cer¬
tain sense of dignity, arising from a persuasion of the
justice or importance of the subject of which he is to
speak. For to speak timorously, and with hesitation,
destroys the Credit of what is oflered j and so far as the
speaker seems to distrust what he says himself, he often
induces others to do the like.
But, as has been said already, great care is to be
taken that these characters do not appear feigned and
counterfeit. For what is fictitious can seldom lie long
concealed. And if this be once discovered, it makes all
that is said suspected, how specious soever it may
otherwise appear.
It is further necessary, that the orator should know
the world, and be well acquainted with the different tem¬
pers and dispositions of mankind. Nor indeed can any
one reasonably hope to succeed in this province, without
well considering the circumstancesof time and place, with
the sentiments and dispositions of those to whom he
speaks j which, according to Aristotle, may be distin¬
guished four ways, as they discover themselves by the se¬
veral affections, habits, ages, ^fortunes, of mankind.
2
ORATORY.
Ami each of tliese requires a iliffcreut conduct and man
ner of address.
The affections denote certain emotions of the mind,
which, during their continuance, give a great tum to the
disposition. For love prompts to one thing, and hatred
to another. The like may be said of anger, lenity, and
the rest of them. .
Persons differ likewise according to the various habits
of their mind. So a just man is inclined one way, and
an unjust man another ; a temperate man to this, and
an intemperate man to the contrary.
And as to the several ages of men, Aristotle has de¬
scribed them very accurately 5 and how persons are
differently affected in each of them. He divides the
lives of men, considered as hearers, into three stages ^
youth, middle age, and old age.—Young men, he says,
have generally strong passions, and are very eager to
obtain what they desire, but are likewise veiy mutable,
so that the same thing does not please them long.
They are ambitious 4bf praise, and quick in their re¬
sentments : lavish of their money, as not having ex¬
perienced the want of it: frank and open, because
they have not often been deceived j and credulous for
the same reason. They readily hope the best, because
they have not suffered much, and are therefore not so
sensible of the uncertainty of human affairs j for which
reason they are likewise more easily deceived. Uiey
are modest, from their little acquaintance with the
world. They love company and cheerfulness, from
the briskness of their spirits. In a word, they gene¬
rally exceed in what they do j love violently, hate
violently, and act in the same manner through the
rest of their conduct.—The disposition of old men is
generally contrary to the former. They are cautious,
and enter upon nothing hastily j having in the course
of many years been often imposed upon 5 having often
erred, and experienced the prevailing corruption of
human affairs} for which reason they are likewise sus¬
picious, and moderate in their affections either of love or
hatred. They pursue nothing great and noble, and re¬
gard only the necessaries of life. They love money j
having learned by experience the difficulty ot getting it,
and how easily it is lost. T-hey are fearful, which makes
them provident. Commonly full of complaints, from bo¬
dily infirmities, and a deficiency of spirits. They please
themselves rather with the memory of what is past, than
with any future prospect; having so short a view of file
before them, in comparison of what is already gone :
for which reason also, they love to talk of things past;
and prefer them to what is present, of which they have
but little relish, and know they must shortly leave
them. They are soon angry, but not to excess. Last¬
ly, They are compassionate, from a sense of their own
infirmities, which makes them think themselves of all
persons most exposed.—Persons of a middle age, be¬
twixt these two extremes, as they are freed from the
rashness and temerity of youth, so they have not yet
suffered the decays of old age. Plence in every thing
they generally observe a better conduct. They are
neither so hasty in their assent as the one, nor so mi¬
nutely scrupulous as the other, but weigh the reasons ot
things. They regard a decency in their actions ; are
careful and industrious ; and as they undertake what
appears just and laudable upon better and more deli¬
berate consideration than young persons, so they pursue
them
Part I
Invention,
Part I,
Inrention.
ORATORY.
20
t is neces-
ery, though
iiilicult, to
pngage the
interest of
he pas-
i'ions,
them with more vigour and resolution than those who
" are older.
As to the different fortunes of mankind, they may
be considered as noble, rich, or powerful; and the con¬
trary to these. Those of high birth, and noble ex¬
traction, are generally very tender of their honour,
and ambitious to increase it $ it being natural for all
persons to desire an addition to those advantages of
which they find themselves already possessed. And
they are apt to consider all others as much their in¬
feriors, and therefore expect great regard and defer¬
ence should be shewn them.‘■^‘-■Riches, when accom¬
panied with a generous temper, command respect,
from the opportunities they give of being useful to
others j but they usually elate the mind, and occasion
pride. For as money is commonly said to command
all things, those who are possessed of a large share of it,
expect others should be at their beck : since they enjoy
that which all desire, and which most persons make the
main pursuit of their lives tn obtain.—But nothing is
more apt to swell the mind than power. This is what
all men naturally covet, even when perhaps they would
not use it. But the views of such persons are generally
more noble and generous than of those who only pursue
riches and the heaping up of money. A state contrary
to these gives a contrary turn of mind j and in lower
life, persons dispositions usually differ according to their
station and circumstances. A citizen and a courtier,
a merchant and a soldier, a scholar and a peasant, as
their pursuits are different, so is generally their turn
and disposition of mind.
It is the orator’s business, therefore, to consider these
several characters and circumstances of life, with the
different bias and way of thinking they give to the
minds that he may so conduct himself in his behaviour
and manner of speaking, as will render him most ac¬
ceptable, and gain him the good esteem of those whom
he addresses.
Chap. VI. Of the Passions.
As it is often highly necessary for the orator, so it
requires his greatest skill, to engage the passions in his
interest. Quintilian calls this the soul and spirit of his
art. And, doubtless, nothing more discovers its em¬
pire over the minds of men, than this power to excite,
appease, and sway their passions, agreeably to the de¬
sign of the speaker. Hence we meet with the charac¬
ters of admii'able, divine, and other splendid titles,
ascribed to eloquence by ancient writers. It has in¬
deed been objected by some, that whatever high enco¬
miums may be given of this art by the admirers of it,
it is however disingenuous to deceive and impose
upon mankind, as those seem to do, who, by engaging
their passions, give a bias to their minds, and take
them off from the consideration of the truth ; whereas
every thing should be judged of from the reasons brought
to support it, by the evidence of which it ought to stand
or fall. But in answer to this, it may be considered
that all fallacy is not culpable. We often deceive chil¬
dren for their good $ and physicians sometimes impose
on their patients to come at a cure* And why, there¬
fore, when persons will not be prevailed with by reason
and argument, may not an orator endeavour, by en¬
gaging their passions, to persuade them to that which is
VOL. XV. Part I. I
32 l
for their advantage ? Besides, Quintilian makes it a invention
necessary qualification of an orator, that he be an honest ‘-—v— '
man, and one who will not abuse his art. But since those
of a contrary character wrill leave no methods untried in
order to carry their point, it is requisite for those who
design well to be acquainted with all their arts with-
out which they wil! not be a match for them*, as in
military affairs it is highly advantageous for the gene¬
ral of an army to get himself informed of all the designs
and stratagems of the enemy, in order to counteract
them. Indeed this part of oratory is not necessary at all
times, nor in all places. The better prepared persons
are to consider truth, and act upon the evidence of it, the
less occasion there appears for it. But the greater part
of mankind either do not duly weigh the force of ar¬
guments, or refuse to act agreeably to their evidence.
And where this is the case, that persons will neither
be convinced by reason, nor moved by the authority
ot the speaker, the only way left to put them upon
action, is to engage their passions. For the passions are
to the mind, what the wind is to a ship: they move,
and carry it forward ; and he who is without them, is
in a manner without action, dull and lifeless. There
is nothing great or noble to be performed in life
wherein the passions are not concerned. The Stoics,
therefore, who were for eradicating the passions, botfe
maintained a thing in itself impossible, and which, if it
was possible, would be of the greatest prejudice to man¬
kind. lor while they appeared such zealous assertors
of the government of reason, they scarce left it ahy
thing to govern ; for the authority of reason is prin¬
cipally exercised in ruling and moderating the passions,
which, when kept in a due regulation, are the springs
and motives to virtue. Thus hope produces patience,
and fear industry $ and the like might be shown of the
rest. 1 he passions therefore are not to be extirpated,
as the Stoics asserted, but put under the direction and
Conduct of reason. Indeed where they are ungovern¬
able, and resist the controul of reason, they are, as some
have fitly called them, diseases of the mind; and fre¬
quently hurry men to vice, and the greatest misfortunes
of life: just as the wind, when it blows moderately,
carries on the ship 5 but if it be too boisterous and vio
lent, may overset her. The charge therefore brought
against this art, for giving rules tb influence the pas¬
sions, appears groundless and unjust j since the proper
use of the passions is, not to hinder the exercise of rea¬
son, but engage men to act agreeably to reason. And
if an ill use be sometimes made of this, it is not the
fault of the art but of the artist.
We shall here consider the passions, as they may be
separately referred, either to demonstrative, delibera¬
tive, or jWfefe/ discourses 5 though they are not wholly
confined to any of them. tI
1. lo the demonstrative k.in&, we may refer/sy and Of the
sorrow, love and hatred, emulation and contempt. si01*8 which
Joy is an elation of the mind, arising from a sense
some present good. Such a reflection naturally creates /e^onstra-
a pleasant and agreeable sensation, which ends in a de-tive dis¬
lightful calm and serenity. This is heightened by a de-courses,
scription of former evils, and a comparison between them
and the present felicity. Thus Cicero endeavours to
excite in the minds of bis fellow citizens the highest
sense of joy and delight atCatiline’s departure from Borne,
by-representing to them the imminent danger which
:S s threatened
ORATOR Y.
Fart I;
threatened both them ami the city while he continued
among them. # . r • i
Sorrow, on the contrary, Ls an uneasiness ox minU
arising from a sense of some present evil, ilus passion
has generally a place in funeral discourses. And it
may be heightened, like the former, by comparison,
when any past happiness is set in opposition to a pre¬
sent calamity. Hence Cicero aggravates the sorrow
at Rome occasioned by the death of Metellns, irom
his character, and great services, to the public, while
living.
Love excites us to esteem any person lor some ex¬
cellency, anil to do him all the good in our power. J
is distinguished from friendship, which is mutual j and
therefore love may continue where Inendship is lost •,
that is, the affection may remain on one side. And
when we assist a person from no other motive but to
do him a kindness, Aristotle calls this good-will. Love
takes its rise from a variety of causes. Generosity,
benevolence, integrity, gratitude, courtesy, and other
social virtues, are great incitements to love any one
endued with such qualities. And persons generally
love those who are of a like disposition with them¬
selves, and pursue the same views. It is therefore the
chief art of a flatterer to suit himself in every tiling to
the inclination of the person whose good graces he
courts. When the orator would excite this affection
towards any person, it is proper to show, that he is
possessed of at least some, if not all, of these agreeable
qualifies. When the conspirators with Catiline were
to be brought to justice, Cicero was very sensible of
the envy he should contract on that account, and how
necessary it was for him to secure the love of the Ro¬
man senate for his support and protection in that cri¬
tical juncture. And this he endeavours to do m his
fourth oration against Catiline, by representing to them
in the most pathetic manner, that all the labours he
underwent, the difficulties he conflicted with, and the
dangers to which he was exposed on that account,
were not for his own sake, but for tlieiv safety, quiet,
and happiness.
Hatred is opposed to love, and produced by the
contrary depositions. And, therefore, persons hate
those .who never did them any injury,, from. the ill
opinion , they have pf their base and vicious inclina¬
tions. So that the w'ay to excite this passion is by
showing that any one has committed some heinous
fact with an ill intent. And the more nearly affected
persons, are by such actions, in what they account, of
the greatest concern, the higher in proportion their ha¬
tred Vises. Since life, therefore, is esteemed the most
valuable good, Cicero endeavours to render Mark An¬
tony odious to the citizens of Rome, by describing Ins
cruelty. # f
■Emulation is a disquiet, occasioned by the felicity of
another, not because he enjoys it, but because we desire
the-like for ourselves. So that this passion is in itself
good and laudable, as it engages men to pursue those
things which are so. For the proper objects of emula¬
tion are any advantages of mind, body, or fortune, ac¬
quired by study or labour.
Emulation therefore is excited by a lively represen¬
tation of any desirable advantages which appear to be
attainable, from the example of others who are or have
Wen possessed of them. Rut where the felicity of ano-
4
ther occasions an uneasiness, not from the want of it, .Invention,
but, because he enjoys it, this passion is called envy, v
which the ancients describees a hideous monster, leert-
ing upon itself, and being its own tormentor. Aristotle
lastly observes, that it most usually affects such persons
as were once upon a level with those they envy, i'or
most men naturally think so well of themselves, that
they are uneasy to see those who were formerly then-
equals advanced above them. But as this is a base and
vicious passion, the orator is not to be informed how to
excite it, but how to lessen or remove it. And the me¬
thod prescribed by Cicero for this purpose is to show
that the things which occasioned it have not happenet
to the envied person undeservedly, but are the just re¬
ward of his industry or virtue *, that he does not so mucli
convert them to his own profit or pleasure, as to the be¬
nefit of others ; and that the same pains and difficulties
are necessary to preserve them with which they were at
first acquired. . . f
Contempt is opposed to emulation, and arises from
misconduct in things not of themselves vicious : As
where a person either acts below his station and charac¬
ter, or affects to do that for which he is not qualified.
Thus Cicero endeavours to expose Csecilius, and bring
him into contempt of the court, for pretending to rival
him in the accusation of Verres, for which he was alto-
gither unfit. r 22
2 To deliberative discourses may be referred Jcar, Ot tie pa;-
. . sions whica
hopey and sltcunc % # _ -I may be re-
Fear arises from the apprehension of some great and icrml to
impending evil. For the greatest evils, while they dclibera-
appear at a distance, do not much affect us. buen tive dis-
persons occasion fear, who are possessed of power, copses,
especially if they have been injured, or apprehend so :
likewise'those who are addicted to do injuries, or who
bear us an ill will. And the examples ot others, who
have suffered in a like case, or from the same persons,,
help to excite fear. From the circumstances therefore
either of the thing or person, it will not be difficult
for the orator to offer such arguments as may be pro¬
per to awaken this passion. So Demosthenes, when
he would persuade the Athenians to pirt themselves in
a condition of defence against King Philip, enumerates
the several acts of hostility already committed by him
against the neighbouring states. And because men s
private concerns generally more affect them than
what relates to the public, it is proper sometimes
to show the necessary connexion these have with each
other, and how the ruin of one draws the other aftei
it. . .
The contrary passion to fear is hope ; winch arises,
either from a prospect of some future good, or the ap¬
prehension of safety from those things which occasion
our fear. Young persons are easily induced to hope
the best, from the vigour of their spirits. And those
who have escaped former dangers are encouraged to
hope for the like success for the future. The examples
of others also, especially of wise and considerate men,,
have often the same good effect. To find them calm
and sedate when exposed to the like dangers, natuial y
creates confidence and the hopes of safety. But no¬
thing gives persons such firmness and steadiness of mind
under the apprehension of any difficulties, as a consci¬
ousness of their own integrity and innocence. Let dan¬
gers come from what quarter they will, they are best
“ prepared
ORA T O R Y.
instance of Narses, the Romah general, is remarkable
in this kind ; who, after he had been successful in his
1 Part L
I Invention, prepared to receive them. They can calmly view an
| -v"**"'' impending tempest, observe the way of its approach,
and prepare themselves in the best manner to avoid it.
In Cicero’s oration for the Manilian law, he encou¬
rages the Roman citizens to hope for success against
Mithridates, if they chose Pompey for their general,
from the many instances of his former successes which
he there enumerates.
Shame arises from the apprehension of those things
that hurt a person’s character. Modesty has been wise¬
ly implanted in mankind by the great Author of na¬
ture, as a guardian of virtue, which ought for this
reason to he cherished with the greatest care; because,
&s Seneca has well observed, “ if it be once lost, it is
scarce ever to he recovered.” Therefore the true cause
or foundation of shame is any thing base or vicious; for
this wounds the character, and will not hear reflection.
And he must arrive at no small degree of insensibility,
who can stand against such a charge, if he be conscious
to himself that it is just. Therefore, to deter persons
from vicious actions, or to expose them for the commis¬
sion of them, the orator endeavours to set them in such
a light as may most awaken this passion, and give
them the greatest uneasiness by the reflection. And be¬
cause the bare representation of the thing itself is not
always sufficient for this purpose, he sometimes enforces
it by enlarging the view, and introducing those persons
as witnesses of the fact for whom they are supposed to
have the greatest regard. Thus, when some of the
Athenians*.in an arbitration about certain lands which
had been referred to them by the contending parties,
proposed it as the shortest way of deciding the contro¬
versy, to take the possession of them in their own hands;
Cydias, a member of the assembly, to dissuade them
From such an unjust action, desired them to imagine
themselves at that time in the general assembly of the
states of Greece (who would all hear of it shortly), and
then consider how it was proper to act. But where per¬
sons labour under an excess of modesty which prevents
them from exerting themselves in things fit and laudable,
it may sometimes be necessary to shew that it is faulty
and ill grounded. On the other hand, immodesty, or
impudence, which consists in a contempt of such things
as affect the reputation, can never be too much discou¬
raged and exposed. And the way of doing this is to
make use of such arguments as are most proper to ex¬
cite shame. We have a very remarkable instance of it
in Cicero’s second Philippic, wherein lie affixes this
character upon Mark Antony through every scene of
23 his life.
Of the pas 3. 'To -judicial discourses, may be referred anger and
-‘-h lenity, pity and indignation.
erred to Anger is a resentment, occasioned by some affront or
a&itinl injury, done without any just reason. Now men are
I'scourscs. more inclined to resent such a conduct, as they think
they less deserve it. Therefore persons of distinction
and figure, who expect a regard should be paid to their
character, can the less hear any indications of contempt.
And those who are eminent in any profession or faculty,
are apt to be offended if reflections are cast either upon
their reputation or art. Magistrates also, and persons
in public stations, sometimes think it incumbent on
them to resent indignities for the support of their office.
But nothing sooner inflames this passion, than if good
services are rewarded with slights ami neglect. The
wars with the Goths, falling under the displeasure of
the emperor Justin, was removed from the government
of Italy, and received by the empress wfith this taunt,
That he must he sent to weave among the girls; which
so provoked him, that he said he would weave such a
web as they would never be able to unravel. And
accordingly, he soon after brought down the Longo-
baids, a people of Germany into Italy; where they
settled themselves in that part of the country, which
from them is now called Lombardy. (See NaRSEs).
Ihe time and place in which an injury was done, and
other circumstances that attended it, may likewise con¬
tribute very much to heighten the fact. Hence De¬
mosthenes, in his oration against Midias, endeavours to
aggravate the injury of being struck by him, both as he
was then a magistrate, and because it was done at a pu¬
blic festival. From hence it appears, that the persons
who most usually occasion this passion are such as ne¬
glect the rules of decency, contemn and insult others^
or oppose their inclinations; as likewise the ungrateful,
iind those who violate the ties of friendship, or requite
favours with injuries. But when the orator endeavours
to excite anger, lie should be careful not to exceed due
bounds in aggravating the charge, lest what he says ap¬
pear rather to proceed from prejudice, than a strict re¬
gard to the demerit of the action.
L^emtij is the remission of anger. The designs of
men’s actions are principally to be regarded; and there¬
fore what is done ignorantly, or through inadvertency,
is sooner forgiven. Also to acknowledge a fault, sub¬
mit, and ask pardon, are the ready means to take off
resentment. For a generous mind is soon cooled by
submission. Besides, lie who repents of his fault, does
really give the injured party some satisfaction, by pu¬
nishing himself; as all repentance is attended with grief
and uneasiness of mind, and this is apt very much to
abate the desire of revenge. As, on the contrary, no¬
thing is more provoking, that when the offehder either
audaciously justifies the fact, or confidently denies it.
Men are likewise wont to lay aside their resentment,
when their adversaries happen by some other means to
suffer what they think a sufficient satisfaction. Lastly,
Easy circumstances, a lucky incident, or any thing
which gives the mind a turn to mirth and pleasure, has
a natural tendency to remove anger. For anger is
accompanied with pain and uneasiness, which very ill
stiit joy and cheerfulness. The orator therefore, in or¬
der to assuage and pacify the minds of his auditors, will
endeavour to lessen their opinion of the fault, and by
that means to take oil the edge of their resentment.
And to this purpose, it will be proper either to repre¬
sent that the thing was not designed, or that the party
is sorry for it ; or to mention his former services ; as
also to show the credit and reputation which will be
gained by a generous forgiveness. And this last topic
is very artfully wrought up by Cicero, in his address to
Caesar in favour of Ligarius.
Pity arises from the calamities of others, by reflecting,
that we ourselves are liable to the like misfortunes. 80
that evils, considered as the common lot of human na¬
ture, are principally the cause of pity. And this makes
the difference between pity and good will, which arises
merely from a regard to the circumstances of those who
S s 2 want
323
Invention,
3H O R A T
Invention, want our assistance. But considering the uncertainty of
every thing about us, he must seem m a manner divested
of humanity, who has no compassion for the calamities
of others j since there is no affliction which happens to
any man, but either that, or some other as great, may
fall upon himself. But those persons are generally soon¬
est touched with this passion, who have met with mis¬
fortunes themselves. And by how much greater the
distress is, or by how much the person appears less de¬
serving it, the higher pity does it excite; for which
reason, persons are generally most moved at the misfor¬
tunes of their relations and friends, or those of the best
figure and character. The orator, therefore, in order
to excite the greater pity, will endeavour to heighten
the idea of the calamity, from the several circumstances
both of the thing itself and the person who labours un¬
der it. A fine example of this may be seen in Cicero s
defence of Mursena, Cap. 40, &c.
Indignation, as opposed to pity, is an uneasiness at the
felicity of another who does not seem to deserve it.
But this respects only external advantages, such as
riches* honours, and the like for virtues cannot be
the object of this passion. Aristotle therefore says>
“ that pity and indignation are generally to be found
in the same persons, and are both evidences of a good
disposition.” Now the orator excites this passion, by
showing the person to be unworthy of that felicity which
he enjoys. And as, in order to move compassion, it is
sometimes of use to compare the former happy state of
the person with his present calamity ; so here, the gi eat¬
er indignation is raised, by comparing his former mean
circumstances with his present advancement: as Cicero
does in the case of Vatinius.
These are the passions with which an orator is prin¬
cipally concerned. In addressing to which, not only the
greatest warmth and force of expression is often necessa-
O R Y. Part
ry, *, but he must likewise first endeavour to impress his invention,
own mind with the same passion he would excite in '
others.
A man may convince, and even persuade others to
act, by mere reason and argument. But that degree of
eloquence which gains the admiration of mankind, and
properly denominates one an orator, is never found
without warmth or passion. Passion, when in such a
degree as to rouse and kindle the mind, without throw¬
ing it out of the possession of itself, is universally found
to exalt all the human powers. It renders the mind
infinitely more enlightened, more penetrating, more
vigorous and masterly, than it is in its calm moments.
A man, actuated by a strong passion, becomes much
greater than he is at other times. He is conscious of
more strength and force 5 he utters greater sentiments,
conceives higher designs, and executes them with a
boldness and a felicity of which on other occasions he
could not think himself capable. But chiefly, with re¬
spect to persuasion, is the power of passion felt. Almost
every man in passion is eloquent. Ihen he is at no loss
for words and arguments. He transmits to others, by
a sort of contagious sympathy, the warm sentiments
which be feels j his looks and gestures are all persuasive j
and nature here shows herself infinitely more powerful
than art. This is the foundation of that just and noted
rule, Si vis me Jiere, dolendum est primum ipsi tibi.
The warmth, however, which we express, must be
suited to the occasion and the subject; for nothing can
be more preposterous than an attempt to introduce great
vehemence into a subject, which is either of slight im¬
portance, or which, by its nature, requires to be treated
of calmly. A temperate tone of speech is that for which
there is most frequent occasion 5 and he who is on every
subject passionate and vehement, will be considered as
a blusterer, and meet with little regard.
PART II. OF DISPOSITION.
AS Invention supplies the orator with necessary ma¬
terials, so Disposition directs him how to place them in
the most proper and suitable order. Disposition, there¬
fore, considered as a part of oratory, naturally follows
invention. And what is here chiefly intended by it is,
the placing the several parts of a discourse in a just me¬
thod and dependence upon one another.
Writers are not all agreed in determining the parts of
an oration} though the difl’erence is rather in the man¬
ner of considering them, than in the things themselves.
But Cicero, whom we shall here follow, mentions six,
namely, Introduction, Narration, Proposition, Confir¬
mation, Confutation, and Conclusion.
Chap. I. Of the Introduction*
14
Introduc- The design of this is to prepare the minds of the
lion gains for a suitable reception of the remaining parts
undauen that are to follow. And for this end, three things are
ion of ihe requisite > that the orator gain the good opinion of his
audience, hearers, that he secure their attention, and give them
and gives asome general notion of his subject.
^anof'the" i. Good opinion. When the orator introduces his
subject. 6 discourse with his own person, he will be careful to do
it with modesty, and seem rather to extenuate his vir¬
tues and abilities, than to magnify them. And where
the nature of the subject may seem to require it, lift,
will endeavour to show, that some just and good reason
induced him to engage in it. We have a very fine ex¬
ample of this in Cicero’s oration for the poet Aulus Li-
cinius Archias, which begins thus : “ If I have any na¬
tural genius, which I am sensible is very small, or any
ability in speaking, wherein I own I have been very,
conversant •, or any skill acquired from the study and
precepts of the best arts, to which my whole life has-
been devoted j this Aulus Licinius has in a particular
manner, a ri$rht to demand of me the fruit of all these
things. For as far back as I can remember, and call
to mind what passed in my youth to the present time,,
he has been my chief adviser and encourager both to
undertake and pursue this course of studies.” When the
orator sets out with the persons of those to whom the
discourse is made, it is not unusual to commend them
for their, virtues, and those especially which have a
more immediate relation to the present subject. Thus
Cicero begins his oration of thanks for the pardon oi
Marcellus, with an encomium upon the mildness, cle¬
mency, and wisdom of Ctesar, to whom it was addressed.
But
Part II.
Di’posi- Bat sometimes the orator expresses las gratitude for past
tiou. favours ; as Cicero has done in his orations, both to the
—> ' people and senate of Rome, after his return from banish¬
ment. And at other times he declares his concern for
them and then inteiest j in which manner Cicero begins
his fourth oration against Catiline, which was made in
the senate.” “ I perceive (says he) that all your coun¬
tenances and eyes are turned on me ^ X perceive that
you are solicitous, not only for your own danger, and
that of the state, but for mine likewise, if that should
be lemoved. \our affection for me is pleasant in mis¬
fortunes, and grateful in sorrow j but I adjure you to
lay it aside, and, forgetting my safety, consider your¬
selves and your children.” But in judicial cases, both
the character of the person whose cause he espouses, and
that of the adverse party likewise, furnish the orator
with arguments for exciting the good will of his hear¬
ers : The former, by commemorating his virtues, dig¬
nity, or merits, and sometimes his misfortunes and cala¬
mities. So Cicero, in his defence of l1 laccus, begins
his oration in commending him on the account of his
services done to the public, the dignity of his family,
and his love to his country. And Demosthenes, in his
oration against Midias, sets out with a recital of his
vices, in order to recommend his own cause to the fa¬
vourable opinion of the court.
2. Attention. On this head, Cicero says, “ We
shall be heard attentively on one of these three things ;
if we propose what is great, necessary, or for the" in¬
terest of those to whom the discourse is addressed.” So
that, according to him, the topics of attention are
much the same with those of good opinion, when taken
from the subject. And indeed, people are naturally
led to attend either to those things or persons of which
they have entertained a favourable opinion. But in or¬
der to gain this point, the orator sometimes thinks it
proper to request the attention of his audience. Thus
Cicero, in his defence of Cluentius, after having shown
the heinousness of the charge against him, concludes his
introduction in the fallowing manner, speaking to the
judges j “ Wherefore I entreat, that while I briefly
and clearly reply to a charge of many years standing,
you will, according to your usual custom, give me a
kind and attentive liearing.” And again, in his se¬
cond Philippic, addressing himself to the senate i
“ But as I must say something for myself, and many
things against Mark Antony 5 one of these I beg 0f
you, that you will hear me kindly, while I speak3for
myself; and the other I will undertake for, that when
I-speak against him, you shall hear me with atten¬
tion.” But though the introduction be the most
usual and proper place for gaining attention, yet the
orator finds it convenient sometimes to quicken and
excite his hearers in other parts of his discourse, when
he observes they flag, or has something of moment to
offer.
general account of the subject of the discourse.
This is always necessary j which the two others are not.
And therefore it must be left to the prudence of tho
orator when to use or omit them as he shall judge proper^
from the nature of his discourse, the circumstance of his
hearers, and how he stands with them. But some ac¬
count of the subject is what cannot be neglected. For
every one expects to be soon informed of the design of
the speaker, and'what he proposes to treat of) Nor
ORATORY.
when they arc all made use of, is it necessary they should
always stand in the order we have here placed them.
Cicero sometimes enters immediately upon his subject
and introduces the other heads afterwards. As in his
third oration against Catiline, made to the body of the
Roman people, which begins thus : “ You see that the
state, all your li ves, estates, fortunes, wives, and children,
and this seat of the greatest empire, the most flourish!
ing and beautiful city, having by the favour of heaven
towrii ds you, and my labours, counsels, and dangers,
been this day rescued from fire and sword and the very
jaws of destruction, are preserved and restored to you.”
And then he proceeds to recommend himself to them
esteem and benevolence, from the consideration of these
benefits.
These are the heads which commonly furnish matter In troduc-
for this part of a discourse. But orators often take tion is n°t
occasion from the time, place, largeness of the assembly, c.oufined to
or some other proper circumstance, to compliment their ttfcanS
hearers, recommend themselves, or introduce the subject mit of other-
upon which they are about to treat. Instances of each matter. If
of these may be met with in several of Cicero’s orations.furnished
And sometimes they set out with some comparison, simi- cumstanef-s
litude, or other ornament, which they accommodate to of the case,
the occasion of their discourse. Thus Isocrates enters
upon his celebrated panegyric in praise of his country¬
men the Athenians with the following comparison : “I
have often wondered what Could be their design who.
brought together these assemblies, and instituted the
gymnastic sports, to propose so great rewards for bodily
strength j and to vouchsafe no honour to those who ap¬
plied their private labours to serve the public, and so
cultivated their minds, as to he serviceable to others, to
whom they ought to have shown greater regard. For
although the strength of a champion was. doubled, no.
benefit would from thence accrue to others j but alb
enjoy the prudence of one man, who will hearken to his
advice.” In some cases, orators have recourse to a more
covert and artful way of opening their subject, endea¬
vour to remove jealousies, apologize for what they are
about to say, and. seem to refer it to the candour of the
hearers to judge ofit as they please. Cicero appears to-
have been a perfect master of this art, and used it with
gieat success. "Ibus in his seventh Philippic, where he
seems to express the greatest concern, lest what he was*
about to say should give any offence to the senate to
whom he was speaking : “ 1 (says he) who always de¬
clared for peace, and to whom peace among ourselves, as
it is wished for by all good men, was in a particular
manner desirable j who have employed all my industry
in the forum, in the senate, and in the defence of my
friends, whence I have arrived to the highest honours,
a moderate fortune, and what reputation I enjoy j I
therefore, who owe what .I am to peace, and without it
could not have been the- person I am, be that what it
will* for I would arrogate nothing to myself j I speak
with .concern and fear, how you will receive what I am
going to say $ but I beg and entreat you, from the great
regard I have always expressed for the support and ad¬
vancement of your honour, that if any thing said by me
should at first appear harsh or unfit to be received, you
will notwithstanding please to hear it without offence,
and not reject it till I have explained myself: I then,,
for I must repeat it again, who have always approved of
peace, and promoted am against a peace with Mark
Antony.”
126
Disposi¬
tion.
O R A T
Antony.” This is called insinuation ; and may he ne¬
cessary, where a cause is in itself doubtful, or may >e
thought so from the received notions of the hearers, or
the impressions already made upon them by the contrary
side. An honest man would not knowingly engage in
a bad cause ; and yet, through prevailing prejudice, that
may be so esteemed which is not so m itself. In these
cases, therefore, great caution and prudence are neces¬
sary to give such a turn to things, and place them m
that view as may he least liable to offence. And be¬
cause it sometimes happens that the hearers are not so
much displeased at the object as the person, Quintilian s
rule seems very proper, when he says, “ If the subject
displease, the character of the person should support it*,
and when the person gives offence, he should be helped
by the cause.”
Chap. II. Of Narration.
■Narration The orator having prepared his hearers to receive
brings for- his discourses with candour and attention, and acquaint-
ward all e(\ them with his general design m the introduction,
those cir- |)efope |,e proCeeds directly to his subject, often finds it
SnST'necwMtT <0 give some account of tvhat preceded, ac-
Sc. in their companied, or followed upon it. And tins he does m
proper and order to enlarge the view of the particular poin in 11
natural or- te aml place it in a clearer light. ihis is called
der, which nar'ra{hn . Js a recital of something done, m
faLl'Tietthe order and manner in which it was done Hence
It in a just it is easy to perceive what those things aie w ic i pio
or a strong pel jy enter into a narration. And such are the cause,
liS,lt- manner, time, place, and consequences of an action *,
-with the temper, fortune, views, ability, associates, amt
other circumstances of those concerned in it. i\ot that
each of these particulars is necessary in every narra¬
tion : but so many of them at least as are requisite to
set the matter in a just light, and make it appear cre¬
dible. Besides, in relating a fact, the orator does not
content himself with such an account of it as is barely
sufficient to render what he says intelligible to his
hearers; but describes it in so strong and lively a man¬
ner, as may give the greatest evidence to his. relation,
and make the deepest impression upon their minds.
And if any part of it appear at present less probable,
he promises to clear up and remove any remammg
doubts in the progress of bis discourse, lor the foun¬
dation of his reasoning afterwards is laid in the narra¬
tion, from whence he takes bis arguments for the con¬
firmation. And therefore it is a matter of no small im¬
portance that this part be well managed, since the suc¬
cess of the whole discourse so much depends upon it.
See Narration.
There are four properties required in a good narra¬
tion ; that it be short, clear, probable, and pleasant.
i. The brevity of a narration is not to be judged
of barely from its length : for that may be too long,
-which contains but a little 5 and that too short, which
comprehends a great deal. Wherefore this depends
upon the nature of the subject, since some things re¬
quire more words to give a just representation of them,
and others fewer. That may properly, therefore, be
called a short narration, which contains nothing that
could well have been omitted, nor omits any thing
which was necessary to be said. Now, in order to
avoid both these extremes, care should be taken not
O E Y.
to o-o farther back in the account of things, nor to
trace them down lower, than the subject requires ; to
say that only in the general, which does not need a
more particular explication } not to assign the causes
of things, when it is enough to show they were done ;
and to omit such things as are sufficiently understood,
from what either proceeded, or was consequent upon
them. But the orator should be careful, lest, while
he endeavours to avoid prolixity, he run into obscu¬
rity. Horace was very sensible of this danger, when
he said,
By striving to he short, I grow obscure.
2. Perspicuity. This may justly be esteemed the
chief excellency of language. For as the design oi
speech is to communicate our thoughts to others, that
must he its greatest excellence which contributes most
to this end •, and that, doubtless, is perspicuity. As
perspicuity therefore is requisite in all discourse, so xt
is particularly serviceable in a narration, which con¬
tains the substance of all that is to be said afterwards.
Wherefore, if tills be not sufficiently understood, much
less can those things which receive their light hom it.
Now the following things render a narration clear and
plain : Proper -and significant words, whose meaning
is well known and determined; short sentences, though
full and explicit, whose parts are not. perplexed, but
placed in their just order ; proper particles to join the
sentences, and show their connexion and dependence on
each other •, a due regard to the order ol time, and
other circumstances necessary to be exju-essed; and,
lastly, suitable transitions.
o Probability. Things appear probable when the
causes assigned for them appear natural; the manner m
which they are described is easy to be conceived the
consequences are such as might be expected; the cha¬
racters of the persons are justly represented; and the
whole account is well attested, consistent with itself, and
agreeable to the general opinion. Simplicity likewise
in the manner of relating a fact, as well as m the style,
without any reserve or appearance of art, contributes
very much to its credibility. For truth loves to appear
naked and open, stript of all colouring or c^sgiuse.
The conspiracy of Catiline was so daring and extrava¬
gant, that no one but such a desperado could ever have
undertaken it with any hopes of success However,
Cicero’s account of it to the senate was so full and exact,
and so well suited to the character of the person, that it
presently gained credit. And therefore, when upon the
conclusion of Cicero’s speech, Catiline, who was present,
immediately stood up, and desired they would not enter¬
tain such hard thoughts of him, but consider how much
his family had always been attached to the public inter¬
est, and the great services they had done the state; then
resentment jose so high, that he could not be bean :
upon which he immediately left the city, and went to
his associates. . . , ,
4. The last thing required in a narration is, that it be
vlcasant wb entertaining. And this is more difficult,
because it does not admit of that accurate composition
and pompous dress which delight the ear, am itcom
mend some other parts of a discourse. For it certain
ly requires no small skill m the speaker, while he en
deavours to express every thing in the most mnura ,
plain, and easy manner, not to grow flat and tiresome.
Part II.
Disposi¬
tion.
Part II. . ORA
Disposi- Quintilian s remark is very just, that “ the most
lion. experienced orators iind nothing in eloquence more
~rT~^ difficult, than what all who hear it fancy they could
have said themselves.” And the reason of this seems
very obvious, tor as all art is an imitation of nature,
the nearer it resembles that, the more perfect it is in
its kind. Hence unexperienced persons often ima¬
gine that to be easiest which suits best with those na¬
tural ideas to which they have been accustomed ; till,
upon trial, they are convinced of their mistake.
’Wherefore, to render this part of a discourse pleasant
and agreeable, recourse must be had to variety both
in the choice of words and turns of the expression.
And therefore questions, admiratisns, interlocutions,
imagery, and other familiar figures, help very much to
diversify and enliven a narration, and prevent it from
becoming dull and tedious^ especially when it is carried
^ on to any considerable length.
The uses of Having given a brief account of the nature and pro-
narration. perties ot a narration, we shall now proceed to consider
the uses of it.
Laudatory orations are usually as it were’ a sort of
continued narration, set off and adorned with florid
language and fine images proper to grace the subject,
which is naturally so well fitted to afford pleasure and
entertainment. Wherefore a separate narration is more
suited to deliberative judicial discourses. In Ci cero’s
oration for the Maniiian law (which is of the former
kind), the design of the narration is to show the Roman
people the necessity of giving Pompey the command of
the army against King Mithridates, by representing the
nature ot' that war, which is done in the following man¬
ner : “ A great and dangerous war (says he) threatens
your revenues and allies from two very powerful kings,
Mithridates and Tigranes; one of whom not being pur¬
sued after his defeat, and the other provoked, they
think they have an opportunity to seize Asia. Letters
are daily brought from those parts to worthy gentlemen
of the equestrian order, who have large concerns there
in farming your revenues : they acquaint me, as friends,
with the state of the public affairs, and danger of their
own ; that many villages in Bithynia, which is now
your province, are burnt down } that the kingdom of
Ariobarzanvs, which borders upon your revenues, is
entirely in the enemy’s power j that Lucullus, after
several great victories, is withdrawn from the war 5 that
he who succeeds him is not able to manage it; that all
the allies and Roman citizens wish and desire the com¬
mand of that war may be given to one particular person j
and that he alone, and no other, is dreaded by the ene¬
mies. You see the state of the case; now consider what
ought to be done.” Here is an unhappy scene of affairs,
which seemed to call for immediate redress. The causes
and reasons of it are assigned in a very probable manner,
and the account well attested by persons of character
and figure. And what the consequences would be, if
not timely prevented, no one could well be ignorant.
'Hie only probable remedy suggested in general is, the
committing that affair to one certain person, which
he afterwards shows at large could be no other than
Pompey. But in Cicero’s defence of Milo (which is
of the judicial kind), the design of the narration,
which is greatly commended by Quintilian, is to prove
that, in the combat between Clodius and Milo, the
former was the aggressor. And in order to make this
r o R y.
appear, he gives a summary account of the conduct of
Clodius the preceding year; and from the course of
his actions and behaviour, shows the inveterate hatred
he bore to Milo, who obstructed him in his wicked
designs. For which cause he had often threatened to
kill him, and given out that he should not live be¬
yond such a time ; and accordingly lie went from
Rome without any other apparent reason, but that lie
might have an opportunity to attack him in a convenient
place near his own house, by which he knew Milo was
then obliged to pass. Milo was in the senate that day,
where he staid till they broke up, then went home, and
afterwards set forward on his journey. When he came
to the place in which he was to be assaulted, Clodius
appeared every way prepared for such a design, being
on horseback, and attended with a company of desperate
ruffians ready to execute his commands; whereas Milo
was with his wife in a chariot, wrapped up in his cloak,
and attended with servants of both sexes. These were
all circumstances which preceded the fact. And as to
the action itself, with the event of it, the attack, as
Cicero says, was begun by the attendants of Clodius
from a higher ground, who killed Milo’s coachman ;
upon which Milo, throwing off his cloak, leaped out,
and made a brave defence against Clodius’s men, who
were got about the chariot. But Clodius, in the heat
of the skirmish, giving out that Milo was killed, was
himself slain by the servants of Milo, to avenge, as they
thought, the death of their master. Here seems to be
all the requisites proper to make this account credible.
Clodius’s open and avowed hatred of Milo, which pro¬
ceeded so far as to threaten his life ; the time of Id's
leaving Rome ; the convenience of the place ; his habit
and company so different from those of Milo ; joined
■with his known character of a most profligate and auda¬
cious wretch, could not but render it very probable that
he had formed that design to kill Milo. And which of
them began the attack might very reasonably he credited
from the advanced ground on which Clodius and his men
were placed ; the death of Milo’s coachman at the be¬
ginning of the combat ; the skirmish afterwards at the
chariot ; and the reason of Clodius’s own death at last,
which does not appear to have been intended, till he had
given out that Mi in was killed.
But a distinct and separate narration is . not always
necessary in any kind of discourse. For if the matter
he well known before, a set and formal narrative will
be tedious to the hearers. Or if one party has done
it already* it is needless for the other to repeat it.
But there are three occasions especially, in which it
may seem very requisite : when it will bring light to
the subject; when different accounts have already been,
given out concerning it ; or when it lias been misre¬
presented by the adverse party. If the point in con¬
troversy be of a dubious nature, or not sufficiently
known to the hearers, a distinct account of the matter,
with the particular circumstances attending it, must
be very serviceable, in order to let them into a true
state of the case, and enable them to judge of it with
greater certainty.
Moreover, where the opposite party has set the matter
in a false light by some artful and invidious turn, or load¬
ed it with any odious circumstances, it seems no less ne¬
cessary that endeavours should be used to remove any ill
impressions, which otherwise might remain upon the
minds
327
Disposi¬
tion*
328
Disposi¬
tion.
O R A T
nun<Js of tlie liearers, by a different and more favourable
representation. And if any thing can be fixed upon to
1 make the contrary account appear absurd or incredible,
it ought particularly to be remarked. Thus Cicero, in
his defence of Sextus Roscius, shows that he was many
miles distant from Rome at the time he was charged with
having killed his father there. “ Now (says he), while
Sextus Roscius, was at Ameria, and this litus Roscius
{Ai's accuse)'^ at Rome, Sextus Roscius \jhe father^ was
killed at the baths on Mount Palatine, returning from
supper. From whence I hope there can be no doubt
tvho ought to be suspected of the murder. And, were
not the thing plain of itself, there is this farther suspicion
to fix it upon the prosecutor; that, after the fact was
committed, one Manlius Glaucia, an obscure fellow',
the freedman, client, and familiar, of this Titus Ros¬
cius, first carried the account of it to Ameria, not to
the son of the deceased, but to the house of Titus
Capito his enemy with more to the same purpose.
But what we bring it for is, to show the use which
Cicero makes of this narration for retorting the crime
Upon the prosecutors.
But the orator should be very careful, in conducting
this part, to avoid every thing which may prejudice the
cause he espouses. Falsehood, and a misrepresentation
of facts, are not to be justified-, but no one is obliged
to say those things which may hurt himself. We shall
just mention one instance of this from Cicero, where
' he has showm great skill in this respect, in pleading
before Caesar for the pardon of Ligarius, who had
joined-with Pompey in the civil war. For Liganus5
having been represented by the adverse party as an
enemy to Caesar, and so esteemed by Caesar himself j
Cicero very artfully endeavours in his mvrrration to
take oft' the force of this charge, by showing, that, when
the war first broke out, he refused to engage in it ;
which he would not have done, had he borne any per¬
sonal hatred to Caesar. “ Quintus Ligarius (says he),
before there was any suspicion of a war, went into Africa
as a legate to the proconsul Caius Confidius j in which
he so approved himself, both to the Roman citiz,ens and
allies, that, when Confidius left the province, the inha¬
bitants would not be satisfied he should leave the go¬
vernment in the hands of any other person. Therefore
Quintus Ligarius having excused himself in vain for
some time, accepted of the government against his will
which he so managed during the peace, that both the
citizens and allies were greatly pleased with his integrity
and justice. The war broke out on a sudden, which
those in Africa did not hear of till it was begun : but
upon the news of it, partly through inconsiderate haste,
and partly from blind fear, they looked out for a leader,
first for their own safety, and then as they were affected $
when Ligarius, thinking of home, and desirous to return
to his friends, would not be prevailed on to engage in
any affairs. In the mean time, Publius Accius Varus,
the preetor, who was formerly governor of Africa, com¬
ing to Utica, recourse was immediately had to him,
who very eagerly took upon himsel f the government} if
that can be called a government, which was conferred
en a private man by the clamour of the ignorant multi¬
tude, without any public authority. Ligarius, therefore,
who endeavoured to avoid every thing of that kind,
ceased to act soon after the arrival of Varus.” Here
C’eero ends his narrative. For though Ligarius af ter-
O R Y. Part II.
wards joined with Pompf?y'S patty, yet to have men- Disposi-
tioned that, which was nothing more than what many tion.
others had done, whom Caesar had already pardoned, * 
could have served only to increase his displeasure against
him. And therefore he doubtless showed great skill in
so managing his account, as to take oft the main toice
of the nccusation, and by that means make way for his
pardon, which he accordingly obtained.
Chap. IIL Of the Proposition.
28
In every just and regular discourse, the speaker’s The propo.
intention is to prove or illustrate something* Andsatiouisa
when he lays down the subject upon which he designs^™
to treat, in a distinct and express manner, this is cal- mannei. 0f
led the proposition. % laying
Orators use several ways in laying down the subject down the
of their discourses. Sometimes they do it in one gene- '
ral proposition* We have an instance ot this in Cicero s orator
speech to the senate, the day after Cresar Was killed (as means to
it is given us by Dion Cassius), in which his design wastreat.
to persuade them to peace and unanimity. u This (says
he) being the state of our affairs, I think it necessary
that we lay aside all the discord and enmity which have
been among us, and return again to our former peace
and agreement.” And then he proceeds to offer his
reasons for this advice.
At other times, to give a clearer and more distinct
view of their discourse, they subjoin to the proposition
the general heads of argument by wdiich they endea¬
vour to support it. This method Cicero uses in his
seventh Philippic, where he says, “ I who have always
commended and advised to peace, am against a peace
with Mark Antony. But why am 1 averse to peace ?
Because it -is base, because it is dangerous, and be¬
cause it is impracticable. And I heseecli you to hear
me with your usual candour, while I make out these
three things.” _ . 29
But when the subject relates to several different things, When the
which require each of them to be separately laid down
in distinct propositions, it is called a partition', though ^
some have made two kinds of partition, one of which things, and
they call separation, and the other enumeration. By the requires to
former of these, the orator shows in what he agrees with be^latd^
his adversary, and wherein he differs from him. So, in j°stjnct
the case formerly mentioned, ot a person accused ot sa- pr0p0Si_
crilege for stealing private money out of a temple, he tions, it is
who pleads for the defendant says, “ He owns the fact; called^
but it being private money, the point in question is,Pa 1 *•
Whether this be sacrilege ?” And in the cause of Milo,
Cicero, speaking of Clcrdius, says, “ The point which
now comes before the court, is not, \V hether he was
killed or not; that we confess ; hut, Whether justly or
unjustly.” Nowin reality here is no partition, since the
former branch of the proposition is what is agreed Upon,
and given up •, and consequently it is only the latter
that remains to he disputed. It is called enumeration,
v/hen the orator acquaints his hearefs with the several
parts of his discourse upon which he designs to treat.
And this alone, properly speaking, is a partition. Thus
Cicero states his plea in his defence of Muneha : “ I
perceive the accusation consists of three parts : the first
respects the conduct of his life } the second his dignity j
and the third contains a charge of bribery.”
There arc three tilings requisite in a good parti¬
tion \
Part II,
O
Disposi
tion.
3°
egative
'(1 posi.
11 divi-
on* of a
I'jtct.
tion j that it be sfiort., complete, and consist but of afew
members
A partition is said to be short, when each proposi¬
tion contains in it nothing more than what is necessary.
So that the brevity here required is different from that
of a narration ; for that consists chiefly in things, this
in words. And, as Quintilian justly observes, brevity
seems very proper here, where the orator does not show
what he is then speaking of, but what he designs to
discourse upon.
Again, it ought to be complete and perfect. And
for this end, care must be taken to omit no necessary
part in the enumeration.
But however, there should be as fere heads as is
consistent with the nature of the subject. The ancient
rhetoricians prescribe three or four at the most. And
we do not rempmber that Cicero ever exceeds that
number. But it is certain, the fewer they are, the
better, provided nothing necessary be omitted. For
4oo large a number is both difficult of retention, and
apt to introduce that confusion which partition is de¬
signed to prevent.
Hitherto we have been speaking only of those heads
into which the subject or general argument of the dis¬
course is at first divided, tor it is sometimes conve¬
nient to divide these again, or at least some of them,
into several parts or members. And when this hap¬
pens, it is best done, as the speaker comes to each of
them in the order at first laid down by which means
the memory of the hearers will be less burdened than
by a multitude of particulars at one and the same time.
Thus Cicero, in his oration for the Manilian law, com¬
prises what he designs to say under three general heads.
a First (says he) 1 shall speak of the nature of the
wrar, then of its greatness, and lastly about the choice
of a general.” And when he comes to the first of
these, he divides it again into four branches j and shows,
“ how much the glory of the Romans, and safety of their
allies, their greatest revenues, and the fortunes of many
of their citizens, were all concerned in that war.” The
second head, in which he considers the greatness of the
war, has no division. But when he comes to the third
head, concerning the choice of a general, he divides that
likewise into four parts j and shows, that so many virtues
are necessary in a consummate general, such a one as
was proper to have the management of that war, namely,
skill in military affairs, courage, authority, and success:
all which he attributes to Pompey. And this is the
scheme of that celebrated oration.
Phis subdividing, however, should never have place
but when it is absolutely necessary. To split a subject
into a great many minute parts, by divisions and sub¬
divisions without end, has always a bad effect in speak¬
ing. It may be proper in a logical treatise; but it
makes an oration appear hard and dry, and unneces¬
sarily fatigues the memory. In a sermon, there may be
from three to five or six heads, including subdivisions;
seldom should there be more.
Further, Some divide their subject into two parts,
and propose to treat upon it negatively and positively;
by showing first what it is not, and then what it is.
But while they are employed to prove what it is not,
they are not properly treating upon that, but something
else ; which seems as irregular as it is unnecessary. For
he who proves what a thing is, does at the same time
Vol. XV, Part I. f
BATOR Y.
show what it is not. However, in fact, there is a sort
of division by affirmation and negation, which may
sometimes be conveniently used. As if a person, charged
with killing another, should thus state his defence: L
had done right if L hud killed him, but 1 did not kill him.
Here indeed, it the latter can be plainly made to appear,
it may seem needless to insist upon the form. But if
that cannot be so fully pioved, but there may be room
left for suspicion, it may be proper to make use of both:
for all persons do not see ilnngs in the same light, and ho
who believes the fact, may likewise think it just, whilfe
he who thinks it unjust, may not believe it, bui rather
suppose, bad it really been committed by the party, he
would not have denied it, since he looked upon it as de¬
fensible. And tins method of proceeding, Quintilian
compares to a custom often used in traffic, when persons
make a large demand at first, in order to gain a reason¬
able price. Cicero uses this way of reasoning in his de¬
fence of Miloj but in the contrary order; that is, he
first answers the charge; and then justifies the fact,
upon the supposition that the charge was true. For he
proves, first, that Clodius was the aggressor; and not
Milo, as the contrary party had asserted : and then, to
give the greater advantage to his cause, he proceeds to
show, that if Milo had been the aggressor, it would
however have been a glorious action to take oft’ such an
abandoned wretch, who was not only a common enemy
to mankind, but had likewise often threatened his
life.
A good and just partition is attended with consider¬
able advantages. For it gives both light and ornament
to a discourse. And it is also a great relief to the hear¬
ers, who, by means of these stops and rests, are much
better enabled to keep pace with the speaker without
confusion, and by casting their thoughts either way,
from what has been said, both know and are prepared
for what is to follow. And as persons, in travelling a
road with which they are acquainted, go on with greater
pleasure and less fatigue, because they know how far it
is to their journey’s end; so to be apprised of the speaker’s
design, and the several parts of Ins discourse which he
proposes to treat on, contributes very much to relieve
the hearer, and keep up his attention. This must ap¬
pear very evident to all who consider how difficult it is
to attend long and closely to one thing, especialh when
we do not know how long it may be before we are fike
to be released. Whereas, when we are beforehand ac¬
quainted with the scheme, and the speaker proceed* re¬
gularly from one thing to another, opportunity is given
to ease the mind, by relaxing the attention, and recall¬
ing it again when necessary. In a sermon, or in a plead¬
ing at the bar, few things are of greater consequence
than a proper or h-ppy division. It should be studied
with much accuracy and care ; for if one take a wiong
method at first setting out, it will lead him astray in.
all that follows. It will render the whole discourse
either perplexed or languid; and though the hearers
may not be able to tell where the fault or disorder
lies, they will be sensible there is a disorder some¬
where, and find themselves little affected by what is
spoken. The French writers of sermons study neat¬
ness and elegance in the division of their subjects
much more than the Fnglish do ; whose distributions,
though sensible and just, yet are often inartificial and
verbose, •
T t (?HAF,
*> <^1
Disposi¬
tion.
n ^<0
ORATORY.
Part II.
Disposi¬
tion.
Chap. IV. Of Confirmation.
31 The orator having acquainted his hearers, in the pro-
Confitma- p03ition, with the subject on which he designs to discourse,
lion is useo ^ pvoceeds either to prove or illustrate what he has
there laid down. For some dUcouraes requ.re no,h,ng
fcroaglit in more than an enlargement or illustration, to set the .
defence of jn a proper light, and recommend them to the hearers ,
a subject. for w!)lch reaSon> likewise, they have often no distinct
proposition. But where arguments are brought m de¬
fence of the subject, this is properly confirmation. I or
as Cicero defines it, “confirmation is that which gives
proof, authority, and support to a cause, by reasoning.
And for this end, if any thing in the proposition seems
obscure, or liable to be misunderstood, the orator first
takes cares to explain it, and then goes on to offer such
arguments for the proof of it, and represent them m
such a light, as may be most proper to gain the assent
of his hearers. . ,
But here it is proper to observe, that there a
different ways of reasoning suited to different art .
The mathematician treats his subject after ano 1
manner than the logician, and the orator m a «ne-
thod different from them both. I wo methods 0
reasoning are employed by orators, the synthetic and
Synthetic Every piece of synthetic reasoning may be re-
reasoning solVed into a syllogism or series of syllogisms, (see D -
may always' . Thus we may reduce Cicero’s argument, by
which he endeavours to prove that Clodius assaulted
“.m orbc-MIlo, and not Milo Clodius, to a syllogism m this
ries ofsyllo-jnauner:
gums.
He was the aggressor, whose advantage it was to kilt
Bid it was the advemtage of Clodius to kill Milo, and
not Milo to kill him. n j
Therefore Clodius was the aggressor, or he assaulted
Milo.
The thing to be proved was, that Clodius assaulted
Milo, which therefore comes in the conclusion: and tie
argument, by which it is proved is taken from the head
Of profit or advantage. Thus the logician would treat
this argument j and if either of the premises vyere que¬
stioned: he would support it with another syllogism But
this short and dry way of reasoning does not at all suit
the orator: who not only for variety changes the order
of the parts, beginning sometimes with the minor, and a
other times with the conclusion, and ending with the
junior; but likewise clothes each part with such orna¬
ments of expression as are proper to enliven the subject,
and render it more agreeable and entertaining. And he
freouently subjoins either to the major proposition, or
minor, and sometimes to both, one or more arguments
to support them-, and perhaps others to confirm or illu¬
strate them as he thinks it requisite. Therefore, as a.
logical syllogism consists of three parts or propositions,
a rhetorical syllogism frequently contains four, and many
times five parts. And Cicero reckons this kst the most
complete. But all that is said in confirmation of either
tff the premises is accounted but as one part. This will
annear more evident by examples: By a short syllogism
Cicero thus proves, that the Carthaginians were not to
be trusted: “ Those who have often deceived us, by
violating their engagements, ought not to be trusted. Disposi-
For if we receive any damage by their treachery, we t t'011-
can blame nobody but ourselves. But the Carthaginiansv——v—-J
have often so deceived us. Therefore it is madness to
trust them.” Here the major proposition is supported
by a reason. The minor needed none 5 because the
treachery of the Carthaginians was well known. So that
the syllogism consists of four parts. But by a syllogism
of five parts he proves somewhat more largely and ele¬
gantly, that the world is under the direction of a wise
governor. The major is this: “ Those things are better
governed which are under the direction of wisdom, than
those which are not.” This he proves by several instan¬
ces: “ A house managed with prudence has everything
in better order, and more convenient than that which
is under no regulation. An army commanded by a
wise and skilful general is in all respects better governed
than one which has a fool and a madman at the head ot
it. And the like is to be said of a ship, which performs
her course best under the direction of a skilful pilot.”
Then he proceeds to the minor thus: “ But nothing is
better governed than the universe.” W hich he proves
in this manner: “ The rising and setting of the heavenly
bodies keep a certain determined order 5 and the several
seasons of the year do not only necessarily return in the
same manner, but are suited to the advantage ot the
whole ; nor did the vicissitudes of night and day ever
yet become prejudicial, by altering their course.” From
all which he concludes, “ that the world must be under
the direction of a wise governor.” In both these ex¬
amples, the regular order ot the parts is observed. v\ e
shall therefore produce another, in which the order is
directly contrary j for beginning with the conclusion, he
proceeds next to the minor proposition, and so ends with
the major. In his defence of Coelius, his design is to
prove that Coelius had not led a loose and vicious life,
with which his enemies had charged him. And this
he does, by showing he had closely tollowed his studies,
and was a‘ good orator. This may probably at first sight
appear but a weak argument j though to him who con¬
siders what Cicero every where declares necessary to
crain that character, it may perhaps be thought other¬
wise. The sense of what he says here may be reduced,
to this syllogism.
Those who have pursued the study of oratory, so as
to excel in it, cannot have led a loose and vicious
life.
But Coelius has done this.
Therefore his enemies charge him wrongfully.
But let us hear Cicero himself. He begins with the con¬
clusion, thus: “ Ceelius is not chargeable with proluse-
ness, extravagancy, contractingofdebts, or intemperance,
a vice.which age is so far from abating, that it rather in¬
creases it. Nay, he never engaged in amours, and those
pleasures of youth, as they are called, winch are soon
thrown off, as reason prevails.” Then he proceeds to
the minor, and shows from the effects, that ( cehus had
closely applied himself to the best arts, by which he
means those necessary for an orator : “ You have now
heard him make his own defence, and you formerly
beard him engaged in a prosecution (I speak this to vin¬
dicate, not to applaud him), you could not but perceive
his manner of speaking, bis ability, Ins good sense, and
command of language. Nor did he only discover a goo
Part II. ORA
genius, which will oftentimes do much of itself when it
33
Orators do
not often
use com
Disposi- w    „
tion. is not improved by industry; but what he said (if my
afiection for him did not bias my judgment) appeared to
be the effect of learning, application, and study.” And
then he comes to the major: “ But be assured, that those
vices charged upon Ccelius, and the studies upon which
I am now discoursing, cannot meet in the same person.
For it is not possible that a mind, disturbed by such ir¬
regular passions, should he able to go through what we
orators do, I do not mean only in speaking, but even in
thinking.” And this he proves by an argument taken
from the scarcity of good orators. “ Can any other
reason he assigned, why so few, both now, and at all
times, have engaged in this province, when the rewards
of eloquence are so magnificent, and it is attended with
so great delight, applause, glory, and honour P All plea¬
sures must be neglected; diversions, recreations, and en¬
tertainments omitted ; and even the conversation of all
our friends must in a manner be laid aside. This it is
which deters persons from the labour and study of ora¬
tory ; not their want of genius or education.”
2. By Enthymerh. But orators do not often use com¬
plete syllogisms, but most commonly enthymems. An
enthymem, as is shown elsewhere, is an imperfect syllo¬
gisms,8 but S‘sm> consisting of two parts ; the conclusion, and one of
most com- the premises. And in this kind of syllogism, that pro-
monlyim- position is omitted, whether it be the major or minor,
Perfect which is sufficiently manifest of itself, and may easily
‘entLmeiL. be by the hearers. But the proposition that
^ 'is expressed is usually called the antecedent, and the
conclusion the consequent. So if the major of that syl¬
logism be omitted, by which Cicero endeavours to prove
that Clodius assaulted Milo, it will make this enthy¬
mem :
The death of Milo would have been an advantage to
Clodius.
Therefore Clodius was the aggressor ; or, therefore,
he assaulted Milo.
In like manner, that other syllogism above mentioned,
by which he shows that the Carthaginians ought not to
be trusted, by omitting the minor, may be reduced to
the following enthymem :
Those who have often broke their faith ought not to
be trusted.
For which reason the Carthaginians ought not to be
trusted.
Every one would readily supply the minor, since the
perfidiousness of the Carthaginians was known to a pro¬
verb. But it is reckoned a beauty in enthvmems, when
they consist of contrary parts, because the turn of them
is most acute and pungent. Such is that of Micipsa in
Sallust: “ What stranger will be faithful to you who
are an enemy to your friends ?” And so likewise that of
Cicero for Milo, speaking of Clodius : “ You sit as aven¬
gers of his death ; whose life you would not restore, did
you think it in your power.” Orators manage enthy¬
mems in the same manner they do syllogisms; that is,
they invert the order of the parts, and confirm the pro¬
position by one or more reasons ; and therefore a rheto¬
rical enthymem trequentiy consists of three parts, as a
syllogism does ot five. Though, strictly speaking, a
syllogism can consist of no more than three parts, and an
enthymem but of two: and the arguments brought to
TORY.
support either of the propositions constitute so many new
enthyniems, of which the part they are designed to
prove is the conclusion. To illustrate this by an ex¬
ample :
An honest man thinks himself under the highest ob¬
ligation to his country.
Therefore he should shun no danger to serve it.
In this enthymem the major is wanting, which would
run thus . lie who is under the highest obligations
to another, should shun no danger in order to serve
him.” ^ This last proposition is founded upon the com¬
mon principle ol gratitude ; which requires that, to the
utmost of our power, a return should be made in pro¬
portion to the kindness received. And this being a
maxim generally allowed, it is omitted by the orator.
But now this enthymem, consisting of the minor and
conclusion, might be managed in some such manner
as this, beginning with the conclusion : “ An honest
man ought to shun no danger, but readily expose his
life for the safety and preservation of his country.”
Then the reason of this conduct might be added,
which is the antecedent of the enthymem, or minor
of the syllogism : “ For he is sensible that his obligations
to Ins country are so many, and so great, that he can
never fully requite them.” And this again might he
confirmed by an enumeration of particulars : “ He
looks upon himself as indebted to his country for every
thing he enjoys; for his friends, relations, all the plea-
suies of life, and even for life itself. Now the orator
calls this one enthymem, though in reality there are two:
lor the second reason, or argument, added to the first,
becomes the antecedent of a new enthymem, of which
the fiist reason is the consequent. And if these two en-
thvmems were expressed separately in the natural order
of the parts, the former would stand thus : “ An honest
man thinks himself under the highest obligations to his
country; therefore he ought to shun no danger for its
preservation.” The latter thus : “ An honest man
esteems himself indebted to his country for every thing
he enjoys ; therefore he thinks he is under the highest
obligations to it.” The same thing might be proved in
the like way of reasoning, by arguments of a different
kind. From comparison, thus : “ As it would he
thought baseband ungrateful in a son not to hazard him¬
self for the preservation of his father; an hopest man
must certainly esteem it so when his country is in dan¬
ger.” Or from an example, in this manner: An ho¬
nest man in like circumstances would propose to himself
the example of Decius, who freely gave up his life for
the service of his country. He gave up his life indeed,
hut did not lose it; for he cannot be said to have lost
bis life, who lives in immortal honour.” Orators fre¬
quently intermix such arguments to adorn and illustrate
their subject with others taken from the nature and cir¬
cumstances of things. And now, if we consider a little
this method of reasoning, we shall find it the most plain
and easy imaginable. I'or when any proposition is laid
-down, and one or more reasons subjoined to prove it,
each reason joined with the proposition makes a distinct
enthymem, of which the proposition is the conclusion.
-Thus Cicero, in his seventh Philippic, lays down this as
the foundation of his discourse, “ That he is against a
peace with Mark Antony ;” far which he gives three
reasons: “ Because it is base, because it is dangerous,
T t 2 and
34 ,
The analy¬
tic method
of reason¬
ing nearly
the same
with the
tioeratic.
O R A T
ana because it is impracticable. These severally join¬
ed with the proposition, form three enthymems, and
upon each of these he discourses separately, which make
up that oration. And this method is what persons for
the most part naturally fall into, who know nothing of
the terms syllogism or enthymem. 1 hey advance some¬
thing, and think of a reason to prove it, and another
perhaps to support that *, and, so far as their invention
will assist them, or they are masters of language, they
endeavour to set what they say m the plainest light
"?ve it the best dress, embellish it with proper figures
and different turns of expression 5 and, as they think
convenient, illustrate it with similitudes, comparisons,
and the like ornaments, to render it most agreeable, ti l
they think what they have advanced sufficiently proved.
As’ this method of arguing therefore is the most plain,
easy, and natural-, so it is what is most commonly used
in oratory. Whereas a strict syllegistical way of dis¬
coursing^ dry and jejune, cramps the mind, and does
not admit of those embellishments of language which a e
a great advantage to the orator j for which reason
seldom uses complete syllogisms and when he does, it
is with great latitude. In every discourse care should
be taken not to blend arguments confusedly together
that are of a separate nature. “ All arguments (says
the elegant Dr Blair,) are directed to prove one or other
of these three things that something is true that it is
morally right or fit; or that it is profitable and good.
These make the three great subjects of discussion among
mankind ; truth, duty, and interest. But ^ argumen .
directed towards anv one of them are generally distinct,
and he who blends them all under one topic, which he
calls his argument, as, in sermons especially, is too of¬
ten done, will render his reasoning indistinct and inele¬
gant. Suppose, for instance, that I am recommending
to an audience benevolence, or the love of our neigh¬
bour ; and that I take my first argument from the in¬
ward satisfaction which a benevolent temper affords ;
mv second, from the obligation which the example of
Christ lays upon us to this duty; and third, from its
tendency to procure us the good will of all around us,
my arguments are good, but 1 have arranged them wrong,
for my first and third arguments are taken from con¬
siderations of interest, internal peace, and external ad¬
vantages ; and between these, I have introduced one
which rests wholly upon duty. I should have kept tho^e
classes of arguments, which are addressed to different
principles in human nature, separate and distinct.
II. The other method of reasoning is the analytic,
in which the orator conceals his intention concerning
the point he is to prove, till he has gradually brought
his hearers to the designed conclusion. I hey are le
on, step by step, from one known truth to another, till
the conclusion be stolen from them, as the natural con¬
sequence of a chain of propositions. As for instance
when one intending to prove the being of a God, sets
out with observing that every thing which we see in the
world has had a beginning ; that whatever has had a
beginning, must have had a prior cause ; that in human
productions, art shown in the effect, necessarily niters
design in the cause; and proceeds leading you on from
one cause to another, till you arrive at one supreme first
cause, from whom is derived all the order and design
visible in his works. This is much the same with the
O R Y.
Part Hi
Socratic method, by which that philosopher silenced the Dbposi-
sophists of his age.
He proceeded by several questions, which being se¬
parately granted, the thing designed to be inferred was
afterwards put, which, by reason of its similitude with
several cases allowed before, could not be denied. But
this is a captious way of reasoning ; for while the re¬
spondent is not aware of what is designed to be inferred,
he is easily induced to make those concessions, which
otherwise he would not. Besides, it is not so well suit¬
ed to continued discourses, as to those which are inter¬
locutory; and therefore we meet with it oftenest in the
Socratic dialogues both of Plato and Xenophon. How¬
ever, it may be made use of in oratory by a figure call¬
ed subjection, when the same person first puts the ques¬
tion, and then makes the answer. So in the famous
cause of Epaminondas, general of the Thebans, who
was accused for refusing to surrender his command to
his successor appointed by the state, till after he had en¬
gaged the enemy, and given them a total defeat, Ciceio
thus represents his accuser pleading for the words of the
law against Epaminondas, who alleged the intention of
it in his defence : “ Should Epaminondas add that ex¬
ception to the law, which, he says, was the intention of
the writer namely, Except any one refuse to give up his
command when it is for the interest of the public he
should not; would you admit of it? I believe not.
Should you yourselves, which is a thing most remote
from your justice and wisdom, in order to screen him,
order this exception to be added to the law, without the
command of the people ; would the Thebans sutler it to
be done ? No, certainly. Can it be right then to come
into that, as if it was written, which it would be a crime
to write ? I know it cannot be agreeable to your wis¬
dom to think so.” i
Under the analytic method may be comprehended “^com-
reasoning by example. Rhetoricians use this word in a
different sense from the common acceptation, r or that byexam?k
is usually called an example, which is brought either to
prove or illustrate some general assertion : As if any
one should say, that human bodies may be brought to
sustain the greatest labours by use and exercise ; and in
order to prove this should relate what is said of Milo of
Croton, that “ by the constant practice of carrying a
calf several furlongs every day, he would carry it as far
after it had grown to its full size.” But in oratory the
word example is used for any kind of similitude ; or, as
Vossius defines it, “ When one thing is inferred from
another, by reason of the likeness which appears between
them.” Hence it is called an imperfect induction, which
infers something from several others of a like nature,
and has always the greatest force when the examples are
taken from facts. " Now facts may be compared with
respect to some agreement or similitude between them,
which in themselves are either equal or unequal. Of
the former kind this is an instance : Cato acted as be¬
came a patriot und a lover of his country’s liberty, m
opposing the arms of Csesar : and therefore so did Ci¬
cero.” The reason of the inference is founded m the
parity of the case, which equally concerned all good
subjects of the Roman government at that time. I or
all were alike obliged to oppose a common enemy, who
endeavoured to subvert the constitution, and subject
them to his own arbitrary power. But though an ex-
Part II.
ORA
Disposi- ample consists in the comparison of two single facts, yet
tion. several persons may be concerned in each fact. Of this
U“‘V—kind is that which follows : “ As Pompey, Caesar, and
Crassus, acted illegally in the first triumvirate, by en¬
grossing the sole power into their own hands, and by
that means violating the public liberty j so likewise did
Augustus, Mark Antony, and Lepidus, in the second
triumvirate, by pursuing the same measures.” But when
Cicero defends Milo for killing Clodius, from the like
instances of Abala Servilius, Scipio Nasica, Lucius
Opimius, and others j that is not an example, but an
induction: because one thing is there inferred from its
similitude to several others. But when a comparison is
made between two facts that are unequal, the inference
may be either from the greater to the less, or from the
less to the greater. From the greater to the less in this
manner: “ Caesar had no just pretensions to the Roman
government, and therefore much less had Antony.” The
reason lies in the difference between the two persons.
Caesar had very much enlarged the bounds of the Ro¬
man empire by his conquests, and greatly obliged the
populace by his generosity ; but as he had always act¬
ed by an authority from the senate and people of Rome,
these things gave him no claim to a power over them.
Much less then had Antony any such pretence, who al¬
ways acted under Caesar, and had never performed any
signal services himself. Cicero has described the differ¬
ence between them in a very beautiful manner in his
second Philippic, thus speaking to Antony : “ Are you
in any thing to be compared to him ? He had a genius,
sagacity, memory, learning, care, thought, diligence j
he had performed great things in war, though detrimen¬
tal to the state ; he had for many years designed to get
the government into his hands, and obtained his end by
much labour and many dangers ; he gained over the
ignorant multitude by public shows, buildings, congia-
I’ies, and feasts ; obliged his friends hy rewards, and his
enemies by a show of clemency. In a word, he subject¬
ed a free state to slavery, partly through fear, and part¬
ly compliance. I can liken you to him for ambition of
power ; but in other things you are in no respect to be
compared with him.” By a comparison from the less
to the greater. Cicero thus argues against Catiline :
11 the brave Scipio, when a private man, kill Ti¬
berius Gracchus, for attempting to weaken the state ;
and shall we consuls bear with Catiline endeavouring to
destroy the world by fire and sword ?” The circumstan¬
ces of these two cases were very different j and the com¬
parison runs between a private man and a consul instruat-
ed with the highest authority ; between a design only
to raise a tumult, and a plot to destroy the government:
whence the orator justly infers, that what was esteemed
lawful in one case, was much more so in the other.
The like way of reasoning is sometimes used from other
similitudes, which may be taken from things of all
kinds, whether animate or inanimate. Of the former
sort is that of Cicero speaking of Mursena, when can¬
didate for the consulship, after he had himself gone
through that office : “ If it is usual (says he) for such
persons as are safely arrived in port, to give those who
are going out the best account they can with relation to
the weather, pirates, and coasts ; because thus nature
directs us to assist those who are entering upon the same
dangers which we ourselves have escaped : how ought I,
who now after a great storm am brought within a near
T O R Y. 333
prospect of land, to he affected towards him, who, 1 Disposi *
perceive, must be exposed to the greatest tempests of the tion.
state ?” He alludes to the late disturbances and tumults ' V—
occasioned hy the conspiracy of Catiline, which had
been so happily suppressed by him in the time of his
consulate. Of the latter kind is that of Quintilian :
“ A® ^le ground is made better and more fruitful by
culture, so is the mind by instruction.” There is both
a beauty and justness in this simile.
But comparisons are sometimes made between facts
and other things, in order to infer some difference or op-
position between them. In comparing two facts, on ac¬
count of some disagreement and unlikeness, the inference
is made from the difference between one and the other
in that particular respect only. As thus : “ Though it
was not esteemed cruelty in Brutus to put his two sons
to death for endeavouring to betray their country • it
might be so in Manlius who put his son to death/ only
for engaging the enemy without orders, though he gain¬
ed the victory.” The difference between the two facts
lies m the different nature of the crime. The sons of
Brutus entered into a conspiracy to betray their coun¬
try ; and though they miscarried in it, yet the intention
and endeavours they used to accomplish it were criminal
in the highest degree. But young Manlius could only
be charged with rashness. His design was honourable,
and intended for the interest of his country; only it was
irregular, and might have proved of ill consequence to
military discipline. Now in all such cases, the force of
the argument is the stronger the greater the difference
appeals. But the same facts which differ in one respect
may agree in many others j as in the example here men¬
tioned. Brutus and Manlius were both magistrates as
well as fathers ; they both killed their sons, and that
for a capital crime by the Roman law. In any of which
respects they may be compared in a way of similitude:
as, “ If Brutus might lawfully put his son to death
for a capital crime, so might Manlius.” But now cen¬
tral y facts do not only differ in some certain respect, but
are wholly opposite to each other ; so that what is af¬
firmed of the one must he denied of the other 5 and if
one be a virtue, the other is a vice. Thus Cicero com-
paies the conduct of Marcellus and Verres in a way of
opposition. “ Marcellus (says he), who had engaged,
if he took Syracuse, to erect two temples at Rome’
would not beautify them with the spoils he had taken :
Vrerres, who had made no vows to Honour and Virtue,
but to Venus and Cupid, endeavoured to plunder the
temple of Minerva. The former would not adorn the
gods with the spoils of other deities: the latter carried
the ornaments of Minerva, a virgin, into the house of
a strumpet.” If therefore the conduct of Marcellus was
laudable and virtuous, that of Verres must hear the con¬
trary character. But this way of reasoning has like¬
wise place in other respects. Thus Cicero, in the quar¬
rel between Caesar and Pompey, advised to peace from
the difference between a foreign and domestic war :
“ the former might prove beneficial to the state j
but in the latter, whichever side conquered, the public
must suffer.” And thus the ill effects of intemperance
may be shown in a way of opposition : “ That as tem¬
perance preserves the health of the body, keeps up the
vigour of the mind, and prolongs life ; so excess must
necessarily have the contrary effects.
Thus we have given a brief account of the principal
ways
334 °
Disposi- ways of reasohing commonly made use ot by orators,
lion As to the disposition of arguments, or the order oi pla-
1 v ' cing them, some advise to put the weaker, which can¬
not wholly be omitted, in the middle : and such as are
stronger, partly in the beginning, to gain the esteem
of the hearers, and render them more attentive •, and
partly at the end, because what is last heard is likely
to be retained longest: But it there are but two argu¬
ments, to place the stronger first, and then the weaker j
and after that to return again to the former, and insist
principally upon that. But this must be left to the pru¬
dence of the speaker, and the nature of the subject.
Though to begin with the strongest, and so gradually
descend to the weakest, can never be proper, for the
reason last mentioned. Nor ought arguments to be
crowded too close upon one another ; foi- that takes off
from their force, as it breaks in upon the attention ot
the hearers, and does not leave them sufficient time duly
to consider them. Nor indeed should more be used
than are necessary •, because the fewer they are, the
more easily they are remembered. And the observation
of a great master of eloquence upon this subject is cer¬
tainly very just, that arguments ought rather to be
weighed than numbered.
Chap. V. Of Confutation.
Forms of The forms of reasoning here are the same as have
confutation been already explained under confirmation. Confutation
the same however, is often the more difficult task $ because he
ofconfir*86 w*10 to Prove a thiHg comes usually prepared j but he
mation "hut AV^° *s 4:0 conf"te it is frequently left to a sudden an-
more diffi- swer. For which reason, in judicial eases, Quintilian
cult. says, “ It is as much easier to accuse than defend, as it
is to make a wound than to heal it.” Therefore, not
only a good judgment, but a readiness of thought also,
seems necessary for this province. But, in all disputes,
it is of the greatest consequence to observe where the
stress of the controversy lies. For without attending
to this, persons may cavil about different matters, with¬
out understanding each other, or deciding any thing.
And in confutation, what the adversary has advanced
ought carefully to be considered, and in what manner he
has expressed himself. As to the things themselves,,
whether they immediately relate to the matter in dispute,
or are foreign to it. Those things that are foreign to
the subject may either be past over in silence, or in a very
few words shown to be insignificant. And there ought
likewise to be a distinction made between such things as
relate to the subject, according to their importance.
Those that appear to have no great weight should be
slightly remarked. For to insist largely upon such mat¬
ters is both tiresome to the hearers, and apt to bring
the judgment of the speaker in question. And there¬
fore things of that nature are generally better turned
off with an air of neglect, a pungent question, or an
agreeable jest, than confuted by a serious and laboured
answer. But those things, which relate to the merits
of the cause, may be confuted either by contradicting
them, or by showing some mistake in the reasoning, or
their invalidity when grauted.
Things may be contradicted several ways. What is
apparently false may be expressly denied. Thus Cicero
in his defence of Cluentius . “ When the accuser had
said that the man fell down dead after he had drunk
It A T O It Y.
Part II,
And things
olf his cup, denies that he died that day.”
which the adversary cannot prove, may likewise be de¬
nied. Of which we have also an instance in Cicero,
who first upbraids Mark Antony as guilty of a breach
not only of good breeding, but likewise ot friendship,
for reading publicly a private letter he had sent him.
And then.0 adds, “ But what will you say now, if I
should deny that ever I sent you that letter ? How will
you prove it ? By the hand-writing ? In which I con¬
fess you have a peculiar skill, and have found the be¬
nefit of it. But how can you make it out ? For it is
in my secretary’s hand. I cannot but envy your master
who had so great a reward for teaching you to un¬
derstand just nothing. For what can be more unbecom¬
ing not only an orator, but even a man, than for any
one to ofter such things, which if the adversary denies
he has nothing more to say ?” It is a handsome way
of contradicting a thing, by showing that the adversary
himself maintained the contrary. So when Oppius was
charged with defrauding the soldiers of their provision,
Cicero refutes it, by proving, that the same persons char¬
ged Oppius with a design to corrupt the army by his
liberality. An adversary is never more effectually
silenced than when you can fasten contradictions upon
him j for this is stabbing him with his own weapon.
Sometimes a thing is not in express terms denied, but
represented to be utterly incredible. And this method
exposes the adversary more than a bare denial. So
when some persons reproached Cicero with cowardice,
and a shameful fear of death, he recites their reasons in
such a manner, that any one would be inclined to think
the charge entirely false. “ Was it becoming me (says
he) to expect death with that composedness of mind as
some have imagined ? Well, and did 1 then avoid it ?
Nay, was there any thing in the world that I could
apprehend more desirable ? Or, when I had done the
greatest things in such a crowd of ill-minded persons
about me, do you think banishment and death ivere not
always in my view, and continually sounding in my
ears as my certain fate, while I was so employed ? Was
life desirable when all my friends were in such sorrow,
and myself in so great distress, deprived of all the gifts
both of nature and fortune ? Was I so unexperienced,
so ignorant, so void of reason and prudence ? Had I ne¬
ver seen or heard any thing in my whole life ? Did all I
had read and studied avail nothing ? What ! did not I
know that life is short, but the glory of generous ac¬
tions permanent ? When death is appointed tor all, does it
not seem eligible, that life, which must be wrested from
us, should rather be freely devoted to the service of our
country, than reserved to be worn out by the decays of
nature ? Was not I sensible, there has been this contro¬
versy among the wisest men, that some say, the minds
of men and their consciences utterly perish at death ;
and others, that the minds of wise and brave men are
then in their greatest strength and vigour, when they
are set free from the body ? The first state is not greatly
to be dreaded, to be void of sense: but the other, of
enjoying larger capacities, is greatly to be desired.
Therefore, since I always aimed at dignity, and thought
nothing was worth living for without it *, how should I,
who am past the consulship, and did so great things in
it, be afraid to die ?” Thus far Cicero. There is like¬
wise an an ironical way of contradicting a thing, by re¬
torting that and other things of the like nature upon
the
Disposi¬
tion.
Part II. ORATOR Y.
Disposi- atlYerse party : T-hus Cicero, in his oration against
335
Vatin ins, says : “ You have objected to me, that I de-
fended Cornelius, my old friend, and your acquaintance.
But pray why should I not have defended him ? Has
Cornelius carried any law contrary to the omens ? Has
he violated any law P Has he assaulted the consul ? Hid
he take possession of a temple by force of arms ? Did
he drive away the tribune, who opposed the passing a
law ? Has he thrown contempt upon religion ? Has he
plundered the treasury P Has he pillaged the state ? No,
these, all these, are your doings.” Such an unexpected
return is sometimes of great service to abate the confi¬
dence of an adversary.
A second wray of confutation is, by observing some
Jlaw in the reasoning of the adverse party. We shall
endeavour to illustrate this from the several kinds of
reasoning treated of before under cortjirmation. And
first, as to syllogisms ; they may be refuted, either by
shovying some mistake in the premises, or that the con¬
clusion is not justly deduced from them. So when the
Clodian party centended, that Milo ought to suffer
death for this reason, Because he had confessed that he
had killed Clodius ; that argument, reduced to a syllo¬
gism, would stand thus :
He who confesses he has killed another^ ought not to
he allowed to see the light.
But Milo confesses this.
Therefore he ought not to live.
Now the force of this argument lies in the major or
first proposition ; which Cicero refutes, by proving, that
the Roman people had already determined contrary to
what is there asserted: “ Id what city (says he) do.
these men dispute after this weak manner ? In that
wherein the first capital trial was in the case of the
brave Horatius, who, before the city enjoyed perfect
freedom, was saved by the suffrages of the Roman peo¬
ple, though he confessed that he killed his sister with
his own hand.” But when Cicero accused Verres for
mal-administration in his government of Sicily, Horten-
sius, who defended him, being sensible the allegations
brought against him could not be denied, had no other
way left to bring him off, but by pleading, his military
virtues in abatement, which at that time were much
wanted, and very serviceable to the state.. The form,
of the argument was this :
That the Romans then wanted good generals.
That Verres was such.
And consequently, that it was for the interest of the
public that he should not be condemned.
But Cicero, who knew his design, states the argument'
for him in his charge; and then answers it by denying
the consequence, since the crimes of Verres were of so
heinous a nature, that he ought by no means to be par¬
doned on the account of any other qualifications:
Though indeed he afterwards refutes the minor or se¬
cond proposition, and shows that he had not merited the
character of a good general. Enthymems may be re¬
futed, either by showing that the antecedent is false, or
the consequent not justly inferred from it. As thus,
with respect to the former case:
A strict adherence to virtue has often proved detri~
mental.
Therefore virtue ought not constantly to be embraced.
Here the antecedent may be denied. For virtue is
alway beneficial to those who strictly adhere to it, both
in the present satisfaction it affords them, and the fu¬
ture rewards they may certainly expect from it. And
as to the latter case, in this manner:
She is a mother.
Therefore she loves her children.
Now as the certainty of that inference depends upon
this general assertion, That all mothers love their chil¬
dren, which is not true, the mistake of the reasoning
may be shown from the instance of Medea and others
who destroyed their own children. As to induction
and example, by which the truth or equity of a thing
is proved from its likeness to one or more other things;
the reasoning in either is invalid, if the things so com¬
pared can be shown not to have that similitude or
agreement on which the inference is founded. One in¬
stance therefore may serve for both. As when Cicero,
after the death ot Caesar, pleaded for the continuance
of his laws, but not of those which were made after¬
wards by Mark Antony: Because, though both were
in themselves invalid, and impositions upon the public
liberty ; yet some of Caesar’s were useful, and others
could not be set aside without disturbance to the state,
and injuring particular persons ; but those of Antony
were all detrimental to the public.
1 he last method of confutation before mentioned was,
when the orator does in some sense grant the adversary
his argument, and at the same time shows its invalidity*
And this is done by a variety of ways, according to the
diflerent nature of the subject. Sometimes he allows
what was said may be true ; but pleads, that what he-
contends for is necessary. This was the method by
which Hortensius proposed to bring off Verres, as we
have already shown from Cicero, wdiose words are these,
addressing himself to the judges ; “ What shall I do ?
which way shall I bring in my accusation ? where shall
I turn myself; for the character of a brave general is-
placed like a wall against all the attacks I can make.
I know the place, I perceive where Hortensius intends
to display himself. He will recount the hazards of war,
the necessities of the state, the scarcity of commanders;
and then he will entreat you, and do his utmost to per¬
suade you not to suffer the Roman people to be deprived
of such a commander upon the testimony of the Sicili¬
ans, nor the glory of his arms to be sullied by a charge
of avarice.” At other times the orator pleads, that al¬
though the contrary opinion may seem to be attended
with advantage, yet that his own is more just, or ho¬
nourable. Such was the case of Regulus, when his
friends endeavoured to prevail with him to continue at
Rome, and not return to Carthage, where he knew he
must undergo a cruel death. But as this could not be
done without violating his oath, he refused to hearken
to their persuasions. Another way of confutation is,
by retorting upon the adversary his own argument.
'Ihus Cicero, in his defence of Ligarius, says: “ You
have, Tubero, that which is most desirable to an accu¬
ser, the confession of the accused party ; but yet such a
confession,.
Disposi.
tion.
336
ORATORY.
Part IT.
Disposi¬
tion.
confession, that he was on the same side that you, I ube-
ro, chose yourself, and your father too, a man worthy
' of the highest praise. Wherefore, if there was any
crime in this, you ought first to confess your own be¬
fore you attempt to fasten any upon Liganus.” I he
orator takes this advantage where an argument proves
too much, that is, more than the person designed it for,
who made use of it. Not much unlike this is what they
call inversion, by which the orator shows that the rea¬
sons offered by the opposite party make for him. So
when Csecilius urged, that the province of accusing
Verres ought to be granted to him, and not to Cicero,
because he had been his treasurer in Sicily at the time
thosr crimes were committed with which he was char¬
ged, and consequently knew most of that aftair j Cicero
turns the argument upon him, and shows, tor that very
reason he was the most unfit ot any man to be intrusted
with his prosecution *, since having been concerned with
»him in his crimes, he would certainly do all in his power
to conceal or lessen them. Again, sometimes the chaige
is acknowledged, but the crime shitted oft to another.
Thus, when Sextius was accused ot sedition, because he
had got together a body of gladiators, and brought them
into the forum, where a warm engagement happened
between them And Clodius’s faction } Cicero owns the
fact, but charges the crime of sedition upon Clodius s
party in being the aggressors. Another method made
use of for the same purpose is to alleviate the charge,
and take off the force of it, by showing, that the thing
was not done with that intention which the adversary
insinuates. Thus Cicero, in hisdetence of King Dejo-
,tarus, owns he had raised some forces, though not to in¬
vade the Roman territories, as had been alleged, but
only to defend his own borders, and send aid to the Ko-
man generals.
We have hitherto been speaking of the methods ot
confutation used by orators, in answering those argu¬
ments which are brought by the contrary party. But
sometimes they raise such objections themselves to what
they have said, as they imagine may be made by others j
tvhich they afterwards answer, the better to induce their
hearers to think that nothing considerable can be offer¬
ed against what they have advanced, but what will ad¬
mit of an, easy reply. Thus, when Cicero, at the re¬
quest of the Sicilians, had undertaken the accusation of
Verres, it came under debate, whether he, or Caecihus,
who had been VerreS’s quaestor in Sicily, should be ad¬
mitted to that province. Cicero, therefore, in order to
set him aside, among other arguments shows his incapa¬
city for such an undertaking, and for that end recounts
at large the qualifications necessary for an orator.
Which he represents to be so many and great, that he
thought it necessary to start the following objection to
what he had himself said upon that subject. “ But you
will say perhaps, Have you all these qualifications
To which he thus replies: “ I wish I hadj but it
has been my constant study from my youth to gain them.
And if, from their greatness and difficulty, I have not
been able to attain them, who have done nothing else
through my whole life j how far, do you imagine, you
must be from it, who never thought of them before j
and even now, when you are entering upon them, have
no apprehension what, and how great, they are ?”
This is an effectual way of defeating an adversary, when
^he objection is well founded, and clearly answered. But
we shall have occasion to consider this matter more Disposi-
largely hereafter, under the figure prolepsis, to which it tion.
properly relates.
Chap. VI. Of the Conclusion.
37
Rhetoricians make the conclusion of a discourse The can¬
to consist of two parts : recapitulation, and an «^r^re“Sapinltt,j;a6
to the passions. tion and
I. Recapitulation is a summary account of what the address te
speaker has before oft’ered in maintenance of his subject ,the pas-
and is designed both to refresh the memory of the hear-sums-
ers, and to bring the principal arguments together jnto
a narrow compass, that they may appear in a stronger
light. Now there are several things necessary to a
good repetition.
And first, it must be short and concise ; since it is
designed to refresh the memory, and not to burden it.
For this end, therefore, the chief things only are to be
touched upon •, those on which the cause principally de¬
pends, and which the orator is most desirous should be
regarded by his hearers. Now these are, The general
heads of the discourse, with the main arguments brought
to support them. But either to insist particularly upon
every minute circumstance, or to enlarge upon those
heads which it may be thought proper to mention, car¬
ries in it not so much the appearance of a repetition, as
of a new discourse.
Again, it is convenient in a repetition to recite
things in the same order in which they were at first
laid down- By this means the hearers will be enabled
much better to keep pace with the speaker as he goes
along j and if they happen to have forgot any thing,
they will the more readily recai it. And besides, this
method appears most simple and open, when the speaker
reviews what he has said in the same manner it was be¬
fore delivered, and sets it in the clearest light for others
to judge of it. But though a repetition contains only
the same things which had been more largely treated of
before j yet it is not necessary they should be expressed
in the same words. Nay, this would many times be
tiresome and unpleasant to the hearers j whereas a va¬
riety of expression is grateful, provided the sense be
the same. Besides, every thing ought now to be repre¬
sented in the strongest terms, and in so lively a manner
as may at the same time both entertain the audience,
and make the deepest impression upon their minds. We
have a very exact and accurate example of repetition in
Cicero’s oration for Quintius. Cicero was then a young
man, and seems to have kept more closely to the rules
of art, than afterwards, when, by use and practice, he
had gained a greater freedom of speaking. We former¬
ly cited the partition of this speech, upon another occa¬
sion, which runs thus : “ We deny, Sextus Nevius, that
you were put into the possession ot the estate of B.
Quintius, by the praetor’s edict. This is the dispute be¬
tween us. I will therefore show, first, that you had no
just cause to apply to the praetor for the possession ot the
estate of P. Quintius j then that you could not possess
it by the edict; and lastly, that you did not possess it.
When I have proved these three things, I will con¬
clude.” Now Cicero begins his conclusion with a repe¬
tition of those three heads, and a summary account of
the several arguments he made use of under each of
them. But they are too long to be here exhibited. In
his
Part IL
hi* oration for the Mamlian law, his repetition is very
short. He proposed in the partition to speak to three
ORATORY.
things: Ihe nature of the war against King Mithri-
i.ates, the greatness of it, and what sort of general was
proper to be intrusted with it. And when he has gone
through each of these heads, and treated upon them
%ery largely, he reduces the substance of what he has
said to this general and short account: “ Since there¬
fore the war is so necessary, that it cannot be neglected;
and so great, that it requires a very careful manage¬
ment $ and you can intrust it with a general of admi¬
rable skill in military affairs, of singular courage, the
greatest authority, and eminent success : do you doubt
to make use of this so great a blessing, conferred and
bestowed upon you by heaven, for the preservation and
enlargement of the Roman state ?” Indeed this repe¬
tition is made by Cicero, before he proceeds to the con¬
futation 5 and not at the end of his discourse, where it
is usually longer and more particular: however, this
may serve to show the nature of such a recital.
ijut sometimes a repetition is made, by running a
comparison between the speaker’s own arguments and
those of the adverse party; and placing them in oppo¬
sition to each other. And this method Cicero takes in
the conclusion of his third oration upon the Agrarian
law. And here sometimes the orator takes occasion to
find fault with his adversary’s management, in these
and such like expressions : “ This part he has entirely
diopt. 1 o that he has given an invidious turn, or a
false colouring. He leaves arguments, and flies to in-
treaties ; and not without good reason, if we consider
the weakness of his cause.”
But when the discourse is very long, and the argu¬
ments insisted on have been many, to prevent the hear¬
ers growing out of patience by a more particular reci¬
tal, the orator sometimes only just mentions such things,
which he thinks of least consequence, bv saying, that he
omits or passes over them, till he comes to what is of
greater moment, which he represents more fully. This
method Cicero has taken in his defence of Cluentius;
where, having run over several lesser heads in the man¬
ner now described, he then alters his expression, and
« wl068 was .°^ more importance, by saying,
hat I first complain of, is that wickedness, which is
now discovered.” And so he proceeds more particular-
v]y to recite those things -which immediately related to
Cluentius. And this is^what the writers upon this art
ca\\ pretention. But this-much may serve for repetition
or recapitulation.
2. We mow proceed to the other part of the conclu¬
sion, which consists in an address to the passions. Indeed
the orator sometimes endeavours occasionally to work
upon the passions of his hearers in other parts of his
discourse, but more especially in the conclusion, where
be is warmest himself, and labours to make them so.
Tor the main design of the introduction is to conciliate
t le hearers, and gain their attention y of the narration,
proposition, and confirmation, to inform them ; and of
the conclusion, to move them. And therefore, to use
Quintilian’s words, “ Here all the springs of eloquence
are to be opened. It is here we secure the minds of the
hearers, if what went before was well managed. Now
^e are past tj^e rocks and shallows, all the sails may be
oistec. ^ And^jrf the greatest part of the conclusion
consists rn illustration, the most pompous language and
VOL. XV. Part i. | 6
strongest figures have place here.” Now the passions,
to which the orator more particularly addresses, differ
according to the nature of the discourse. In demonstra¬
tive orations, when laudatory,—love, admiration, and
emulation, are usually excited ; but in invectives,—ha¬
tred, envy, and contempt. In deliberative subjects, ei¬
ther the hope of gratifying some desire is set in view,
or the fear of some impending evil. And in judicial
discourses, almost all the passions have place, but more
especially resentment and pity ; insomuch that most of
the ancient rhetoricians mention only these two. But
having treated upon the nature of the passions, and the
methods suited both to excite and allay them, in a for¬
mer chapter,, we shall at present only add a few general
o nervations, which may not be improper in this place
where the skill of the orator in addressing to them is
more especially required.
Ihe orator will observe what circumstances either*
of things, or persons, or both, will furnish him with
motives proper to apply to those passions he desires to
excite in the minds of his hearers. Thus Cicero in
bis orations for Plancus and Sylla, moves Jiis hearers
from the circumstances of the men ; but in his accusa¬
tion of Verres, very frequently from the barbarity and
horrid nature of his crimes ; and from both, in his de-
ience oi Quintius.
But the same passion may be excited by very differ¬
ent methods. Tins is plain from the writings of
those Roman satirists which are yet extant; for they
have all the same design, and that is to engage men
to a love of virtue, and hatred of vice: "but their
manner is very different, suited to the genius of each
writer. Horace endeavours to recommend virtue, by
laughing vice out of countenance ; Persius moves us
to an abhorrence and detestation of vice, with the
gravity and severity of a philosopher ; and Juvenal,
by open and vehement invectives. So orators make
use of all these methods in exciting the passions j as
may be seen by their discourses, and particularly those
of Cicero. But it is not -convenient to dwell long
upon the same passion. lor the image thus wrought
up in the minds of the hearers does not last a great
while ; but they soon return to reflection. When the
emotion, therefore, is once carried as high as it well
can be, they should be left under its influence, and
the speaker proceed to some new matter, before it de¬
clines again.
Moreover, orators sometimes endeavour to raise con-
tiaiy passions to each other, as they are concerned for
opposite parties. So the accuser excites anger and re¬
sentment, but the defendant pity and compassion. At
other times, one thinks it sufficient to allay and take
off that passion which the other has raised, and brin^
the hearers to a calm and sedate consideration of the
matter before them.
But this especially is to be regarded, that the
orator express the same passion himself with which he
endeavours to affect others ; and that not only in his
action and voice, but likewise in his language : and
therefore his words, and manner of expression, should
be suited to that perturbation and disorder of mind,
which be designs to represent. However, a decency
and propriety of character is always carefully to be
observed; for, as Cicero very well remarks, “ A ne¬
glect of this is not only very culpable in life, but like-
U u wise
Disposi¬
tion.
 v——1
disposi¬
tion.
wise in discourse. Nor do the same things equally be¬
come every speaker, or every audience ; nor every
r time, and every place.” And therefore he great.y
commends that painter, who, designing to represent
in a picture the sacrifice of Iphigenia, Agamemnon s
daughter, drew Calchas the priest with a sad counte¬
nance •, Ulysses, her father’s great friend, more de¬
tected-, and her uncle Menelaus, most disconsolate j
hut threw a veil over the face of Agamemnon himself,
as being unable to express that excess of sorrow which
he thought was proper to appear in Ins countenance.
And this justness of character is admirably well obser¬
ved by Cicero himself, in bis defence of Milo; tor as
Milo was always known to be a man of the greatest
resolution, and most undaunted courage, it was very
improper to introduce him (as the usual method then
was in capital cases) moving pity, and begging for
mercy. Cicero therefore takes this part upon lumse.t 5
and what he could not do with any propriety in the
person of Milo, he performs in his own, and thus ad¬
dresses the judges : “ What remains, but that 1 en¬
treat and beseech you, that you would show that com¬
passion to this brave man, for which he himself does
not solicit, but I, against his inclination, earnestly
implore and request. Do not be less inclined to acquit
him if in this our common sorrow, you see no tear
fall ’from Milo’s eyes j but perceive in him the same
countenance, voice, and language, as at other times,
steady and unmoved- Nay, I know not whether for
this reason, you ought not much sooner to favour him :
For if in the contests of gladiators (persons of the
lowest’condition and fortune in life), we are wont to
be displeased with the timorous and suppliant, and
those who beg for their life J but interpose in favour
of the brave and courageous, and such as expose tnem-
r,elves to death } and we show more compassion to
those who do not sue for it, than to those who do :
with how much greater reason ought we to act in the
same manner towards the bravest of our fellow citi-
zens And as these words were agreeable to Ins own
character, while soliciting in behalf of another j so,
immediately after, he introduces Mifo speaking like
him''elf, with a generous and undaunted air : Ihese
words of Milo (says he) quite sink and dispirit me,
which I daily hear from him. Farewell, farewell, my
fellow citizens, farewell! may you he happy, flourish,
and prosper may this renowned city be preserved,
my most dear country, however it has treated me;
may it continue in peace, though I cannot continue
Hi it, to whom it owes its peace. I will retire, 1 will
But as persons are commonly n^ore affected with
what they see than with what they hear, orators some¬
times call in the assistance of that sense in moving the
passions. For this reason it was usual among the Ro¬
mans, in judicial cases, for accused persons to appear
with a dejected air and a sordid garb, attended by
their parents, children, or other relations and friends,
with the like dress and aspect; as likewise to shew their
scars, wounds, bloody garments, and other things of
the like nature, in open court. So when, upon the,
death of Cxsar, Mark Antony harangued the popu¬
lace he at the same time exposed to their view tl^
garment in which he was stabbed, fixed upon a pole
at which sight they were so engaged, that immediately
ORATORY, Fait II
they ran with lighted torches co Set fire to the houses DitpOS;_
of the conspirators. But this custom at last became tion
so common, and was sometimes so ill conducted, that -v—~
the force of it was greatly abated, as we learn from
Quintilian. However, if the Romans proceeded to
an excess on the one hand, the strictness of the Aieo-
pagites at Athens may perhaps be thought too rigid
on the other} for in that court, if the orator began to
say any tiling which was moving, an officer immedi¬
ately stood up and bade him be silent, lliere is cei-
tainiy a medium between these two extremes, which
is sometimes not only useful, but even necessary ; for
as Quintilian very justly says, “ It is necessary to ap¬
ply to the passions, when those things which aie tine,
just, and of common benefit, cannot be come at any
other way.”
Chap. VII. 0/ Digression, Transition, and Ampli-
jication.
•3s '
The number, order, and nature of the parts which Digressior
constitute a complete and regular oration, we have en-tmasinoaj
deavoured to explain in several preceding chapters. But ficatio]1)d>
there are two or three things yet remaining, very neces-j-inc{j> an(i |
sarv to be known by an orator, which seem most pro-explained,
perly to come under the second branch of his art. And
these are, Digression, Transition, and Amplification.
I, Digression, as defined by Quintilian, is, “ A
going off from the subject we are upon to some differ¬
ent thing, which may however be of service to it.”
We have a very beautiful instance of this in Cicero’s
defence of Coelius, who was accused of having first
borrowed money of Clodia, and then engaging her
servants to poison her. Now, as the proof of the fact
depended upon several circumstances, the orator ex¬
amines them separately j and shows them to be all
highly improbable. “ How (says he) was the de¬
sign of this poison laid? Whence came it? how did
they get it ? by whose assistance, to whom, or where,
was it delivered?” Now to the first of these queries,
he. makes the accuser give this answer: “ They say
Coelius had it at home, and tried the force of it upon
a slave provided on purpose, whose sudden death proved
the strength of the poison.” Now as Cicero represents
the whole charge against Ccelius as a fiction of Clodia,
invented out of revenge for some slights he had put
upon her to make this the more probable, he insinuates
that she had poisoned her husband, and takes this op¬
portunity to hint it, that he might show how easy it
was for her to charge another with poisoning a servant,
who had done the same to her own husband. But not
contented with this, he steps out of his way, and intro¬
duces some of the last words of her husband Metel.us,
to render the fact more barbarous and, shocking, from
the admirable character of the man. “ O immortal
gods ! why do you sometimes wink at the greatest crimes
of mankind, or delay the punishment of them to futuri¬
ty! For 1 saw, I myself saw (and it was the most dole¬
ful scene of my whole life) when Q. Metellus was
taken from the bosom of his country and when he,
who thought himself.born to be serviceable to this state,
within three days after he had appeared with such ad¬
vantage in the senate, in the fqrum, and everywhere in
public, was snatched from us in the flower of his age,
and prime of fiN strength and vigour. At. winch time.
Part II. G R A T O R Y.
Disposi- when he was about to expire, and his mind had lost
ti n the sense of other things, still retaining a concern for
^ the public, he looked upon me, as 1 was all in tears,
and intimated in broken and dying words how great
a storm hung over the city and threatened the whole
state; often striking the wall which separated his
house from that of Quintus Catulus, and frequently
calling both upon him and me, and seeming to grieve
not so much at the approach of his own death, as that
both his country and I should be deprived of his as¬
sistance. Had he not been wickedly taken oil’ on a
sudden, how would he after his consulship have with¬
stood the fury of his kinsman Publius Clodius, who,
while in that office, threatened, in the hearing of the
senate, to kill him with his own hand, when he first
began to break out ? And will this woman dare to
come out of those doors, and talk of the force of poi¬
son P will not she fear, lest the house itself should
speak the villany? will not she dread the conscious
walls, nor that sad and mournful night P But I re¬
turn to the accusation.” And then he proceeds to
consider and refute the several circumstances of the
accusation. All this was no part of his argument;
but having mentioned the charge of poison, he im¬
mediately takes occasion to introduce it, in order to
excite the indignation of the hearers against Clodia,
and invalidate the prosecution as coming from a person
of her character. Digression cannot properly be said
to be a necessary part of a discourse; but it may some¬
times be very convenient, and that upon several ac¬
counts.
As first, when a subject is of itself flat and dry, or
requires close attention, it is of use to relieve and un¬
bend the mind by something agreeable and entertain¬
ing. For which reason Quintilian observes, that the
orators of his time generally made an excursion in their
harangues upon some pleasing topic, between the nar¬
ration and the proof. But he condemns the practice
as too general ; for while they seemed to think it ne¬
cessary, it obliged them sometimes to bring in things
trifling and foreign to the purpose. Besides, a digres¬
sion is confined to no one part of a discourse, but may
come in anywhere, as occasion offers ; provided it fall
in naturally with the subject, and be made some way
subservient to it. We never meet with it in Cicero,
without some evident and good reason. So in his pro¬
secution of Verres for his barbarous and inhuman out¬
rages against the Sicilians, he takes an occasion to
launch out in a beautiful description of the island, and
to recount the advantages which accrued from it to the
-Romans. His subject did not necessarily lead him to
this, but his view in it was to heighten and aggravate
the charge against Verres.
Again, as a digression ought not to be made with¬
out sufficient reason, so neither should it be too fre¬
quent. And he who never does it but where it is
proper and useful, will not often see occasion for it.
Frequently to leave the subject, and go off to other
things, breaks the thread of the discourse, and is apt
to introduce confusion. Indeed some kinds of writing
admit of a more frequent use of digressions than others.
In history they are often very serviceable. For' as
that consists of a series of facts, and a long continued
narrative without variety xs apt to grow dull and te¬
dious; it is necessary at proper distances to throw in
something entertaining, in order to enliven it, and Dispo*!-
keep up the attention. And accordingly we find the tj'on.
best historians often embellish their writings with de-
scriptions of cities, rivers, and countries, as likewise
with the speeches of eminent persons upon important
occasions, and other ornaments to render them the
more pleasing and delightful. Poets take a still greater
liberty in this respect ; for as their principal view
is most commonly to please, they do not attend so close¬
ly to connection ; but as an image offers itself, which
may be agreeably wrought up, they bring it in, and go
off more frequently to different things, than other
writers.
Another property of a digression is, that it ought not
to be too long, lest the hearers forget what preceded,
before the speaker again returns to his subject.
lor a digression being no principal part of a dis¬
course, nor ol any further use than as it serves some
way or other to enforce or illustrate the main subject ;
it cannot answer this end, if it be carried to such a
length, as to cause that either to be forgotten or neglect¬
ed. And every one’s memory will not serve him to
connect together two parts of a discourse, which lie at
a wide distance from each other. The better therefore
to guard against this, it is not unusual with orators, be ¬
fore they enter upon a digression of any considerable.
length, to prepare their hearers by giving them notice
of it, and sometimes desiring leave to divert a little
from the subject. And so likewise at the conclusion
they introduce the subject again by a short transition.
Thus Cicero in the example cited above, when he has
finished his digression concerning the death of Metelius,
proceeds to his subject again with these words : “ But
I return to the accusation.”
Indeed we find orators sometimes, when sore pres¬
sed, and the cause will not bear a close scrutiny, art¬
fully run into digressions with a design to divert the
attention ol the hearers from the subject, and turn
them to a different view\ And in such cases, as they
endeavour to be unobserved, so they do it tacitly
without any transition or intimation of their design ;
their business being only to get clear of a difficulty,
till they have an opportunity of entering upon some
fresh topic.
II. Transitions are often used not only after a di-Trahsftions
gression, but likewise upon other occasions. A transi-often used
tion is, “A form of speech, by which the speaker0" va.rious
in a few words tells his hearers both what he has said °CCaS10n*-
already, and what he next designs to say.” Where a
discourse consists of several parts, this is often very
proper in passing from one to another, especially when
the parts are of a considerable length ; for it assists
the hearers to carry on the series of the discourse hr
their mind, which is a great advantage to the memo¬
ry. It is likewise a great relief to the attention, to
be told when an argument is finished, and what is to
be expected next. And therefore we meet with it
very frequently in history. But we consider it at pre¬
sent only as made use of by orators. Cicero, in his se¬
cond oration against Catiline, who had then left Rome,
having at large described his conduct and designs, he
adds, “ But why do I talk so long concerning one
enemy, and such an one ; who owns himself an ene-
my, and whom I do not fear, since, what I always de¬
sired, there is now a wall between us; and say. nothiftp-
. U u 2 • 5
340
ORATORY.
4°
Amplifica¬
tion de¬
fined and
explained,
of those, who conceal themselves, who remain at Rome,
anti among us ?” And then he proceeds to give an
account of the other conspirators.
But sometimes, in passing from one thing to an¬
other, a general hint ot it is thought sufficient to pre¬
pare the hearers, without particularly specifying what
has been said, or is next to follow. Ilius Cicero in
his second Philippic says, “ But those things are old,
this is yet fresh.” And again : “ But I have insisted
too long upon trifles; let us come to things of greater
moment.” And at other times, for greater brevity,
the transition is imperfect, and mention made only of
the following head, without any intimation of what
has been said already. As in Cicero’s defence of Mu-
rsena, where he says : “ I must now proceed to the
third part of my oration concerning the charge of bri¬
bery.” And soon after : “ I come now to Cato, who
is the support and strength of this charge.”
HI. The third and last head is, Amplification. Now
by amplification is meant, not barely a method of en¬
larging upon a thing : but so to represent it in the
fullest and most comprehensive view, as that it may m
the liveliest manner strike the mind and influence the
passions. Cicero, speaking of this, calls it the greatest
commendation of eloquence; and observes, “that it con¬
sists not only m magnifying and heightening a thing,
but likewise in extenuating and lessening it.” But
though it consists of these two parts, and may be ap¬
plied either way; yet to amplify, is not to set things
in a false light, but to paint them in their just pro¬
portion and proper colours, suitable to their nature
and qualities. Rhetoricians have observed several ways
of doing this.
One is to ascend from a particular thing to a gene¬
ral. Thus Cicero, in his defence of Archias, having
commended him as an excellent poet, and likewise ob¬
served, that all the liberal arts have a connection with
each other, and a mutual relation between them, in
order to raise a just esteem of him in the minds of his
hearers, takes occasion to say many things in praise
of polite literature in general, and the great advantages
that may be received from it. “ You will ask me
(says he), why we are so delighted with this man ?
Because he supplies us with those things which both
refresh our minds after the noise of the forum, and
delight our ears when wearied with contention. Do
you think we could either be furnished with matter for
such a variety of subjects, if we did not cultivate our
minds with learning •, or bear such a constant fatigue,
without affording them that refreshment ? I own. I
have alwavs pursued these studies-, let those be ashamed,
who have so. given up themselves to learning, as nei¬
ther to be able to convert it to any common benefit,,
nor discover it in public. But why should it shame
me, who have so lived for many years, that no ad¬
vantage or ease has ever diverted me, no pleasure al¬
lured me, nor sleep retarded me from this pursuit.
Who then can blame me, or who can justly be dis¬
pleased with me, if I have employed that time in re¬
viewing these studies, which has been spent by others
in managing their affairs, in the celebration of festi¬
vals or other diversions, in refreshments of mind and
body, in unseasonable banquets, in dice, or tennis? And
this ought the rather to be allowed me, because my abi¬
lity as an. orator has been improved by those pursuits,
Part II.
which, such as it is, was never wanting to assist my Disposi-
friends. And if it be esteemed but small, yet I am sen- non.
sible from what spring I must draw those things which
are of the greatest importance.” With more to the
same purpose j from which he draws this inference':
“ Shall I not therefore love this man ? shall I not ad-
  him ? shall I not by all means defend him ?”
A contrary method to the former is, to descend
from a general to a particular. As if any one, while
speaking in commendation of eloquence, should illu¬
strate what he says from the example of Cicero, and
show the great services he did his country, and the
honours he gained to himself, by his admirable skill in
oratory. Our common way of judging of the nature
of things is from what we observe in particular in¬
stances, by which we form general notions concerning
them. When therefore we consider the character of
Cicero, and the figure he made in the world, it leads
us to conclude, there must be something very admirable
in that art by which he became so celebrated. And this,
method he has taken himself in his oration for the Ma-
nilian law, where having first intimated the scarcity of
good generals at that time among the Romans, he then
describes the virtues of a complete commander as a proof
of it, and shows how many and great qualifications are
necessary to form such a character, as courage, prudence,
experience, and success: all which he afterwards applies-
to Pompey.
A third method is by an enumeration of parts. So
when Cicero, upon the defeat of Mark Antony before
Mutina, proposed that a funeral monument should be
erected in honour of the soldiers who were killed in
that battle, as a comfort to their surviving relations -r
he does it in this way, to give it the greater weight:
“ Since (says he) the tribute of glory is paid to the
best and most valiant citizens by the honour of a mo¬
nument, let us thus comfort their relations, who will
receive the greatest consolation in this manner; their
parents who produced such brave defenders of the
state j their children who will enjoy these domestic ex¬
amples of fortitude ; their wives, for the loss of such
husbands, whom it will be more fitting to extol than
lament; their brethren, who will hope to resemble
them no less in their virtues than their aspect. And
I wish we may be able to remove the grief of all these
by our resolutions.” Such representations greatly en¬
large the image of a thing, and afford the mind a much
clearer view of it than if it were contracted into one
single proposition.
Again, another method not much unlike the former
is, when any thing is illustrated from a variety of
causes. Thus Cicero justifies his behaviour in retiring,
and not opposing his enemies, when they spirited up
the mob in order to banish him, from the iollowing
reasons, which at that time determined him to such a
conduct: “ When (says he) unless I was given up, so
many armed fleets seemed ready to attack this single
ship of the state, tossed with the tempests of seditions
and discords, and the senate was now removed from
the helm j when banishment, murder, and outrage,
were threatened; when some, from an apprehension of
their own danger, would not defend me ; others were
incited by an inveterate hatred to all good men, others
thought I stood in the way, others took this opportunity
to express their resentment, others envied the peace and
tranquillity
O R A T O R Y.
Part II.
Disposi- tranquillity of t!ie state ; nr.fl upon all these accounts I
, ^lon i pai ticularly struck at: should 1 have chosen rather
/ t0 °PP0Se them (I will not say to my own certain de¬
struction, hut to tlie greatest danger both of you and
your cluldien), than alone to submit to and undergo
what threatened us all in common ?” Such a number
of reasons brought together, must set a thing in a very
strong and clear light.
I he like may he said of a number and variety of
effects. J bus Cicero describes the force and excel¬
lence of oratory from its great and surprising effects,
when be says, “ Nothing seems to be more excellent,
than by discourse to draw the attention of a whole
assembly, uelight them, and sway their inclinations
different ways at pleasure. Ibis, in every free state,
and especially in times of peace and tranquillity, has
been always in the highest esteem and reputation.
I 01 what is either so admirable, as for one only, or a
\ery few, out of a vast multitude, to be able to do
that which all have a natural power of doing ? or so
oehg-.itfid to hear, as a judicious and solid discourse in
florid and polite language ? or so powerful and grand,
as to influence the populace, the judges, the senate,
by the charms of eloquence ? Nay, what is so noble,
so generous, so munificent, as to afford aid to suppli¬
cants, to support the afflicted, give safety, deliver
from dangers, and preserve from exile ? Or what is
so necessary as to be always furnished with arms to
guaid yourself, assert your right, or repel injuries P.
And, not to confine our thoughts wholly to the courts
of justice or the senate, what is there in the arts of
peace more agreeable and entertaining than good lan¬
guage and a fine way of speaking ? For it is in this es¬
pecially wherein we excel other animals, that wc can
discourse together, and convey our thoughts to each
Y otlier words. Who therefore would not esteem,
and in a paiticular maimer endeavour to surpass others
m that wherein mankind principally excels brute
beasts ? But to proceed to its chief advantages : What
else would have drawn men into societies, or taken them
off from a wild and savage life, and soften them into
a polite and civilized behaviour ; or, when settled in
communities, have restrained them by laAvs ?” Who
but, after such a description, must conceive the strong¬
est passion for an art attended writh so many great and
good effects ?
A thing may likewise he illustrated by its opposite.
So the blessings and advantages of peace may he re¬
commended from the miseries and calamities of war ;
and thus Cicero endeavours to throw contempt upon
Catiline and his party, by comparing them with the
contrary side : “ But if, omitting all these things D;sposi
with which wc abound, ami they want, the senate, the tiou.
knights, the populace, the city, treasury, revenues, all' 
Italy, the provinces, and foreign nations ; if, ] say,
omitting these things, avc compare the causes them¬
selves in which each side is engaged, we may learn
from thence how despicable they are.—For on this
side modesty is engaged, on that impudence 5 on this
chastity, on that lewdness j on this integrity, on that
fraud j on this piety, on that profaneness j on this
constancy, on that fury ; on this honour, on that base¬
ness ; on this moderation, on that unbridled passion.
In a word, equity, temperance, fortitude, prudence, and
all virtues, contend with injustice, luxury, cowardice,
rashness, and all vices ; plenty with want 5 reason
with folly 5 sobriety with madness j and, lastly, good
hope with despair. In such a contest, did men de-
seit us, would not heaven ordain that so many and so
great vices should be defeated by these most excellent
virtues ?”
Gradation is another beautiful way of doing this.
So when Cicero would aggravate the cruelty and bar¬
barity of \ erres for crucifying a Homan citizen, which
was a sort of punishment only inflicted upon slaves,
he chooses this way of doing it. “ It is a crime (says
he) to bind a Homan citizen, wickedness to whip him,
and a sort of parricide to kill him ; what then must I
call it to crucify him ? No name can sufficiently ex¬
press such a villany.” And the images of things may
he thus heightened, either by ascending, as in this in¬
stance j or descending, as in that which follows, re¬
lating to the same action of Verres : “ Was I not to
complain of or bewail these things to Roman citizens,
nor the friends of our state, nor those who had heard
of the Roman name j nay, if not to men, but beasts j
or, to go yet further, if in the most desert wilderness,
to stones and rocks j even all mute and inanimate
creatures w’ould be moved by so great and heinous
cruelty.”
And, to name no more, facts may he amplified from
their circumstances j as time, place, maimer, event, and
the like. But instances of this ivould carry us too far j
and therefore we shall only add, that as the design of
amplification is not barely to prove or evince the truth
of things, but also to adorn and illustrate them, it re¬
quires a florid and beautiful style, consisting of strong
and emphatical words, flowing periods, Iiarmonious
numbers, lively tropes, and bright figures. But the
consideration of these things comes under the Third
Part of Oratory, upon which we are now to enter.
PART IIL OF ELOCUTION.
ELOCUTION directs us to suit both the words and
expiessions of a discourse to the nature of the subject,
or to speak with propriety and decency. This faculty
is in one word called eloquence ; and those persons who
are possessed of it are therefore styled eloquent.
Elocution is twofold, general and particular. The
former treats of the several properties and ornaments
of language in common j the fatter considers them as
they are made use of to form different sorts of stvle.
I. GENERAL ELOCUTION.
This, according to rhetoricians, consists of three General
parts j Elegance, Composition, and Dignity. A dis-elocution
course which has all these properties suitably adjusted, defined,
must, with respect to the language, be perfect in its
kind, and delightful to the hearers.
Chap,
342
Elocution.
Chap I. Of Elegance.
ORATORY. Part III.
human productions, that it is m its own nature lialne Elocution,
to a constant change and alteration. £ or, as Horace 1 -v—
has justly observed,
Elegance consists in two things, Purity and i er-
spicuity: And both these, as well with respect to single
words, as their construction in sentences. These pro¬
perties in language give it the name of elegant, for a
like reason that we call other things so which are cleat,
and neat in their kind. But in the common use of
our tongue, we are apt to confound elegance with elo¬
quence; and say, a discourse is elegant, when we mean
by the expression, that it has all the properties of fine
language.
§ i . Purity.
Purity ex- Ey this we are to understand the choice of such
plained and w()r(jg and p|ira8es as are suited and agreeable to the
illustrated. ^ ^ tjie language in which we speak: And so gram¬
marians reduce the faults they oppose to it to two
sorts, which they call barbarism and solecism; the for¬
mer of which respects single words, and the latter their
construction. But we shall consider them jointly, and
in a manner different from grammarians 5 for with them
all words are esteemed pure which are once adopted
into a language, and authorised by use. And as to
phrases, or forms of expression, they allow them all the
same claim, which are agreeable to the analogy of the
tongue. But in oratory, neither all words nor all ex¬
pressions are so called which occur in language 5 hut
such only as come recommended by the authority of
those who speak or write with accuracy and politeness.
Indeed it is a common saying that we should think with
thelearned,and speak with the vulgar. But the meaning
of that expression is no more than that we should speak
agreeably to the common usage of the tongue, that
every one may understand us* and not choose such
Avoids or expressions as are either difficult to he under¬
stood, or may carry in them an appearance of affecta¬
tion and singularity. But in order to set this matter in
a clearer light, we shall here recount the principal things
which vitiate the purity of language.
And first, it often happens, that such words and
forms of speaking as Avere introduced by the learned
are afterwards dropped by them as mean and sordid,
from a seeming baseness contracted by vulgar use.
For polite and elegant speakers distinguish themselves
by their discourse, as persons of figure do by their garb;
one being the dress of the mind, as the other is of the
body.. And hence it comes to pass, that both have their
different fashions, which are often changed ; and as the
vulgar affect to imitate those above them in both, this
frequently occasions an alteration when either becomes
too trite and common. But beside these sordid words
and expressions, Avhich are rendered so by the use of the
vulgar, there is another sort first introduced by them,
Avhich ’is carefully to he avoided by all those who are
desirous to speak well. For the vulgar' have their pe¬
culiar words and phrases, suited to their circumstances,
and taken from such things as usually occur in their tvay
>f life. Thus in the old comedians, many things are
spoken by servants, agreeable to their character, which
would be very unbecoming from the mouth of a gentle¬
man. And we cannot hut daily observe the like in¬
stances among ourselves.
Again, this is common to language with all other
All human Avorks shall Avaste ;
Then how can feeble words pretend to last.
Nothing could ever please all persons, or at least ior
any length of time. And there is nothing from which
this can less be expected than language. For as the
thoughts of men are exceedingly various, and words
are the signs of their thoughts, they will be constant^
lv inventing new signs to express them by, in order to
convey their ideas Avith more clearness, or greater
beauty. If we look into the different ages of the La¬
tin Avriters, what great alterations and changes do avc
find in their language ? How few now understand the
remaining fragments of the twelve tables'? Nay, how-
many words do we meet with even in Plautus, the
meaning of which has not yet been fixed with certain¬
ty by the skill of the best critics ? And if we consider
our own language, it will appear to have been in a
manner entirely changed from what it Avas a ferv ages
since. To mention no others, our celebrated Chaucer
is to most persons now almost unintelligible, and wants
an expositor. And even since our own memory, we
cannot but have observed, that many words and ex¬
pressions, which a few years ago were in common use,
are now in a manner laid aside and antiquated ; and
that others have constantly succeeded, and daily do suc¬
ceed in their room. So true is that observation of the
same poet :
Some words that have or else will feel decay
Shall be restor’d, and come again in play;
And words now fam’d shall not be fancied long ;
They shall not please the ear, nor move the tongue;
As use shall these approve, and those condemn ;
Use, the sole rule of speech, and judge supreme.
We must therefore no less abstain from antiquated or
obsolete Avords and phrases, than from sordid ones.
Though all old words are not to be thought antiqua¬
ted. By the former we mean such as, though of an
ancient standing, are not yet entirely disused nor their
signification lost. And from the use of these we are
not to be Avholly debarred, especially when they appear
more significant than any others we can fix upon. But
as to phrases or expressions, greater caution seems still
necessary : and such as are old should doubtless, if at
all, be used more sparingly. The Latin tongue Avas
brought to its greatest perfection in the reign of Au¬
gustus, or somewhat sooner ; and he himsell studied it
very carefully. For, as Suetonius tells us, “ He ap¬
plied himself to eloquence, and the study of the liberal
arts, from his childhood, with great diligence and la¬
bour. He chose a manner of speaking which was
smooth and elegant; he avoided the ill savour, as he
used to call it, of antiquated words j and he was wont
to blame Tiberius for his affectation of them.” In
our own language, such words are to be esteemed an¬
tiquated, which the most polite persons have dropped,
both in their discourse and Avritings ; whose example
we should follow, unless avc would be thought to con¬
verse rather with the dead than the living.
But further: As on the one hand we must avoid ob¬
solete words and phrases ; so, on the other, we should
refrain
Part III. ORA
Elocution, refrain from new ones, or such whose use has not yet
been sufficiently established, at least among those" of
the best taste. Words may be considered as new in
two respects ; either when they are first brought into a
language, or when they are used in a new sense. As
the former of these may sometimes leave us in the dark
by not being understood, so the latter are most apt to
mislead us ; for when we hear a word that has been fa¬
miliar to us, wc are presently led to fix that idea ter it
with which it has usually been attended. And there¬
fore, in both cases, some previous intimation may be ne¬
cessary. Cicero, who perhaps enlarged the furniture
of the Homan tongue more than any one person besides,
appears always very cautious how he introduces any
thing new, and generally gives notice of it when he at¬
tempts it, as appears in many instances scattered through
his works. What bounds we are now to fix to the pu¬
rity of the Latin tongue, in the use of it, the learned are
not well agreed, ft is certain, our furniture is much
less than when it was a living language, and therefore
the greater liberty must of necessity be sometimes taken.
So that their opinion seems not unadvisable, who direct
us to make choice principally of what we are furnished
with from the writers of the Augustan age ; and where
we cannot be supplied from them, to make use of Such
authors as lived nearest to them, either before or since.
And as to our own tongue, it is certainly prudent to
be as careful how we admit any thing into it that is
uncouth or disagreeable to its genius, as the ancient
Homans were into theirs ; for the perfection of a lan¬
guage does in a great measure consist in a certain ana¬
logy and harmony running through the whole, by
which it may be capable of being brought to a stan¬
dard.
Hut besides those things already mentioned, any mi¬
stake in the sense of wmrds, or their construction, is
opposed to purity. For to speak purely, is to speak
correctly. And such is the nature of these faults in
elocution, that they are often not so easy to be obser¬
ved by hearing as by reading. Whence it is, that,
many persons are thought to speak better than they
write •, for while they are speaking, many slips and in¬
accuracies escape disregarded, which in reading would
presently appear. And this is more especially the case
of persons unacquainted with arts and literature ; who,
by the assistance of a lively fancy and flow of words,
often speak with great ease and freedom, and by that
means please the ear 5 when, at the same time, what
they say, would not so well bear reading.
We shall only add, that a distinction ought likewise
to be made between a poetic diction and that of prose
writers. I1 or poets in all languages have a sort of pe¬
culiar dialect, and take greater liberties, not only in
their figures, but also in their choice and disposition of
words j so that what is a beauty in them would often
appear unnatural and aflected in prose,
T O R Y
43
Perspicuity Perspicuity, as well as purity, consists partly in
wplained single words, and partly in their construction,
toated*1' ‘ to sinS^e words, those are generally clearest
an(l best understood which are used in their proper
Vs to single sense* But it requires no small attention and skill'to
vords, be well acquainted with the force and propriety of
,4
§ 2. Of Perspicuity.
vrords; which ought to lie duly regarded, since the per- Elocution
spicuity of a discourse depends so much upon it. Csesar
seems plainly to have been of this mind, when he tells
us, “ The foundation of eloquence consists in the choice
of words.” It may not be amiss, therefore, to lay down
some few observations, by which the distinct notions of
words and their peculiar force may more easily be per-'
ceived. All words may be divided into proper words
and tropes. J hose are called proper words, which are
expressed in their proper and usual sense. And tropes
are such words as are applied to some other thing than
what they properly denote, by reason of some similitude,
relation, or contrariety between the two things. So
when a subtle artful man is called a /oa1, the reason of
the name is founded in a similitude of qualities. If we
say, Cicero will always live, meaning his works, the
cause is transferred to the effect. And when we are <
told, Ccesar conquered the Gauls, we understand that
he did it with the assistance of his army; where a part
is put lor the whole, from the relation between them.
And when Cicero calls Antony a fine guardian of the
state, every one perceives he means the contrary.' But.
the nature and use of tropes will be explained more fully
herealter in their proper place. All words must at first
have had one original and primary signification, which,
strictly speaking, may be called their proper sense. But
it sometimes happens, through length of time, that words
lose their original signification, and assume a new one,
which then becomes their proper sense. So hostis in the
Latin tongue at first signified a stranger; hut after¬
wards that sense of the word was entirely laid aside, ami
it was used to denote a public enemy. And in our lan¬
guage, it is well known, that the word knave ancientlv
signified a servant. I he reason of the change seems to
be much the same, as in that of the Latin word latro ;
which first signified a soldier, but afterwards a robber.
Besides, in all languages, it has frequently happened,
that many words have gradually varied from their first
sense to others somewhat different; which may, not¬
withstanding, all of them, when rightly applied, he
looked upon as proper. Nay, in "process of time,
it is often difficult to say which is the original, or
most proper sense. Again, sometimes two °or more
words may appear to have the same signification with
each other, and may therefore be used indifferently 5
unless the beauty of the period, or some other parti¬
cular reason, determine to the choice of one rather
than another. Of this kind are the words ensis and gla-
dtus \n the Latin tongue j and in ours, pity and com¬
passion. And there are other words of so near an affi¬
nity to each other, or at least appear so from vulgar
use, that they are commonly thought to be synony¬
mous. Such are the words mercy and pity; though
mercy in its strict sense is exercised towards an offen¬
der, and pity respects one in distress. As this peculiar
force and distinction ol words is carefully to be attend¬
ed to, so it may be known several wavs. Thus the
proper signification of substantives may be seen by
their application to other substantives. As in the in¬
stance just now given, a person is said to show mercy
to a criminal, and pity to one in distress. And in the.
like manner, verbs are distinguished, by being joined
to some certain nouns, and not to others. So a person
is said to command an inferior, to intreat a superior,
and to desire an equal. Adjectives also, which denote the
properties.
344
ORATOR Y.
Elocution, properties of tilings, liave tlieji' Signification determin-
,i., i cd by those subjects to which they most properly re¬
late. Thus we say, an honest mind, and a healthful
body; a wise man, and a fine house. Another way of
distinguishing the propriety of words, is by their use
in gradations. As if one should say, Hatreds, grudges,
quarrels, tumults, seditions, wars, spring from unbridled
passions. The proper sense of words may likewise be
known by observing to what other Words they are ei¬
ther opposed, or used as equivalent. So in that passage
of Cicero, where- he says, “ I cannot perceive why
you should be angry with me : if it be because T de¬
fend him whom you accuse, why may not I be dis¬
pleased w'ith you for accusing him whom I defend
You say, I accuse my enemy } and I say, I defend my
friend.” Here the words accuse and defiend, friend and
enemy, are opposed ; and to be angry and displeased, are
used as terms equivalent. Xastly, the derivation of
words contributes very much to determine their true
meaning. Thus because the word manners comes from
the word man, it may properly be applied either to
that or any other put for it. And therefore we say,
the manners of men, and the manners of the age, because
the word age is there used for the men of the. age. Bnt
if we apply the word manners to any other animal, it is
a trope. By these and such like observations we may
perceive the proper sense and peculiar force of words,
either by tbeir connection with other words, distinc¬
tion from them, opposition to them, -equivalency with
them, or derivation. And by thus fixing their true
and genuine signification, we shall easily see when they
become tropes. But though words, when taken m
their proper signification, generally convey the plain¬
est and clearest sense > yet some are more forcible, so¬
norous, or beautiful, than others. And by these con¬
siderations we must often be determined in our choice
of them. So whether we say, he got, or he obtained, the
victory, the sense is the same} but the latter Is more
full and sonorous. In Latin, timeo signifies If ear ^ per-
timeo is more full and significant ; and pertimesco more
sonorous than either of the former. The Latin and
Greek languages have much the advantage of ours in
this respect, .by reason of their compositions ; t>y the
help of-•.which they can often express that in one
word for which we are obliged to put two words, and
sometimes more. So pertimeo cannot be fully expressed
in our language by one word; but w7e are forced to
join one or two particles to the verb, to convey its just
idea, and sayr I greatly, or very much fear: and yet
even then we scarce seem to reach its full force. As to
tropes, though generally speaking they are not to be
chosen where plainness and perspicuity of expression
is only designed, and proper words may be found; yet
through the penury of all languages, the use of them
is often made necessary. And some of them, especially^
metaphors, which are taken from the similitude of
things, may, when custom has rendered them familiar,
he considered as proper words, and used in their stead.
Thus, whether we say I see your meaning, or, I under¬
stand your meaning, the sense is equally clear, though
the latter expression is proper, and the former meta¬
phorical, by which the action of seeing is transferred
h from the eyes to the mind. .
As to the jj gut pers.picvity arises not only from a choice of
tion'of sen- single words, hut like wise from the construction oi them
tences, 2.
Part III.
in sentences. For the meaning of all the words in a Elocution,
sentence, considered by themselves, may be very plain -y-—.
and evident ; and yet, by reason of a disorderly pla-
cing them, or confusion of the parts, the sense of the
whole may he very dark and obscure. Now it is cer¬
tain that the most natural order is the plainest; that
is, when both the words and parts of a sentence are
so disposed, as best agrees with their mutual rela¬
tion and dependence upon each other. And where
this is changed, as is usually done, especially in the
ancient languages, for the greater beauty and har¬
mony of the periods ; yet due regard is had by the
best writers to the evidence and perspicuity of the ex¬
pression.
But to set this subject in a clearer light, on which
the perfection of language so much depends, w^e shall
mention some few things which chiefly occasion obscuri¬
ty ; and this either with respect to single words, or their
construction.
And first, all ambiguity of expression is one cause
of obscurity. This sometimes arises from the different
senses in which a word is capable of being taken. So
we are told, that upon Cicero’s addressing himself to
Octavius Caesar, when he thought himself in danger
from his resentment, and reminding him of the many
services he had done him, Octavius replied, He came
the last of his friends. But there was a designed ambi¬
guity in the word last, as it might either respect the
time of his coming, or the opinion he had of his
friendship. And this use of ambiguous words we some¬
times meet with, not only in poetry, where the turn
and wit of an epigram often rest upon it, but like¬
wise in prose, either for pleasantry or ridicule. 1 bus
Cicero calls Sextus Clodius the light of the senate, which
is a compliment he pays to several great men, who
had distinguished themselves by their public services to
their country. But Sextus, who had a contrary cha¬
racter, was a relation of P. Clodius, whose dead body,
after he had been killed by Milo, he carried in a tu¬
multuous manner into the senate-house, and there
burnt it with the senators benches, in order to inflame
the populace against Milo. And it is in allusion to
that riotous action, that Cicero, using this ambigu¬
ous expression, calls him the light of the senate. In such
instances, therefore, it is a beauty, and not the fault
we are cautioning against: as the same thing may be
either good or had, as it is differently applied.—
Though even in such designed ambiguities, whqre one
sense is aimed at, it ought to be sufficiently plain,
otherwise they lose their intention. And in all serious
discourses they ought carefully to be avoided. But
obscurity more frequently arises from the ambiguous
construction of words, which renders it difficult to de¬
termine in what sense they are to be taken.| Quintilian
gives us this example of it: “ A certain man ordered
in his will, that his heir should erect for him a statue
holding a spear made of gold.” A question arises here,
of great consequence to the heir from the ambiguity
of the expression, whether the words made of gold are
to be applied tt) the statue or the spear ; that is, whe¬
ther it was the design of the testator by this appoint¬
ment, that the whole statue, or only the spear, should
he made of gold, xl small note of distinction, different¬
ly plaoted between the parts of this sentence, would
clear up the doubt, and determine the sense either
way
Part III.
ORATORY.
Elocution, way. For if one comma be put after the word statue,
v—^ and another after spear, the words made of gold must
be referred to the statue, as it it had been said, a statue,
made of gold, holding a spear. But if there be only the
first comma placed after statue, it will limit the words
made of gold to the spear only ; in the same sense as if
it had been said, A statue holding a golden spear. And
either of these ways of expression would in this case
have been preferable, for avoiding the ambiguity,
according to the intention of the testator. The an¬
cient heathen oracles were generally delivered in such
ambiguous terms. Which, without doubt, were so
contrived on purpose, that those who gave out the
answers might have room left for an evasion. See
Oracle.
Again, obscurity is occasioned either by too short
and concise a manner of speaking, or by sentences too
' long and prolix ; either of these extremes have some¬
times this bad consequence. We find an instance of
the former in Pliny the Elder, where speaking of hel¬
lebore, he says, “ They forbid it to be given to aged
persons and children, and less to women than men.”
The verb is wanting in the latter part of the sentence,
and less to women than men : which in such cases being
usually supplied from what went before, would here
stand thus j and they forbid it to be given less to women
than men. But this is directly contrary to the sense of
the writer, whose meaning is, either that it is order¬
ed to be given in a less quantity to women than men,
or not so frequently to women as men. And therefore
the word order is here to be supplied, which being of
a contrary signification to forbid, expressed in the for¬
mer part of the sentence, occasions the obscurity.
That long periods are often attended with the same ill
effect, must be so obvious to every one’s experience,
that it would be entirely needless to produce any ex¬
amples in order to evince the truth of it. And there¬
fore we shall only observe, that the best way of prevent¬
ing this seems to be by dividing such sentences as ex¬
ceed a proper length into two or more \ which may
generally be done without much trouble.
Another cause of obscurity, not inferior to any yet
mentioned, is parenthesis, when it is either too long
or too frequent. This of Cicero, in his oration for
Sylla, is longer than we usually find in him : “ O im¬
mortal gods ! (for I must attribute to you what is your
own 5 nor indeed can I claim so much to my own abi¬
lities, as to have been able of myself to go through so
many, so great, such different affairs, with that expe¬
dition, in that boisterous tempest of the state), you
inflamed my mind with a desire to save my country.”
But where any obscurity arises from such sentences,
they may frequently be remedied by much the same
means as was just now hinted concerning long and
prolix periods ; that is, by separating the parenthesis
from the rest of the sentence, and placing it either be¬
fore or after. So in this sentence of Cicero, the pa¬
renthesis may stand last, in the following manner :—
<t O immortal gods ! you inflamed my mind with a de¬
sire to save my country : for I must attribute to you
what is your own ; nor indeed can I claim so much to
my own abilities, as to have been able of myself to go
through so many, so great, such different affairs, with
that expedition, in that boisterous tempest of the state.”
Vol. XV. Part I. t
345
This order of the sentence is very plain, and less invol- Elocution,
ved than the former. <——
Chap. II. Of Composition.
Composition, in the sense it is here used, givesGompoii-
rules for the structure of sentences, with the several t.ion de-
members, words, and syllables, of which they consist, ^
in such a manner as may best contiibute to the force,1 '
beauty, and evidence of the whole.
Composition consists of four parts, which rhetoricians
call period, order, juncture, and number. The first of
these treats of the structure of sentences ; the second,
of the parts of sentences, which ai’e words and mem¬
bers } and the two last, of the parts of words, which
are letters and syllables. For all articulate sounds,
and even the most minute parts of language, come un¬
der the cognizance of oratory.
§ i. Of Period.
In every sentence or proposition, something is said Period de~
of something. That of which something is said, logi-fined and
cians call the subject, and that which is said of it, the eKPlailu>d
predicate : but in grammatical terms, the former is a
noun substantive of the nominative case, and the latter a
finite verb, denoting affirmation, and some state of be¬
ing, acting, or suffering. These two parts may of them¬
selves constitute a sentence : As when we say, The sun
shines, or the clock strikes, the words sun and clock are
the subject in these expressions, shines and strikes imply
each the copula and predicate. Most commonly, how¬
ever, the noun and the verb are accompanied with
other words, which in grammatical construction are
said either to be connected with or to depend upon
them; but in a logical consideration they denote some
property or circumstance relating to them. As in the
following sentence : a good man loves virtue for itself.
The subject of this sentence is a good man : and the
predicate, or thing affirmed of him, that he loves vir¬
tue for itself. But the two principal or necessary words,
on which all the rest depend, are man and loves. Now,
a simple sentence consists of one such noun and verb,
with whatever else is joined to either or both of them.
And a compound sentence contains two or more of
them ; and may be divided into so many distinct pro¬
positions, as there are such nouns and verbs, either ex¬
pressed or understood. So in the following sentence,
Compliance gainsfriends but truth procures hatred, there
are two members, each of which contains in it an en¬
tire proposition. For, Compliance gains friends is one
complete sentence, and Truth procures haired is another j
which are connected into one compound sentence by
the particle but. Moreover, it frequently happens, that
compound sentences are made up of such parts or
members, some if not all of which are themselves com¬
pounded, and contain in them two or more simple
members. Such is that of Sallust: “ Ambition has
betrayed many persons into deceit; to say one thing,
and to mean another; to found friendship and enmity,
not upon reason, but interest; and to be more careful
to appear honest, than really to be so.” This sentence
consists of four members ; the last of which three, con¬
sisting of opposite parts, are all compounded, as will
X x appear
-46 O K A T
Elocution, appear by expressing them at length in the following
y manner •, Ambition has betrayed many persons into deceit,
fthat is, ambition] has betrayed them to say one thing,
and to mean another; it hasbetraijed themtofound friend¬
ship and enmity, not upon reason, but interest; and it has
betrayed them to be more careful to appear honest, than
really to be so. The three last of these members, beg.n-
ning with the words it betrays, are all of them com¬
pounded, and consists of two opposite members *, which
might each of them be expressed at length in the same
manner, by supplying the ellipsis As, Ambition has be¬
trayed many persons to say one thing, and it has betray¬
ed them to mean aw,then. And so of the rest, f rom this
instance we see how much is left to he supplied by the
mind in all discourse, which if expressed would both
destroy its harmony and render it exceedingly tedious.
But still regard must be had to that which is omit¬
ted, so as to render what is said consistent with it;
otherwise there can be no propriety in what is spoken.
Nor can the members of a sentence be distinguished
and duly arranged in their proper order, without this.
But to proceed : Some sentences consist either wholly,
or in part, of such members as contain in them two
or more compound ones, which may therefore, for di¬
stinction’s sake, be called decompound members.----\)i
this kind is that of Cicero, in his defence of Milo:
“ Great is the force of conscience, great either way :
that those persons are not alraid who have committed
no offence j and those who have offended always think
punishment present before their eyes.” _ The latter
member of this sentence, which begins with the word
that, contains in it two compound members, which re¬
present the different state of mind between innocent
and guilty persons. And it is in the proper distinction
and separation of the members in such complex sen¬
tences that the art of pointing chiefly consists. For the
principal use of a comma is to divide the simple mem¬
bers, a semicolon the compound ones, a colon such as are
decompounded, and a period the whole from the follow¬
ing sentence. We mention this the rather, to show the
different acceptation of these terms by grammarians,
from that of the ancient writers upon oratory. For
these latter apply them to the sense, and not to any
points of distinction. A very short member, whether
simple or compound, with them is a comma, and a
longer a colon ; for they have no such term as a semico-
loin Besides, they call a very short sentence, whether
simple or compound, a comma, and one of somewhat a
o-reater length, a colon. And therefore if a person ex¬
pressed himself either of these ways in any considerable
number of sentences together, he was said to speak by
commas or colons. But a sentence containing more
words than will consist with either of these terms,
they call a simple period 5 the least compound pe¬
riod with them requiring the length of two colons.
However, this way of denominating sentences, and the
parts of them, rather from their length than the na¬
ture of them, appearing not so suitable, we have chosen
rather to make use of the terms simple and. compound
members; and to call all those compound periods, which
contain two or more members, whether simple or com¬
pounded.
But to proceed : Sentences, with respect to their
form or composition, are distinguished into two sorts.
O R Y.
Part III.
called by Cicero tracta, “ straight or direct j” and Elocution,
contorta, “ bent or winding.” By the former are' v 4
meant those whose members follow each other m a di¬
rect order, without any inflection 5 and by the latter,
those which strictly speaking are called periods. ! or
vipnSos in Greek signifies a circuit or circle. And so the
Latins call it circuitus and ambitus. By which both of
them mean a sentence consisting of correspondent parts,
so framed, that the voice in pronouncing them may
have a proper elevation and cadency, and distinguish
them by its inflection } and as the latter part returns
back, and unites with the former, the period, like a
circle, surrounds and incloses the whole sense. 11ns
elevation of the voice in the former part of the pe¬
riod, is by the Greeks called sr§eT«t<ns, and by the
Latins propositio; and the depression of it in the latter
part, by the one o67ro5o<r<j, and by the other redditio.
Now as simple sentences have not these correspon¬
dent parts, which require any inflection of the voice.j
nor a circular form, by reason of their brevity ; they
are not properly periods, in the strict sense of the
word : though, in common speech, the words sentence
and period are often used as equivalent terms. Thus,
if we say, Generous minds are incited to the perform¬
ance of noble exploits from motives of glory;. here is no
distinction of parts, nor inflection of the voice in this
sentence. And indeed there is not any thing which
relates to the structure of these sentences, but what
will more properly be taken notice of in the second pait
of composition, which is order.
And as to those compound sentences, whose mem¬
bers follow each other in a direct order, without any
inflection, there is little art required in their compo¬
sition. We shall produce one example of this kind
from Cicero : “ Natural reason inclines men to mutual
converse and society j and implants in them a strong af¬
fection for those who spring from themand excites
them to form communities, and join in public assemblies j
and, for these ends, to endeavour to procure both the
necessaries and conveniences of life : and that not for
themselves only, but likewise for their wives, children,
and others who are dear to them, and have a right to
their assistance.” Here are five short members in this,
sentence, placed in a series, without any inflection of
the parts, or orbit of the whole. And as such sentences
have no other boundary but the conclusion of the sense,
suited to the breath of the speaker, he may eithei
contract or lengthen them at pleasure, without offending
the ear. So, should the sentence last mentioned con¬
clude with the first member in this manner, Natural
reason inclines men to mutual converse and society ; the
sense would be perfect, and the ear satisfied. The case
would be the same at the end of the second member,
thus : Natural reason inclines men to mutual converse
and society, and implants in than a strong affection for
those who spring from them. And the like may be
said of the rest. Since such sentences therefore may¬
be thus limited at pleasure, it seems more convenient
both for the speaker and hearers to confine them to a
moderate length. . p
But because the principal art relating to this part ot
composition lies in the frame and structure of such com¬
pound sentences as are properly called periods, we shall
treat upon these somewhat more largely. In the forma-
* Lon
part III.
Elocution tion of these periods, two things are chiefly to be re-
v—-y—gardedj tlieii length and cadency. As the length ought
to be suited to the breath of the speaker, the ancient
rhetoricians scarce admit of more than four colons j by
which we may here understand compound members of a
moderate size, which will be generally found a suitable
and proportionate length. For to extend them farther
than the voice can well manage, must be painful to the
speaker, and of consequence unpleasant to the hearers.
As to the cadency, what Cicero has observed, is found
true by experience, that the ears judge what is full and
what is deficient j and direct us to fill up our periods,
that nothing be wanting of what they expect. When
the voice is raised at the beginning of a sentence, they
are in suspense till it be finished \ and are pleased with
a full and just cadency, but are sensible of any defect,
and are displeased with redundancy. Therefore care
must be taken that periods be neither deficient, and as
it were maimed, that is, that they do not drop before
their time, and defraud the ears of what seemed to be
promised them j nor, on the other hand, oft'end them by
too long and immoderate excursions. This rise and ca¬
dency of the voice in pronunciation, depend on the na¬
ture and situation of the members, as we shall endea¬
vour to show by particular instances; in the explication
of which, by the word members, are to be understood
such as are uncompounded, In a period of two members,
the turn of the voice begins with the latter member.
Of this kind i,s the following sentence of Cicero : “ If
impudence prevailed as much in the forum and courts
of justice, as insolence does in the country and places
of less resort; Aulus Csecina would submit as much to
the impudence of Sextus Ebutius in this cause, as he
did before to his insolence when assaulted by him.”
Here the cadency begins at the words Aulus Ceecina.
It a sentence consists of three members, the inflection is
best made at the end of the second member : for if it
begin immediately after the first, the voice will be either
apt to sink too low, and not be heard, before it reach
the end; or else be precipitated, in order to prevent it.
Cicero begins his oration for Milo with a sentence of
this form: “ Although I fear, it may be a shame to be
dismayed at the entrance of my discourse in defence of
a most valiant man; and that it nowise becomes me,
while Milo is more concerned for the safety of the state
than for himself, not to show the same greatness of mind
in his behalf: yet this new form of prosecution terrifies
my eyes, which, whatever way they turn, want the an¬
cient custom of the forum, and former manner of trials.”
Here the cadency, beginning at the third member with
thp word yet, makes a proper division of the sentence,
a.nd easy for the speaker. But a period of four members
is reckoned the most complete and perfect, where the
inflection begins at the middle, that is, with the third
member. Nor is it the same case here, as if, in a sen¬
tence of three members, the cadency be made at the se¬
cond. For in proportion to the time of raising the voice
may the space be allowed for its sinking. The follow¬
ing sentence of Cicero gives us an instance of this, where
he speaks to his son : “ Although, son Mark, having
now been a hearer of Cratippus for a year, and this at
Athens, you ought to abound in the precepts and doc¬
trines of philosophy, by reason of the great character
both of your instructor and the city ; one of which can
tarnish yon with knowledge, and the other with exam-
347
pies: yet, as I always to my advantage joined tire La- Elocution,
tin tongue with the Greek, and have done it not only * ■ -v *
in oratory, but likewise in philosophy; I think you ought
to do the same, that you may be equally conversant in
both languages.” The turn in this period begins at the
word yet; which standing near the middle, the voice is
raised to that pitch in pronouncing the former part, as
to admit of a gradual cadency, without being lost be¬
fore the conclusion of the sentence. But where the'
sense does not suit with this division at the entrance upon
the third member, it is best made at the fourth. Such
is the following sentence of Cicero : “ If I have any
genius, which I am sensible is very small; or any readi¬
ness in speaking, wherein I do not deny but I have been
much conversant; or any skill in oratory, from an ac¬
quaintance with the best arts, to which 1 confess I have
been always inclined; no one has a better right to de¬
mand of me the. fruit of all these things than this Au¬
lus Caecina.” The cadency of this sentence does not
begin till the words no one; yet it ends handsomely,
and without disappointing the ear. Though indeed the
three first members having each of them an inflection,
check the elevation of the voice, and by that variety in
the pronuuciation add to the harmony of the sentence.
An equality of the members should likewise be attend¬
ed to in the composition of a period, the better to adjust
their rise and cadency. And for this reason, in sen¬
tences of three members, where the cadency begins
with the third ; or in those of four members, where it
begins at the fourth; it promotes the harmony to make
the last member longest. This is properly the nature
of rhetorical periods, which when rightly formed have
both an equal beauty and dignity in their composi¬
tion.
But as all discourse is made up of distinct senten
ces, and whenever we express our thoughts it is in
some of the forms above mentioned ; so the use of
them is not promiscuous, but suited to answer different
designs in speaking. And in this view they are consi¬
dered and made use of by the orator, as will be shown
hereafter. y
§ 2. Of Order.
48
By order, rhetoricians mean the placing each word Order dc-
and member of a sentence in such a manner as will f'“e^ an<^
most contribute to the force, beauty, or evidence of thelUus e ’
whole.
Order is of two kinds, natural and artificial. And
each of these may be considered with respect to the
parts either of simple or compound sentences.
As to simple sentences, we may call that order natu¬
ral, when all the words in a sentence are so placed, as
they are connected with or follow each other in a gram¬
matical construction. And it may properly enough ad¬
mit of this name, as it is founded in the nature of a,
proposition, and the relation of the several words of
which it consists to each other. This we explained in
the last chapter, and illustrated by proper examples; and
shall therefore only give one instance of it Here, to in¬
troduce the subject we are now upon. And it is this:
The fame of Isocrates excited Aristotle to the profession
of oratory. Here these words, the fame of Isocrates,
contain the subject of this sentence, with what .relates to
it; and all those which follow, excited Aristotle to the
profession of oratory, make up the predicate and its de-
X x 2 pendents,
ORATORY.
34§
ORATORY.
Part III.
Elocution,
pendents. And in botli parts each word grammatically
1 considered stands in its proper order ot construction.
And this seems agreeable to the natural way ot convey¬
ing our thoughts, which leads us first to express the sub¬
ject or thing of which some other thing is said, before
the predicate or that which is said concerning it 5 and
with respect to both, as every idea succeeds another in
the order of our conceptions, to range it in the same order
wiien we communicate them to others. Our language in
the general keeps pretty much to this method. But in
one thing particularly it recedes Irom it j and that is, in
placing adjectives, which denote the properties of things,
beforeDtheir substantives or subjects, whose properties
they are : As when it is said, Evil communication cor¬
rupts good manners. And this we always do, except
something follows which depends upon the adjective.
So we say, He was a man eminent for his virtue : not
an eminent man.
Artificial order, as it respects simple sentences, has
little or no regard to the natural construction of words }
but disposes them in such a manner as will be most
agreeable to the ear, and best answer the design of the
speaker. The Latins take a much greater liberty in
this respect than we do, or than the nature of our lan¬
guage will permit. Quintilian says, it is best lor the
verb to stand last, when there is no particular reason to
the contrary. And he gives this reason for it, because
the force of the sentence lies in the verb. So that, ac¬
cording to him, they seem to have had this view in put-
tino- the verb at the end •, that as the whole sentence is
imperfect without the verb, the mind being thus held in
suspense might receive the deeper impression from it at
last. They likewise separate such words as have an
immediate relation between them or dependence one
upon another, and place any of them first or last as they
please. In short their order seems in a manner arbitra¬
ry, if he does not break in upon perspicuity, to which
they usually attend. But most of these things are un¬
suitable to the genius of our language. One might say
indeed, Convince him you cannot: instead of saying,
You cannot convince him : Or, With my own eyes I saw
it; for, I saw it with my own eyes- And again : in
proportion to the increase of luxury the Roman state de¬
clined : for, The Roman state declined in proportion to
the increase of luxury. But this inversion of words is
proper in English composition only when it gives force
to the expression ; as in the higher style it often does.
It serves to impress known truths upon the mind, but is
unfit for communicating the first principles of know¬
ledge.
As to compound sentences, that is, such as consist of
two or more members, either simple or compounded \
what relates to the words in each member separately is
the same as in simple sentences. But with regard to the
disposition of the several members, that may be called
the natural order, which so places them as they mutual¬
ly depend on each other. Thus the antecedent member
naturally precedes the relative 5 as in this expression,
Men are apt to forgive themselves what they blame in
others. In hypothetical sentences the conditional mem¬
ber naturally stands first. Thus : If Socrates be a ra¬
tional creature, he is a man. That member which ex¬
presses the effect of an action naturally comes last , as,
Though you offer ever so good reasons, you will not pre¬
vail with him. The like may be said of time, with re¬
gard to things done in it 5 as, The Roman eloquence soon Elocution,
declined when Cicero was dead. And to name no more, ..j
the reason of a thing naturally follows that of which it
is the reason ; as thus : All the pleasures of life must be
uncertain, since life itself is not secure.
When this order is inverted, it must be styled artifi¬
cial. So to keep to the instances already given, the two
members in the first sentence may be thus inverted :
What they blame in others, men are apt to forgive them¬
selves. In the second, in this manner : Socrates is a
man, if he be a rational creature. In the third, thus :
You will not prevail with him, though you offer ever so
good reasons. And so on in the rest: As, When Cicero
was dead, the Roman eloquence soon declined ; and, Since
life itself is not secure, all the pleasures of life must be
uncertain. The variety of inversions in a sentence may
generally be greater or less in proportion to the num¬
ber of its members. In the following sentence of Ci¬
cero, the natural order seems to be this : If that great¬
ness of mind be void of justice, which shows itself in
dangers and labours, it is blameable. W hich may be
varied by changing the place of the first and third mem¬
ber, in the following manner: That greatness of mind
is blameable which shows itself in dangers and labours,
if it want justice. Or by altering the place of all the
three members thus: That greatness of mind is blame¬
able, if it be void of justice, which shews itself in dan¬
gers and labours. But oftentimes one member may be
included in another, as in the instance here given : If
that greatness of mind which shows itself in dangers
and labours, be void of justice, it is blameable. Here
the relative member is included in the conditional, which
is placed first, and the antecedent member follows both.
But in Cicero it stands thus : That greatness of mind,
which shows itself in dangers and labours, if it want
justice, is blameable ; where the relative and conditional
members are both included in the antecedent member.
The Latin tongue commonly admits of a much greater
variety in the transposition of members, as well as in that
of single words, than suits with our idiom. In the fol¬
lowing sentence the natural order is much preferable, as
it best suits with the proper elevation and cadency of
the voice in its pronunciation: I am willing to remit all
that is past, provided it may be done with safety. But
should we invert the members, and say, Provided it may
be done with safety, I am willing to remit all that is
past; the harmony of the cadency would be lost. And
if the latter member be included in the former, the al¬
teration will still be worse ; as, I am willing, provided
it may be done with safety, to forgive all that is past.
Here the inflection of the voice falls upon the same
member as before, and destroys the beauty of the pe¬
riod by its elevation afterwards. Some sentences admit
of no involution of their members. Such are those whose
members are connected by conjunctive or disjunctive
particles. As, Virtue furnishes the mind with the truest
pleasure in prosperity, and affords it the greatest comfort
in adversity. And, A wise man is neither elatedly pro¬
sperity, nor depressed by adversity. And the like may
be said of those where the latter member begins with some
illative or redditive particle. As in these instances: The
chief thing to be regarded in life is virtue, for all other
things are vain and uncertain. And, Though fortune
is always inconstant, yet she has many votaries. Nei¬
ther of the members in any qf these ways of expression,
and
iPart III.
iElocution. a15^ some others which might be named, can be inclu-
dec! one in the other. In all the examples hitherto gi¬
ven, the sentences consist only of simple members ; and
indeed compound members are not so often inverted, nor
included one in another, by reason of their length.
However, we shall here produce one instance of each :
Whoever considers the uncertainty of human affairs, and
how frequently the greatest hopes are frustrated; he
will see just reason to be always on his guard, and not
place too much dependence upon things so precarious.
This sentence consists of two compound members, which
here stand in their natural order, but may be thus in¬
verted He will see just reason to be always on his
guard, and not place too much dependence on things so
precarious; whoever considers the tmeertainty of human
affairs, and how often the greatest hopes are frustrated.
In the following sentence one compound member is in¬
cluded in another : Let us not conclude while dangers
are at a distance, and do not immediately approach us,
that we are secure ; unless we use all necessary precau¬
tion to prevent them. Here the natural order would be:
While dangers are at a distance, and do not immediately
approach us ; let us not conclude that we are secure, un¬
less we use all necessary precaution to prevent them.
But there are some other considerations relating to
order, which, being taken from the nature of things,
equally suit all languages. So, in amplifying, there
should be a constant gradation from a less to a greater j
as when Cicero says, Ambition creates hatred, shyness,
discords, seditions, and wars. On the contrary, in ex¬
tenuating, we should descend from a greater to a less;
as if, speaking of the ancient laws of Rome, one should
say, They were so far from suffering a Toman citizen
to be put to death, that they would not allow him to be
whipt, or even to be bound. In constituting any whole,
we putthe parts first; as, Invention,disposition, elocution,
andprominciation, make up the art of oratory. But in
separating any whole, the parts follow : as, The art of
oratory may be divided into these four parts; invention,
disposition, elocution, and pronunciation. In every enu¬
meration care must be taken not to mix the whole with
the parts; but if it be mentioned at all, it must either
be put first or last. So it would be wrong to say, He
was a man of the greatest prudence, virtue, justice, and
modesty: for the word virtue here contains in it the
other three, and therefore should not be inserted among
them. See Language, N° 17.
§ 3. Of Juncture and Number.
Quintilian, speaking of composition, represents a
discourse as very happy in that respect, when the order,
juncture, and number, are all just and proper. The first
of these, which gives rules for the due placing of the
words and members of a sentence, has been already
explained. We now proceed to the other two, which
relate to letters and syllables ; the former treating of
their connection, and the latter of their quantity,
in: and use As to juncture. A due attention is to be paid to
fjuncture the nature of the vowels, consonants, and syllables in
splaiued the connection of words, with regard to the sound.
rated11' As to the first, when a word ends with a vowel, and
* the next begins either with a different vowel, or the
same repeated, it usually renders the pronunciation hol¬
low and unpleasant. For, as Quintilian has justly ob-
349
served, “ This makes a chasm in the sentence, and stops Elocution.
the course of it.” For there must be some pause, in or- 1 v— *
der to pronounce them both, or otherwise the sound of
one will be lost. So, for instance, in pronouncing these
words, the other day, unless you stop a little after the
word the, the sound of e will not be heard ; and if it is
dropt, it will occasion a rougher sound, from the aspira¬
tion of th twice repeated so near together, as th?other
day. Therefore to prevent both these inconveniences,
we usually say, t'other day. But the different conso¬
nants, which together with the vowels make up those
syllables, often cause a considerable difference in the
pronunciation, so as to render it more or less agreeable.
As, it we say, he overdid it, the words he over have not
so harsh a sound as the other; though still they require
some pause to keep them distinct. Besides, some vowels
meet more amicably, and admit of a softer pronuncia¬
tion than others. Those which have the weakest and
smallest sound, follow best; because they occasion the
least alteration of the organ in forming the two sounds.
Such are e and z‘; and therefore, without any chasm in
the sound, or hesitation of the voice, we say he is. But
where the action of the organs is greater, and the sound
stronger, the pronunciation is more difficult: as when
we say, tho' all. For here is a contrary motion of the
lips, which are first put forward in sounding the 0, and
then drawn backward to pronounce the a ; and there¬
fore the sound is much softer to say, tho' every, where
their action is less. And the like ill effect commonly
happens from the repetition of the same vowel: as if
we say, go on, or, usually act thus. There is a consider¬
able difference between these two expressions, in repeat¬
ing the sound of the vowel, and where either of them is
doubled in a single word. For then the same sound on¬
ly is protracted by one continued motion of the organ ;
as in the words good, and deem. But here the sound is
repeated again by a new action of the organ; which, if
precipitated, obscures the sound of one of the vowels j
and, if too much retarded, makes a chasm in the
pronunciation; either of which is unpleasant to the
ear.
But as the coalition of two vowels occasions an hol¬
low and obscure sound, so the meeting of some conso¬
nants renders it very harsh and rough. Thus the words
king Xerxes, and public good, when so placed have not
only a roughness, but likewise a difficulty in their pro¬
nunciation, from the contrary action of the lips; which
in the former are first drawn back and then forwards,
but in the latter the contrary way; and in both of them
with some considerable force. But this may very easily
be avoided, by saying, with a little alteration in the
words, Xerses, the king, nab the good of the public. So
likewise the words ill company, have a softer sound than
bad company, for the same reason. To multiply instan¬
ces of this kind seems unnecessary, which sq frequently
occur in all discourses.
The repetition of the samesyilable at the end and be¬
ginning of words, is the last thing to be considered.
And a little observation will convince us, that where
this happens, it generally renders the sound either con¬
fused or unpleasant. Cicero was often rallied on ac¬
count of this verse :.
O fortunatam natam me consule Tomam.
Every one will easily perceive a disagreeable soued in
t5e.
ORATORY.
O ft A T
“ A man many times does
35°
Elocution, the following expression :
V V—tliat unadvisedly, of winch he afterwards repents.
The chime of the words man many both seems aflected,
and displeases the ear. But this will soon be remedied,
if we separate these two words, and say, “ A man does
that many times unadvisedly.”
From the short account here given of this part ol
composition, it is easy to perceive what things are ne¬
cessary to render it most complete and accurate*, which
are these following. If a word end with a vowel, the
next ought to begin with a consonant, or such a vowel
whose sound may agree well with the former. But il a
word conclude with a consonant, either a vowel should
follow, or such a consonant whose pronunciation will
suit with it. And lastly, the same syllable ought not
to be repeated at the end ol one word, and the begin¬
ning of the next. It has been observed by some critics,
that the following vorse at the beginning of Virgil’s
/Eneid has all these properties :
Arma virumqus cano, 'Trojce qui primus ah oris.
"Where any word in this verse ends with a vowel, the
next begins with a consonant *, and where any one ends
with a consonant, the next begins with a vorvel; and
there is no repetition of the same sound throughout the
whole. But this is what rarely happens, especially in
our language, which abounds with consonants. And
what Quintilian says of the coalition ol vowels, in
treating upon this subject, seems applicable to the whole.
“ This (says he) is a thing not much to be dreaded*,
and I know not whether the neglect of it, or too great
a concern about it, be worse. It necessarily checks the
vigour of the mind, and diverts it from matters of great-
er importance. And therefore as it shows negligence
to permit it, so to be in constant fear of it discovers a
low genius.” This was the opinion of that judicious
writer. And as these things cannot always be attended
to, it may be sufficient to avoid them, where they prove
very offensive to the ear, and it may be done without
some greater inconvenience. >So in this sentence, Ho¬
nesty is the best policy, the coalition of t and p. in the
two last words best policy produces a roughness in their
pronunciation j but as the expression is strong, and can¬
not perhaps be well altered for the better, the sound
here ought to give way to the sense.
II. Number. This respects the quantity of syllables,
as Juncture does their quality. In the Greek and Ro¬
man languages every syllable has its distinct quantity;
and is either long, short, or common : two or more of
which joined together in a certain order make a foot,
and a determinate number of these in a different order
constitute their several sorts of metre. This variety ot
sounds gives a much greater harmony to their poetry,
than what can arise only from the seat of the accent,
and the similitude of sound at the end of two verses,
which chiefly regulate our metre. And although their
prose was not so confined with regard to feet, either as
to the kind or place of them, as their metrical composi¬
tions j yet it had a sort of measure, more especially in
the rise and cadency of their periods. This they call
rhetorical number. And accordingly the ancient wri¬
ters upon this art acquaint us what feet are best suited
to the beginning,-middle, or conclusion of a sentence.
Such rules are not applicable to our language, which has
‘ not that accurate distinction of quantity in its syllables.
3
O ft Y. Part III,
For'we are apt to confound accent with quantity, and Elocutios,
pronounce those syllables longest on which we lay the - v 1
accent, though in their nature they are not so. As in
the word admirable, where none but the first syllable
ad is pronounced long ; though that is only rendered
so by position, and the two following are so by nature.
And again, in the word avarice, we sound the first a
long for the same reason, and the second short; con¬
trary to the nature ot both these vowels. However,
we shall offer a few things that may be of some use ta
modulate our periods and adjust their cadency.
A great number of monosyllables do not stand well
together. For as there ought to be a greater distance
in the pronunciation between one word and another,
than betw'een the syllables of the same word j such
pauses, though short, yet, when too frequent, make the
sound rough and uneven, and by that means spoil its
harmony. And this may seem more necessary to be
attended to, because the English language abounds
so much with monosyllables. On the contrary, a con¬
tinuation of many long words makes a sentence move
too slow and heavily. And therefore such periods
generally run best, which have a proper mixture oi
words of a diflerent length. Besides, as every word
has its accent, which with us stands for quantity, a
number either of monosyllables, or long words, coming
together, so far abates the harmony, as it lessens the
variety.
Again, several ivords of the same ending do not stand
well together, especially where the accent falls upon the
same syllable in each of them. For this creates too
great a jingle by the similitude of sound j and is apt to
displease, from an appearance of affectation. Of this
kind is the following sentence : Nothing is more wel¬
come, delightsome, or wholesome, than rest to a wearied
In such expressions, therefore, if the order of the
The na¬
ture and
use of
number.
words cannot well be altered, some other word should
be substituted in the room of one of them at least, to
diversify the sound. So in the example here given, the
sound might be varied by saying, Nothing is more wel¬
come, pleasant, or wholesome.
But to add no more, if a sentence end with a mono¬
syllable, it is apt to hurt the cadency, and disappoint
the ear: whereas words of a moderate length carry a
greater force with them by the fulness of their sound,
and afford the ear what it expected. And there is one
sort of monosyllables more especially, which never stand
well at the conclusion of a period, though we frequent¬
ly find them there ; and these are the signs of cases.
Thus we say, Avarice is a crime, which wise men arc
too often-guilty of. But the cadency would doubtless
be more agreeable if it was altered thus : Avarice is a
crime, of which wise men are too often gihlty. Every
one must perceive, when the accent falls upon the last
syllable in the sentence, as it does if it end with of the
sound is not so pleasant as when it rests upon the pre¬
ceding svliable in the word guilty. Nor are very long
words well suited either to the beginning or-conclusion
of a period ; for they retard the pronunciation at first,,
and fall too heavy at the end.
Chap. III. Of Dignity.
51
Theaec®*'
, ■ sity of dig*
Dignity consists in the right Use of tropes- and n-nity in an
gures. It is riot sufficient for an orator to express him-oration.
lElocution.
ipart III.
self with propriety ami clearness, or in smooth and har¬
monious periods $ but his language must likewise be
suited to the nature and importance of the subject. And
therefore, as .elegance gives rules for the first of these,
and composition for the second 5 so does dignity for the
last of them. It is very evident, that different subjects
require a different style and manner of expression 5 since,
as Quintilian says, “ What is magnificent in one dis¬
course would be turgid in another *, and those expres¬
sions which appear low upon a sublime subject, would
suit lesser matters: and as in a florid harangue a mean
word is remarkable, and like a blemish ; so any tiling
lofty and bright upon a trivial argument is dispropor¬
tionate, and like a tumour upon an even surface.”
Now this variety in the manner of expression arises in a
great measure from tropes vcah figures, which not only
■enliven and beautify a discourse, but give it likewise
-force and grandeur ; for which reason this part of elo¬
cution seems to have been called dignity.
Tropes and figures are distinguished from each other
in several respects. Tropes mostly affect single words,
but figures whole sentences. A trope conveys two ideas
to the mind by means of one word; but a figure throws
the sentence into a different form from the common
and usual manner of expression. Besides, tropes are
chiefly designed to represent our thoughts, but figures
our passions.
ORATORY.
52
ropes,
hat.
§ r. Of Tropes.
A trope, which is a figure of words, has been usually
defined to be the change of a wordfrom its proper signi¬
fication to some other with advantage, either as to beauty
or strength. The words, with advantage, are added in
the definition, because a trope ought not to be chosen,
unless there is some good reason for using it rather than
' the proper word. But in what manner, or how far, it
can be said of all tropes in general, that they change
the jiroper signification of words, will best appear by
considering the nature of each kind of them separately.
Now in every trope a reference is had to two things,
which occasions two ideas ; one of the thing expressed,
and another of that thing to which it has a respect, and
is supplied by the mind. For all tropes ai*e taken either
from things internally related as the whole and a part j
or externally, as cause and effect, subject and adjunct j
or from some similitude that is found between them; or
from a contrariety. The first of these is called synec¬
doche, the second metonymy, the third metaphor, and the
last irony. We shall endeavour to illustrate this by ex¬
amples. When we say, Hannibal beat the Romans;
the meaning is, that Hannibal and his army did this.
So that although in some sense a part may here be said
to stand for the whole, which makes it a synecdoche;
yet, strictly speaking, the word Hannibal does not alter
its sense, but there is an ellipsis in the expression, Han¬
nibal being put for himself and his army. But if we
say, Cicero should be read by all lovers of eloquence ;
here indeed the word Cicero appears to be changed from
its proper sense, and to signify the books of Cicero j
which is a metonymy, the author being put for his
Works ; and therefore such expressions need not be
deemed elliptical. Again, if any one, speaking of a
subtle and crafty man, should say he is a fox; the
meaning is, he is like a fox j which is a metaphor; Elocution.
where the word fo.v retains its proper sense, and de- L y— '
notes that animal, to which the man is compared on ac¬
count of his craft. Lastly, If a person say to another,
IFdl done; meaning that the thing was ill done, the
word well keeps its own sense ; but from the manner of
its pronunciation, or some other circumstance' attending
the expression, it will be evident that the contrary is in¬
tended ; which is called an irony. From these instances
it may appear in what latitude we must understand the
common definition of a trope, which makes it to consist
in the change of a word from its proper sense into some
other. But though in reality there are but four kinds
of tropes, which are distinguished by so many different
respects which things bear one to another; yet as these
several respects are found in a variety of subjects, and
attended with diflerent circumstances, the names of
tropes have from hence been greatly multiplied : which,
however, may all be referred to some or other of those
already mentioned, as will be shown when we come to
treat of them in their order. And for distinction sake
we shall call the former primary, and the latter second¬
ary, tropes.
We now proceed to consider the reasons which have
occasioned the introduction of tropes. And these, as
Quintilian observes, are three ; necessity, emphasis, and
beauty.
1. Tropes were first introduced from necessity, deriv-Why intro-
ing their origin unquestionably in a considerable degree duced*
from the barrenness of language, because no language
which we know contains a sufficient number of proper
words to express all the different conceptions of our
minds: but the principal cause of their introduction
seems to be that extensive influence which imagination
possesses over every kind of speech. The mind considers
the same thing various ways; views it in different lights ;
compares it with other things; and observes their seve¬
ral relations and affections; wherein they agree, and in
what they differ. From all which reflections it is fur¬
nished with almost an infinite number of ideas ; which
cannot all of them be distinguished and expressed by
proper words, since new ones occur daily. And were
this possible, yet would it be impracticable, because the
multitude of words must be so vastly great, that the me¬
mory could not retain them, nor be able to recal them
as occasion required. Tropes have in a good measure
redressed both these inconveniences ; for by means of
them the mind is not burdened with a numberless stock
of different words, and yet nothing seems to want a
name. Thus sometimes where a word is wanting to
express any particular thing, it is clearly enough repre¬
sented by the name of some other thing, by reason of
the similitude between them. At other times, the
cause is signified by the effect, the subject by the ad¬
junct ; or the contrary. And the whole is often under¬
stood by a part, or a part by the whole. And thus by
the use of tropes the mind is helped to conceive of some¬
thing not expressed, from that which is expressed It is
much the same case, as when we have occasion to speak,
of a person, whose name we are either unacquainted
with, or have forgot; for by describing his person, a-
bode, or some other circumstances relating to him, those
we converse with as well understand whom we mean, as
if we mentioned his name. So the shepherd in Virgil,
when.;
O R A T
Elocution, when lie could not think of the name of Archimedes,
v—— describes him by his works :
And what’s his name who form’d the sphere,
And show’d the seasons of the sliding year ?
Besides, it sometimes happens in a discourse, that those
things are necessary to be said, which, it expressed in
their proper terms, would be offensive*, but being clo¬
thed with metaphors, may be conveyed to the mind
with decency. Thus then the imagination never con¬
templates any one idea single and alone, but always
along with other ideas, which may be called its accesso¬
ries^ mb which often operate more forcibly upon the
mind titan the principal idea itself does. In their nature
they are often more agreeable, and frequently also
more familiar, to our conceptions; or perhaps they re¬
mind us of a greater variety ot important circumstances.
Hence the name of the accessory is often preferred, as
e. cr. when we want to point out the time in which a
•state enjoyed its chief reputation, &c. the proper words
■might do, but the imagination suggests the flourishing
period of a plant or tree j and w*e say “ the Homan em¬
pire flourished most under Augustus Catiline, we say,
was the head instead of the leader of his party, because
the head is the principal part ot the human figure.
2. A second reason above mentioned lor the use of
tropes was emphasis. Tropes do many times express
things with greater force and evidence than can be done
by proper words. We receive much the greater part
of our knowledge by our senses. And similitudes taken
from sensible things, as in metaphors, very much assist
the mind in its reflections upon those things which do
not come under the cognizance of the senses. For it is
certain, that we are sooner or more strongly aflected
with sensible objects, than with things of which we can
have no ideas but from the internal operations ot our
own minds. Nay, sometimes one bright and lively
Trope shall convey a fuller and more just idea ot a thing
than a large periphrasis. So when Virgil calls the Sci-
pios two thundei bolts of war, he gives a more lively
image of the rapid force and speedy success ot their
arms, than could have been conveyed by a long descrip¬
tion in plain words. And in many cases the tropical
use of words is so emphatical, and suited to the idea we
-design to excite, that in this respect it may be justly
esteemed the most proper. So incensed with anger,
inflamed with desire, fallen into an error, are all meta¬
phorical expressions, used in a way ot similitude *, a,nd
yet perhaps no proper words can be made use of, winch
will convey a more lively image of the thing we design
to represent by them.
But beauty and ornament, as was observed before,
have been another cause of the use of tropes. Some sub¬
jects require a more florid and elegant dress than others.
When we describe or applaud, ornaments of speech and
a gaiety of expression are requisite. And it is the busi¬
ness of an orator to entertain his hearers at the same
time that he instructs them. Now Cicero, who was an
admirable judge of the force and power of eloquence }
has observed, that tropical expressions give the mind the
greatest delight and entertainment. “I have otten
wondered (says he) why tropes should give greater plea¬
sure than proper words. I imagine the reason must be,
either that there is an appearance of wit in neglecting
what is at hand, and making choice of something at a
J
O R Y. PartIH.
distance ; or that the hearer is furnished with a differ- Elocution,
ent thought, without being led into a mistake, which at- v”“—J
fords a very agreeable pleasure j or that a whole simili¬
tude is conveyed to the mind by a single word *, or that,
particularly in the best and most lively metaphor, the
image is presented to our sight, which is the quickest
of our senses.” And therefore he supposes, that “ as
garments were first invented from necessity, to secure
us from the injuries of the Aveather, but improved after¬
wards for ornament and distinction j so the poverty ot
language first introduced tropes, which were afterwards
increased for delight.” Besides, a variety of expression
is pleasing in a discourse. It is many times necessary
that the same thing should be repeated *, and if this be
done in the same words, it will grow tiresome to the
hearers, and sink their esteem of the speaker’s ability.
Therefore, to prevent this, it is proper the expression
should be varied, that although the sense be the same,
it may give the mind a new pleasure by its different
dress.
We come now, in the last place, to lay down some
directions proper to be observed in the choice of
tropes. # f
And first, as every trope gives us two ideas \ one, ot
the word expressed j and another, which, by means of
that, the mind connects with it j it is necessary, that
the relation between these two appear very plain and
evident. For an obscure trope is alwrays faulty, unless
where some particular reason makes it necessary. And
therefore tropes ought not to be too far-fetched, lest that
should render them dark. For which reason Cicero says,
he should not choose to call any thing destructive to a
person’s fortune, the Syrtis of his patrimony, but rather
the rock of it; nor the Charybdis of his estate, but the
gulf of it. For those who either did not know' that
the Syrtcs were two quicksands upon the coast of Afri¬
ca, or that Charybdis was a gulf in the strait of Sicily,
both of them very destructive to mariners, would be at
a loss to understand the meaning of the metaphor. Be¬
sides, metaphors taken from things we have seen, aflect
the mind more forcibly than those which are taken from
such things as we have only heard of. Now there is
scarcely any one who has not seen a rock or a gulf; but
there are very few persons, comparatively, who have
been either at Charybdis or the Syrtes. It is necessary
therefore in a good trope, not only that there be a near
affinity between the two ideas, but likewise that this
affinity be very obvious and generally known, so that
the word be no sooner pronounced but both images do
immediately present themselves to the mind.
Again, as a trope ought to be very plain and evident,
so likewise should it bear a due proportion to the thing
it is designed to represent, so as neither to heighten nor
diminish the just idea of it. Indeed, sometimes when
Ave speak of things indefinitely, Ave say too much, lest
Ave should seem to say too little. And this manner of
speaking is called an hyperbole; which is not uncom¬
mon in the sacred writings. So, for instance, Saul and
Jonathan are said to be swifter than eagles,and stronger
than lions. But even in this Avay of expression a pro¬
portion is to be observed. For some very considerable
and unusual excess of the thing in its kind is at least
designed by it; which, perhaps, cannot, or however is
not necessary to be defined. And therefore Quintilian
blames Cato for calling the top of a hill a wart; be¬
cause:
Part III.
Elocution
cause the
adequate.
O K A T O
proportion between tbe two ideas is nowise
. And so on the contrary Aristotle censures
Euripides for calling rowing the empire of the oar.
Poets indeed are allowed a greater liberty in this re¬
spect j but an orator should be modest in his expressions,
and take care that he neither so heighten nor diminish
the natural ideas of things by tropes, as to lead his hear¬
ers into mistakes.
But further : as a moderate use of tropes, justly ap¬
plied, beautifies and enlivens a discourse; so an excess
of them causes obscurity, by running into an abstruse al¬
legories and riddles. Tropes are not the common and
ordinary dress of our thoughts, but a foreign habit :
and therefore he who fills his discourse with a continued
of them, seems to act like one who appears in
R Y* 353
htmina oratwnis, or the lights of a discourse. It some- Elocution,
times happens, that on! the tropical sense of a word is (-~v'—'
taken from one language into another, and not the pro¬
per signification ol the same word. So scrupulus in
Latin properly signifies a little stom, which getting into
the shoe hurts a person as he walks; hence it is ap¬
plied to the mind, and used to express a doubt, or un¬
easy thought that gives it pain. We have borrowed
this latter sense of the word, but not the former.
Art. I. Primary Tropes.
34
series
public in a strange dress: which no man of character
would choose to do.
Moreover, as one use of tropes is pleasure and enter¬
tainment, we should endeavour to make choice of such
as are smooth and easy. But if at any time we think it
necessary to use a harsh trope, it is proper to soften it
by some precaution. For, as Cicero very handsomely
says, a trope should be modest, since it stands in a place
which does not belong to it; for which reason it should
seem to come thither by permission, and not by force.
And therefore when he thought it harsh to say, The
death of Cato made the senate an orphan ; he guards
the expression by saying, The death of Cato has (if 1
may be allowed to say so) rendered the senate an orphan.
And, to add no more, care should be taken how we
transfer tropes from one language into another. For as
they are frequently taken not only from natural things,
or such notions as are common to the generality of man¬
kind, but likewise from the manners, customs, and oc¬
currences of particular nations ; so they may be very
plain and obvious to those among whom they took their
rise, but altogether unintelligible to others who are un¬
acquainted with the reason of them. It was customary
for the Roman soldiers to carry their money in their
girdles : hence it was the same thing with them to say,
a person had lost his girdle, as that he had lost his money.
And because the Romans wore the toga, which was a
long gown, in time ol peace, and a different garb when
engaged in war, their writers sometimes use the word
toga to signify peace. But as neither of these customs
is in use among us, so neither would the tropes suit our
language, or be generally understood by us. And even
in such tropes as are taken from the common nature of
things, languages very much differ. There is a very
beautiful trope in the account of St Paul’s shipwreck,
where it is said, The ship was caught, and could not bear
up into the wind. Tbe original word, that we translate
bear up, is ; and properly signifies, to look
or keep its eyes against it ; which is a very strong and
lively image, taken from animate beings, and when ap¬
plied to men, often signifies to withstand or resist; as,
a.iloqfaxp.en iroXigiu, to resist an enemy; and Plutarch
says of Demosthenes, that he could not xvlotpex^peiv tu
look against or resist the power of money.
Nothing is more common with Latin writers, than to
call men of a public spirit and true patriots, luminu et
ornament a reipubhew, that is, the lights and ornaments
of the state And we have borrowed from them the use
of both these metaphors. But because tropes and figures
illustrate and heighten the style, they call them also
V6l. XV. Part I. f
I. Metaphor. A metaphor, as usually defined, is, A Metaphor,
trope, which changes words from their proper signijica-vvliat-
tion to another different from it, by reason of some simi¬
litude between than. But that a word, when used me¬
taphorically, does not alter its signification, but retains
its proper sense, was shown above. However, it may
not be amiss to explain this matter more tully, and set
it in a clearer light. Every metaphor, then, is nothing
else but a short similitude. Cicero calls it a similitude
reduced to a single word. And Quintilian to the same
purpose says, that “ a metaphor is a short similitude,
and differs from it only in this, that the former is com¬
pared to the thing we design to express, and the latter
is put for it. It is a similitude, when I say of a man,
he has acted like a lion ; and a metaphor, when I say*
he is a lion.” Thus far Quintilian. Now in every si¬
militude three things are requisite; two things that are
compared together, and a third in which the similitude
or likeness between them consists. And therefore to
keep to this example, when Horace calls a Roman sol¬
dier a lion, if the word lion did not retain its proper
sense, there could be no similitude; because there would
not be two things to be compared together with respect
to a third, which is necessary in every similitude, and
was designed by this expression. The sense of which is
plainly this: That as a Hon seizes his prey with the
greatest fierceness,so a Roman soldier with like rage and
fury attacked his enemies. In the same manner, when
Cicero calls Piso the vulture of tin province, his meaning
is, that he was like a vulture, or acted in such a man¬
ner as a vulture acts, that is, rapaciously. So that the
real difference between a metaphor and a similitude con¬
sists in this; that a metaphor lias not those signs of com¬
parison which are expressed in a similitude. But some
persons have run into mistakes in reasoning from rropes
ol this kind. For they have so argued from metapho¬
rical words, as if all the affections and properties oi the
things expressed by them might be attributed to those
other things to which they are applied, and by that
means have strained the comparison (which has usually
but one particular view), in order to make it tally in
other respects, where there is not that similitude of
ideas. We will endeavour to make this evident by an¬
other example from Cicero, where he calls Mark An¬
tony the torch of the state. The similitude between An¬
tony and a torch lay in this : That as a torch burns and
destroys every thing within its reach, so Antony brought
devastation and ruin wherever he came. Now a torch
has not only a property to burn, but also to give light;
hut the similitude would not hold in this respect, nor
was it at all designed. For Cicero never calls a wicked
profligate man, as Antony vvas, the light oj the state ;
though he often gives that character to good and vir-
Y 7 tuous
tuous men, "who by their examples do as it were en¬
lighten others, and show them the way to be happy
themselves and useful to others. But though metaphors
are usually taken from a similitude between two things,
as in the instances here mentioned j yet sometimes they
are founded in the similitude which two things bear to
two others in some particular respect, by means whereof
what properly belongs to one ol them is transferred to
the other: the former of which are called simple meta¬
phors, and the latter analogous. Hence the rudder of a
ship may be called its reins; for what the reins are to a
horse, that the rudder is to a ship in guiding and direct¬
ing it. So that here is a double similitude, one between
a ship and a horse, and another between the rudder of
the former and the reins of the latter •, and from the
analogy between the use of the rudder to the one and
reins to the other, the reins, which belong properly to
the horse, are applied to the ship. Again, some meta¬
phors are reciprocal, in which the similitude holds either
way. Thus to steer and to govern are used reciprocal¬
ly both of a ship and a state : the proper expressions be¬
ing, to steer a ship, and govern a state; and the contra¬
ry metaphorical. But though we say, the foot of a
mountain, borrowing the similitude from animals •, yet
we do not say, on the contrary, the bottom of an animal,
meaning his feet j and therefore that metaphor is not ic-
ciprocal. From this account therefore of the nature of
a metaphor, it may be said to be, The application of a
word by way of similitude to some other thing than what
it properly signifies. And the plainer this similitude ap¬
pears, the greater beauty ^here is in the trope.
The use of metaphors is very extensive, as large as
universal nature. For there are scarce any two things
which have not some similitude between them How¬
ever, they may all be reduced to four kinds 5 which was
the second thing proposed to be considered.
The first kind of metaphors therefore may be taken
from similitudes between animate beings. As where
those things, which properly relate to brutes, are ac¬
commodated to men ; or those which belong to men
are applied to brutes. Of the former sort is that joke
of Cicero: My brother being asked by Philip, why he
barked so ?■ answered, Because he saw a thief. Here
barking, the property of a dog, is applied to a man :
And the reply does not seem to cany more severity or
harshness with it than the question. By the latter sort
we say, a crafty fox, and a generous horse ; which are
affections that properly relate to men. And to this kind
of metaphors may those likewise be referred, when that
which properly belongs to the senses is applied to the
mind. Thus we often say, that we see a thing, when
wfe mean that we understand or apprehend it. And in
the same sense we say, that we hear such a thing, or
person. And by the like manner of expression, a per¬
son is said to smell out a thing. And those who have a
genius or disposition for any art or science, are said to
have a taste for it; and such as have entered upon the
study of it, are said to have a touch of it. These are
common ways of speaking in most languages, and very
expressive of what is intended by them. And we may
also bring those metaphors under this head, by which
the properties and affections of men are attributed to the
Deity : as, when God is said to hear, see, be angry, re¬
pent, and the like-, which are forms of expression very
frequent in the sacred writings.
ORATORY. Part HL
A second kind of metaphors lies between inanimate Elocution,
things, whether natural or artificial, which bear some ' v J
similitude to each other. And this head is very exten¬
sive. Thus we say, floods offive, and clouds of smoke,
for large quantities. And so likewise, to inflame an ac¬
count, that is, to heighten or increase it with innume¬
rable others of the like sort. In the two first of these
instances, the terms proper to one element are applied
to another; and as those elements of fire and water are
opposite to each other, they show the extensiveness of
this trope, that there are no things in nature so contra¬
ry, but may come within the limits of it, and be ac¬
commodated to each other in a way of similitucie. In
the last example, a natural action is applied to what is
artificial.
A third sort of metaphors is, when inanimate things
are applied to animals, on account of some like proper¬
ties between them. Thus Homer calls Ajax, the bul¬
wark of the Greeks, on account of his valour, which
like a wall defended them from the Trojans. And
nothing is more common with Cicero, than to brand ill
men with the character of being the pest of the state, by
reason of the mischief which they bring to the public.
So likewise he calls Zeno the philosopher an acute man,
for his great discernment and quick perception of things-,
fetching the allusion from metals when brought to an
edge or a point. As, on the contrary, old Chremes in
Terence calls himself a stone, for want of apprehension.
And we say, a gay person, and a bright genius, by this
kind of metaphor.
The fourth and last kind of metaphors is that by
which the actions and other attributes of animals are ac¬
commodated to inanimate things. Thus Cicero, speak¬
ing of Clodius, says : “ The very altars, when they
saw that monster fall, seemed to move themselves and
assert their right against him.” Here the words saiv,
move, and assert, are all metaphors taken from the pro¬
perties of animals. And Virgil, when he would repre¬
sent the impetuous force and rapidity of the river
A raxes, says, it disdained a bridge. And it is a very
usual epithet, which Homer gives to words, to call
them ttIi^osIvx, or winged, to intimate the swiftness ot
speech.
Lastly, as to the choice of metaphors, those are esteem¬
ed the finest and strongest, which give life and action to
inanimate things. The reason of which is, because they
do as it were invigorate all nature, introduce new forms
of beings, and represent their images to the sight, which
of all the senses is the quickest, most active, and yet
most unwearied. What can be more moving, or in
stronger terms express the villany of Clodius, than when
Cicero says, “ The very altars of the gods seemed to
exult at his death.” And the same great optor parti¬
cularly commends those metaphors, for their sprightli¬
ness and vivacity, which are taken from the sense of
seeing; as when we say a bright thought, or a gay ex¬
pression.
However, care must be taken not to venture upon too
bold and daring metaphors. Poets indeed claim greater
liberty in this respect, whose view is often to amuse, ter¬
rify, or delight, by heightening the just and natural
images of things. But it is expected the orator should
reason coolly, though strongly and forcibly *, and not
by theatrical representations so transport the mind, as to
take it off from reflection, unless perhaps on some parti-
Part III.
Elocution, cular occasion. And yet, on the other hand, meta-
1 v——' phors ought not to sink below the dignity of what they
are designed to express ; but the idea they convey should
at least be equal to the proper word in the place of which
they are substituted.
But there is a very great difference in the choice of
metaphors, as they are designed either to praise or dis¬
praise. One thing may be compared to another in a
great variety of respects. And the same thing may be
made to appear either noble or base, virtuous or vicious,
by considering it in a different light. Such metaphors,
therefore, as are chosen to commend, must be taken
from great and laudable things; and on the contrary,
those which are designed to discommend, from things
wile and contemptible. Aristotle gives us a very plea¬
sant example of this in the poet Simonides. A certain
person, who had carried the prize at a race of mules, of¬
fered him a reward to write a poem in honour of that
action. Simonides thought he did not bid high enough ;
and therefore put him off with saying, the subject was
too mean to write in praise of mules, which w’ere the
offspring of asses. But upon his being offered a larger
sum, he undertook the task ; and, as Aristotle observes,
when he has occasion to speak of the mules in that
poem, he does not mention them by that name, but
calls them the daughters of fleet and generous horses,
though he might with as much propriety have called
them the daughters of dull asses. But it was the poet’s
business, in praising, to take the most advantageous part
of the character. Where things are capable of such
different turns, metaphorical expressions are generally
most beautiful. And sometimes the same metaphor may
be applied contrary -ways, both in praise and dispraise,
as it will suit different properties of the thing to which
it refers. So a dove, in a metaphorical sense, may re¬
present either innocence or fear; and an iron heart, may
denote either courage or cruelty; as a hardhead, strength
or weakness of thought. And this ambiguity in the ap¬
plication of metaphorical words often affords occasion
for jests and concise wit. We observed before, that Ci¬
cero never calls ill men lights of the state. But he
once in this manner calls Sextius Godins the light of
the senate. For when his kinsman Publius Godins had
been killed by Milo, and his corpse was brought to
-Borne, Sextius raised the mob, and in a tumultuous
manner carried it into the senate house, where they
burnt it, and by that means set the building on fire:
For which seditious act Cicero passes that joke upon
him, under the metaphor of light, which elsewhere he
always uses in a good sense.
But to proceed: All forced and harsh metaphors
should be avoided ; the one being no less disagreeable
to the mind than the other to the ear. Nor should they
come too thick in a discourse. In a word, they ought
not to be used, but either where a proper Avoi d is want¬
ing, or they are more significant or beautifol than the
55 proper word.
Vletouymy II. Metonymy. This, as defined by Quintilian, is,
iefined and the putting one word for another. But Vossius describes
81116 ’ it more fully, when he calls it, “ A trope, which chan¬
ges the name of things that are naturally united, but in
such a manner as that the one is not of the essence of
the other.” That a metonymy is thus distinguished
from the other tropes, has been sufficiently shoivn al¬
ready in the tivo last chapters. When it is said, to put
ORATORY.
one ivord for another, or, to change the names of'lungs,
the meaning is, that the word so used changes its sense,
and denotes something different from its proper signifi¬
cation. I has, when Mat's is put for war, and Ceres
for corn, they lose their personal sense, and stand for the
effects of which those deities were said to be the cause.
So likewise, when Virgil says,
He drank the frothing bowl,
the Avord bowl must necessarily signify the liquor in the
howl. And Avhen in another place, describing the tem-
ple of Juno at Carthage, in Avhich the actions of the
Trojan Avar were represented, and the images of the
heroes, he makes iEneas, upon discovering that of
Priam among the rest, cry out,
Lo here is Priam ;
it is plain the Avord Priam there must stand not for las
person, but his image or figure. And this property of
changing the sense of the Avord appears peculiar to
metonymy. In treating upon a metaphor, avb observed
the mistake of those avIio teach, that a Avord used meta¬
phorically loses its proper signification ; whereas it only
changes its place, but not its sense ; being applied to a
thing to which it does naturally belong, by way of si¬
militude. And as the not attending to this has run
some persons into very great absurdities, in treating up¬
on metaphorical expressions, and reasoning from them
in the tropical sense ; so the like has happened to others
in some instances of a metonymy, where, by misappre¬
hending their true nature, they have reasoned from them
in the literal sense, as avc shall shoAV presently. A me¬
tonymy is not so extensive as a metaphor, nor altoge¬
ther so necessary ; because nothing is said by a metony-
my, which cannot be expressed in proper Avoi ds; Avhere-
as metaphors are often used for Avant ot proper Avords to
express some ideas. HoAvever, metonymies are very use¬
ful in language ; for they enrich a discourse with an
agreeable variety, and give both force and beauty to an
expression. And Avhat we observed Avith relation to a
metaphor, is true also of this trope : that some metony¬
mies, even in common discourse, are more frequently
made use of than the proper Avords in whose room they
are put. So, pale death, a blind way, and a happy
state, are very common expressions with us. And it is
more usual to say, This is such a person's hand, or /
know his hand, than his writing, when avc intend this
latter sense of the word.
We iioav proceed to the division of metonymies; which
are commonly distinguished into four kinds, from the
different manner in which things are naturally, but ex¬
ternally, united to one another. Noav things are thus
united, or one thing depends upon another, either Avith
respect to its production, or in the mannerof its existence
when produced. In the former way the effect depends
upon its cause, and in the latter the adjunct upon its sub¬
jects. And hence arise four sorts of metonymies, which
receive their names from the cause and effect, the subject
and the adjunct.
It is called a metonymy of the cause, when the exter¬
nal cause is put for the effect. The external cause is
twofold, the agent and end, Avhich are usually called
the efficient and final cause. Of the former kind are
such metonymies, Avhere the inventor or author is put
for what was invented or effected by him. Thus, as
Yy 2 we
Ot
ORATORY. • Part lit
we said before, Ceres is sometimes put for cor«, the use Crassus, the improvement oi' tue styie by constant ex- Elocution j
of which she was said first to have introduced ; and ercise, as he prescribed, was a thing of much sweat. |
Mars for war, over which he was thought to preside. And virtue is said to be gained by sweat, that is, con-
And by this way of speaking, any artist or writer is tinned care and exercise in subduing the passions, and
put for his work. So Juvenal, blaming the luxury and bringing them to a proper regulation. But m these
profuseness of the Homans, says, There are few tables two expressions there is likewise a metaphor, the effect
without Mentor: that is, which were not made by him, of bodily labour being applied to that of the mind,
or after his manner. And our Saviour says, in the pa- In all these instances the effect is put foi the efficient
rable of the rich man and Lazarus, They have Moses cause. . .
and the Prophets, meaning the books of Moses and the The third kind of metonymy is, when the subject is
prophets But under this sort of metonymy is inclu- put for the adjunct. By subject here, in a large sense
ded not only the agent, strictly so called, but also any of the word, may be understood that wherein some other
means or instruments made use of in the doing of a thing is contained, or about which it is conversant } a»
thing when put for the thing done. Thus, polite li- likewise the possessor with respect to the thing he posses-
terature \$> humanity, because it cultivates and ses ; and the thing signified, when put for the sign of it.^
improves the human mind. And in that expression of Now, by the first of these ways of speaking, the seat of
Cicero Words move nobody but him who understands the any faculty or affection is used for the faculty or affection
townie - the word tonrue, which is the instrument of itself. So it is usual to say, a man of a clear head, when
speech is put for speech or language. And in the like we mean a clear mind or understanding 3 the seat of the
sense ’arms are sometimes put for war, and the sword mind being supposed to be in the head. And a person
for daughter. By the same kind ot metonymy likewise is said to have a warm heart, because the heart has been
any affection or quality is put for its effect. As when thought the seat of the affections, in like manner, the
it is said the end of government is to maintain justice ; place where any actions are performed is put mr the
that is such mutual offices among men as are the effects actions done in it. As when Cicero says, “ Do not al-
of justice And so likewise in that of Cicero, It is the ways think ef the forum, the benches, the rostra, and
business 'of magistrates to check the levity of the multi- the senate •” meaning the discourses which were usually
tude by which he means tumults occasioned by their le- made in those places, bo likewise the country, or place
vity. Moreover, as human affections are attributed to of residence, is put for the inhabitants, as in that passage
the Deity in a metaphorical sense, so several parts of of Cicero: “ And to omit Greece, which always claini-
the human body are likewise ascribed to him by this kind td the pre-eminence for eloquence, and Athens, the in-
of metonymy. Thus, his hand and his arm are used to ventress of all sciences, where the art of speaking vyas
express his power, as his ear and eye, his care and pro- invented and perfected 3 in this city ot ours, (meaning
viden.ee, these being the instruments of such effects in Rome), no studies have prevailed more than that of elo-
mankind. Metonymies of the final cause are those by quencewhere the words Greece and Athens stand to
which the end in doing a thing is put for the thing denote the inhabitants of those places. And hither may
done. As when we say, The watch is set, meaning the alsp be referred those expressions in which the time is put
watchmen, who are appointed for that purpose. And for the persons living in it 3 as the degeneracy oj the
so likewise that expression, to make an example, as it present age, the virtue of former times. In the second
signifies, to punish, in order to deter others from the way above mentioned, the object is used for the person
like crimes by such an example. As also that of Vir- or thing employed about it: As when Cicero says,
•j “ In time of battle the laws are silent 3 where by laws
° _ he intends the judges, who pronounce sentence atcord-
Phillis should garlands crop : to jaw gy g)e third of these ways, in which the
by which are meant flowers to make garlands. possessor is put for the thing he possesses, vye say, to de-
The second kind of metonymy puts the effect for the vour, destroy, or ruin a man, meaning not his person but
efficient cause, whether the agent, or only the means Mis estate. And my thologists explain the table of Action
and instrument. So Virgil calls the twoScipios the dc- by this trope, who is said to have been devoured by his
struction of Libya, because they were the agents who dogs 3 for by dogs they understand flatterers and para-
effected it. And Horace compliments his patron Mae- sites, who consumed his estate and brought him to beg-
cenas with the titles of being his guard and honour 3 gary. By the last way before recited, which puts the
that is, his guardian, and the author of his honour. But thing signified lor the sign, statues, and pictuie>> are
when Cicero tells the citizens of Rome, that the death called by the names of the persons which they represent:
of Clodius was their safety, he means the occasion only as in that jest of Cicero upon his brother Quintus, when,
of their safety. And elsewhere he calls that a dark hope as Macrobius, relates, “ being in the province winch his
and blind expectation, the effect of which was dubious brother had governed, and seeing a large portrait of part
and uncertain to those who entertained it. And in like of his body, holding a shield, though Quintus was but
manner, the sons of the prophets, when they were eat- a little man, he said, My halt brother is bigger than
jng the pottaue which Elisha had ordered to be set be- my whole brother.” Ihe Popish doctrine ol transub-
fore them, cried out, There is death in the pot; that is, stantiation is founded upon an abuse ot tiffs trope. lor
some deadly thing, as is presently after explained. And when our Saviour, speaking ot^ the bread and wine at
thus sweat, which is the effect of labour, is sometimes that time before him, says, “ llffsis my body, and this
put for labour. As in the threat denounced against is my blood,” his plain meaning is, they were the signs
Adam, In the sweat of thy face shalt thou cat bread, of his body and blood, the thing signified being put for
that is, by labour in cultivating the ground. And, in the sign by this sort of metonymy. But the Papists take
allusion to this way of speaking, Antony the orator tells the expression literally, which must doubtless be very
absurd :
Part III, q ft ^
IIIocutio'K absurd : since the wdrcls to the time then present,
I ' v ^ while Christ was yet living, and spoke them ; when
it was impossible for the bread and wine to he converted
into his body and blood, it being evident to all who were
present, that those elements, and his body, existed se¬
parately at the same time. But if the words are ex¬
plained by this trope, the sense is plain and easy, and
the way of speaking familiar to all writers. Whereas
they who plead for the literal sense might with equal
reason assert that those expressions above mentioned are
to be taken literally, in which several parts of the hu¬
man body, as the hand, the arm, the ear, and the eye,
are ascribed to the Deity •, or that, when our Saviour
in a metaphorical sense calls himself a vine, and a door,
these words were designed to be applied to him strictly
and properly, and not by way of similitude only, as is
the case in all metaphors.
The fourth kind of metonymy is that wherein the
adjunct is put for the subject, which is done in the same
variety of ways as the former. It is therefore a metony¬
my of the adjunct, when the thing contained is put for
that which contains it. As when Virgil says, “ They
lie down upon purple that is, upon couches dyed with
purple. And again, “ They crown the winemean¬
ing the bowl which contained the wine, it being the
custom of the ancients to deck their bowls with garlands
at their entertaiments. By these tropes likewise virtues
and vices are put for the persons in whom they are found.
As in that beautiful passage of Cicero, where, compar¬
ing the profligate army of Catiline with the forces of
the state, he says, “ On this side modesty is engaged,
on that impudence; on tins chastity, on that lewdness ;
on this integrity, on that deceit; on this piety, on that
profaneness ; on this constancy, on that fury ; on this
honour, on that baseness; on this moderation, on that
unbridled passion ; in a word, equity, temperance, for¬
titude, prudence, and all virtues, engage with injustice,
luxury, cowardice, rashness, and all vices.” And to this
trope those expressions are to be referred, in which any
thing is put for the object about which it is conversant.
As in that saying of the wise man, “ Hope deferred
makes the heart sick ;” where hope is put for the thing
hoped for. And thus Suetonius calls the emperor Titus
the love and delight of mankind, whose mild and obliging
temper rendered him the object of those agreeable affec¬
tions to all persons under his government. A third use
of this trope is putting a thing for the time in which it
was done. Thus we say of a person, he has served so
many campaigns, meaning so many summers, that being
the usual time in which armies are drawn out into the
field. Lastly, by this metonymy, the sign is put for the
thing it signifies ; as, the sceptre for the regal dignity,
^ S(j and the sword for the authority of the magistrate.
nec- HI. Synecdoche. This is a trope by which either the
-iueiT' W*lole a t!“n£ *s Put f°r a Part °f it, or a part for the
whole, so that the two things, whose ideas are presented
to the mind in this trope, are internally related to each
other: by which, as has been shown already, it is di¬
stinguished from all the other tropes. In a synecdoche
the word retains its proper sense, and the expression is
elliptical, as will appear by the several species of it,
wherein the ellipsis in most of the examples is very obvi¬
ous, and may with no jrreat difficulty be supplied. Now
a thing may be considered as a whole in three different
.respects, which logicians call an universal, essential, and
TOR Y.
351
integral whole. An •universal whole is dny genus with Elocution,
regard to its several species: as, an animal with respect . >
to mankind and brutes, or philosophy with respect to the
several arts and sciences comprised under it. An essen¬
tial whole consists of matter and form ; as, a man of body
and soul. And an integral whole is any body or quan¬
tity, with respect to the several parts of which the mat¬
ter of it is composed, and into which it may be divided :
as, an human body, with respect to its several members $
or a year, as divisible into months, weeks, and days.
And thus rhetoric is an integral whole in respect to the
four parts that compose it; namely, invention, disposi¬
tion, elocution, and pronunciation. So likewise any
aggregate body, as a civil community, which is divisi¬
ble into those who govern and are governed ; or any
army, consisting of the general and his soldiers. As a
whole therefore, in each of these acceptations of the
word, is frequently put for a part, and a part for
the whole ; hence arise six species or sorts of synec¬
doche.
1 he first of these puts the genus for the species. 
Thus, virtue in general is sometimes used to denote
some particular sort of virtue. As when Cicero men¬
tions virtue as one of the (our qualifications necessary
m a general, he means greatness of mind. And so per¬
sons are often commended for instances of virtue shown
in their conduct, which respect only some single vir¬
tue, as justice, temperance, or the like : And in this
sense Cicero calls Clod ins a deadly animal. So when
our Saviour commissions his apostles to preach the gospel
to every creature, the meaning is, every rational crea¬
ture. And thus, likewise, to talk to a person sometimes
denotes the same thing as to blame him, which is one
way of talking.
I he second kind of synecdoche puts the species for
the genus. Thus bread denotes any kind of food ; as
when a person is said to get his bread by his labour. In
the same way of speaking, money is put for any kind
of wealth in general. And it is an usual expression to
say, that wine destroys more than the sword; that is
than any hostile arms. And the legal form of banish¬
ment among the Romans was, to prohibit persons the
use of fire and water ; that is, the most common and
ordinary necessaries oj life, in which all others were in¬
cluded.
The third species of this trope is, when the essential
whole is put for one of its parts ; that is, either for
the matter or form. Thus, in the evangelist, Mary
Magdalen says, They have taken away my Lord, and 1
know not where they have laid him, meaning his body.
So it is usual to say of a deceased person, He was
buried at such a time. And in the inscriptions of sepul¬
chral monuments we frequently meet with this expres¬
sion, Here lies such a one ; that is, In's corpse. Nor are
instances uncommon in which the whole being is put
for the form. Thus when Cicero says, Those persons
live, who have fled from the confinement of the body,
as from a prison; by persons must necessarily be un¬
derstood their souls, which are here distinguished from
and set in opposition to their bodies. And so Virgil
represents iEneas as meeting with Dido and some of
his I rojan friends in the infernal regions; by which are
meant their ghosts.
The fourth kind of synecdoche is, when either the
matter or form is put for the whole being. Thus silver
and
3S8 O H A T
Elocution, ami gold are used to signify money hiatle of those me-
Wi——v^*- 1 tals y as when we say, 1 l/uve so much silver, or so much
gold. And the word sold, both in our own and other
languages, is put for the whole person. So with us, a
merry soul, and a dull soul; in Cicero, dear souls; and
in Horace, candid souls, are all used in this tropical
sense. But this way of speaking occurs nowhere more
frequently than in the Sacred Writings. Thus, for in¬
stance, it is said, All the souls winch came with Jacob
into Egypt, meaning the persons. And again, 'I'he soul
that sinneth it shall die; from which expression, and
others of the like import, some persons, by not at¬
tending to the nature of this trope, have been errone¬
ously led to infer that the soul is naturally mortal.
But sometimes only part of the matter stands to ex¬
press the whole essence or being. So wre imitate the
Batins in using the word caput or head to denote either
& person or thing, lor, as with them lepidum caput, so
with us a witty head, signifies the same as a man of wit.
And in the same sense, so many head of cattle means so
many entire cattle.
By the fifth sort of synecdoche, the whole of any
material thing or quantity, whether continued or dis¬
crete, is put for a part of it. So when Cicero says,
A tear is kindled through the whole world, in compli¬
ment to his country, he calls the Roman empire the
world. And this expression is also used by historians.
Thus Cornelius Nepos, speaking of the quarrel between
Mark Antony and Augustus, tells us, that each of
. them desired to be lord oj the world. And in like man¬
ner St Luke says, There went out a decree from Ccesar
Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. So in St
Paul’s shipwreck, it is said, They ran the ship u-
ground, that is, the head of her, for it is plain by what
follows, that the stern was loose. And as to discrete
quantity, our Saviour, using this trope, said he should
be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.
Though he did not continue three whole days and
nights in the grave, but only part of the first and third
day, and the whole second day, with the two rvhole
nights between the first and third day, according to
our way of reckoning. Eor he was buried on Friday
in the afternoon, and rested in the grave that night,
with the following day, which was the Jewish Sab¬
bath, and was risen on the morning of the next day.
So that we must necessarily have recourse to this sy¬
necdoche which puts the whole for the part, to clear
up that event.
By this kind of synecdoche, also, the plural number
is sometimes put for the singular. Thus St Matthew
$ays, The thieves who were crucified with our Saviour
reviled him: though it is plain from St Luke, that
only one of them did so. It may also be referred to
this trope, when a certain number is put for an un¬
certain one. So it is an usual way of expression to
sav, I have seen or done such a thing an hundred or a
thousand times: when perhaps so many are not really
intended, but only in general some considerable num¬
ber.
The sixth and last kind of synecdoche puts a part of
any material thing or quantity for the whole of it. So
we say of a man, He shelters himself under such an one's
roof; that is, in his house. And of a fleet, that it con¬
sists of so many sail; meaning, so many ships. And by
this trope, that, is ascribed to a single person which was
2
G R Y. Part III
done by the assistance of others, and in conjunction with Elocution,
them : As when it is said, that Hannibal killed forty '—-v-—
thousand Romans at the battle of Cannes-, For an army
is an aggregate body, of which the general is the head,
and consequently the chief part of it. And to this kind
of synecdoche may also be referred such expressions in
which the singular number is put for the plural: as it
one should say, A man is liable to be misled by the in¬
fluence of irregular passions ; meaning all men, or man-
'kind in general. Or when less than the real number is
put for any round number : Thus some ancient writers,
when they speak of the Grecian armada that came against
Troy, call it a fleet of a thousand shipsthough accord¬
ing to Homer’s list, it contained 1186. And so like¬
wise the Greek interpreters of the Old Testament are
usually called the Seventy 5 whereas, in reality, they
were seventy-two. 57
IV. Irony. This is a trope in which one contrary 2kIrony defi-
signfied by another: As if any one should say, Well done;
when at the same time his design is to intimate that the lustrate *
thing was ill done. So that, by this manner of expres¬
sion, the speaker appears to mean something contrary to
the sense of the word he makes use of. Not that the
word is changed from its usual signification ; hut by the
circumstances attending the expression, we perceive the
contrary to what is spoken is intended. Quintilian ob¬
serves, that an irony may be known one ol these three
ways: “ By the manner of pronunciation, or from the
nature of the person or the thing. For (as he adds)
where any of these does not suit with the words, it is plain
the speaker intends the contrary. The irony is very
plain from the manner of pronunciation in that passage
of Terence, where Simo speaking to his servant by
way of reproot, says, “ V on have taken great care
indeed.” From the circumstances of the person, when
Cicero, addressing to Catiline, says, “ He went to your
companion, that excellent man, Marcus Marcellus.”
When he calls him an excellent man, it is evident he
means the contrary: because no good man would be
a companion of Catiline. And when he begins his
oration for Liganus with saying, Ccesai, this is a
new crime, and never heard of till now,” the thing
he is speaking of shows it to be an irony j for it
was not new, as all who were present very well under¬
stood.
The subjects of irony are vices and follies of all
kinds. And this way of exposing them is often more
effectual than serious reasoning: For many persons,
who, either from temper or want of reflection, cannot
be moved by the force of an argument, are not proof
against the poignancy of wit and raillery. And theie-
f'ore we find the most grave and serious persons have
not declined the use of this trope upon proper occa¬
sions. Socrates, whom the oracle pronounced the
wisest man of his age, gave so much into it, that he
got the name of ugaiy, that is, the droll. In the Sacred
Writings we have a remarkable instance of it in the
prophet Elijah, where he challenges the priests of
Baal to prove the truth of their deity : For it is said
expressly, “ He mocked them, and said, Cry aloud,
for he is a god 5 either he is talking, or he is pursuing,
or he is on a journey, or peradventure he sleepeth, and
must be awaked.” And Solomon takes the like me¬
thod to expose the follies of youth by this ironical apo¬
strophe, “ Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth,” with
ORA
Part III,
Elocution." what follows, which is all ironical. Nay, our Savi-
  * ' our himself thought fit thus to reprove the Jewish doc¬
tors, when he says, “ Full well ye reject the command¬
ment ot God, that ye may keep your own tradition:”
v> here, by the words full well, or, as it is in the ori¬
ginal, it is very evident that a severe reprimand
was intended.
An nony is used on a variety of occasions, as we
shall show from some instances in Cicero. Sometimes
he applies it in a way of jest and banter : As when he
says, “We have much reason to believe the modest
man would not asic him for his debt, when he jiursues
his life.” At other times by way of insult and deri¬
sion : Thus when he would represent the forces of Ca¬
tiline as mean and contemptible, “ O terrible war
(says he), in which this band of rakes are to march
under Catiline ! Draw out all your garrisons against
this formidable body.” Again, at other times, to
give the greater force to his argument, he would seem,
as it were, by this trope to recal and correct what he
had said before ; as in his oration for Milo : “ But it
is ioolish in us to compare Drusus, Africanus, Pompey,
and omselves, with Ciodius m, all our calamities were
tolerable, but no one can patiently bear the death of
Clodius.” Now the character of Ciodius was so well
known, that all who were present must be sensible he
meant the contrary. And, to name no more, an iro¬
ny is never used to greater advantage, than when it
is followed immediately by something very stinging.
Thus, speaking of Piso, he says, “ You have heard this
philosopher . he denies that he w'as ever desirous of a
triumph.” And then addressing himself to him, he im¬
mediately adds, “ O wretch ! when you destroyed the
senate, sold its authority, subjected your consulate to
the tribune, overturned the state, betrayed my life and
safety for the reward of a province 5 if you did not de¬
sire a triumph, what can you pretend you did not de¬
sire ?” Ibis must effectually confound the false gravity
at that time assumed by Piso.
Art. II. Secondary Tropes.
feeondary Secondary tropes are so called, because they are all
opes sr- of the same nature with the former, and may be refer-
retwiivi10 SOme orothier of tllcm> tll0l,gh they have received
it In 8 different names.
ime>t0 ^hey are chiefly eight in number ; Antonoma.ua,
s former Communication, Litotes, Euphemism, Catachresis, Hy¬
po bole, Metalepsis, and Allegory. The three first of
these are simple tropes, and may all be referred to a
Synecdoche. But the five last are of a mixed or com¬
plex nature, and not confined to any one of the pri¬
mary tropes ; as will appear in treating upon them in
order.
. A common or general word is sometimes used for
idbYw/11,6- Fr°per name ot some Part;cu,;u- thing or person
emi- } wfnch upon any account is eminent and remarkable,
nte for ^o we say, He is gone to the city, or he came from the
■ cl^Vi that is, London. And by the Scriptures, we mean
the Bible. So likewise, in speaking of persons, the
orator is used for Cicero, the poet for Homer or Virgil,
and the philosopher for Aristotle: and it is not unusual
to say the apostle, when we mean St Paul. On the
conti ary, the proper names of things or persons are
sometimes applied to any other of the same character.
Ihus we use the word gosjoe/for any certain and un-
359'
59
common
nark-
e.
1
T O R Y.
doubted truth. And Carthaginian faith proverbially Elocution
s 001] for the greatest falsehood and deceit among the
liomans. With the Greeks, Hercules signified a strong
man, Nestor a wise man, and 1ms a beggar; and the
names of Samson, Solomon, and Job, now answer the-
like characters Both these ways of expression are'
often very emphatical, and heighten the idea more
ban where things are expressed by their own name.
1° call a good orator Cicero, or an excellent poet a
sc coni irgi, includes not only an encomium upon the
arts themselves, but leads the mind to what is most
perfect m them, and was peculiar to those persons.
Ibese forms of speech are called antonomasia, and
come properly under a synecdoche 5 for in the former
be whole is put for a part, and in the latter a part for
the whole. 1
II. Nothing is more common with orators than aAcWe
ciange of persons. Sometimes, to avoid envy, and of persons
prevent the imputation of pride, in assuming to them-common in
se!yes the praise of any laudable action, they ascribe0rat0ry-
1 to their hearers, and do not say, we, but ye did so
ana so. At other times, when it is necessary to remind
them of something which they have done amiss, or to
caution them against some wrong step for the future :
to prevent giving offence, they take it upon them¬
selves, or at least join themselves with them, and do
not say, you have done this, or do not you do this: but
rve have done it, or let us not do it. And again, at other
times, in compliment to their hearers, they join them as
partners m the commendable actions or virtues of other
persons 5 as when the whole body of the people is brought
in to share the praise arising from the success of wise
counsels or victorious arms. Such ways of speaking of¬
ten occur both in Demosthenes and Cicero. They are.
called communication, and come properly under a sy¬
necdoche of the whole.
. IIir' 10n1 the contrary, there is a mode of speech, .Litotes
m winch, by denying the contrary, more is intended where, by
than the words express. This way of speaking is call- denying the
ed litotes: and is often used for sake of modesty where contrary>
tVsofteVal"11 ^ Say-any kT ^ rS ^ P™1*6’ 0r-eant^han
to soften an expression which in direct terms might is express-
sound harsh or give offence. As if one should say, Jed.
do not commend you for that; meaning, L greatly discom¬
mend or blame you for it: where more being under¬
stood than the words expressly denote, it is properly
a synedoche of the part. Not that this manner of
speaking is always to be so interpreted ; but where it-
is not, there is no trope ; which must be judged of by
the circumstances of the discourse. But that it fre¬
quently is so used, might be easily shown from many
instances 5 though it will be sufficient to mention two
or three. Cicero speaking of Cotta, calls him no mean
orator whom he had just called a very great orator.
ml he says of \ arro that “ he pursued his studies not
without industry 5 and afterwards gives him the cha¬
racter ‘ of a man of the greatest application.” Which
passages, compared together, plainly show the import
of those negative expressions. And a friend of Cicero,
writing to him, begins his letter thus : “ Although
am sensible the news I send you will not he very
pleasant.” This news was concerning the death of
anot ier liend of Cicero’s j and there by the words not
very pleasant, must, to be sure, be meant very unplea¬
sant and melancholy j but he chose that expression in the .
beginning
36©
Elocution.
ORATOR Y.
(1
Ungrateful
thin ,s soft¬
ened by a-
gree.ibie
■words.
Catachresis
or harsh
tropes.
beginning of his letter, as the softest and least shocking,
the better to prepare him for the following account 0
what that news was. And in this way interpreters ex¬
plain that passage in St Matthew : And thou Bethlehem
in the land of Judah art not the least among the princes
of Judah; where, by not the least, they understand the
greatest, or very great, upon account of the honour 1
received by the birth of our Saviour, as the words im¬
mediately following plainly intimate. f . . .
IV. When any displeasing or ungrateful thing is
expressed by a more soft and agreeable word, it is call¬
ed And as tlie word made Tit
contrary to the proper word, or only different fron
it it may be referred to different tropes. I he Latins
have a soft way of expressing their disregard to a per¬
son by saying valeat; which we have borrowed horn
hem and^ay, fare him well. When the contrary be-
In^ende/’to what is expressed, it comes properly
-under an irony. And as the word death carries in it
an idea that is disagreeable to human nature instead
of saving a person is dead, we often say he is deceased,
or departed; which we have also taken from the L
tins Cho use the words decessit obnt in the same
sense. So that in both languages it comes under a
synecdoche of the whole 5 to depart out of life being
one sort of departure. But when the evangelist shak¬
ing of Stephen, who was stoned to death, expresse
bv saying that he fell asleep ; this is a beautiful meta-
pLr/taken from the similitude between the death of a
good man and sleep. , 1
h V. Catachresis signifies m general any harsh trope,
though it is most commonly found in metaphors,
is principally used by poets, who make choice of it for
novelty, or to enforce an expression, where the proper
word does not seem strong enough. As when Milton,
in describing the angel Raphael’s descent from heaven,
says, he
Sails between worlds and worlds;
where the novelty of the word enlivens the image more
than if he had flies. But it is sometimes found m
the gravest authors, and even in the sacred writings.
So we read of the blood of the grape. And Solomon
says the horse-leech hath two daughters. Tn all these
instances the trope is a metaphor. But when St John
says in the Revelations, I turned to see the voice that
spake to me, it is here a metonvmy of the adjunct; the
wo, d voice being put for the person who uttered it. in
St Matthew we read of Simon the leper ; not that he was
then a leper, but had been so, and was cured j which is
a synecdoche of the part. And when a criminal is said
to havchad his reward, that is, his punishment, it is
tt ^Vl 'Hyperbole is the boldest of all tropes •, for it ex-
Slides, ceeds the «rict bound. of truth, and rep-esent, «h,n^
all either greater or less, better or worse, than they really
are But the representation is madern such a man-
ner as not to impose on the hearers. For an hyperbole
is not used to define or describe any thing accurately,
but only to magnify or depress it in a considerable de¬
cree, when we either cannot or do not choose to re¬
present it exactly. The excess in this trope is called
luresis; as when we say of any thing that is very
high, it reaches to the skies. The defect or contrary
extreme, is termed meiosis. So we say of a veiy lean
Part HI
person, he is nothing but skin and bones, or a mere skele- Elocution.
ton. It is principally metaphorical, hut sometimes ta- v—j
ken from other tropes. When Saul and Jonathan are
said to have been swifter than eagles, and stronger than
lions, the expression is founded in similitude,and isthei e-
fore a metaphor. When, instead of saying Cato was a
very virtuous man, the historian calls him the im.'ge
of virtue; it is an hyperbolical metonymy of the aojuuct
for the subject. And when we read in the Mosaic hi¬
story of cities fenced up to heaven, there is a synec¬
doche. But if a man of weak sight be said to be eagle-
eyed, it is an irony. Those hyperboles which are ex¬
pressed comparatively, are commonly most emphatical,
because they show a peculiarity in the excess, i 0 say a
thing is as light as a feather, carries the idea very far •,
hut to say it is lighter, not only carries it still farther,
hut also heightens it, by leaving the mind at an uncer¬
tainty where to fix the limits. 5S ,
VII. Sometimes two or more tropes and those of Memlepsis,
a different kind, are contained under one word j
that several gradations, or intervening senses, co^'e tropes are
between the word that is expressed, and the thing tie- meant un¬
signed by it. And tliis is called a metalepsis. Thederone
contests between Sylla and Marius proved very fatal word,
to the Roman state. Julius Csesar was then a young
man. But Sylla observing his aspiring genius, said ot
him, “ In one Caesar there are many Mariuses.” Now
in this expression there is a metalepsis. For the word
Marius, by a synecdoche, or antovomasia, is put for any
ambitious and turbulent person •, and this again, by a
metonymy of the cause, for the ill efiects of such a temper
to the public. So that Sylla’s meaning, divested ot these
tropes, was, that Caesar would prove the most danger¬
ous person to the Roman state that ever was bred in
it: which afterwards proved true in the event. So when
'Virgil, describing that part of the African coast where
./Eneas arrived with his ships, says, A dark wood hang
over it; the word dark, by a metonymy of the
is nut for shady, and that again by the same, trope tor
thick ; his meaning is, a thick wood. But the words of
Dido, in the same poet, contain a larger gradation, whea
she says,
tropes.
Happy, ah truly happy, had 1 been,
If Trojan ships our coasts had never seen.
In which expression first by a metonymy of the ad¬
junct, the ships are put for the Trojans in the ships:
and these, by a synecdoche of the whole, for iRneas,
who was one of them •, and again his arriving on the
coast, by a metonymy of the cause, for her seeing him •,
and lastly, her seeing him, by the same trope, for the
passion she had for him So that her meaning is, she
had been happy, if she had never entertained a passion ter
/Eneas. This trope is more frequently to be met with
in poets than in orators, as they take greater liberty m
using distant allusions than is suited to that perspicuity
of expression which is required in oratory. But as
Quintilian has well observed, all the intermediate links
of the chain in this trope are of no further use than o
lead the mind gradually from the first to the last, the
better to perceive their connection. _ As in the exam-
,1, last mentioned, relating to Dido, if we drop all the
intervening steps, and connect the words expressed wit
what is directly intended, they will be found to con ai
a very remote cause put for the effect, which comes m^
66
Allegory, a
[continua-
I tion of
iropes
j through se¬
veral sen-
| fences.
Part III.
Elocution, der a metonymy. On the contrary, in the second ex¬
ample, where dark stands for t/n'ck, the effect is put for
a remote cause. And the first, which is founded in a
similitude of temper between Caesar and Marius, be¬
longs to a metaphor.
\ III. Allegory. As a metalepsis comprises several
tropes in one word, so this is a continuation of several
tropes in one or more sentences. Thus Cicero says,
“fortune provided you no field, in which your vir¬
tue could run and display itselfwhere the words
field and run are metaphors taken from corporeal
things, and applied to the mind. And in another
passage, speaking of himself, he says, “ Nor was I so
timorous, that after I had steered the ship of the state
through the greatest storms and waves, and brought
her safe into port, I should fear the cloud of your fore¬
head, or your colleague’s pestilent breath. I saw other
winds, I perceived other storms, I did not withdraw
from other impending tempests; but exposed myself
singly to them for the common safety.” Here the state
is compared to a ship, and all the things said of it un¬
der that image are expressed in metaphors made use of
to signify the dangers with which it had been threat¬
ened. And indeed allegories generally consist of me¬
taphors 5 which being the most beautiful trope, a num¬
ber of them well chosen and put together is one of
the finest and brightest ornaments in language, and
exceeds a single metaphor in lustre, as a constellation
does a separate star. It is true, that allegories are
sometimes found in other tropes j but this is very rare.
In that known expression_of Terence, the tropes are
all metonymies : Without Ceres and Bacchus, Venus
grows cold; that is, divested of the tropes, Without meat
and drink, love dies. And Samson’s riddle is made up
of synecdoches: “ Out of the eater came forth meat,
and out of the strong came forth sweetness.” But
there is no small skill required in the right manage¬
ment of allegories. For care should be taken that
the same kind of trope lie carried through the whole,
so as to compose one uniform and consistent set of
ideas : otherwise they dress up a chimera, a thing that
has no existence, and of which the mind can form no
perception. And, as Quintilian says very justly, “ to
begin with a tempest and end with a fire, would be
very ridiculous and unnatural.” It is likewise very
necessary that the allusions be all plain and evident,
especially where the name of the thing alluded to is
not expressed. These are called pure allegories. As
that of Cicero : “ So it happens, that I, whose busi¬
ness it is to repel the darts, and heal the wounds, am
obliged to appear before the adversaries have thrown
any dart; and they are allowed a time to attack us,
when it will be not in our power to avoid the assault j
and if they throw a poisonous dart, which they seem
prepared to do, we shall have no opportunity to apply
a remedy.” The tropes here are all taken from mili¬
tary affairs, without any intimation what they are ap¬
plied to. But that is plain from the context of the
discourse. For he is speaking of the disadvantages he
laboured under in defending his client against those of
the opposite side, and so applies to the bar those
terms wbich were proper to the field. But where the
reference is not evident, it becomes a riddle : which is
nothing else but an obscure allegory. To avoid this,
therefore, the best writers generally use what they call
\QU XV. Part I. t
ORATORY.
mixed allegories, that is, such wherein the proper name
of the thing is expressed, which the whole simili- <
tude respects. Of this kind is that in the speech of
King Philip of Macedon, given us by Justin, where he
says, “ I perceive that cloud of a dreadful and bloody
war arising in Italy, and a thunder-storm from the west,
which will fill all places with a large shower of blood,
wherever the tempest of victory shall carry it.” The pro¬
per words war, blood, and victory, being joined to the
tropes cloud, shower, tempest, in this sentence, render
the several parts of the similitude plain and evident.
Quintilian thinks those allegories most beautiful, where
the whole similitude is expressed, and those words, which
in their proper sense relate to one of the two things be¬
tween which the comparison is made, are allegorically
applied to the other : As when Cornelius Nepos says of
Atticus, “ If that pilot gain the greatest reputation who
preserves his ship in a boisterous and rocky sea j ought
not he to be thought a man of singular prudence, who
arrived in safety through so many and so great civil tem¬
pests ? These are the allegories with which orators are
chieflv concerned.
361
Elocutiou.
67
the The terra
§ 2. Of Figures.
This term seems to have been borrow’ed from
stage, where the different habits and gestures of the^rc aP
actors, suitable to the several characters they sustained,
were by the Greeks called a-^pxTK, and by the Latins
figurce : And it is not unusual with us to say of a per-stage,
son, both with respect to his dress and action, that he
makes a very bad, or a very gracefulfigure. And as
language is the dress, as it were of our thoughts, in
which they appear and are represented to others j so
any particular manner of speaking, may, in a large
sense of the word, be called its figure, in which lati¬
tude writers sometimes use it. But rhetoricians have
restrained the sense of the word to such forms of speech
as difl’er from the more common and ordinary ways of
expression: as the theatrical habits of actors, and their
deportment on the stage, are different from their usual
garb and behaviour at other times. A figure therefore,
in the sense it is used by rhetoricians, is A mode of speak-
ing different from, and more beautiful and emphatical
than, the ordinary and usual way of expressing the same
sense ; or, in other words. That language which is sug¬
gested either by the imagination or the passions. Now
as the habits and gestures of our bodies ai’e in a man
ner infinitely variable, so it is plain that the different
forms of speech are almost innumerable. But every
alteration from the common manner ought not to be
esteemed a figure, nor deserves that character. It must
contain some beauty, or express some passion, to merit
a place among rhetorical figures, and be marked out for
imitation.
The subject oifigure seems to have been one of the
last things which was brought into the place of oratory,
in order to complete it. Aristotle, who treats so ac¬
curately upon other parts, says very little of this. But
the Greek writers who came after him have abund¬
antly supplied that deficiency. It is to them we ow'e
the chief observations that have been made on this
subject. They took notice of the several modes and
turns of expression, observed their force and beauty,
and gave them particular names by which they might
be known and distinguished from each other. And
Z z indeed
362 o R A T O
Elocutior. indeed they have treated the matter with such minute-
1 v—" ' ness and subtility, that Quintilian seems, not without
reason, to think they have multiplied figures to an ex¬
cess. But though it Avas so late before they were taken
notice of, and introduced into the art of speaking, yet
the use of them in discourse was doubtless very ancient.
The author of Homer’s life, which some have ascribed
to Plutarch, has shown, by examples taken out of him,
that there is scarce a figure mentioned by rhetoricians,
but is to be met with in that most ancient poet. And,
if avc consider the nature of speech, we shall easily per¬
ceive that mankind must have been under a necessity
very early to introduce the use of tropes for supplying
the want of proper Avords to express their simple ideas:
so the like necessity must have put them upon the use of
figures to represent their different passions*, though both
of them Avere aftenvards increased, and improved in
such a manner as to become the chief ornaments of
language. The passions of men have been ahvays the
same *, they are implanted in us by nature, and avc are
all taught to discover them by the same Avays. When
the mind is disturbed, avc shotv it by our countenance,
by our actions, and by our Avords. Fear, joy, anger,
alter the countenance, and occasion different emotions
and gestures of the whole body. And avc knoAV Avith
what passion a man is affected, by hearing his \A7ords,
though we do not see him. He does not express him¬
self as he usually does at other times Avhen cool and
sedate. Objects appear to him in a different vieiv,
and therefore he cannot but speak of them in a difier-
ent Avay. He interrogates, he exclaims, he admires,
he appears, he invokes, he threatens, he recals his
ivords, repeats them, and by many other different turns
of expression varies his speech no less than his counte¬
nance, from his common and ordinary manner. Noav
as nature seems to teach us by these figurative ex¬
pressions hoAV to represent the different commotions of
our minds, hence some have thought fit to call figures
the language of the passions. And as these are given us,
among other wise ends, to excite us the better to pro¬
vide for our preservation and safety, this is done some¬
times by force of arms, and at other times by discourse.
And therefore Cicero very handsomely compares the
conduct of an orator to the exercises of the palaestra :
in which, as each combatant endeavours not only to
defend himself, and attack his adversary, but likeAvise
to do both Avith decency j so the principal weapons of
an orator, as he represents them, are figures, which
being no less the ornaments of language than images
of our passions, ansAver all these purposes. Besides,
figures chiefly distinguish the different kinds of style,
furnish it with an agreeable variety, and often serve to
represent things in a clear and forcible manner.
From this short account of the nature of figures, the
advantage of them to an orator is very evident. They
are a sort of natural eloquence, which every one falls
into Avithout attending to it, suitably to that temper
of mind with which he is affected himself, and is
desirous to affect others. In a cool and sedate dis¬
course, such figures as convey our sentiments with the
greatest strength and evidence are most proper. And
there are others, which are suited to brighten and en¬
liven more gay and sprightly objects. Others again
are more peculiarly adapted to express the disorders
and perturbations of the mind. To repeat the same
R Y. Fart HI.
thing again Avould many times be deemed a tautology Elocution,
and impertinent j but to do this Avhen the mind is'—nr—^
ruffled, is not only allotvable, but the repetition ren¬
ders it more strong and affecting. So likeAvise to in¬
terrogate, exclaim, or admire, under the influence of
a passion, impresses the hearers, and disposes them to
attention j whereas at another time perhaps such ways
of speaking Avould scarce be consistent Avith prudence.
There is a natural sympathy in men’s minds, Avhich
disposes them to receive impressions from those with
Avhom they converse. Thus one gay and pleasant
companion gives a cheerfulness and vivacity to a
whole company j Avhereas, on the contrary, one who
is dull and phlegmatic damps the spirits of all about
him, and affects them Avith the same gloomy temper.
Figures are peculiarly serviceable to an orator for an-
swering these different intentions. And as he finds
them in life, from thence he must copy them *, as a
painter does the features of the countenance, and the
several parts of the body j figures being to the one Avhat
lines and colours are to the other. The design of
Catiline to destroy the Roman state and burn the city,
is a story Avell knoAvn. There Avas an army draAvn to¬
gether at a proper distance to favour the undertaking j
and others Avere left in Rome, who had their parts
assigned them for burning the city, and destroying
those avIio should escape the flames. And, in a Avoid,
every thing Avas ready for putting in execution this
horrid and barbarous scheme. So that nothing re¬
tarded it but the taking off Cicero, Avho Avas then
consul, which AA'as thought necessary to be done first.
Cicero, upon information of the design against his
life, finds means to prevent it, and the same day calls
together the senate. And Catiline, who Avas a man
of consummate boldness, had the confidence to appear
in that assembly. Upon their meeting, Cicero opens
to them the Avliole affair of the conspiracy, and the
design against himself, in a most warm and pathetic
harangue. In which he had two things in view y
to raise the indignation of the senate against the con¬
spirators, and particularly against Catiline j and, either
by terrifying or exasperating him, to oblige him te
leave the city. Noav he does not begin his speech in
his usual manner at other times, by addressing to his
audience, bespeaking their favour and attention, or let¬
ting them gradually into the design of what he was
about to say 5 but as Catiline Avas present, he immediate¬
ly falls upon him Avith \*ehemence, in the folloAving
manner : “ Hoav far, Catiline, will you abuse our pa¬
tience ? How long Avill your fury insult us ? What
bounds will you set to your unbridled rage ? Does
neither the night-guard of the palace, nor the city-
watch, nor the people’s fear, nor the agreement of all
good men, nor the meeting of the senate m this forti¬
fied place, nor the countenances and looks of this as¬
sembly, at all move you ? Do not you perceive your
designs are discovered, and that all Avho are present
know of your conspiracy ? Who of us, do you think, is
ignorant of what you did the last night, and the night
before, where you Avas, who was with you, and Avhat
you resolved on ? O times, O manners ! The senate
knoAVS this, the consul sees it*, and yet this man lives!
 lives ? nay, comes into the senate, joins in the public
counsels, observes and marks out each of us for destruc¬
tion !” And in the same impetuous strain he proceeds
through.
Part III.
ORATORY.
Elocution, through his whole speech, interspersing a great variety
'—"v -' of the like strong and moving figures. And the dis¬
course had its desired effect: for when Catiline stood up
afterwards to make his defence, the whole senate was
so inflamed, and their resentments against him rose so
high, from what Cicero had said, that they had not
patience to hear him speak $ upon which he left both
them and the city. Had Cicero, instead of venting his
just indignation against the author of so barbarous and
inhuman a design, in the manner he did, by figures
suited to strike the passions of his hearers 5 had he,
instead of this, attempted to reason with him, and told
the story in a cold and lifeless manner, he would have
exposed himself to the contempt of Catiline j and by
leaving the senate little or nothing moved at what
he said, prevented perhaps their coming to those speedy
and vigorous resolutions which were necessary at so cri¬
tical a juncture. Let us suppose him to have expostu¬
lated with Catiline in much the same words as before,
but thrown into a different form, and divested of those
pathetic figures. As thus : “ Catiline, you have really
abused our patience to a great degree. You have in¬
sulted us with your furious proceedings a lonp- while.
You seem to have fixed no bounds to your unbridled
rage. Neither the night-guard of the palace, nor the
city-watch, nor the people’s fear, nor the agreement
among good men, nor the calling together of the se¬
nate in this fortified place, nor the countenances and
looks of this assembly, appear to move you in the least.
I assure you we are all of us apprised of what you did
the last night, and the night before, where you was,
and who were with you, and what resolutions you came
to. These are sad times, the age is very degenerate j
that the senate should know all this, the consul see it 5
and yet that this man should live, come into the senate,
hear all our debates, and mark us out to destroy us.”
You see the sense is entirely the same, and the w'ords
too in a great measure 5 so that there is little more
than an alteration in the form of them. And yet who
does not perceive how flat and languid such a way of
talking must have appeared at that time ? and how
much it loses of that spirit and energy, which shows it¬
self in Cicero’s manner of expression P Had he delivered
himself thus, it might indeed have made the senate look
upon Catiline as an abandoned wretch, lost to all virtue
and goodness, and perhaps have moved some to pity
him on that account j as we are easily induced to com¬
passionate persons in such circumstances, especially when
descended from noble and virtuous ancestors, which
was his case. But sure it would have been ill suited to
fire their minds with that generous regard for their coun¬
try, and the necessary precautions for its security, which
the circumstances of the state then required. Nor would
Catiline have been at all deterred by it, but rather en¬
couraged in the prosecution of his designs, from the
little effect a speech so managed must probably have had
upon the minds of the senators. But Cicero knew very
well that the passions of mankind are the springs of
action : that it is many times not sufficient for an orator
to convince their minds, by setting the truth in a clear
light 5 but he must also raise their hopes, alarm their
fears, inflame their anger, or excite some other suitable
passion, before they will be brought to act with that
zeal and fervour which the case may require. And as
he was admirably well skilled in this art of touching the
passions, he seldom fails to fix upon the proper me¬
thods of doing it, and makes choice of such figures
and modes of speaking as in the strongest manner re¬
present the emotions of his own mind. For every
passion is not to be expressed by the same figures, any
more than it is drawn by the same lines, or painted
with the same colours. When Dido finds that ./Eneas
is about to leave her, she uses all her arts to detain him.
And as persons in great distress are seldom at a loss
to express their condition in the most affecting way j
she discovers her fear, anger, revenge, with the whole
crowd of disorders which then possessed her mind, in
a variety of moving figures, suited to raise the coun¬
ter passions in his breast, as is finely represented liv
Yirgil in that artful speech he has made for her, which
we forbear to recite for no other reason but the length
of it. But what particular figures are most accom¬
modated to answer the several ends proposed by them,
will best appear when wre come to treat of them sepa¬
rately.
We shall therefore now proceed to lay down a few
directions for the proper use of figures. And first
they should always be accommodated to the senti¬
ments, and rise in proportion to the images designed to
be conveyed by them. So far as they are founded in
reason, they are suited to impress the mind ; but where
the language outstrips the thought, though it may please
the eax-, and some weak persons may be carried away
with a pomp of words, yet an intelligent hearer will
soon see through the thin and airy dress. It is the
sense which gives weight to the figure, as that by strik¬
ing the imagination aw’akens the mind, and excites it
to act in conformity to reason. Again, in the use of
pathetic figures, it is generally better to be nervous
than copious, that the images, by their closer union,
may impress the mind with greater force and energy;
though in such figures as are designed for ornament or
illustration, a more diffusive way of painting is some¬
times agreeable. But farther, the too frequent use of
figures ought to be avoided. For what wras observed in
relation to tropes, is also true with respect to these j that
a great number of them is apt to darken and obscure
the style. And besides, Cicero’s reflection in this case is
very just, That “ it is hard to say, what should be the
reason, that those things, which most affect us with
a sensible pleasure, and at first sight soonest move us,
do likewise soonest cloy and satiate us.” But that
it is so, we find by common experience. Lastly, figures
should be so interwoven in a discourse, as not to render
the style rough and uneven, sometimes high and at
other times low; now dry and jejune, then pompous
and florid. In a word, they should rather seem to arise
from nature than art j to offer themselves, than to be
the effect of study j and to appear not like patches upon
a face, but the agreeable beauty of a sound and health¬
ful complexion. But of this we shall have occasion to
speak more at large hereafter, in treating upon the dif¬
ferent kinds or characters of style.
As to the division of figures, which is what remains
to be considered, they are usually divided into two
sorts, figures of words, and figures of sentences. The
difference between them consists in this; that in the
former, if you alter the words, or sometimes only the
situation of them, you destroy the figure 5 but in the
latter the figure remains, wdiatever words are,made use
Z z 2 of,
364 0 R A T
[Elocution of, or in what manner soever the order of them is
-v——' changed. Thus when the name oi a person or thing is
repeated, to intimate some known property or quality
belonging thereto, it is a verbal figure called place.
Cicero was a true patriot and hearty lover of his coun¬
try. And therefore we shall use this figure in saying,
that at the time of Catiline"1 s conspiracy Cicero appeared
like Cicero. The sense would remain the same, but the
figure would be lost, if we should alter the words, and
say, at that time Cicero appeared like himself. So when
two or more sentences, or members ot a sentence, end
with the same word, it is called epistrophei as when we
say, To lose all relish of life, is in effect to lose life. But
if only the order of the words be changed in the latter
clause thus, To lose all relish oj life, is to lose life in
effect; the figure vanishes. And this is the nature of
the verbal figures. But it is not so m figures of sen¬
tences : they continue the same, whatever alterations are
made in the words. An orator sometimes thinks it pro¬
per to change the form of his discourse, and address him¬
self to his audience, or an absent person, or else perhaps
to introduce some other person as speaking to them
whose words may be supposed to carry greater weight
and authority with them than his own. I he former
of these is called apostrophe, and the latter prosopeda or
imagery 1 which require no certain words or order of
expression.
Art. I. Verbal Figures.
\
Verbal! fi- These may be distinguished into three sorts, as they
gures di- consist in a deficiency of words, a redundancy, or a repe-
stinguished
sorts: with 0f t,ie first sort are ellipsis mA asyndeton.
their vari- Ellipsis, is when one or more words are wanting in
ous subdi- a sentence to complete the construction, and fully ex-
visions. press the sense. This figure is often used in proverbial
speeches: as when we say, Many men, many minds;
that is, have many minds ; and, The more danger, the
more honour ; that is, gains more honour. But where
more is intended by such expressions than mere brevity,
and especially when they are the effect of some passion,
the figure receives another name, and is called aposio-
pesis, which is placed among the figures of sentences,
where we shall consider it.
Asyndeton, is when the particles that connect the
members of a sentence one with another are left out,
to represent either the celerity of an action, or the
haste and eagerness of the speaker. Thus Caesar ex¬
presses his speedy conquest of Fharnaces : Icame, 1 saw,
I conquered. If he had inserted the copulatives, and
said, I came, and I saw, and I conquered, it would have
retarded the expression, and not given so full and just an
idea of the swiftness of the action. In the last article
we took notice of the vehement and impetuous manner
in which Cicero attacked Catiline in bis first oration,
where his design was to fire the minds of the senate
against him, and oblige him to leave the city, both
which points he gained by that speech. The next day,
therefore, when Catiline was gone, he calls together the
body of the citizens, and, makes a speech to them, which
in a sort of rapture or transport of mind he thus begins,
by acquainting them with the departure of Catiline, He
is gone, departed, escaped, broke out; intimating at the
same time both the excessive rage in which Catiline left
3
O R Y. Part III,
Home, and the great pleasure with which he was himself Elocution,
affected on that account. This concise way of speaking' v  
adds likewise a considerable emphasis to an expression,
and by bringing the several parts of a thing nearer to¬
gether affects the mind with a greater force. Thus Cice¬
ro sets Cato’s character in a very strong and beautiful
light by the use of this figure. “ Nature itself (says he)
has made you a great and excellent man for integrity,
gravity, temperance, magnanimity, justice, in a word,
for all virtues.”
II. The second sort of verbal figures is contrary
to these, and consists in a redundancy or multiplicity
of words 5 which are likewise two, pleonasmus and poly¬
syndeton.
W hen we use more words than are necessary to ex¬
press a thing, it is called pleonasmus. This is done
sometimes for greater emphasis, as when we say, Where
in the world is he? At other times it is designed to as¬
certain the truth of what is said: So. the servant in
Terence, when the truth of what he had related was
called in question, replies, It is certainly so ; I saw it
with these very eyes.
When the several parts of a sentence are united by
proper particles, it is called polysyndeton. This adds a
weight and gravity to an expression, and makes what
is said to appear with an air of solemnity •, and by re¬
tarding the course of the sentence, gives the mind an
opportunity to consider and reflect upon every part di¬
stinctly. We often meet with this figure in Demos¬
thenes, which very well suits with the gravity of his
style. So he encourages the Athenians to prosecute
the war against King Philip of Macedon, from this
consideration, that now “ they had ships and men,
and money, and stores, and all other things which
might contribute to the strength of the city, in greater
number and plenty than in former times.” Every ar¬
ticle here has its weight, and carries in it a proper mo¬
tive to animate them to the war. But if you remove
the copulatives, the sentence will lose much of its
force.
III. The third kind of verbal figures consists in a re¬
petition. And either the same word in sound or sense,
is repeated \ or one of a like sound, or signification,
or both.
Of the former sort there are ten, called antanaclasis,
plocc, epi’zeuxis, climax, anaphora, epistrophe, symploce,
cpanalcpsis, anadiplosis, and epenodos. The two first ot
these agree in sound, but difl'er in sense} the eight fol¬
lowing agree in both.
When the same wrord in sound but not in sense is re¬
peated, it is called antanaclasis. This figure some¬
times carries a poignancy in it j and when it appears na¬
tural and easy, discovers a ready turn of thought. As
when a son, to clear himself of suspicion, assured his fa¬
ther he did not wait for his death ; his father replied.
But I desire you would wait Jor it. Here the word
wait is taken in two diflerent senses. It is likewise
used on serious occasions, as in grave and moral pre¬
cepts, which are apt to affect tlm mind with greater
pleasure when delivered in an agreeable dress. As
this : Carefor those things in your youth, which in old
acre may free you from care : Where the word care in
the former place signifies to provide, and in the latter
anxiety of mind. And even our Saviour himself once
uses this figure, when he says to one qf his disciples,
who
Fart III.
Elocution who desired to be dismissed from attending him, that he
1 v ' might go and bury his father j Follow me, and let the
dead bury their dead: W here dead in one place denotes
a natural death, and in other a moral or spiritual
death.
Sometimes the name of some person or thing is re¬
peated again, to denote some particular character or
property designed to be expressed bv it; and then
it is called place. Thus Cicero says, Young Cato wants
experience, but yet he is Cato; meaning he had the
steady temper of the family. And so in the pro¬
verbial expression, An ape is an ape, dress him eve?' so
fine.
<rS When a word is repeated again with vehemence in
the same sense, it is called epi%euxis. This figure shows
the earnestness ot the speaker, and his great concern
of mind about what he says , and therefore has a na¬
tural tendency to excite the attention of the audience.
It is suited to express anger, surprise, sorrow, and se¬
veral other passions. As when Cicero would express
his indignation against Antony for having been the
chief instrument in bringing on the civil war, he says
to him : You, you, Antony pushed Caesar upon the civil
war. And thus he tells Catiline in his first invective
against him : You five ; and live, not Jo lay aside, but
to pursue, your wicked design. And when our Saviour
would express his great concern and sorrow for the
wickedness of the Jews, he does it in this pathetic
manner : 0 Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who killest the pm-
phets.
6p Chmax is a beautiful kind of repetition, when the
word, which ends the first member of a period, be¬
gins the second, and so through each member, till the
whole is finished. There is a great deal of strength as
well as beauty in this figure, where the several steps
rise naturally, and are closely connected with each
other. As in this example : There is no enjoyment of
property without government, no government without a
magistrate, no magistrate without obedience, and no obe¬
dience where every one acts as he pleases. But as Quin¬
tilian observes, this figure lies so open, that it is apt to
look too much like art 5 for which reason he advises not
to use it often. To prevent this, therefore, orators
sometimes disguise it, by not repeating the same word
which stood in the former member, but some other equi¬
valent to it. As in the following instance of Cicero for
Milo : “ Nor did he commit himself only to the people,
but also to the senate ; nor to the senate only, but
likewise to the public forces j nor to these only, but also
to his power with whom the senate had entrusted the
whole commonwealth.
When several sentences, or members of a sentence,
begin with the same word, it is called anaphora. This
is a lively and elegant figure, and serves very much to
engage the attention. For by the frequent return of
the same word the mind of the hearer is held in an
agreeable suspense, till the whole is finished. “ You
do nothing (says Cicero to Catiline), you attempt
nothing, you think nothing, but what I not only
hear, but also see, and plainly perceive.” It is fre¬
quently used by way of question \ which renders it not
only beautiful, but likewise strong and nervous. As
at the beginning of the same speech : “ Does neither
the night-guard of the palace, nor the city-watch,
nor _the people’s fear, nor the agreement of all good
ORATORY.
men, nor the meeting of the senate in this fortified
place, nor the countenances and looks of this assembly,
at all move you ?” And in another of his orations :
“ What is so popular as peace, which seems to afford
a pleasure, not only to beings endowed with sense, but
even to inanimate nature ? What is so popular as li¬
berty, which even beasts as well as men seem to covet
and prefer above all things ? What is so popular as
ease and leisure, for the enjoyment of which you
and your ancestors have undergone the greatest la¬
bours ?
Epistrophe is contrary to the former, and makes the
repetition at the end of each member or sentence. As
thus ; “ Since concord was lost;friendship was lost, fide¬
lity was lost, liberty was lost; all was lost.'1 And Cicero,
in the charge which he brings against Mark Antony
before the senate, makes use of this figure, when he
says, “ Do you lament the destruction of three Ro¬
man armies P the author of that destruction was Anto¬
ny. Do you bewail the loss of most eminent citizens ?
I hey have been taken from you by Antony. Is the
authority of this order weakened ? It is weakened by
Antony.”
Symploce takes in both these last figures. As in that
of Cicero : “ You would pardon and acquit him, whom
the senate hath condemned, whom the people of Rome
have condemned, whom all mankind have condemned.”
Here the several members both begin and end with the
same word. We have a beautiful instance of it in St
Paul, when he says, “ Are they Hebrews P so am I.
Are they Israelites ? so am I. Are they the seed of
Abraham ? so am I.”
When a sentence concludes with the word with which
it began, it is called epanalepsis. As in that expression
id Plautus, u Virtue contains all things 5 he wants no
good thing who has virtue.” The figure is the same,
but the principle not so honest, in the advice which
we find given by the miser in Horace, when he says,
“ Get money, if you can, honestly ; but however,
get money.” This figure adds a force to an expres¬
sion, when the principal thing designed to be convey¬
ed is thus repeated^ by leaving it last upon the mind.
And it heightens the beauty, of it, when the sentence
has an agreeable turn arising from two opposite parts.
AS in Cicero’s compliment to Caesar : “ We have seen
your victory terminated by the war j your drawn
sword in the city we have not seen.” Hermogenes
calls this a circle, because the sentence returns again
to the same word, as that geometrical figure is form¬
ed by the orbicular motion of a line to the same
point.
When the following sentence begins with the same
word with which the former concluded, it is termed
anadiplosis As in the following instance : Let us
think no price too great for truth; truth cannot be
bought too dear. So in that passage of St John : He
came to his own, and his own received him not. This
figure generally suits best with grave and solemn dis¬
courses.
Epanodos is the inversion of a sentence, or repeat¬
ing it backwards, so that it takes in the two last fi¬
gures ; for it both begins and ends with the same word,
and the same word is likewise repeated in the middle.
T his turn of expression lias a beauty in it, and shows a
readiness of thought. We have the following example
c£.
366
Elocution.
75
77
78
ORATORY.
Part III.
of It In Minuting Felix, where he is exposing the folly
of the Egyptian superstition. “ Isis (says he), with
Cynocephalus and her priests, laments, bemoans, and
seeks her lost son ; her attendants beat their breasts,
and imitate the grief of the unhappy mother ; in a little
time the son is found, upon which they all rejoice. Nor
do they cease every year to lose what they find, or to
find what they lose. And is it not ridiculous to lament
what you worship, or to worship what you lament? ’ It
serves likewise to illustrate and enforce the sense, by set¬
ting it in twm opposite views. As in that expression of
the prophet: “Wo unto them who call good evil, and
evil good ; who put darkness for light, and light for
darkness!”
Those figures which consist in a repetition of words
of a like sound or signification, or both, are four; /xzro-
nomasia,homoioptotan, synonymia, m\Aderivatw; the two
first of which respect words that are similar in sound on¬
ly, the third in sense, and the last in both.
When two words very near in sound, but diflerent
in sense, respect each other in the same sentence, it is
called paranomasia. As when we say. After a feast
comes a fast ; and, A friend in need is a friend indeed.
We usually call it a pirn, which when new, and appo¬
sitely used, passes for wit, and serves to enliven con¬
versation. Nor is it wholly to be excluded from grave
and serious discourses : for a witty jest has many times
had a better effect than a solid argument, and prevail¬
ed with those who could not be moved by close rea¬
soning. And therefore Cicero and the best speakers
have sometimes recourse to it upon weighty and solemn
occasions, as will be shown hereafter in its proper
place.
When the several parts of a sentence end with the
same case, or tense of a like sound, this also is consi¬
dered as a figure, and named homoioptoton. As thus :
No marvel though wisdom complain that she is either
wilfully despised, or carelessly neglected: cither openly
scorned, or secretly abhorred. This figure is esteemed
most beautiful when the parts are all of the same length,
or pretty near it; as it adds to the harmony of the pe¬
riod, and renders the cadency of the several members
more musical from the just proportion between them.
The Greek rhetoricians were much addicted to this fi¬
gure, and Isocrates is particularly celebrated for it. But
some of the best orators seem to have industriously
avoided it, as carrying in it too much the appearance of
art. And it is remarkable, that this figure appears no¬
where so much in all the works of Demosthenes, as in
an oration which he did not speak himself, but wrote
for his friend Diodorus, a man of that taste, who was to
pronounce it as his own.
The next figure above mentioned is synonymia. Now
strictly speaking, synonymous words are those which
have exactly the same sense. But there being few such,
the use of the term is so far extended as to comprehend
words of a near affinity in their signification, which in
discourse are frequently put for one another. So, to de¬
sire, and intreat, are sometimes used as equivalentterms;
whereas to desire is no more than to wish for a tiling,
and to intreat is to express that inclination in words. In
like manner, esteem and honour are often taken for syno¬
nymous words, though they have not precisely the same
sense, but one is the usual consequence of the other; for
esteem is the good opinion we entertain of a person in
4
our mind, and honour the outward expression of that Elocution,
opinion. When two or more such words come together, ' » —
they constitute this figure. As when Cicero, speaking
of Piso, says, “ His whole countenance, which is the
tacit language of the mind, has drawn men into a m
stake, and deceived, cheated, imposed on those who did
not know him.” This figure sometimes adds force to
an expression, by enlivening the idea; and it often pro¬
motes the harmony and just cadency of a sentence,
 1 *_1- ..i-1 rlfnn tnn ennn arwl fiiSttnnoint
the ear.
When such words as spring from the same root, as 7*
justice, just, injustice, unjust, and the like, come toge¬
ther in the same sentence, they make the figure called
derivatio. Cicero, observing the vanity of the philoso¬
phers who affected praise at the same time that they de¬
cried it, used this figure, when he says of them, “ The
philosophers set their names to those very books which
they write for the contempt of glory ; and are desirous
to be honoured and applauded, even lor what they say
in contempt of honour and applause.” This figure re¬
ceives an additional beauty when repeated, especially in
two opposite members ; as, He wished rather to aie a
present death, than to live a miserable life.
Art. II. Figures of Sentences.
Of these, some are principally adapted for reasoning,
and others to move the passions. so
I. Those suited for proof, Which are six: Prolepsis, of figures
hypobole, anacoinosis, epiti ope, parabo/e, and antithesis.ot senten-
Prolepsis or anticipation, is so called, when the ora" ^ fo^rea-
tor first starts an objection, which he foresees may be oning and
made either against his conduct or cause, and then an-somefor
swers it. Its use is to forestal an adversary, and prevent moving thej
his exceptions, which cannot afterwards be introduced passions,
with so good a grace. Though it has likewise a faither
advantage, as it serves to conciliate the audience, while
the speaker appears desirous to represent matters fairly,
and not to conceal any objection which may be made
against him. The occasions of this figure are various;
and the manner of introducing it very different. Some¬
times the orator thinks it necessary to begin with it, in
order to justify his conduct, and remove any exceptions
which may be made against his design. Cicero, for se¬
veral years together, after he first began to plead, had
always been for the defendant in criminal cases. And
therefore, when he was prevailed with to undertake the
accusation of Verres, he begins his oration with this
apology for himself: “ If any one present should won¬
der, that when for several years past I have so conducted
myself as to defend many and accuse none, 1 now on a
sudden alter my custom, and undertake an accusation.
when he shall have heard the occasion and reason ot my
design, he will both approve of it, and think no person
so proper to manage this affair as myself.” And then
he proceeds to give an account of the reasons which
moved him to engage in it. At other times the objec¬
tion is admitted as an exception to what has been said,
but not so as to affect it in general. Tims, when Cicero
has represented the advantages of literature and the po¬
lite arts, he starts this objection to what himself had
said, “ But some one will ask, whether those great men,
the memory of whose glorious actions is delivered down
to posterity, were acquainted with that sort of learning
’art III. ORA
locution 1 so applaud ?” f o which he replies, ** Indeed this can
J scarce be said of them all. However, the answer is
easy. I have known several persons of excellent abili¬
ties, who, without learning, by the force of an extraor¬
dinary genius have been men of great virtue and solidi¬
ty. Nay, I will add, that nature without learning,
has oftener produced these qualifications, than learning
without a genius. But yet it must still be owned, that
where both these meet, they form something very excel¬
lent and singular.” Again, at other times, the orator
artlully represents the objection as something consider¬
able and important, to give the greater weight to his
answer when he has confuted it. Cicero, in his cele¬
brated oration for the Manilian law, could not omit to
take notice, that Lucullus had already gained several
very considerable advantages over Mithridates. And
therefore, having before described the war as very great
and dangerous, apprehending these two accounts might
appear somewhat inconsistent, and be liable to an objec¬
tion, he puts it thus artfully himself: “ But now, after
what [ have said of Lucullus, it may probably be asked,
How then can the war be so great P be pleased to hear,
for there seems to be very just reason for this question.”
And then he proceeds to show, from the power of King
Mithridates at that time, his great abilities, long expe¬
rience in military affairs, and fresh alliances, that the
war was yet very great and dangerous. But sometimes,
when the orator is sensible that what Ipg has advanced
lies open to an objection, he omits to make it in express
terms ; and yet proceeds to vindicate what he had said,
as if it had been made. Thus, when Cicero had charged
Verres with having plundered the inhabitants of Sicily
of all their plate, jewels, and other valuable moveables,
which he thought worth while to carry away; as the
audience might imagine this to be scarce credible, he
takes it for granted they thought so, and therefore im¬
mediately, adds, “ As strange as this is, I affirm it posi-
tively, without any intention to aggravate the crime.”
And so he goes on to the proof of his assertion. But
this figure is likewise made use of to guard against some
objection, which the speaker apprehends may be made
against what he designs to say. And thus Cicero
uses it in his oration for Sextius. “ My province (says
he), as I speak last, seems to call for affection to my
friend, rather than his defence; complaint, rather than
eloquence j expressions of grief, rather than art. And
therefore, if I shall express myself with more warmth, or
greater freedom, than those have who spoke before me,
I hope you will grant me all that liberty of speech
which you judge reasonable to be allowed to an affec¬
tionate sorrow and just resentment.” This figure re¬
quires great prudence and discretion in the management
of it. The speaker must consider well the temper, bias,
and other circumstances of his hearers, in order to form
a right judgment what parts of his discourse may be
most liable to exception. For to object such things,
which the hearers would never have thought of them¬
selves, is to give himself a needless trouble j and to start
such difficulties, which he cannot afterwards fairly re¬
move, will expose both himself and his cause. But as
nothing gives an audience greater pleasure and satisfac¬
tion, than to have their sci*uples fully answered as they
rise in their thoughts ; so, on the contrary, be a dis¬
course otherwise ever so entertaining and agreeable, if
TORY.
there be any doubt left upon the minds of the hearers,
it gives them a pain that continues with them till it be
removed.
The figure hypobole or subjection, is not much un¬
like the former j and is, when sevei’al things are men¬
tioned that seem to make for the contrary side, and
each ol them refuted in order. It consists of three
parts, when complete j a proposition, an enumeration
of particulars with their answers, and a conclusion.——
I hus Cicero, upon his return from banishment, vin¬
dicates his conduct in withdrawing so quietly, and not
opposing the faction that ejected him. “ My departure
(says he) is objected to me j which charge I cannot an¬
swer without commending myself. For what must I
say ? That I fled from a consciousness of guilt P But
what is charged upon me as a crime, was so far from
being a fault, that it is the most glorious action since
the memory of man, (he means his punishingthe associates
of Catiline), lhat I feared being called to an account
by the people ? That was never talked of; and if it had
been done, I should have come off with double honour.
I hat I wanted the support of good and honest men ?
'I hat is false. That I was afraid of death ? That is a
calumny. I must therefore say, what I would not, un¬
less compelled to it, that I withdrew to preserve the
city.” When the objections are put by way of question,
as in the example here given, they add a briskness and
poignancy to the figure. All the parts of it are not
Constantly expressed. For thus Cicero in his defence of
Plancius introduces his adversary objecting, and himself
answering, “ The people judged ill, but they did judge 5.
they should not have done it, but they had a power 5 I
cannot submit to it, but many very great and wise men
have.”—Both the proposition and conclusion are here
omitted.
The next figure in order is anacoinosis, or communi¬
cation ; by which the speaker deliberates either with
the judges, the hearers, or the adversary himself.
I hus Cicero addresses the judges in his accusation of
Verres : “ Now I desire your opinion what you think
I ought to do. And I know your advice will be,
though you do not declare it, what appears to me ne¬
cessary to be done.” In another place we find him
reasoning in this manner with the adverse party :
“ What could you have done in such a case, and at
such a time: when to have sat still, or withdrawn,
would have been cowardice ? When the wickedness
and fury of Saturnius the tribune had called you into
the capitol ; and the consuls, to defend the safety and
liberty of your country •, whose authority, whose voice,
which party would you have followed, and whose com¬
mand would you have chosen to obey ?” This figure
carries in it an air of modesty and condescension, when
the speaker seems unwilling to determine in his own
cause, but refers it to the opinion of others. It like¬
wise shows a persuasion of the equity of bis cause, that
he can leave it to their arbitration ; and serves very
much to conciliate their minds, while he joins them,
as it were with himself, and makes them of his party.
And when the appeal is made to the adverse party, it
is of considerable advantage, either to extort a con¬
fession, or at least to silence him. And therefore the
sacred writers sometimes very beautifully introduce God
himself thus expostulating with makind 5 as the prophet
Malachi,
367
E-locution.
368
Elocution.
ORATORY. Part III.
Maiacli, A son Unmretl 1m father, and a servant his paring it with some other, towhikl. it beaB Hoeation.
 ■ rr ±7^^ t ntihpi'p is mine, honour ?
.34
master. If then I he a father, where is mine honour $
and if I be a master, where is my fear ?
Another figure that comes under this head, is epi-
trope or concession ; which grants one thing, to obtain
another more advantageous. It is either real or feign¬
ed 5 and either the whole of a thing, or a part only,
is granted. We shall consider each of these separate¬
ly,*3 and illustrate them with proper examples. No¬
thing more confounds an adversary, than to grant him
Iris whole argument j and at the same time either to
show that it is nothing to the purpose, or to offer
something else which may invalidate it. I allow, says
the claimant by will against the heir at law, that no
body was more nearly related to the deceased than you $
that he was under some obligations to you ; that you
were in the army together : but what is all this to the
will 2 And thus Cicero in his defence of Ligarius,
who was accused by Tubero for having joined with
Pompey in the civil war between him and Caesar:
“ You have, Tubero, what an accuser would most
desire, the accused person confessing the charge *, hut
so as to affirm, that he was of the same party with
you and your excellent father. Therefore own first
that it was a crime in yourself, before you charge it
as such upon Ligarius.” Sometimes the orator gives
up some particular point that would W’ell admit of a
dispute, to gain something more considerable, which
he thinks cannot fairly be denied him. In the affair
of Roscius, where the proof depended upon circum¬
stances, Cicero, who defended him, inquires what rea¬
son could be alleged for his committing so black a
crime, as to kill his father. And after he has shown
there was no probable reason to be assigned for it, he
adds, “ Well, since you can offer no reason, although
this might be sufficient for me, yet I will recede from
my right *, and upon the assurance I have ot his inno¬
cence^ I will grant you in this cause what I would not
in another. I do not therefore insist upon your tell¬
ing me why he killed his father, but ask how he did
it?” This appearance of candour and ingenuity in
such concessions removes tlie suspicion of art, and gives
greater credit to what is denied. Y e have an example
of a feigned or ironical concession in Cicero’s defence of
Elaccus: where, interceding for him on the account of
his former good services in the time of Catiline’s con¬
spiracy, he says in a way of irony, If such things are to
be overlooked, “ let us appease the ghosts of Lentulus
and Cethegus •, let us recal those who are in exile ; and
let us be punished for our too great affection and love
for our country.” By this artful insinuation, the ora¬
tor, after he has used all his arguments to persuade his
hearers, does as it were set them at liberty, and leave
them to their own election ; it being the nature of man
to adhere more steadfastly to what is not violently im¬
posed, but referred to his own free and deliberative
choice. And to these feigned concessions may be re¬
ferred such ways of reasoning, by which the orator both
justifies a charge brought against him upon the supposi¬
tion of its being true, and also proves that the charge
itself is false. Thus Cicero, in his defence of Milo, re¬
presents the taking of Clodius, with which Milo was ac¬
cused, as a glorious action} after he has shown that Milo’s
servants did it without the knowledge of their master.
Parabole or similitude, illustrates a thing by com-
blance. Similitudes are ind,eed generally but weak
arguments, though often beautiful and fine ornaments.
And where the design of them is not so much to prove
what is doubtful, as to set things in a clear and agree¬
able light, they come properly under the notion of fi¬
gures. They are of turn sorts ; simple and compound.
Those are called simple, in which one thing only is
likened or compared to another, in this manner: As
swallows appear in summer, but in winter retreat; so
false friends show themselves in prosperity, but all fly .
aujay when adversity approaches. Compound similitudes
are such, wherein one thing is likened or compared to se¬
veral others j as thus : What light is to the world, phy¬
sic to the sick, water to the thirsty, and rest to the weary i
that is knowledge to the mind. The more exact the a-
greement is between the things thus compared, they
.rive the greater beauty and grace to the figure.
Antithesis, or opposition, by which things contrary
or different are -compared, to render them more evi¬
dent. Thus Cicero says, “ The Roman people hate
private luxury, but love public grandeur. ’ This is
a very florid figure ; and suited no less loi amplifica¬
tion than proof. As in the following instance of Cicero,
where, speaking of Pompey, he says, “ He waged more
wars than others had read ’, conquered more provinces
than others had governed •, and had been trained up
from his youth to the art of war, not by the precepts
of others, but by his own-commands ) not by miscar¬
riages in the field, but by victories *, not by campaigns,
hut triumphs.” It is esteemed a beauty in this figure
when any of the members are inverted, which some
call antimetathesis. As where-Cicero, opposing the con¬
duct of Verres when governor of Sicily, to that of Mar¬
cellos who took Syracuse the capital city of that island,
says, “ Compare this peace with that war, the airival ot
this governor with the victory of that general, his pro¬
fligate troops with the invincible army of the other, the
luxury of the former with the temperance ot the latter j
you will say, that Syracuse was founded by him who
took it, anil taken by him who held it when founded.”
To this figure may also be referred oxymoron, or seem¬
ing contradiction: that is, when the parts of a sentence
disagree in sound, but are consistent in sense. As when
Ovid says of Althea, that she was impiously pious. And
so Cato used to say of Scipio Africanus, that ‘ he wTas
never less at leisure, than when he was at leisure; nor
less alone, than when-alone.” By which he meant, as
Cicero tells us, that “ Scipio was wont to think of busi
ness in his retirement, and in his solitude to converse
with himself.” This is a strong and bold figure, which
awakens the mind, and affords it an agreeable pleasure
to find upon reflection, that what at first seemed con¬
tradictory, is not only consistent with good sense, but
very beautiful.—The celebrated Dr Blair, whom vve
have more than once quoted in this article, has these
observations on antithesis, or the contrast of two objects.
“ Contrast has always this effect, to make each of the
contrasted objects appear in the strongest light, \\hite,
for instance, never appears so bright as when it is op¬
posed to black, and when both are viewed together.
Antithesis, therefore, may, on many occasions be em¬
ployed to advantage, in order to strengthen the im¬
pression which we intend that any object should make.
In order to render an antithesis more complete, it is
always
Piirt III. O R A
Elocution, always of advantage tha> the words and members of the
 v—sentence, expressing the contrasted objects, be similarly
constructed, and made to correspond to each other. This
leads us to remark the contrast more, by setting the
things which we oppose more clearly over against each
other : in the same manner as when we contrast a
black and a white object, in order to perceive the full
difference of their colour, we would choose to have
Loth objects of tbe same bulk, and placed in the same
light. Their resemblance to each other, in certain
Circumstances, makes their disagreement in others more
palpable. At the same time I must observe, that the
frequent use of antithesis, especially where the opposition
in the words is nice and quaint, is apt to render the
style disagreeable. A maxim, or moral saying, proper¬
ly enough receives this form ; both because it is suppo¬
sed to be the fruit of meditation, and because it is de¬
signed to be engraved on the memory, which recals it
more easily by tbe help of such contrasted expressions.
But where a string of such sentences succeed each other,
where this becomes an author’s favourite and prevailing
manner of expressing himself, his style is faulty ; and it
is upon this account Seneca has been often and justly
censured. Such a style appears too studied and labour¬
ed •, it gives us tbe impression of an author attending
more to his manner of saying things, than to the things
themselves which he says.” There is still another kind
of antithesis, which consists in surprising us bv the un¬
expected contrasts of things which it brings together j
but it is such as is wholly beneath the dignity of an orna-.
tor, or of grave compositions of any sort, and is lit only
for pieces of professed wit and humour, calculated only
gg to excite laughter or create ridicule.
The second H- Those suited to move the passions. Which are 13 j
dud of fi- namel y,epanortkosis,paralepsis,parrhesia, aparithmesis,
ures of exergasia, hijpolyposis, aporia, posiopesis, erotesis, ccpho-
entences. nes(s^ epip hone ma, apostrophe, and prosopopcia.
Epanorthosis, or correction, is a figure, by which the
speaker either recals or amends what he had last said.
It is used different ways. For sometimes one or more
words are recalled by him, and others subjoined in their
room j at other times, without recalling what has been
said, somethingelse is substituted as more suitable. This
is a very extensive figure, and made use of in addressing
different passions. We have an instance of it in Te¬
rence’s Self-tormentor, where the old man, whose extra¬
ordinary concern for the absence of his son gave occa¬
sion to the name of the play, thus bewails his condition
to his neighbour. “ I have an only son, Chremes. A-
las ! did I say that I have : I had indeed ; but it is now
uncertain whether I have or not.” Here, to aggravate
his misfortune, he recals a pleasing word, and substitutes
another more affecting in its place. And Cicero, in his
defence of Milo, speaking to the judges concerning
Clodius, says, “ Are you only ignorant what laws, if
they may be called laws, and not rather torches and
plagues of the state, he was about to impose and force
upon us ?” Again, in his defence of Plancius, he says,
w What greater blow could those judges, if they are to
be called judges, and not parricides of their country,
have given to the state, than when they banished him,
who when praetor freed the republic from a neighbouring
war, and when consul from a civil one ?” He is speak¬
ing there of Opimius. But in commending the mode¬
ration of Lucius Mummius, who did not enrich himself,
Vol. XV. Part I. +
TOBY.
but his country, by demolishing the wealthy city of Co¬
rinth, lie thus recals his whole expression, and by givino-
it a new turn, heightens the compliment he designed
him : “ He chose rather (says he) to adorn Italy than
his own house j though by adorning Italy his house
seems to have received the greatest ornament.” And
sometimes the correction is made by substituting some¬
thing contrary to what has been said before; as in
the following passage of Cicero : “ Ctesar (meaning Au¬
gustus), though but a youth, by an incredible ancf sur¬
prising resolution and courage, when Antony was most
enraged, and we dreaded his cruel and pernicious return
from Brundusium, at a time when we neither asked, nor
expected, nor desired it (because it was thought impos¬
sible), raised a very powerful army of invincible vete¬
rans ; to effect which he threw away his whole estate :
I hough I have used an improper word ; for he did not
throw it away, but employed it for the safety of the
government.” At other times, as has been said, the
collection is made by adding a more suitable word, with¬
out any repetition of the former. Thus Cicero, after he
has inveighed against the crimes of Verres, breaks out
into Utis pathetic exclamation: 0 the clemeniy, or rather
wonderful and singular patience, of the Roman people!
He did not think the word clemency strong enou"ii,
and tbeiefore adds patience, as better -answering his
design. The sudden and unexpected turn of this figure
gives a surprise to the mind, and by that means renders
it the more pathetic.
Paralepsis, or omission, is another of these figures,
when the speaker pretends to omit, or pass by, what at
the same time he declares. It is used either in praise or
dispraise. Thus Cicero, in liis defence of Sextius, in¬
troduces his character in this manner, with a design to
recommend him to the favour of the court : “ I might
say many things of his liberality, kindness to his domes¬
tics, bis command in the army, and moderation during
his office in the province: but the honour of the state
presents itself to my view ; and calling me to it, advises
me to omit these lesser matters.” But in his oration to
the senate against Hall us the tribune, who had proposed
a law to sell the public lands, he makes use of this fio-me
to represent the pernicious effects of such a law, parti¬
cularly with respect to the lands in Italy. “ I ffo not
complain (says he) of the diminution of our revenues
and the woeful effects of this loss and damage. I omit
what may give every one occasion for a very grievous
and just complaint, that we could not preserve the prin¬
cipal estate of the public, the finest possession of the Ho¬
man people, the fund of our provisions, the granary of
our wants,, a revenue entrusted with the state ; hut that
we must give up those lauds to Hull us, which, after the
power of Sylla, and the largesses of the Gracchi, are
yet left us. I do not say, this is now the only revenue
of the state, which continues when others cease, is an or¬
nament in peace, fails us not in wrar, supports the army,
and does not fear an enemy. I pass over all these
things, and reserve them for my discourse to the people,
and only speak at present of the danger of our peace
and liberties.” His view here was to raise the indigna¬
tion of the senate against Rullus, and excite them to op¬
pose the law. There is a beautiful instance of this fi¬
gure in St Paul’s epistle to Philemon, where, after he
has earnestly intreated him to receive again Onesimus
his servant, who had run from him, and promised that if
3 A he
369
Elociit ion.
S7
37°
Elocution.
88
ORA T
he had wronged him, or owed him any thing, he would
1 repay it, he adds, That 1 may not say, you owe even
yvirself to me. Nothing could he a stronger motive to
soften his displeasure against his servant, trom a sense
of gratitude to the apostle. Hermogencs lias observed,
that the design of this figure is to possess the minds o|
the audience with more"than the words express, and
that it is principally made use ol on tnree occasions .
either when things are small, but yet necessary to be
mentioned ; or well known, and need not to be enlarged
on •, or ungrateful, anil therefore should be introduced
with caution, anil not set in too strong a light. _
The next figure above-mentioned was 1 arrhc.ua, or
reprehension : Not that whenever a person admonishes
or reproves another it is to he esteemed a figure ; but
when it is done with art and address, and in such cir¬
cumstances as render it difficult not to displease.—-1 he
orator therefore sometimes prepares his hearers tor thus
by commending them first, urging the necessity of it,
representing his great concern for them as his motive,
or joining himself with them. Thus Cicero charges the
senate with the death of Servius Sulpicius, for sending
him to Mark Antony, under a very ill state ol health.
O R Y.
Part III
89
And his design
in it was to bring them more readily in¬
fo a motion he was about to make, that both a statue
and a sepulchral monument might be erected to his me¬
mory at the public expence. “ You (says he), it is a
very severe expression, but I cannot help saying it;
von, I sav, have deprived Servius Sulpicius of his hie.
It was not from cruelty indeed (for what is there with
which this assembly is less chargeable r (, but when Ins
distemper pleaded his excuse more than his words, from
the hopes you conceived that there was nothing which
his authority and wisdom might not be able to effect,
'vou vehemently opposed his excuse, and obliged him,
who always had the greatest regard for your commands,
to recede from his resolution.” Sometimes, indeed, tne
orator assumes an air of reproof, with a view only to pass
a compliment with a better grace. As Cicero 111 ins
address to Cgesar, when he says, “ I hear that excellent
and wise saying from you with concern, That you have
lived long enough, either for the purposes of natuie, 01
glory : for nature, perhaps, if you think so : and, it you
wlease, for glory : but, what is principally to be icgarded,
not for your country.” It adds both a beauty and force
to this figure, when it is expressed in a way of comparison.
As in the following instance of Cicero : “ But since
my discourse leads me to this, consider how you ought
to be affected for the dignity and glory of your empire.
Your ancestors often engaged in war to redress the in-
juries t)f their merchants or sailors : how ought you then
to resent it, that so many thousand Homan citizens
were murdered by one message, and at one time ? Y our
forefathers destroyed Corinth, the principal city 111
Greece, for the haughty treatment of their ambassadors;
and will you suffer that king to go unpunished, who has
put ta death a Homan legate, of consular dignity, in the
most ignominious as well as most cruel manner? See,
lest, as it was their honour to leave you the glory of so
great an empire, it should prove your disgrace not to
be able to maintain and defend what you have received
from them.” By this figure an address is made to the
more tender passions, modesty, shame, and emulation,
the attendants of an ingenuous temper, which is soonest
touched, and most affected, by a just reproof.
Another of these pathetic figures is Aparithniesis, or Elocution,
enumeration, when that, which might be expressed in'
ireneral by a few words, is branched out into several
particulars, to enlarge the idea, and render it the more
affecting. Cicero, in pleading for the Manihan law,
where his design is to conciliate the love and esteem of
the people to Pompey, thus enlarges upon his character :
“ Now, what language can equal the virtue ot Cneius
Pompey ? What can be said either worthy of him, or
new to you, or which every one has not heard t For
those are not the only virtues of a general which are
commonly thought so ; labour in affairs, courage in dan¬
gers, industry in acting, despatch in performing, design
in contriving ; which are greater in him than 111 all
other generals we have ever seen or heard of.” And
so likewise, when he endeavours to dispossess Pompey of
the apprehension that Milo designed to assassinate him .
“ If (says he) you fear Milo ; if you imagine that either
formerly, or at present, any ill design has been formed by
him against your life ; if the soldiers raised through Italy
(as some of your officers give out), il these arms, it these
cohorts in the Capitol, if the centries, if the watch, if the
guards which defend your person and house, are armed
to prevent any attempt of JMilo, and all of them ap¬
pointed, prepared, and stationed on his account; he must
be thought a person of great power, and incredible re¬
solution, above the reach and capacity of a single man,
that the most consummate general, and the whole repu¬
blic, are in arms against him only. But who does not
perceive, that all the disordered and sinking parts of the
state are committed to you, to rectify and support them
by these forces ?” This might have been said in a few
words, that such vast preparations could never be intend¬
ed for so low a purpose. But the orator’s view was to
expose that groundless report, and shame it out of coun¬
tenance. And soon after he endeavours to raise com¬
passion for Milo under those prejudices by the same
figure : “ See how various and changeable is the state
of human life, how unsteady and voluble is fortune,
what infidelity in friends, what disguises suited to the
times, what flights, what fears, even of the nearest ac¬
quaintance, at the approach of dangers.” Had no ad¬
dress to the passions been designed here, fewer of these
reflections might have been sufficient. Hie use of this
figure in amplification is very evident from the nature
of it, which consists in unfolding of things, and by that
means enlarging the conception ot them.
Exergasia, or exposition, has an affinity with the for- 90
mer figure : but it differs from it in this, that it consists
of several equivalent expressions or nearly such, in or¬
der to represent the same thing in a stronger manner ;
whereas the other enlarges the idea by an enumeration
of different particulars. So that this figure has a near
relation to synonymia, of which vve have treated before
under Verbal Figures. We have an instance of it in
Cicero’s defence of Sextius, where he says, “ Those who
at any time have excited the populace to sedition, or
blinded the minds of the ignorant by corruption, or tra¬
duced brave and excellent men, and such as deserved
well of the public, have with us always been esteemed
vain, bold, bad, and pernicious citizens. But those who
repressed the attempts and endeavours of such, or by
their authority, integrity, constancy, resolution, and
prudence, withstood their insolence, have been always
accounted men of solidity, the chiefs, the leaders, and
supporters
Part III. ORATORY.
Elocution, supporters or our dignity and government.” Nothing
  v 1 more is intended by this passage, but to set the opposite
characters of factious persons and true patriots in the
strongest light, with a view to recommend the one, and
create a just hatred and detestation of the other. So
elsewhere he represents the justice of self-defence in no
less different terms : “ If reason (says he) prescribes this
to the learned, and necessity to barbarians, custom to
nations, and nature itself to brutes, always to ward olf all
manner of violence, by all possible ways, from their body,
from their head, from their life ; you cannot judge this
to be a criminal and wicked action, without judging at
the same time that all persons who fall among robbers
and assassins must either perish by their weapons, or
your sentence.”—He is addressing here to the judges in
favour of Milo. The warmth and vehemence of the
speaker often runs him into this figure, when he is affect¬
ed with his subject, and thinks no words, no expressions,
forcible enough to convey his sentiments ; and therefore
repeats one after another, as his fancy suggests them.
Th is flow ol expression, under the conduct of a good
judgment, is often attended with advantage 5 as it warms
the hearers, and impresses their minds, excites their
passions, and helps them to see things in a stronger light.
9l Hypoiyposis, or imagery, is a description of things
painted in such strong and bright colours, as may help
the imagination of the hearers to conceive of them ra¬
ther as present to their view, than described in words.
It is peculiarly suited for drawing characters ; and often
affords the finest ornaments in poetry and history, as
well as oratory. Nor is it less moving, but suited to
strike different passions, according to the nature of the
subject, and artful management of the speaker. Cicero
has thus drawn the picture of Catiline, consisting of an
unaccountable mixture of contrary qualities. “ He had
(says he) the appearance of the greatest virtues: he
made use of many ill men to carry on his designs, and
pretended to be in the interest of the best men ; he had
a very engaging behaviour, and did not want industry
and application $ he gave into the greatest looseness,
but was a good soldier. Nor do I believe there was ever
the like monster in the world, made of such jarring and
repugnant qualities and inclinations. Who at one time
was more acceptable to the best men, and who more in¬
timate with the worst ? Who was once a better patriot,
and who a greater enemy to this state ? Who more de¬
voted to pleasures, who more patient in labours ? Who
more rapacious, and yet more profuse ? He suited him¬
self to the humours of all he conversed with : was seri¬
ous with the reserved, and pleasant with the jocose *,
grave with the aged, and facetious with the young *, bold
with the daring, and extravagant with the profligate.”
Such a character of a man, when accompanied with
power and interest, must render him no less the object
of fear than detestation, which was the design of Cicero
in this description. And elsewdiere, in order to prevail
with the senate to direct the execution of those conspi¬
rators with Catiline who were then in prison, he paints
the most dismal scene of that horrid design in the strong¬
est colours. “ Methinks (says he) I see this city, the
light of the world, and citadel of all nations, suddenly
falling into one fire •, I perceive heaps of miserable ci¬
tizens buried in their ruined country ; the countenance
and fury of Cethegus raging in your slaughter, presents
itself to my view.” This figure is very serviceable to
amplification, as we have formerly shewn in treating
upon that subject. But no small judgment is required in
the management of descriptions. Lesser circumstances
should either be wholly omitted, or but slightly touch¬
ed; and those which are more material drawn in their
due proportion. Nature is as much the rule of the ora¬
tor as ot the painter, and what they both propose to imi¬
tate. And therefore, let a thought be ever so pleasing
and beautiful in itself, it must not be introduced when
foreign to the purpose, or out of its place, any more
than a painter should attempt to alter nature when he
proposes to copy it. This figure requires likewise a vi¬
gorous and lively genius. For the images in description
can rise no higher than the conception of the speaker,
since the idea must first be formed in his own mind be¬
fore he can convey it to others ; and agreeably to the
clearness with which he conceives it himself, he will be
able to express it in words.
Aporia, or doubt, expresses the debate of the mind
with itself upon a pressing difficulty. A person in such
a state is apt to hesitate, or start several things succes¬
sively, without coming to any fixed resolution. The
uneasiness arising from such a disorder of thought is na¬
turally very moving. Of this kind is that of Cicero for
Cluentius, when he says, “ I know not which way to
turn myself. Shall I deny the scandal thrown upon
him of bribing the judges? Can I say the people were
not told of it ? that it was not talked of in the court,
mentioned in the senate ? Can I remove an opinion so
deeply and long rooted in the minds of men ? It is
not in my power. You, judges, must support his in¬
nocence, and rescue him from this calumny.” Orators
sometimes choose to begin their discourse with this fi¬
gure. A diffidence of mind at first is not unbecoming,
but graceful. It carries in it an air of modesty, and
tends very much to conciliate the affections of the hear¬
ers. Livy gives us a very elegant example of this in a
speech of Scipio Africanus to bis soldiers, when, calling
them together after a sedition, he thus bespeaks them :
“ I never thought I should have been at a loss in what
manner to address my army. Not that 1 have applied
myself more to words than things ; but because I have
been accustomed to the genius of soldiers, having been
trained up in the camp almost from my childhood. But
I am in doubt what or how to speak to you, not know¬
ing what name to give you. Shall I call you citizens,
who have revolted from your country ? Soldiers, who
have disowned the authority of your general, and broke
your military oath ? Enemies? I perceive the mien,
the aspect, and habit of citizens ; but discern the ac¬
tions, words, designs, and dispositions of enimies.”
Sometimes a passion has that eflect, not so much to
render a person doubtful what to say, as to stop him in
the midst of a sentence, and prevent his expressing the
whole of what he designed ; and then it is called Apcsio-
pesis, or concealment. It denotes different passions;
as anger, which, by reason of its heat and vehemence,
causes persons to break oft’abruptly in their discourse.
So the old man in Terence, when he wras jealous that
his servant obstructed his designs, uses this imperfect
but threatening expression, Whom, if Ifind. And Nep¬
tune, when described by Virgil as very angry that rbe
winds should presume to disturb the sea without his
permission, after he has called them to him to know the
reason of it, threatens them in this abrupt manner :
3 A 2 “ W hom
37*
Elocution.
92
93
37 2
Elocution.
O R A T
94
9S
“ Whom I—hut first I’ll lay the storm.”
J>lit Cicero, in writing to Atticus, applies it to express
grief, where he says, “ I know nothing oi Pompey, and
ii* i ^ t   * t* rmi- cli i -
believe he must be taken, it he is not got on shipboard.
O incredible swiftness! But ot our friend—Though I
cannot accuse him without grief, for whom I am in so
much concern and trouble.” And in a letter to Cas¬
sius he uses it to express tear, when he says to him,
“ Brutus could scarce support himselt at Mutina j it
he is safe, we have carried the day. But it heaven
avert the omen ! all must have recourse to you. His
meaning is, It Brutus should be defeated.
The next figure is erotesis or interrogation. But
every interrogation or question is not figurative. W hen
we inquire about a thing that is doubtful, in older to be
informed, this is no figure, but the natural torm of such
expressions. As it I ask a person, M here he is going ?
or what he is doing ? But then it becomes figurative
when the same thing may be expressed in a direct man¬
ner •, but the putting it by way ot question gives it a
much greater life and spirit. As when Cicero says,
“ Catiline, how long will you abuse our patience ? do
not you perceive your designs are discovered . Ife
might indeed have said, low abuse our patience a long
while. You must be sensible your designs are discovered.
But it is easy to perceive horv much this latter way of
expression falls short of the force and vehemence ot the
former. And so when Medea says, J could save', and
do you ask if 1 can destroy ? Had she said, I could save,
and I can destroy, the sentence had been flat, and very
unfit to express the rage and fury in which the poet theie
represents her. T his figure is suited to express most pas¬
sions and emotions of the mind, as anger,disdain, fear, de¬
sire, and others. It serves also to press and bear down an
adversary. Cicero frequently makes this use of it. As
in his defence of Plancius : “ I will make you tins ofler
(says he), choose any tribe you please, and show, as you
ought, by whom it was bribed j and it you cannot, as
I believe you will not undertake it, I will prove how lie
gained it. Is this a fair contest ? Will you engage on
this foot ? I cannot give you fairer play. Why do you
dissemble ? Why do you hesitate ? I insist upon it, urge
you to it, press it, require, and even demand it of you.”
Such a way of pushing an antagonist shows the speaker
has great confidence in his cause j otherwise he would
never lay himself so open, if he was not assured the
other party had nothing to reply. This figure likewise
diversifies a discourse, and gives it a beautiful variety,
by altering the form of expression, provided it be nei¬
ther too frequent, nor continued too long at once.
And besides, the warmth and eager manner in which
it is expressed, enlivens the hearers, and quickens their
attention.
Ecphonesis, or exclamation, is a vehement extension
of the voice, occasioned by a commotion of mind, na¬
turally venting itself by this figure, which is used by
Cicero to express a variety of passions. It often de¬
notes resentment or indignation. Thus, after his return
from banishment, reflecting on those who had occasioned
it, he breaks out into this moving exclamation : “ O
mournful day to the senate, and all good men, calami¬
tous to the state, afflictive to me and my family, but
glorious in the view of posterity !” His design was to
excite an odium against the authors of his exile, when
O It Y. Part m-
recalled in so honourable a manner. And again, in Ins Elocution.
defence of Cadius : “ O the great force of truth : which k   
easily supports itself against the v.'it, craft, subtility, and
artful designs of men !” He bad been just showing the
absurdity of the charge against Cadius, and now endea¬
vours to expose his accusers to the indignation ot the
court. At other times it is used to express disdain or
contempt. As when speaking of Pompey s house,
which was bought by Mark Antony, he says : “ O con¬
summate impudence ! dare you go within that house .
dare you enter that venerable threshold, and show your
audacious countenance to the tutelar deities which reside
there !” Nor is it less suited to indicate grief, as when
he says of Milo : “ O that happy country, which shall
receive this man ! ungrateful this, it it banish him .
miserable if it lose him!” And sometimes it seiyes
to express admiration : as when, in compliment to Cae¬
sar, he says, “ O admirable clemency ! worthy of the
greatest praise, the highest encomiums, and most lasting
monuments !” It has its use also in ridicule and ironv.
As in his oration tor Balhus, where he derides his accu¬
ser, by saying, 44 O excellent interpreter ot the law -
master of antiquity ! corrector and amender ot our con¬
stitution !” The sacred writers sometimes use it by way
of intreaty or wish. As the royal psalmist: 44 O that
1 had the wings of a dove, that I might fly away, and
be at rest !” And at other times in triumph and exul¬
tation, as in that of St Paul : 44 O death, where is thy
sting! Ograve, where is thy victory !” It is frequent-
ly joined with the preceding figure interrogation as
appears in some of the instances here brought from Ci¬
cero. And it generally follows the representation oi
the thing which occasions it. Though sometimes it is
made use of to introduce it, and then it serves to pre¬
pare the mind by exciting its attention. Thus Cicero,
in his defence of Caelius, to render the character ot
Clodia more odious, at whose instigation he was accu¬
sed, insinuates that she had before poisoned her husband;
and to heighten the barbarity of the fact, and make it
appear the more shocking, he introduces the account of
it with this moving exclamation : 44 O heavens, why do
you sometimes wink at the greatest crimes of mankind,
or delay the punishment of them to futurity ! ’
Epiphoncma, or acclamation, has a great affinity with
the former figure. And it is so called, when the speak¬
er, at the conclusion of his argument, makes some live-
Iv and just remark upon what he has been saying, to
give it the greater force, and render it the more affecting
to his hearers. It is not so vehement and impetuous as
exclamation, being usually expressive of the milder and
more gentle passions. And the reflection ought not on¬
ly to contain some plain and obvious truth, but likewise
to arise naturally from the discourse which occasioned it,
otherwise it loses its end. When Cicero has shown, that
recourse is never to be had to force and violence, but in
cases of the utmost necessity, he concludes.with the fol¬
lowing remark: 44 Thus to think, is prudence to act,
fortitude both to think and act, perfect and consum¬
mate virtue.” And elsewhere, after he has described a
singular instance of cruelty and breach of friendship :
44 Hence (says he) w'e may learn, that no duties are so
sacred and solemn which covetousness will not violate.”
This figure is frequently expressed in a way of admira¬
tion. As when Cicero has observed, that all men are
desirous to live to an advanced age, but uneasy under it
when
\ is-
Part
91
HI. o E
Elocution 'v!ien attained, he makes this just reflection upon such a
 v ' conduct: “ So great is their inconstancy, folly, and
perverseness !”
'i’lie next figure in order is apostrophe, or address,
when the speaker breaks ofi'from the series of his dis¬
course, and adresses himself to some particular person
present or absent, living or dead ; or to inanimate na¬
ture, as endowed with sense and reason. Bv this means
he has an opportunity of saying many things with
greater freedom than perhaps would be consistent with
decency if immediately directed to the persons them¬
selves. He can admonish, chide, or censure, without
giving offence. Nor is there any passion, hut may be
very advantageously expressed by this figure. When an
orator has been speaking of any particular person, on a
sudden to turn upon him, and apply the discourse to that
person himself, is very moving 5 it is like attacking an
adversary by surprise, when he is off bis guard, "and
where he least expects it. Thus Cicero: “ I desire, se¬
nators, to be merciful, hut not to appear negligent in so
great dangers of the state ; though at present I cannot
hut condemn myself of remissness. There is a camp
formed in Italy, at the entrance of Etruria, against the
state 5 our enemies increase daily j but rve see the com¬
mander of the camp, and general of the enemies, within
our walls, in the very senate, contriving some intestine
rum to the state. It now, Catiline, I should order you
to be seized and put to death, I have reason to fear, that
all good men would rather think I had deferred it too
long, than charge me with cruelty. But I am prevail¬
ed with for a certain reason not to do that yet, which
ought to have been done long since.” This sudden turn
of the discourse to Catiline himself, and the address to
him in that unexpected manner, must have touched him
very sensibly. So, in his defence of Milo, expressing
his concern if he should not succeed in it, he says,
“ And how shall I answer it to you, my brother Quin¬
tus, the partner of my misfortunes, who are now ab¬
sent ?” And elsewhere addressing to the soldiers of the
Martian legion, who had been killed in an engagement
with Mark Antony, he thus bespeaks them: “ O happy
death, which, due to nature, was paid to your country !
1 may esteem you truly horn for your country, who like¬
wise received your name'from Mars y so that the same
deity seems to have produced this city for the world,
and you for this city.” And in his oration for Balbus,
he thus calls upon dumb nature to witness to Pompey’s
virtues : “ I invoke you, mute regions; you, most di¬
stant countries ; you seas, havens, Islands, and shores.
For what coast, what land, what place is there, in which
the marks of his courage, humanity, wisdom, and pru¬
dence, are not extant ? An appeal to heaven, or any
part of inanimate nature, has something very sublime
and solemn in it, which we often meet with in sacred
writ. So the divine prophet : “ Hear, O heavens ! and
give ear, O eartli ! for the Lord hath spoken.” And
in like manner, the prophet Jeremiah : “ Be astonished,
O ye heavens, at this.” See Apostrophe.
Prosopopeia, or the fiction of a person : by which ei¬
ther an absent person is introduced speaking j or one
who is dead, as if he was alive and present; or speech
is attributed to some inanimate being. There is no
figure, perhaps, which serves more or better purposes
to an orator than this. For by this means he is enabled
ss
A T O R Y.
to call 111 all nature to his assistance, and can assign to
every thing such parts as he thinks convenient. There
i:> seal ce any thing fit to be said, but may be introduced
this waj-. When he thinks his own character is not of
sufficient weight to affect his audience m the manner he
desires, he substitutes a person of greater authority than
himself to engage their attention. When he has severe
things to say, and which may give offence as coming
from himself j lie avoids this, by putting them into the
mouth of some other person from whom they will he
bettc t taken j or makes inanimate nature bring a charge,
or express a resentment, to render it the more affecting.
And by the same method he sometimes chooses to secure
himself fiom a suspicion of flattery, in carrying a com¬
pliment too high. We meet ivith several very beauti¬
ful instances of this figure in Cicero ; but an example
of each sort may here suffice, beginning with that of an
absent person, from his defence of Milo, whom he thus
introduces as speaking to the citizens of Rome : “Should
he, holding the bloody sword, cry out, Attend, I pray,
hearken, O citizens, I have killed Publius Clodius ; by
this sword, and by this right hand, I have kept off his
rage from your necks, which no laws, no courts of judi¬
cature, could restrain; it is by my means, that justice,
equity, laws, liberty, shame, and modesty, remain in
the city. Is it to be feared how the city would bear
this action ? Is there any one now, who would not ap¬
prove and commend it?” And in his oration for Balbus,
he introduces Marius, who was then dead, to plead in
his defence r Can Balbus (says he) be condemned,
without condemning Marins for a like fact ? Let him be
present a little to your thoughts, since he cannot be so
in person 5 that you may view him in your minds, though
yon cannot with your eyes. Let him tell you, he wa's
not unacquainted with leagues, void of examples, or
ignorant of war.” And again, in his first invective
against Catiline, he presents his country as thus expostu¬
lating with himself, and upbraiding him for suffering
such a criminal as Catiline to live. “ Should my coun¬
try (says he), which is much dearer to me than my life,
should all Italy, all the state, thus address me, Mark
J ully what do you do ? Do you suffer him, whom you
have found to be an enemy, who you see is to be at the
head of the war, whom you perceive your enemies wait
for in their camp as their general, who has been the
contriver of this wickedness, the chief of the conspiracy,
the exciter of slaves and profligate citizens, to leave the
city, which is rather to bring him in, than let him out ?
Mill not you order him to be imprisoned, condemned,
and executed P What prevents you ? The custom of our
ancestors. But private persons have often punished per¬
nicious citizens in this state. The laws relating to the
punishment of Roman citizens ? But traitors never had
the rights of citizens. Do you fear the censure of po¬
sterity ? Truly you make a very handsome return to the
people of Rome, who have advanced you from an ob¬
scure condition so early to the highest dignity ; if you
neglect their safety to avoid envy, or from the appre¬
hension of any danger. And if you fear censure j which
is most to be dreaded, that which may arise from justice
and fortitude, or from cowardice and treachery ? When
Italy shall he wasted by a war, cities plundered, and
houses burnt, do you think then to escape the severest
censure ?” In the management of this figure, care should
be-
373
Elocution.
374
Elocut
99
Particular
elocution
treats of
style and
its various
characters
O It A T
on. be taken that vvliat is said be always consistent with the
character introduced, in which both the iorce and
beauty of it consist.
In treating upon figures, we have hitherto considered
them separately •, but it may not be amiss to observe,
that some expressions consist of a complication ot them,
and may come under the denomination of several figures,
as well verbal as those ot sentences, difierently consider¬
ed. Thus when Cicero says, “ What, rl uhero, did your
drawn sword do in the Pharsalian battle ? At whose side
was its point directed ? what was the intention ot your
arms ?” As he speaks to Tubero, it is an apostrophe ; as
the expressions have much the same import, and are de¬
signed to heighten and aggravate the tact, it is exergo-
aia ; and as they are put by question, it is interrogation.
So likewise, in his second Philippic, where he says,
5< What can I think ? that I am contemned ? I see no¬
thing in my life, interest, actions, or abilities, as mode¬
rate as they are, rvliich Antony can despise. Did he
think he could easily lessen me in the senate ? But they,
who have commended many famous citizens for their
good government of the state, never thanked any but
me for preserving it. Would he contend with me for
eloquence P This would he a favour indeed. For what
could be a larger and more copious subject, than lor me
to speak for myself against Antony ? His design was
really this : he thought he could not convince his asso¬
ciates, that he was truly an enemy to his country, un¬
less he was so first to me.” There are three figures in
this passage ; doubt, interrogation, and subjection. And
again, when he introduces Sicily thus addressing Verres
in a way of complaint: “ Whatever gold, whatever sil¬
ver, whatever ornaments in my cities, dwellings, tem¬
ples, whatever right of any kind I possessed by the fa¬
vour of the senate and people of Borne *, you, ^ erres,
have plundered and taken from me.” Here is a proso-
popeia, joined with the verbal figure anaphora, as seve¬
ral members of the sentence begin with the same word.
The like instances of complex figures frequently occur,
and therefore we need not multiply examples of them
here.
PABTICULAR ELOCUTION,
Or that part of Elocution which considers the se¬
veral Properties and Ornaments of Language,
as they are made use of to form different sorts
of Style.
Chap. IV. 0/ Style, and its different Characters.
The word style properly signifies the instrument
which the ancients used in writing. For as they com¬
monly wrote upon thine boards covered over with wax,
and sometimes upon the barks of trees, they made use
of a long instrument like a bodkin, pointed at one end,
with which they cut their letters-, and broad at the
other, to erase any thing they chose to alter. And this
the Latins called stylus. But though this he the first
sense of the word, yet afterwards it came to denote the
manner of expression. In which sense we likewise use it,
by the same kind of trope that we call any one’s writ¬
ing his hand. Style, then, in the common acceptation
of the word at present, is the peculiar manner in which
a man expresses his conceptions by means ol language.
It is a picture of the ideas which rise in his mind, and
5
O It Y. Part III.
of the order in which they are there produced. As to Elocution,
the reasons which occasion a variety of style, they are
principally these.
Since both speech and writing are only sensible expres¬
sions of our thoughts, by which we communicate them
to others $ as all men think more or less differently, so
consequently they in some measure differ in their style.
No two persons who were to write upon one subject,
would make use of all the same words. And were this
possible, vet they would as certainly diller in their order
and connection, as two painters, who used the same co¬
lours iu painting the same picture, would necessarily vary
their mixtures and disposition ot them, in the several
gradations of lights and shades. As every painter there¬
fore has something peculiar in his manner, so has every
writer in his style. It is from these internal characters,
in a good measure, that critics undertake to discover the
true authors of anonymous writings, and to show that
others are spurious, and not the genuine productions of
those whose names they bear; as they judge ot the age
of such writings from the words and manner ol expres¬
sion which have been in use at different times. And
we may often observe in persons a fondness lor some
particular words or phrases, and a peculiarity in the
turn or connection of their sentences, or in their transi¬
tions from one thing to another ; by which their style
may be known, even when they design to conceal it.
For these things, through custom and habit, will some¬
times drop from them, notwithstanding the greatest
caution to prevent it.
There is likewise very often a considerable difference
in the style of the same person, in several parts of his
life. Young persons, whose invention is quick and live¬
ly, commonly run into a pompous and luxuriant style.
Their fancy represents the images of things to their
mind in a gay and sprightly manner, clothed with a
variety of circumstances and while they endeavour to
set off each of these in the brightest and most glittering
colours, this renders their style verbose and florid, but
weakens the force and strength of it. And therefore, as
their imagination gradually cools, and comes under the
conduct of a more mature judgment, they find it pro¬
per to cut oft many superfluities so that by omitting
unnecessary words and circumstances, and by a closer
connection of things placed in a stronger light, if then-
style becomes less swelling and pompous, it is, however,
more correct and nervous. But as old age sinks the
powers of the mind, chills the imagination, and weakens
the judgment; the style, too, in proportion usually
grows dry and languid. Critics have observed some¬
thing of this difference in the writings even of Cicero
himself. To he master of a good style, therefore, it
seems necessary that a person should be endowed with a
vigorous mind and lively fancy, a strong memory, and
a good judgment. It is by the imagination that the
mind conceives the images ot things. If the impressions
of those images be clear and distinct, the style will be so
too ; -since language is nothing but a copy ol those ima¬
ges first conceived by the mind. But if the images are
faint and imperfect, the style will accordingly he flat
and languid. This is evident from the difference be¬
tween such objects as are represented to our sight, and
things of which we have only read or heard, lor as
the former generally make a deeper impression upon our
minds, so we can describe them in a more strong-and
hvelv
Part III. ORA
locution, lively manner. Anti we commonly (inti, that according
‘ 1 as persons are afiectcd themselves when they speak, they
are able to atlect others with what they say. Now
persons are more or less affected with things in propor¬
tion to the impressions which the images of those things
make upon the mind. For the same reason also, if the
imagination be dull, and indisposed to receive the ideas
of things, the style will be stiff and heavy; or if the
images are irregular and disordered, the style will like¬
wise he perplexed and confused. When things lie
straight (as we say) in the mind, we express them with
case, and in their just connection and dependence ; but
when they arc warpt or crooked, we deliver them with
pain and difficulty, as well as disorder. A good fancy
should likewise be accompanied with a happy memory.
This helps us to retain the names of those things the
ideas whereof are presented to the mind by the imagina¬
tion, together with proper and suitable phrases to express
them in their several connections and relations to each
other. When the images of things offer themselves to
the mind, unless the names of them present themselves
at the same time, we are at a loss to express them, or at
least are in danger of doing it by wrong and improper
terms. Besides, variety is necessary in discourse to ren¬
der it agreeable; and, therefore, without a large furni¬
ture of words and phrases, the style will necessarily be¬
come insipid and jejune, by the frequent return of the
same terms and manner of expression. But to both these
a solid judgment is highly requisite to form a just and
accurate style. A fruitful imagination will furnish the
mind with plenty of ideas, and a good memory will help
to clothe them in proper language; hut unless they are
both under the conduct of reason, they are apt to hurry
persons into many inconveniences. Such are generally
great talkers, but far from good orators. Fresh images
continually crowd in upon them, faster than the tongue
can well express them. This runs them into long and
tedious discourses, abounding with words, but void of
sense. Many impertinences, if not impropi'ieties, neces¬
sarily mix themselves with what they say ; and they are
frequently carried off from their point, by not having
their fancies under a proper regulation. So that such
discourses, though composed perhaps of pretty expres¬
sions, rhetorical flowers, and sprightly sallies of wit, yet
fall very much short of a strong and manly eloquence.
But where reason presides and holds the reins, every
thing is weighed before it is spoken. The propex-est
words are made choice of, which best suit the ideas they
are designed to convey; rather than the most gay and
pompous. All things are not said which offer themselves
to the mind, and fancy dictates; but such only as are
fit and proper, and the x-est are dropped. Some things
are but slightly mentioned, anil others discoursed on
more largely and fully, according to their different im¬
portance. And evexy thing is placed in that order, and
clothed in such a dress, as may represent it to the gi’catest
advantage. So that, in a word, the foundation of a
good style is chiefly good sense. Where these qualities
all meet in a considerable degree, such persons have the
happiness to excel, either in speaking or writing. But
this is not generally the case. Many persons of a vigo¬
rous and sprightly imagination, have but a weak judge¬
ment ; and others much more judicious can think but
slowly. And it is this, in a great measure, which makes
the difference between speaking and writing well, as one
T O li Y.
o / ^
or the other of these qualities is predominant. A per- Elocution.
son of a lively fancy, ready wit, and voluble tongue, ' v 
will deliver himself off hand much better and more°ac-
ceptably, than one who is capable, upon due premedita¬
tion, to discern farther into the subject, but cannot com¬
mand his thoughts with the same ease and freedom. And
this latter would have the same advantage of the other,
were tney both coolly to offer their sentiments in writ¬
ing. Many things appear well in speaking, which wijl
not hear a strict scrutiny. While the hearer’s atten¬
tion is obliged to keep pace with the speaker, he is not
at leisure to observe every impropriety or incoherence,,
hut many slips easily escape him, which in reading are
presently discovered. Hence it is often found, that dis¬
courses, which were thought very fine when heard, ap¬
pear to have much less beauty, as well as strength,,
when they come to be i-ead. And therefore it is not
without reason, that Cicero recommends to all those who
are candidates for eloquence, and desirous to become
mastei's of a good style, to write much. This affords
them an opportunity to digest their thoughts, weigh their
words and expressions, and give every thing its proper
force and evidence ; as likewise, by reviewing a dis¬
course when composed, to correct its errors, or supply
its defects; till by practice they gain a readiness both
to think justly, and to speak with propriety and elo¬
quence. But it is time to proceed to some other causes
of the diversity of style.
Different countries have not only a different language,
but likewise a peculiarity of style suited to their temper
and genius. Ihe eastern nations had a lofty and ma¬
jestic way of speaking. Their words are full and sonor¬
ous, their expressions strong and forcible, and warmed
with the most lively and moving figures. This is very
evident from the Jewish writings in the Old Testament,
in which we find a most agreeable mixture of simplicity
and dignity. On the contrary, the style of the more
northern languages generally partakes of the chillness of
their climate. “ 1 here is (says Mr Addison *) a certain * Sped.
coldness and indifference in the phrases of our European*'0 40S»
languages, when they are compared with the oriental
forms of speech. And it happens very luckily, that the
Hebrew idioms run into the English tongue with a pe¬
culiar grace and beauty. Our language has received
innumerable elegancies and improvements from that in¬
fusion of Hebraisms, which are derived to it out of the
poetical passages in holy writ. They give a force and
energy to our expressions, warm and animate our lan¬
guage, and convey our thoughts in more ardent and in¬
tense phrases than any that are to he met with in our
own tongue. There is something so pathetic in this
kind of diction, that it often sets the mind m a flame,
and makes our hearts burn within us.”
Again, people of different nations vary in their cus¬
toms and manners, which occasions a diversity in their
style. This was very remarkable in the Attics, Asia¬
tics, and Rhodians, and is often taken notice of by an¬
cient writers. '] he Athenians, while they continued
a free state, were an active, industrious, and frugal
people : very polite indeed, and cultivated arts and
sciences beyond any other nation : but as they had
powerful enemies, and were exceedingly jealous of their
liberties, this preserved them from wantonness and
luxury. And their way of speaking was agreeable to
their conduct; accurate and close, but very full and ex¬
pressive,;-..
■S76
I'.locution.
O R A T
pressive. The Asiatic^ oil ltic oilier hand, were more
gay, and loose In their manners, devoted, to luxury and
pleasure : and accordingly they allected a florid and
swelling style, filled with redundancies and superfluities
of expression. Indeed some of the ancients have atti i-
buted this looseness of style to their way of pursuing elo¬
quence at first. For as they were put upon it by conver¬
sing with the Greek colonies who settled among them,
they suppose, that, in imitating them, before they were
masters of the language, they were often obliged to
make use of circumlocutions, which afterwards became
habitual, and very much weakened the force of their
expressions, as it naturally would do. But one would
think, if they were put to this necessity at first, when
thev found its ill effect, they might easily have amended
it afterwards, as they grew better acquainted with the
Greek language, had they been inclined so to do. The
Rhodian style was a medium between the other two ;
not so concise and expressive as the Attic, nor yet so
loose and redundant as the Asiatic. Quintilian says,
it had a mixture of its author, and the humour of the
people } and like plants set in a foreign soil, degene¬
rated from the Attic purity, but not so wholly as to
lose it. They first received it from iEschines, who be¬
ing worsted in his famous contest with Demosthenes,
retired thither, and taught rhetoric, which put them
upon the study of eloquence.
The style of the same country likewise very much
alters in different ages. Cicero tells us, that the first
Latin historians aimed at nothing more than barely to
make themselves intelligible, and that with as much
brevity as they could. Those who succeeded them
advanced a step farther y and gave somewhat a better
turn and cadency to their sentences, though still with¬
out any dress or ornament. But afterwards, when the
Greek language became fashionable at Rome, by coi
pying after their writers, such as Herodotus, I hucy-
dides, Xenophon, and Others, they endervoured to in¬
troduce all their beauties into their own tongue, which
in Cicero’s time was brought to its highest perfection.
But it did not long continue in that state. A dege¬
neracy of manners soon altered their taste, and cor¬
rupted their language, which Quintilian very much
.complains of m his time. I he case was the same with
respect, to the Greek tongue 5 though that had the
good fortune to continue its purity much longer than
the Latin. Nor can any language be exempt from the
common fate of all human productions } which have then
beginning, perfection, and decay. Besides, theie is a
sort of fashion in language, as well as other things ; and
the generality of people are always fond of running into
the mode. Perhaps some one, or a few persons, fall
into a manner, which happens to please. Ibis gives
them a reputation; and others immediately copy after
them, till it generally prevail. Cicero tells us, that the
most ancient Greek orators whose writings were extant
in his time, such as Pericles, Alcibiades, and others,
were subtle, acute, concise, and abounded in sense rather
than words. But another set that followed them, of
which were Critias, Theramenes, and Lysias, retained
the good sense of the former, and at the same time took
more care of their style ; not leaving it so bare as the
former had done, but furnishing it with a better diess.
After these came Isocrates, who added all the flowers
and beauties of eloquence. And as he had abundance
2
O R Y. Pllrt HI.
of followers, they applied these ornaments and decora- EIocttUou.
tions according to their different genius : some for pomp ^
and splendour J and others to invigorate their style, and
give it the greater force and energy. And in this latter
way Demosthenes principally excelled. Now as each of
these manners had its peculiar beauties, and generally
prevailed in different ages, Cicero thinks this could not
have happened otherwise than from imitation. And he
attributes it to the same cause, that afterwards they
sunk into a softer and smoother manner, not less exact
and florid, but more cold and lifeless. It we take a
view of our own tongue, Chaucer seems to have been
thefirstwho made any considerable atttempts to cultivate
it. And whoever looks into his writings will perceive
the difference to be so great from what it is at present,
that it scarce appears-to be the same language. Hie
gradual improvements it has since received, are very evi¬
dent in the writers almost of every succeeding age since
that time j and how much farther it may still be carried,
time only can discover. See Language, passim : For
the English language in particular, see N° 385 for the
other European languages, as well as the Greek and
Latin, see N° 27, &c.
Another cause of the variety of style arises from the
different nature and properties of language. A dif¬
ference in the letters, the make of the words, and the
order of them, do all affect the style. So Quintilian
observes", that the Latin tongue cannot equal the
Greek in pronunciation^ because it is harsher. The
Latins want two of the softest Greek letters, v and ^5
and use others of a very hard sound, which the Greeks
have not, as/ and q. Again, many Latin words end
in ni i a letter of a broad and hollow sound, which
never terminates any Greek word } but v does fre¬
quently, whose sound is much softer and sweeter. Be¬
sides, in the combination of syllables the letters b and
d are often so situated, as to require too strong and
unequal a force to be laid upon them, as m the vvoitis
obversus and adjungo . Another advantage of the Greek
tongue arises from the variety and different seat of the
accents : for the Greeks often accent the last syllable,
which both enlivens the pronunciation, and renders it
more musical} whereas the Latins never do this. But
the greatest advantage of the Greeks lies in their
plenty and variety of words ; for which reason they
have less occasion for tropes or circumlocutions, which,
when used from necessity, have generally less force,
and weaken the style. But under these disadvantages,
Quintilian seems to give his countrymen the best advice
the case will admit of: That what they cannot do in
words, they should make up in sense. If their expres¬
sions are not so soft and tender, they should exceed in
strength 5 if they are less subtile, they should be more
sublime ; and if they have fewer proper words, they
should excel in the beauty as well as number of their
figures. If this account of Quintilian be just, that the
Greek tongue does surpass the Latin in all these instan¬
ces, it is certain that both of them have much greater
advantages over some modern languages. The varying
all their declinable words, both nouns and verbs, by
terminations, and not by signs, contributes very much
to the smoothness and harmony of their periods. Where¬
as in the modern languages, those small particles and
pronouns which distinguish the cases of nouns and the
tenses and persons of verbs, hinder the run of a period,
and
Part III. O R A T
Elocution, and render the sound much more rough and uneven.
Besides, the ancient languages seem to have a better and
more equal mixture of vowels and consonants, which
makes their pronunciation more easy and musical.
But the chief distinction of style arises from the dif¬
ferent subjects or matter of discourse. The same way of
speaking no more suits all subjects, than the same gar¬
ment would all persons. A prince and a peasant ought
not to have the same dress 5 and another different from
both becomes those of a middle station in life. The
style therefore should always be adapted to the nature
of the subject, which rhetoricians have reduced to three
ranks or degrees ; the /ow or plain style, the middle or
temperate, and the lofty or sublime: Which are likewise
called characters, because they denote the quality of
the subject upon which they treat. This division of
style into three characters, wras taken notice of very
early by ancient writers. Some have observed it even
in Homer, who seems to assign the sublime or magnifi¬
cent to Ulysses, when he represents him as so copious and
vehement an orator, that his words came from him like
winter snow. On the contrary, be describes Menelaus
as a polite speaker, but concise and moderate. And
when he mentions Nestox-, he represents his manner as
between these two, not £0 high and lofty as the one,
nor yet so low and depressed as the other} but smooth,
even, and pleasant, or, 3s lie expresses it, more sweet
than honey. Quintilian observes, that although accu¬
racy and politeness were general characters of the Attic
writers ; yet among their orators, Lysias excelled in
the low and familiar way, Isocrates for his elegancy,
smoothness, and the fine turn of his periods; and De¬
mosthenes for \ns flame and rapidity, by which he cax--
ried all before him. And Gellius tells us, that the like
difference was found in the three philosophers who were
sent from the Athenians to Home (before the Romans
had any relish for the polite arts) to solicit the remit¬
tance of a fine laid upon them for an injury done to a
neighbouring state. Carneades, one of those ambassa¬
dors, was vehement and rapid in his harangues j Crito-
laus, neat and smooth; and Diogenes, modest and sober.
Ihe eloquence of these orators, and the agreeable va¬
riety of their different manner, so captivated the Roman
youth, and inflamed them with a love of the Grecian
arts, that old Cato, who did all he could to check it
by hurrying away the ambassadors, could not prevent
their vigorous pursuit of them, till the study became in
a manner universal. And the old gentleman afterwards
learned the Greek language himself, when it became
*LordBa-more fashionable. Which a noble writer of ours* re-
377
100
low
.style eon-
dde red
both as to
thoughts
ailil lan¬
guage.
presents as a punishment upon him for his former crime.
It seldom happens that the same person excels in each
of these characters. They seem to require a different
genius, and most people are naturally led to one of them
more than another: though all of them are requisite for
an orator upon different occasions, as we shall show
hereafter.
Chap. V. Of the Low Style.
This we shall consider under two heads, thoughts
and language; in each of which the several characters
are distinguished from one another.
I. And with respect to the former, as the subjects
proper for this style are either common things, or such
Vol. XV. Part I. v
O R Y.
as should be treated in a plain and familiar way; so Elocution.
plain thoughts are most suitable to it, and distinguish it1-^—v *
from the other characters. xoi
Now, by plain thoughts, are meant such as are simple
and obvious, and seem to rise naturally from the subject,
when duly considered \ so that any one, upon first hear¬
ing them, would be apt to imagine they must have oc¬
curred to himself. Not that this is really the case, but
because the more natural a thing is, the more easy it
seems to be \ though in reality it is often otherwise j
and the perfection of art lies in its nearest resemblance
to nature. And therefore, in order to speak plainly and
clearly upon any subject, it must first be duly consider¬
ed, well understood, and thoroughly digested in the
mind ; which, though it require labour and study, yet
the more a person is master of what he says, the less
that labour will appear in his discourse. This natural
plainness and simplicity, w'ithout any disguise or affec¬
tation, very much contributes to give credit to what is
said. Nor is any thing more apt to impose on us, than
the appearance of this, when artfully assumed. Cicero’s
account of the fight between Milo and Clodius, in
which Clodius was killed, is a remarkable instance of
this. “ W hen Clodius knew (says he) that Milo wa&
obliged to go to Lanuvium upon a solemn and necessary
occasion, he immediately hastened from Rome, the day
before, to assassinate him before Clodius’s own house, as
appeared afterwards by the event. And this he did at
a time, when his turbulent mob in the city wanted his
assistance j whom he would not have left but for the ad¬
vantage of that place and season to execute his wicked
design. But the next day Milo was in the senate, where
he continued till they broke up j then went home ;
changed his dress ; staid there some time till his wife
ivas ready j and afterwards set forward so late, that if
Clodius had designed to return to Rome that day, he
might have been here by that time. Clodius, prepared
for his design, met him on horseback, having no cha¬
riot, no equipage, no Greek attendants as usual *, and
without his wife, which was scarcely ever known: where¬
as Milo was in a chariot with his wife, wrapt up in a
cloak, and attended by a large retinue of maid servants,
pages, and other persons unlit for an engagement. He
met with Clodius-before his house, about five o’clock in
the evening 5 and was presently assaulted from a higher
ground by many armed men, who killed the coachman.
Upon which, Milo, thrmving off his cloak, leaped out
of the chariot, and bravely defended himself: and those
who were with Clodius, having their swords drawn,
some made up to the chariot to attack Milo; and others,
who now thought he had been killed, began to fall up¬
on his servants who were behind. And of these, such
as had courage, and were faithful to their master, some
were killed; and others when they saw the skirmish at
the chariot, and could do their master no service (for
they heard Clodius himself say that Milo was killed,
and really thought it was so), did that, not by their
master’s order, nor with his knowledge, nor when he
was present, which every one would have his own ser¬
vants to do in the like circumstances. I do not say this
to fix any crime upon them, but only to relate what
happened.” His meaning is, they killed Clodius;
which he avoids mentioning, to render what he says less
offensive. Can any thing be told in a more plain and
simple manner than this ? Here is nothing said, hut
f 3 B what
378
O R A T
Elocution, what in itself seems highly probable, and what one
would imagine the fact might easily suggest to any ordi¬
nary spectator. But in this, both the art and skill o. it
consist. For in the whole account, as, on the one hand,
Milo is so described as'to render it highly improbable he
could have any design at that time against Clodius j so
on the other, no one circumstance is omitted which
might seem proper to persuade the hearers that Clodius
Was the aggressor in that engagement. And yet, if we
may believe Asconius, the quarrel was begun by some
of Milo’s retinue, and Clodius was afterwards killed by
his express order. But as things are sometimes best il¬
lustrated by their opposites, we shall here produce a
contrary instance of a very affected and unnatural way
of relating a fact. Cal. Maximus tells us of a learned
man at Athens, who, by a blow which he received by
a stone upon his head, entirely forgot all his learning,
though he continued to remember every thing else.
And therefore, as he says, since this misfortune depriv¬
ed him of the greatest enjoyment of his lite, it had been
happier for him never to have been learned, than after¬
wards to lose that pleasure. This is the plain sense of
the story. But now let us hear him relate it, “ A man
(says he) of great learning at Athens, having received a
blow upon his head by a stone, retained the memory of
all other things very perfectly, and only forgot his learn¬
ing, to which he had chiefly devoted himself, ihe
direful and malignant wound invading his mind, and as
it were designedly surveying the knowledge reposited
there, cruelly seized on that part of it in particular from
which he received the greatest pleasure, and buried the
singular learning of the man with an invidious funeial.
Tv ho since he was not permitted to enjoy his studies, had
better never have obtained access to them, than after¬
wards to have been deprived of the delight they afforded
him.” What an unnatural way is this of relating such
an accident, to talk of a wound invading the mind, and
surveying the knowledge reposited there, and cruelly
sci'zing a particular part of it, and burying it with an
invidious funeral? There is nothing in the story could
lead him to this, hut an over-fondness to refine upon it
an a very affected manner. But there are two pioper-
ties of plain thoughts, one of which ought constantly to
attend them in common with all thoughts, and the
other is often necessary to animate and enliven this
character. .
The former of these is justness and propriety, which
is what reason dictates in all cases. W bat Cicero says
of the death of Crassus the orator, seems very just, as
well as natural. “ It Was (says he) an affliction to his
friends, a loss to his country, and a concern to all good
men j but such public calamities followed upon it, that
heaven seemed rather to have favoured him with death,
than to have deprived him of life.” This thought seems
very just, and agreeable to the sentiments of a good
man, as Crassus was; to choose death rather than to
outlive the happiness of his country, to which he him¬
self had so much contributed. Quintilian has a reflec¬
tion upon a like occasion, which is not so just and be¬
coming. It is upon the death of his only son, a youth
of very uncommon parts, as he represents him *, and for
whose use he had designed his Institutions of oratory:
but he died before they were finished. The passage is
this: “ 1 have lost him of whom I had formed the great¬
est hopes, and in whom 1 had reposed the gi eatest com-
O R Y.
Part III.
fort of my old age. What can I do now ? or of what Elocution,
farther use can I think myself to be, thus disappointed—v—J
by heaven ? What good parent will pardon me, if 1 can
any longer study, and not condemn such resolution, if,
thus surviving all my family, I can make any other use
of my voice, than to accuse the gods, and declare that
providence does not govern the world:'” Allowance
may be made for the sallies of passion, even in wise men,
upon some shocking occasions •, but when it proceeds to
such a degree as to become impious, it is very indecent,
as well as unjust. And all indecency is unnatural, as
it is disagreeable to reason, which always directs to a
decorum.0 That seems to be a very natural as well as
just thought of Pliny the Younger, when he says,
“ The death of those persons always appears to me too
hasty and unseasonable, who are preparing some lasting
work. For persons wholly devoted to pleasures, live,
as it were, from day to day, and daily finish the end for
which they live j but those who have a view to posteri¬
ty, and preserve their memory by their labours, always
die untimely, because they leave something unfinished.
We shall mention but one more instance 5 and that in
a comparative view, to make it the more evident. I he
two sons of Junius Brutus, the first Roman consul, ha¬
ving been convicted of treason, in associating with 1 ar-
quin’s party, were ordered, among others, to be put to
death •, and their father not only pronounced the sen¬
tence, but presided at the execution. This fact is men¬
tioned by several of the Roman historians 5 and, as it
carries in it not only the appearance of rigorous justice,
but likewise of cruelty in Brutus, to have been present
at the execution of his sons, they endeavour to vindicate
him different ways. What Floras says seems rather an
affectation of wit, than a just defence of the fact. ‘
beheaded them (says he), that being a public parent,
he might appear to have adopted the whole body of the
people.” Nor does Val. Maximus come up to the case,
who says, “ He put off the father to act the consul j
and chose rather to lose the sons, than be wanting to
public justice.” This might be a reason for condemn¬
ing them 5 and would have been equally true, had he
not been present at their execution. But Livy, whose
thoughts are generally very just and natural, assigns the
best reason which perhaps can be given for his vindica¬
tion, when he says, “ Fortune made him the execution¬
er of the sentence, who ought not to have been a spec¬
tator.” By saying fortune made him so, he represents
it not as a matter of choice, like the other historians,
but of necessity, from the nature of his office, which
then obliged him to see the execution of that sentence
he had himself before pronounced j as is the custom at
present, in some popular governments.
The other property, which should often accompany
plain and simple thoughts, is, that they be gay and
sprightly. This, as has been said, is necessary to ani¬
mate and enliven such discourses as require the low
style. The fewer ornaments it admits of,, the greatci
spirit and vivacity is requisite to prevent its being dry
and jejune. A thought may be very brisk and lively,
and at the same time appear very natural, as the ettect
of a ready and flowing wit. Such thoughts, attended
with agreeable turns, are very suitable to this style j but
care should be taken, lest, while fancy is too much in¬
dulged, the justness of them be overlooked. Me shal
give one instance, in which this seems to have been the
Part III. ORA
Elocution* casej from a celebrated English work, where the inge-
-'v 1 nious writer endeavours to show the disadvantages of
persons not attending to their natural genius, but alFect-
ing to imitate others in those things for which they were
not formed. “ The great misfortune (says he) of this
affectation is, that men not only lose a good quality, but
also contract a bad one j they not only are unfit for
what they are designed, but they assign themselves to
what they are unfit for ; and instead of making a very
good figure one way, make a very ridiculous one an¬
other. Could the world be reformed to the obedience
of that famed dictate, Follow nature, which the oracle
of Delphos pronounced to Cicero when he consulted
what course of studies he should pursue, we should see
almost every man as eminent in his proper sphere as
Tully was in his. For my part, I could never consi¬
der this preposterous repugnancy to nature any other¬
wise, than not only as the greatest folly, but also one
of the most heinous crimes; since it is a direct opposition
to the disposition of providence, and (as Tully expresses
it) like the sin of the giants, an actual rebellion against
heaven.” The advantages that arise from persons at¬
tending to their own genius, and pursuing its dictates,
are here represented in a very lively and agreeable man¬
ner. But there is one thing asserted, which we fear
will not hold ; which is, that, Could the world he re¬
formed to that dictate, “Follow Nature,” we should see
almost every man as eminent in his proper sphere as Tal¬
ly was in his. For though doubtless persons would ge¬
nerally succeed best if they kept to this rule; yet differ¬
ent degrees of ability are often found, where the bias
and inclination is the same, and that accompanied with
equal labour and diligence. If this was not so, how
happened it that no one came up to Tully in the art of
oratory; especially in his own age, when there were
the greatest opportunities for that study, and the highest
encouragements were given to it, as it paved the way
to riches, honours, and all the grand offices of the state?
It cannot well be questioned but that there were other
gentlemen, who had all the same advantages, accom¬
panied with as strong a passion for this art, as Tully
had, who yet fell much short of him in point of success.
And experience shows, that the case has been the same
i02 in all other pursuits.
The lan- III. But it is time to proceed to the other head,
perfo,.1’10' tlie lanSuaSe proper for this style. And here it may
tills style. be observed *n general, that the dress ought to be
agreeable to the thoughts, plain, simple, and unaf¬
fected.
But the first thing that comes under consideration
is elegance,(or a proper choice of words and expressions;
which ought always to suit the ideas they are designed to
convey. And therefore when an ancient writer, speak¬
ing of cruelty, calls it ncevus crudclitatis, the blemish of
cruelty; and another, applying the same word to ingra¬
titude, says ncevus ingratitudinis, the blemish of ingra¬
titude ; that term does not sufficiently convey to us the
odious nature of either of those vices, as indeed it was
not their design it should. But otherwise, where the
speaker has not some particular view in doing it, to
sink too lovv is as much a fault as to rise too high. So
to call ancient Rome the mistress of Italy, would as
much lessen the just notion of the extent of her power,
as the Roman writers aggrandise it when they style her
mistress of the world. But purity, both in the choice
TORY.
of words and expressions, is never more necessary than
it is here. This may be called neatness in language.
And to be plain and neat at the same time, is not only
veiy consistent, but the former can no other way recom¬
mend itself, than as joined with the latter. Besides
the fewer advantages any thing has to set it off, the more’
carefully they ought to be observed. Perspicuity is al¬
ways to be regarded; and serves very much to keep up
the attention, where other ornaments are wanting. E-
pithets should be sparingly used, since they enlarge the
images of things, and contribute very much to heighten
the style. Indeed they are sometimes necessary to set a
thing in its just light; and then they should not be
dropped. I bus, in speaking of Xerxes, it would bo
too low and flat to say, He descended, with his army into
Greece. Here is no intimation given of their vast and
unparalleled numbers, which ought to be done Hero¬
dotus says, his whole army, of sea and land forces, a-
mounted to 2,317,000 and upwards. Therefore, unless
the number be mentioned, the least that can be said is,
that he descended with a vast army.
I he next thing to be regarded is composition, which
here does not require the greatest accuracy and exact¬
ness. A seeming negligence is sometimes a beauty in
this style, as it appears more natural. Short sentences,
01 those of a moderate length, are likewise upon the
whole best suited to this character. Long and accurate
periods, finely wrought up with a gradual rise, harmo¬
nious numbers, a due proportion of the several parts,
and a just cadency, are therefore improper, as they are
plainly the effect of art. But yet some proportion should
be observed in the members, that neither the ears be
too much defrauded, nor the sense obscured. Of this
kind is that expression of a Greek orator, blamed by
Demetrius: Ceres came readily to our assistance, but A-
nstides not. The latter member of this sentence is too
short; and by dropping so suddenly, both disappoints
the ears, and is somewhat obscure. It would have been,
plainer and more agreeable thus, but Aristides did not
come. As to order, the plainest and clearest disposition,
both of the words and members of sentences, and what
is most agreeable to the natural construction, best suits
with this character. For one of its principal beauties is
perspicuity. And a proper connection likewise of sen¬
tences, with a regular order in the dependence of thino-s
one upon another, very much contributes to this end.
With regard to the collision of syllables in different
words, for preventing either a hollowness or asperity of
sound, greater liberty may be taken in this style than
in the other characters. Here it may be allowed to say,
T irtue is amiable to all, though all do not pursue it. But
in a higher character, perhaps, in order to prevent the
hollow sound of the words though all, a person would
choose to vary the expression a little, and say, though
few pursue it. So, Xerxes'1 expedition, may be tolerable
here; but in the florid style, the expedition of Xerxes
would sound much better.
ffhe last thing to be considered, with respect to the
language is dignity, or the use of tropes and figures.
And as to tropes, they ought to be used cautiously; un¬
less such as are very common, and by time have either
come into the place of proper words, or at least are
equally plain and clear. So in the instance mentioned
above, Diodorus Siculus, speaking of the forces of
Xerxes, calls them an innumerable company. W here,
3 B 55 by
379
Elocution.
3So 0 R A T O R Y. Part III,
Elocution by a synecdoche, Ire has chosen to make use of an uncer-
'——y~——‘ tain number for a Certain, as less liable perhaps to ex¬
ception. Other examples might be given if necessary.
And with regard to figures, as most of those which con¬
sist in words, and are therefore called verbal figures,
serve chiefly to enliven an expression, and give an
agreeable turn, they are often not improper for this
character. Nor are figures of sentences wholly to be
excluded, especially such as are chiefly used in reason¬
ing or demonstration. But those which are more pe¬
culiarly adapted to touch the passions, or paint things
in the strongest colours, are the more proper ornaments
of the higher styles, as will be shown hereafter.
Upon the whole, therefore, pure nature, without any
colouring, or appearance of art, is the distinguishing
mark of the low style. The design of it is to make
things plain and intelligible, and to set them in an easy
light. And therefore the proper subjects of it are
epistles, dialogues, philosophical dissertations, or any
other discourses, that ought to be treated in a plain and
familiar manner, without much ornament, or address to
the passions. A freedom and ease both of thought and
expression, attended with an agreeable humour and
pleasantry, are its peculiar beauties that engage us. As
we see persons of fashion and good breeding, though in
the plainest habit, have yet something in their air and
manner of behaviour that is very taking and amiable.
Somewhat of the like nature attends this style. It has
its difficulties, which are not so easily discerned but
from experience. For it requires no small skill to treat
a common subject in such a manner as to make it enter¬
taining. The fewer ornaments it admits of, the greater
art is necessary to attain this end. Lofty subjects of¬
ten engage and captivate the mind by the sublimity of
the ideas. And the florid style calls in all the assistance
of language and eloquence. But the plain style is in a
great measure stripped of those advantages 5 and has
little more to recommend it, than its own native beauty
and simplicity.
Chap. VI. Of the Middle Style.
103 This we shall treat in the same manner as we did
the former, by considering first the matter, and then
104 the language proper for it.
The middle 1. And as the subjects proper for this style are things
style con si- 0f Weight and importance, which require both a gravity
dered as to an(| accuraCy 0f expression : so fine thoughts are its di-
language stinguishing mark, as plain thoughts are of the low cha¬
racter, and lofty thoughts of the sublime. Now a fine
thought may deserve that character from some or other
of the following properties.
And the first property we shall mention is gravity
and dignity. Thus Cicero in a speech to Caesar, says,
“ It has been often told me, that you have frequently
said, you have lived long enough for yourself. I believe
it, if you either lived, or was born for yourself only.”
Nothing could either be more fit and proper, than this
was, when it was spoken j or at the same time a finer
compliment upon Caesar. For the civil war was now
over, and the whole power of the Roman government
in the hands of Caesar ; so that he might venture to say
he had lived long enough for himself, there being no
higher pitch of glory to which his ambition could aspire.
But then there were many things in the state that
■wanted redressing, after those times of disorder and con- Elocution
fusion, which he had not yet been able to effect, and of—v—-«l
which Cicero here takes an opportunity to remind him.
We shall produce another example from Curtins. Phi-
lotas, one of Alexander’s captains, having formed a con¬
spiracy against him, was convicted of it, and put to
death. Amintas, who was suspected of the same crime,
by reason of his great intimacy with Philotas, ■when he
comes to make his defence, among other things speaks
thus: “ I am so far from denying my intimacy with
Philotas, that I own 1 courted his friendship. Do you
wonder that we showed a regard to the son of Parme-
nio, whom you would have to be next to yourself, giv¬
ing him the preference to all your other friends ? You,
Sir, if I may be allowed to speak the truth, have
brought me into this danger. For to whom else is it
owing, that those who endeavoured to please you, ad¬
dressed themselves to Philotas P By his recommendation
we have been raised to this share of your friendship.
Such was his intex-est with you, that we courted his fa¬
vour, and feared his displeasure. Did we not all in a man¬
ner engage ourselves by oath, to have the same friends,
and the same enemies, which you had ? Should we have
refused to take this, which you, as it were, proposed to
us ? Therefore, if this be a cyime, you have few inno¬
cent persons about youy nay, indeed none. For all
desired to be the friends of Philotas 5 though all could
not be so who desired it. Therefore, if you make no
difference between his friends and accomplices, neither
ought you to make any between those who desire to be
his friends, and those who really were so.” Could any
thing be finer spoken, more proper, and becoming the
character of a soldier, than this defence j especially to a
prince of so great and generous a spirit as Alexander ?
There is something which appears like this in Tacitus
with relation to the emperor Tiberius, but falls vastly
short of it in the justness and dignity of the sentiment.
Sejanus, his great favourite, and partner in his crimes,
falling under his displeasure, was, like Philotas, put to
death for a conspiracy. Now a Roman knight, who ap-
prehended himself in danger on account of his friendship
with Sejanus, thus apologizes for himself to the emperor,
in the manner of Amintas : “ It is not for us to ex¬
amine the merit of a person whom you raise above others,
nor your reasons for doing it. The gods have given you
the sovereign power of all things, to us the glory of
obeying. Let conspiracies formed against the state, or
the life of the emperor, be punished; but as to friend¬
ships and private regards, the same reason that justifies
you, Ccesar, renders us innocent.” The turn of the ex¬
pressions is not much different from that in the case of
Amintas ^ but the beauty of the thought is spoiled by
the flattery of complimenting Tiberius upon an ex¬
cess of power, which he employed to the destruction of
many excellent men. There is not that impropriety
in the defence of Amintas, which is equally brave and
just.
Another property of a fine thought is beauty and
elegance. It is a fine compliment which Pliny pays to
the emperor Trajan, when he says, “ It has happened
to you alone, that you was father of your country, be¬
fore you was made so.” Some of the Roman emperors
had been complimented with the title olfather of their
country, who little deserved it. But Trajan had a long
time refused it, though he was really so, both by his
4 g00
Part III.
Elocution, good government, ami in the esteem of his subjects, be-
»—-v—fore he thought fit to accept of it. And Pliny, among
other instances of the generosity of that prince, which
he mentions in the same discourse, speaking of the li¬
berty that he gave the Romans to purchase estates which
had belonged to the emperors, and the peaceable posses¬
sion they had of them, does it by a turn of thought no
less beautiful than the former. “ Such (says he) is the
prince’s bounty, such the security of the times, that he
thinks us worthy to enjoy what has been possessed by
emperors ; and we are not afraid to be thought so.”
Th ere is a sprightliness in this image, which gives it a
beauty; as there is likewise in the following passage of
the same discourse, where he says to Trajan, “Your
life is displeasing to you, if it be not joined with the
public safety ; and you suffer us to wish yon nothing
but what is for the good of those who wish it.” And
of the same kind is that of Cicero to Caesar, when he
says, “ You, Ccesar, are wont to forget nothing but in¬
juries.” It is a very handsome, as well as just reflec¬
tion, made by Tacitus upon Galba’s government, that
“ He seemed too great for a private man, while he W'as
but a private man ; and all would have thought him
worthy of the empire, had lie never been emperor.”
The beauty of a thought ibay give us delight, though
the subject be sorrowful ; and the images of things in
themselves unpleasant may be so represented as to be¬
come agreeable. Sisigambis, the mother of Darius, af¬
ter the death of her son, had been treated by Alexander
with the greatest regard and tenderness, in whose power
she then was. So soon as she heard therefore that he
was dead, she grew weary of life, and could not bear to
outlive him. Upon which Q. Curtius makes this fine
reflection : “ Though she had courage to_survive Da¬
rius, yet she rvas ashamed to outlive Alexander.”
The next property of a fine thought, which we shall
mention, is delicacy. As, in the objects of our senses,
those things are said to be delicate which alfect us gra¬
dually in a soft and agreeable manner; so a delicate
thought is that which is not wholly discovered at once,
but by degrees opening and unfolding itself to the mind,
discloses more than was at first perceived. Quintilian
seems to refer to this, when he says, “ Those things are
grateful to the hearers, which, when they apprehend,
they are delighted with their own sagacity ; and please
themselves, as though they bad not heard, but discover¬
ed them.” Such thoughts are not unlike the sketches
of some pictures, which let us into the design of the ar¬
tist, and help us to discern more than the lines them¬
selves express. Of this kind is that of Sallust: “ In the
greatest fortunes, there is the least liberty.” I bis is
not often so in lact, but ought to be ; both to guard
against an abuse of power, and to prevent the effects of
a bad example to inferiors. Pliny, speaking of the em¬
peror Trajan’s entry into Rome, says, “ Some declared,
upon seeing you, they had lived long enough ; others,
that now they were more desirous to live.” The com¬
pliment is fine either way, since both must esteem the
sight of him the greatest happiness in life ; and in that
consistency lies the delicacy of the thought. It was a
fine character given of Grotius, when very young, on
the account of his surprising genius and uncommon pro¬
ficiency in learning, that he was born a man: x\s if na¬
ture, at his coming into the world, had at once furnish-
381
ed him with those endowments which others gradually Elocution.
acquire by study and application. ^ —v— 
The last property of a fine thought, which we shall
take notice of, is novelty. Mankind is naturally plea¬
sed with new things; and when at the same time they
are set in an agreeable light, this very much heightens
the pleasure. Indeed there are few subjects, but what
have been so often considered, that it is not to be ex¬
pected they should afford many thoughts entirely new;
but the same thought set in a different light, or applied
to a different occasion, has in some degree a claim of
novelty. And even where a thing hath been so well
said already, that it cannot easily be mended, the revi¬
val ot a fine thought often affords a pleasure and enter¬
tainment to the mind, though it can have no longer the
claim of novelty. Cicero, in his treatise of an orator,
among several other encomiums which he there gives to
Crassus, says of him, “ Crassus always excelled every
other person, but that day he excelled himself.” He
means as an orator. Rut elsewhere he applies the same
thought to Caesar, upon another account ; and with
some addition to it. “ You had (says he) before con¬
quered all other conquerors by your equity and cle¬
mency, but to-day you have conquered yourself; you
seem to have vanquished even victory herself, therefore
you alone are truly invincible.” This-thought, with a
little variation of the phrase, has since appeared in seve¬
ral later writers; and it is now grown common to say
of a person, who excels in any way, upon his doing
better than he did before, that he has outdone himself.
The like has happened to another thought, which, with
a little alteration, has been variously applied. It was
said by Varro, That if the Muses were to talk Latin,
they would talk like Plautus. The younger Pliny, ap¬
plying this compliment to a friend of his, says, His let¬
ters are sofinely written, that you would think the Muses
themselves talked Latin. And Cicero tells us, It was
said of Xenophon, that the Muses themselves seemed to
speak Greek with his voice. And elsewhere, that Phi¬
losophers say, if Jupiter speaks Greek, he must speak
like Plato. The thought is much the same in all these
instances, and has been since revived by some modem
writers.
IL We shall now consider the language proper for the The lan-
middle style. And in general it may be observed, thatguage of
as the proper subjects of it are things of weight and im- t'ie middle
portance, though not of that exalted nature as wholly tosl-^e*
captivate the mind, and divert it from attending to the
diction, so all the ornaments of speech, and beauties of
eloquence, have place here.
And first with regard to elegance, it is plain that a
different choice of words makes a very great difference
in the style, where the sense is the same. Sometimes
one single word adds a grace and weight to an expres¬
sion, which, if removed, the sense becomes flat and
lifeless. Now such words as are most full and expressive
suit best with his character. Epithets also, which are
proper and well chosen, serve very much to beautify
and enliven it, as they enlarge the ideas of things, and
set them in a fuller light.
The most accurate composition, in all the parts of it,
has place here. Periods, the most beautiful and harmo¬
nious, of a due length, and wrought up with the most
exact order, just cadency, easy and smooth connec-
tioa
ORATORY.
382 O R A T
Elocution, tion of the Words, and flowing numbers, are the genuine
i. ■—v—■ J ornaments, which greatly contribute to form this cha¬
racter.
But the principal distinction of style arises from
tropes and figures. By these it is chiefly animated and
raised to its different degrees or characters, as it re¬
ceives a lesser or greater number of them j and those
either more mild, or strong and powerful.
As to tropes, those which afford the most lively and
pleasing ideas, especially metaphors, suit the middle cha¬
racter. It is a pretty remark, which has been made by
some critics upon two verses of Virgil} one in his
Eclogues, and the other m his Georgies. The former
of these works is for the most part written in the low
style, as the language of shepherds ought to be 5 but the
latter in the middle style, suitable to the nature of the
subject, and the persons for whom it was designed, the
greatest men in Rome not thinking it below them to
entertain themselves with rural aftairs. Now in the
Eclogue, as some copies read the verse, the shepherd,
complaining of the barrenness of his land, says,
Infeliv folium et steriles nascuntur avcnce.
In English thus :
Wild oats and darnel grow instead of corn.
But in the Georgic, where the same sense is intended,
instead of the proper word nascuntur, grow, the au¬
thor substitutes a metaphor, dominantur, command, and
says,
Infelix folium et steriles dominantur avenw.]
That is in English j
Where corn is sown, darnel and oats command.
It was fit and natural for the shepherd to express his
sense in the plainest terms } and it would have been
wrong to represent him going so far out of his way, as
to fetch a metaphor from government, in talking upon
his own affairs. But in the Georgic, where the poet
speaks in his own person, the metaphor is much more
beautiful, and agreeable to the dignity of the work.
This instance may show in some measure how the style
is heightened by tropes, and the same thought may be
accommodated to the several characters of style by the
different manner of expression.
The like may also be said of figures either of words
or sentences, in reference to this character; which ad¬
mits of the finest descriptions, most lively images, and
brightest figures, that serve either for delight, or to in¬
fluence the passions without transport or ecstasy, which
is the property of the sublime. This is indeed the pro¬
per seat of such embellishments, which support and
make up a principal part of the middle or florid style.
Having treated largely upon these in several preceding
chapters, we shall here only briefly mention some of the
^ most considerable.
Descrip- Descriptions are not only a great ornament to a dis-
tions orna course, but represent things in a very lively and agree-
mental and able manner. In what a beautiful light has Cicero pla-
pleasant ce(] tjie polite arts and sciences, when, describing them
from their effects, he thus represents to us the great ad¬
vantages, as well as pleasure, which they afford to the
mind ? “ Other studies neither suit with all times, nor
all ages, nor all places j but these improve youth, de-
O R Y. Part III.
light old age, adorn prosperity, afford a refuge and so- Elocution,
lace in adversity ; please at home, are no hinderance —y-—<
abroad ; sleep, travel, and retire, with us.” And they
often affect us very powerfully, when they are addres¬
sed to the senses. Quintilian has painted the calami¬
ties of a city taken by storm in the brightest and strong¬
est colours, which he represents by “ F lames spreading
themselves over the houses and temples, the cracking
of falling buildings, and a confused noise from a variety
of cries and shouts j some running they know not where,
others in the last embraces of their friends ; the shrieks
of children, women, and old men unhappily reserved to
such distress ; the plundering of all places civil and sa¬
cred, the hurry and confusion in carrying off the booty,
captives driven before their victors, mothers endeavour¬
ing to guard their infants, and quarrels among the con¬
querors where the plunder is largest.” Ibis seems to
be a very natural, as well as moving, image of so dread¬
ful a calamity. *07
Prosopopeia is another very strong and beautiful fi- Proiopo-
gure, very proper for this character. Seneca has a fine
instance of it in his “ Consolatory Letter to Marcia,” thisecll^
upon the death of her son. After many arguments he racter.
had made use of to alleviate her grief, he at last intro¬
duces her father, Cremutius Cordus, as thus addressing
to her: “ Imagine your father (says he) from the ce¬
lestial regions, speaking to you in this manner: Daugh¬
ter, why do you so long indulge your grief? why are
you so ignorant, as to think it unhappy for your son,
that, weary of life, he has withdrawn himself to his an¬
cestors ? Are you not sensible what disorders fortune oc¬
casions everywhere ? and that she is kindest to those
wrho have least concern with her ? Need I mention to
you princes who had been extremely happy, had a more
timely death secured them from impending evil ? or
Roman generals, who wanted nothing to consummate
their glory but that they lived too long ? VV by then is
he bewailed longest in our family who died most happi¬
ly ! There is nothing, as you imagine, desirable among
you, nothing great, nothing noble ; but, on the con¬
trary, all things are mean, full of trouble and anxiety,
and partake very little of the light which Ave enjoy.”
This advice was very suitable for a philosopher } and he
seems to have chosen this Avay of introducing it, to en¬
force the argument drawn from the happiness of good
men in a future state, from the testimony of a person
who was actually m the possession of it. _ J08
Similitudes and comparisons are another great orna-Sinabtudw-
ment of this style, and oftenest found here. Nothing
can be finer than the comparison betiveen those tvio
great orators, Demosthenes and Cicero, made by Quin- here.
tiHan, when he says, “ Demosthenes and Cicero differ
in their elocution ; one is more close, and the other
more copious ; the former concludes more concisely,
and the latter takes a larger compass ; the one always
with pungency, and the other generally with weight;
one can have nothing taken from him, and the other no¬
thing added to him • the latter has more of art, and the
farmer more of nature. But this must be allowed to
Demosthenes, that he made Cicero in a great measure
Avhat he was. For as Tully gave himself wholly to an
imitation of the Greeks, he seems to me to have expres¬
sed the force of Demosthenes, the fluency of Plato, and
the pleasantry of Isocrates.” Similitudes, taken from
natural things, serve very much to enliven the style,
^ and
Part III. OKA1
Elocution, ami give it a cheerfulness; which 2s a thing so common
v ' and well known, that we need not stay to give any in¬
stances of it.
Antithesis, Antithesis, or opposition both in the words and
has also a sense, has often the like beautiful effect. There is an
nne effect, agreeable contrast in that passage of Seneca : “ Caesar
does not allow himself many things, because he can
do all things : his watching defends all others sleep,
his labour their quiet, his industry their pleasure, his
business their ease ; since he has governed the world
he has deprived himself of it.” Had he said no more
than only in general, that Caesar does not allow himself
many things, because he can do all things, it might have
passed for a fine thought ; but, by adding so many par
ticulars, all in the same form of expression, and begin-
ing each member with the same word, he has both en¬
larged the idea, and beautified the antithesis, by a
bright verbal figure.
These, and such like florid figures, are sometimes
found in historians, but oftener in orators ; and indeed
this middle character, in the whole of it, is best accom¬
modated to the subjects of history and oratory.
1 0 R Y. 583
rent manner of thinking to which they have been ac- Elocution,
customed ? After the great battle in Cilicia, between —v —■1
Alexander and Darius, in which the latter was routed,
he sent ambassadors to Alexander with proposals of
peace, offering him half his kingdom with his daughter
in marriage. Parmenio, one of Alexander’s chief cap¬
tains, says to him upon this occasion, “ For my part,
was I Alexander, I would accept of these conditions.”
“ And so would I (replies that aspiring monarch), was
I Parmenio.” The half of so vast a kingdom at pre¬
sent, and a right of succession to the whole by marriage,
was the highest ambition to which the thoughts of Par-
menio could rise. But Alexander had vastly higher
views ; he aimed at nothing less than universal mo¬
narchy ; and therefore such a proposal seemed much
beneath his regard. Noble and lofty thoughts are
principally those which either relate to divine objects,
or such things as among men are generally esteemed
the greatest and most illustrious.
Of the former sort is that of Homer, when describing
the goddess Discord, he says, that she
Walks on the ground, and hides her head in clouds.
Chap. VII. Of the Sublime Style.
no
The noblest The sublime is the most noble, as well as the most
^ Pai’t of an orator’s province. It is this prin-
cdfpart 0f cipally which Cicero requires in his perfect orator,
an orator’s whom he could not describe in words, but only con-
province is ceive of in his mind. And indeed, the noblest genius
the sublime. antl greatest art are both requisite to form this cha¬
racter. For where nature has been most liberal in fur¬
nishing the mind with lofty thoughts, bright images,
and strong expressions ; yet without the assistance of
art there will sometimes be found a mixture of what is
low, improper, or misplaced. And a great genius,
like a too rich soil, must produce flowers and weeds
promiscuously, without cultivation. But the justest pro¬
priety, joined with the greatest strength and highest
elevation of thought, are required to complete the true
sublime. Art, therefore, is necessary to regulate and
perfect the taste of those who are desirous to excel in
this character.
In explaining the nature and properties of this cha¬
racter, we shall, as in the two former, consider first the
thoughts, and then the language, in each of which it is
distinguished from them.
5 1. Sublime, as it relates to Thoughts.
in
Sublimity Lofty and grand sentiments are the basis and foun-
0tbou\teS^ati°n ^ie ^rue sublime. Longinus therefore ad-
»ls vises those who aspire at this excellence, to accustom,
themselves to think upon the noblest subjects. A mind
that always dwells upon low and common subjects can
never raise itself sufficiently to represent things great
and magnificent in their full extent and proper light.
But he who inures himself to conceive the highest and
most exalted ideas, and renders them familiar to his
thoughts, will not often be at a loss how to express
them ; for where proper words are wanting, by meta¬
phors and imaues taken from other things, he will be
able to convey them in a just and adequate manner.
What is more common than for two persons to con¬
ceive very differently of the same thing from the diffe-
This stretch of thought, says Longinius, as great as
the distance between heaven and earth, does not more
represent the stature of the goddess, than the measure
of the poet’s genius and capacity. But such images,
however beautiful in poetry, are not so proper for an
orator, whose business it is to make choice of those
which are suited to the nature of things and the com¬
mon reason of mankind. When Numa the second
king of Koine was settled in his government, and at
peace with his neighbours, in order to soften the fierce
and martial temper of his subjects, who had been al¬
ways accustomed to Avar during the reign of bis pre¬
decessor Romulus, he endeavoured to impress their
minds with an awe of the Deity; and for that end in¬
troduced a number of religious ceremonies, which he
pretended to have received from the goddess Egeria *. * See
This must be esteemed an artful piece of policy at that Egeria.
time. But that sentiment is far more just and noble,
Avith which Cicero endeavours to inspire the mem¬
bers of a community, in his treatise of Lbaa's, Avhen
he says, that “ Citizens ought first to be persuaded,
that all things are under the rule and government
of the gods ; that every affair is directed by their
wisdom and poAver ; that the highest regard is due to
them from men, since they observe every one’s con¬
duct, hoAV he acts and behaves himself, and with
Avhat temper and devotion he worships them ; and
that they make a difi’erence between the pious and im¬
pious.” Persons under the influence of such a pei’sua-
sion, could not fail of behaving Avell in society. And
Avhat he says to Caesar is no less in this style, Avhen, in¬
terceding for Ligarius, he tells him, that “ men in no¬
thing approach nearer to deity, than in giving life to
men.” And Velleius Paterculus, speaking of Cato,
gives him this sublime character, “ That he Avas more
like toe gods than men ; avIio never did a good thing,
that he might seem to do it.”
The other kind of lofty thoughts mentioned above,
are those which relate to power, Avisdom, courage, be¬
neficence, and such other things as are of the highest
esteem among mankind. “ Your fortune ("says Tully
to Cuesar) has nothing greater than a power, nor your
nature
3«4 ...
Elocution, nature than a will, to save many.” He subjoins this
V--"; compliment to what we have just cited from him ; and
applies that to Csesar, which was before only expresserl
in general, leaving him to draw the inference ot his
similitude to deity from the clemency of his nature.
And elsewhere, as in a sort of transport tor his success
in defeating the conspiracy of Catiline, he thus be¬
speaks the Roman senate : “ You have always decreed
public thanks to others for their good government of
the state, but to me alone for its preservation. Let
that Scipio shine, by whose conduct and valour Hanni¬
bal was forced to leave Italy, and retire to Africa 5
let the other Scipio be greatly honoured, who destroy¬
ed Carthage and Numantia, two cities the most dan¬
gerous to this empire 5 let Lucius Laulus be in high
esteem, whose triumphal chariot was adorned with
Perses, once a most powerful and noble prince •, let
Marius be in eternal honour, who twice delivered Italy
from an invasion and the dread of servitude ; let Pom-
pey’s name excel all these, whose actions and vutucs^
are terminated by no other bounds but the course of
the sun ;—yet among all their praises, there will still
some place be left for my glory ; unless indeed it be
a greater thing to open for us new provinces to which
we may resort, than to secure a place tor our victo¬
rious generals to return in triumph.” And Velleius
Paterculus, as if he thought no encomium too high
for this great orator, laments his unhappy fate in these
lofty strains, addressed to M. Antony, by whose order
he was put to death : “ You have taken from Cicero
old age, and a life more miserable than death under
your government} but his fame, and the glory of his
actions and words, you have been so far from destroy¬
ing, that you have increased them. He lives, and will
live in the memory of all ages; and while this system
of nature, however constituted, shall remain (which
scarce any Roman but himself conceived in his mind,
comprehended by his genius, and illustrated with his
eloquence), the praise of Cicero shall accompany it; and
all posterity, while it admires his writings against you,
will curse your treatment of him ; and sooner shall man¬
kind he lost to the world than his name.” It was a
noble reply of Poms the Indian king, when, after his
defeat by Alexander, being brought before him, and
asked itow he expected to be treated9 he answered,
Like a king. And Valerius Maximus, speaking of
Pompey’s treatment ofTigranes king of Armenia after
he had vanquished him, expresses it in a manner suited
to the dignity and beneficence of the action, when he
gays, “ He restored him to his former fortune, esteem¬
ing it as glorious to make kings as to conquer them.”
But the true sublime is consistent with the greatest
plainness and simplicity of expression. And, gene¬
rally speaking, the more plain and natural the images
appear, the more they surprise us. How succinct,
and vet how majestic, is that expression of Caesar upon
his victory over Pharnaces ? 1 came, I saw, Iconcjuer-
ed. But there cannot bo a greater or more beautiful ex¬
ample of this, than what Longinus has taken notice of
from Moses. “ The legislator of the Jews .(says he),
no ordinary person, having a just notion of the power
and majesty of the Deity, has expressed it in the he¬
n-inning of bis laws in the following words: And God
said -what ? Let there be light ; and there teas light.
Let the earth be made; and it was made:'' This in-
Part IIT.
stance from the divine writer, and the character here Elocution,
given of him by that excellent critic, is the more re- —y——'
markable, as he was himself a Pagan. And certainly
no laboured description could raise in the mind a higher
conception of the infinite power of the Deity, than this
plain and short narration. To command nature itself
into being by a word, represents it at once altogether
boundless and unlimited.
It sometimes very much contributes to heighten the
image of a thing, when it is expressed in so undeter¬
mined a manner, as to leave the mind in suspense what
bounds to fix to the thought. 01 this kind is that oi
Cicero, when he first raises an objection against the ne¬
cessity of an acquaintance with polite literature in order
to form a great man, and then answers it. The ob¬
jection is founded upon the examples of several great
and excellent persons among the Romans, who had
raised themselves to the highest pitch of honour and
dignity, and been very serviceable to their country, by
the help of a good genius, without the advantage of
much learning. In reply to which, he allow'S, that,
where these are not united, nature or genius is of itself
much preferable, and will carry a peison further in the
pursuit of great and noble designs, then learning with¬
out a genius ; but that both are necessary to complete
and perfect a truly great man. But we shall give what
he says himself on this head, by which that property of
a sublime thought we are now endeavouring to explain,
will appear from his manner of expression: “ I ac¬
knowledge (says he) that many persons of an exalted
mind and virtue have, from a divine temper, without
instruction, become moderate and grave ; and I add
likewise, that nature, without the assistance of learning,
has frequently more contributed to honour and virtue,
than learning where a genius has been wanting : But
yet I must say, that where the direction and improve¬
ment of learning is added to a great and excellent ge¬
nius, it is wont to produce something admirable and
singular which I know not how to describe.” He knew
very well, that by leaving the minds of his hearers thus
in suspense, they would form to themselves higher con¬
ceptions of what he intended, than from any idea he
could convey to them in words. We may add to this
another example from the same great orator, where he
says, “ Truly, if the mind had no views to posterity,
and all its thoughts were terminated by those bounds
in which the space of life is confined, it would neither
fatigue itself with so great labours, nor be disquieted
with so many cares and watchings, nor so often expose
itself to death. But there is a certain active principle
in every good man, which constantly excites his n ind
by motives of glory ; and reminds him, that the remem¬
brance of his name is not to end with his life, hut ex¬
tend itself to all posterity.” Of the like nature is that
of Milton, when he describes Satan as flying from hell
in quest of our earth, then newly formed. For having
represented that his wings failed him in the vast vacu¬
ity, he thus describes his fall :
Down he drops
Ten thousand fathom deep ; and to this hour
Down had been falling, had not by ill chance
The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud,
Instinct with fire and nitre, hurried him
As many miles aloft.
ORATOR Y.
I
Those
Part III. ORATORY.
Elocution. Otiose words, by which his full is expressed,
And to this hour,
112
Down had been falling,
leave the mind in suspense, and unable to fix any bounds
to the vacuity ; and by that means raise a greater and
more surprising idea of its space than any direct expres¬
sion could have done. This image is very beautiful
where it stands } but so much out of the common way
of thinking, as to suit better with an epic poem than the
discourse of an orator.
§ 2. The Sublime, with regard to Language.
Sublimity ^ hat we have to offer upon this subject will come
us to lan- under the three heads of Elegance, Composition, and
urge. Dignity, which comprehend all the properties of style,
nj !• Elegance. Those words and expressions chiefly
contribute to form the sublime, which are most sono¬
rous, and have the greatest splendour, force, and digni¬
ty. And they are principally such as these. Long words,
when equally expressive, are rather to be chosen than
short ones, and especially monosyllables. So to con¬
quer or vanquish an enemy, carries in it a fuller and
grander sound, than to beat an tnemy. For which
reason, likewise, compound words are often preferable
to simple ones. So if we say, Ccesur's army, when he
was present, was always invincible ; this manner of ex¬
pression has more of sublimity in it, than should we
say, Ccesar's army, when he was present, could never
be conquered. But the ancient languages have much the
advantage of ours in both these respects $ for their
W’ords are generally longer, and they are abundantly
more happy in their compositions. The use of proper-
epithets does also in a particular manner contribute to
this character. For as they denote the qualities and
modes of things, they are as it were short descriptions j
so that being joined to their subjects, they often greatly
enlarge and heighten their image. Thus when the
character of divine poet is given to Homer or Virgil,
or prince of orators to Demosthenes or Cicero, it con¬
veys to the mind a more sublime idea of them, than the
bare mention of their name.
II. Composition: The force of which, as Longinus
observes, is so great, that sometimes it creates a kind
of sublime where the thoughts themselves are but
mean, and gives a certain appearance of grandeur to
that which otherwise would seem but common. But
composition consists of several parts ; the first of which,
in the order we have hitherto considered them, is period.
And here the case is much the same as with animal
bodies, which owe their chief excellency to the union
acid just proportion of their parts. The several mem¬
bers, when separated from each other, lose both that
beauty and force, which they have when joined toge¬
ther in a complete body. In like manner, sublimity
arises from the several parts of a period so connected,
as to give force, as well as beauty, to the whdle.
1 he periods therefore in this character should be of a
proper length. I-f they are too short, they lose their
just weight and grandeur, and are gone almost before
they reach the ear j as, on the contrary, when they
are too prolix, they become heavy and unwieldy, and
by that means lose their force. But more especially,
nothing .superfluous ought to be admitted, which very
VOL. XV. Part I. f
114
385
much enervates the force.of a sentence. We shall os-
emphfy this m a passage from Herodotus, where he 1 , -J
is giving an account of the famous battle at Ther-
mopylce between the 1 ersians and Lacedaemonians.
“ Dieneces (says he) the Spartan, being told by a
rI rachinian, before the engagement with the Medes,
that when the barbarians came to shoot their arrows
they would fly so thick as to obscure the light of the
sun ; he was so far from being terrified at this, that,
despising their number, he replied, he “ was pleased
w ith what his friend told him, since if the sun was ob¬
scured, they should fight in the shade, and not in the
sun.’’ The sense here is great and noble, but the
sublimity of expression is spoiled in a great measure by
those last words, and not in the sun, which are wholly
superfluous. Cicero was sensible of this, and therefore
he omits that member in relating the same story, and
says only : “ A Spartan, hearing that one of the
Persians should say in an insulting manner, that when
they came to engage, they should not be able to see
the sun, for the multitude of their darts and arrows,
replies, Then we shall fight in the shade.” By stop¬
ping here, he gives the sentence much more life and
emphasis. The next thing to be considered in compo¬
sition, is the order and disposition of the several words
and members ol a sentence. The different placing but
of one or two words will sometimes wholly destroy
the grandeur of a sentence, and make it extremely’'
flat. This public act (says Demosthenes) dispelled
the danger which at that time, like a cloud, hung
over the city.” Let us vary the order a little, and
read it thus : “ This public act dispelled the danger,
which like a cloud hung over the city at that time.”
hat a different turn does the expression receive for
the worse ! The spirit and majesty of it are entirely
lost. And in placing the several parts or members,
they ought to be so disposed, that what is most weigh¬
ty and important should stand last. So Tully says of
Catiline, “ We ought to return thanks to heaven,
that we have so often escaped so odious, so frightful,
so dangerous a plague of the state.” A thing may be
odious and frightful, and yet not dangerous j there¬
fore he puts this in the last place, to give it the
greater force, and make the deeper impression. An¬
other thing to be attended to i-n composition, is the
connection of the words with regard to the sound j
that the pronunciation, in passing from one to another,
may be most agreeable to the ear, and best suited to
the nature of the subject. And as this is generally
something grand and magnificent, such a contexture
of them as will give the greatest force and energy to
the expression is most proper for the sublime. Soft
and languid sounds are very unsuitable to this character.
They soothe and please the ear j but rather sink and de¬
press the mind, than excite it to things great and noble.
In this respect, therefore, our tongue, by its multitude
of consonants, is more suitable for sublime discourses
than some other modern languages, which abound with
vowels.
IH« Ibe last head to be considered, is the proper 115
use of tropes and figures, which is here so necessary,
that the title of dignity seems to have been given to
this part of elocution, from the assistance it more espe¬
cially affords to this character. For if, as has been ob¬
served from Longinus, compositions will sometimes create
3C a
386
Elocution, a sort of sublimity j this much oftener happens from
t[ie force and efficacy of some lively tropes and strong
figures.
And as to tropes, bright metaphors are peculiarly
suited to raise and animate the style. rlhis is manifest
from the nature of them, as they consist ot contracted
similies, reduced to a single word j which, if taken
from things lofty and grand, must of consequence
give a sublimity to the style. What can suggest to
us a greater idea of the valour ot Ajax, than Ho¬
mer’s calling him the bulwark oj the Greeks ; or of the
Scipios, than when they are styled by Virgil, the two
thunderbolts of war. A number of those, well chosen,
contributes no less to the grandeur than to the beauty
of discourse. Hyperbole sometimes gives the same
force to an expression, if cautiously used 5 and so as
not to exceed all appearance ot truth. But the chief
use of it is, where proper words will not express the just
idea of the thing designed to be conveyed j and it may
seem rather the offspring of necessity than choice. Ot
this nature is that of Herodotus, when speaking of the
Lacedaemonians at Thermopylae, he says, “ They de¬
fended themselves with the swords they had left, and
even with their hands and teeth, till the barbarians
buried them under their arrows.” It cannot be sup¬
posed strictly true, that so many arrows were thrown
at them as to bury them $ but having in the former
part of the sentence represented their resolute defence
in the strongest terms, by saying, that naked and with¬
out arms, they engaged armed men with their hands and
teeth, the following hyperbole seems not unnatural, and
to intimate nothing more than what was necessary to
quell such obstinate resolution and courage.
As to figures, whether verbal or those which con¬
sist in the sense, the nature of this character will easily
direct to such as are most proper. But with respect
to the latter, poets take greater liberties in the use of
them than would be allowed in an orator. As their
images are often formed for pleasure and delight, so
they carry in them more of rapture and transport. But
the orator’s use of them being to set things in a stronger
and clearer light, they are more sedate and moderate.
Besides, an orator scarce ever has occasion for such fic¬
titious images as we often meet with in poetry; though
his ought to appear as natural, and its painting as strong
and lively. We shall just mention some of the chief of
those figures which seem best suited for this purpose j
though they are no less suited to the middle style, as
has been shown already, wheq taken from subjects of
an inferior nature.
*16 I. Description. Of this Justin gives us a fine in¬
stance, in a speech of King Philip of Macedon, where¬
in he represents the necessity of falling upon the Ro¬
mans, who at that time were engaged in a war with
Hannibal. “ I behold (says he) a cloud of a most
dreadful and bloody war rising in Italy. I see a
storm of thunder and lightning from the west, which
will overspread all places with a vast shower of blood,
into whatever country the tempest of victory shall
drive it. Greece has undergone many violent shocks
in the Persian, Gallic, and Macedonian wars j but
these would all be found unworthy of regard, if the
armies now engaged in Italy should march out of that
country. I view the terrible and cruel wars which
involve those nations through the courage of their
3
Part 111,
forces, and skill of their generals. This rage and fury Elocution.
cannot cease by the destruction of one party, without 
the ruin of their neighbours. Indeed, Macedon has
less reason to dread the savage conquerors than Greece }
because more prepared, and better able to defend itself;
but I am sensible, those who attack each other so im¬
petuously will not coniine their victories within those
bounds, and that it will be our lot to engage the con¬
querors.” So lively a picture of imminent and threat¬
ening danger must needs alarm the most timorous, and
excite them to a resolution to defend their country, and
all that was dear to them. Such images give life and
vigour to a discourse, and being artfully interwoven
with proper arguments, influence the mind, and carry
it away by an irresistible force, so that the hearer is
not barely left to conclude the certainty of the thing,
but moved by it, as it were, from ocular demonstration.
The images therefore of the orator ought to be drawn
from real things, or at least such as are probable ; for
if they are wholly fictitious and incredible, as many
poetical images are, they may give pleasure, but will
not convince the mind, nor sway the passions.
2. Enumeration has some affinity with the former n7
figure ; by which, if the several parts have each some¬
thing grand in them, the whole, when brought toge¬
ther, and disposed in a just order, very much contri¬
butes to the sublimity. We shall produce an example
of this from an English writer, containing a descrip¬
tion of our globe, upon a survey of it after the gene¬
ral conflagration, which he represents in this strong
light: “ Such is the vanity and transient glory of this
habitable world ! By the force of one element break¬
ing loose upon the rest, all the varieties of nature, all
the works of art, all the labours of m,an, are reduced
to nothing; all that we admired and loved before, as
great and magnificent, is obliterated and vanished, and
another form and face of things, plain, simple, and every¬
where the same, overspreads the whole earth. Where
are now the great empires of the world, and their great
imperial cities ? their pillars, trophies, and monuments
of glory ? Show me where they stood, read the inscrip¬
tion, tell me the victor’s name. What remains, what
impressions, what difference or distinction, do you see
in this mass of fire ? Rome itself, eternal Rome, the great
city, the empress of the world, whose domination or su¬
perstition, ancient or modern, make a great part of the
history of the earth, what is become of her now ? She
laid her foundations deep, apd her palaces were strong
and sumptuous; she glorified herself, and lived delicious¬
ly, and said in her lie art I sit a queen, and shall see no
sorrow: but her hour is come, she is wiped away from
the face of the earth, and buried in everlasting oblivion.
But it is not cities only, and the works of men’s hands ;
the everlasting hills, the mountains and rocks of the
earth, are melted as wax before the sun, and their place
is nowhere found. Here stood the Alps, the load ot
the earth, that covered many countries, and reached
thejr arms from the ocean to the Black sea. This
huge mass of stone is softened and dissolved, as a ten¬
der cloud into rain. Here stood the African moun¬
tains, and Atlas with his top above the clouds. There
was frozen Caucasus, and Taurus, and Imaus, and the
mountains of Asia ; and yonder, towards the north,
stood the Riphean hills, clothed in ice and snow ; all
these afe vanishedj dropped away as the snow upon
ORATORY,
IIS
Part III. ORA
Elocution, their heads These particulars considered separately
—v are all truly great and noble, and every way suited to
i ^Theory1' * na^Ure ^le subject; but as they are here dispos-
ed, and rise in order, they both enlarge the idea, and
heighten the image of that grand catastrophe.
3* Similitude : which serves very much for beauty
and ornament j and, when taken from great and sub-
lime objects, adds a grandeur and magnificence to the
things illustrated by it. We need go no farther for
an example of this, than to the great critic so often
mentioned already, who has treated upon the sublime
i’n a style every way equal to the subject. He, then,
comparing those two great works of Homer, his Iliad
and Odyssey, thus describes them: “ Homer composed
his Iliad when his mind was in its full strength and
vigour : the whole body of the poem is dramatic, and
full of action : whereas the best part of the Odyssey is
taken up in narrations, which seem to be the genius
of old age. So that one may compare him in this
latter work to the setting sun, which still appears with
the same magnificence, but has no longer the same
heat and force.” And soon after, speaking of the
Odyssey, he says, “ That piece may be called, the re-
ilux of his genius, which like the ocean ebbs, and
deserts its shores.” What nobler idea could possibly
have been given ot that great poet, than by those two
similitudes of the sun and the ocean P And elsewhere,
comparing those two great orators Demosthenes and
Cicero, he shows the like sublimity of thought. “ De¬
mosthenes (says he) is sublime, in that he is close and
concise j Cicero, in that he is diffuse and extensive,
ihe formert by reason of the violence, rapidity,
strength, and fury, with which he rages and bears all
before him, may be compared to a tempest, and thun¬
der ; but the latter, like a great conflagration, devours
and consumes all he meets, with a fire that is never
extinguished, but wherever it advances continually ga¬
thers new strength.”
4. Antithesis^ or a sentence consisting of opposite
parts, has often the same effect j as in the following
instance of Cicero, where his view is to represent
Pompey as a most consummate general. “ Who
(says he) e%rer was, or need be more knowing than
this man P who fi'om his childhood, and instruction at
school, went into the army of his father, and learned
the military art, in a very great war against the fiei*-
cest enemies : who, while yet a boy, became a soldier
under the greatest general; and when but a youth
was himself commander of a very great army: who
has oftener engaged with the enemy in battle, than
any other person with his adversary in private contests:
has waged more wars than others have read, and con¬
quered more provinces than others have wished to go¬
vern : whose youth has been spent in acquiring the
art of war, not by the precepts of others, but his own
'commands ; not by defeats, but victories } not by cam¬
paigns but triumphs.”
5. Apostrophe. Among the articles charged against
Demosthenes by his great adversary and rival iEschi-
nes, one was, that he had advised the Athenians to en¬
gage in a Avar against King Philip, wherein they had
received a very great defeat. When Demosthenes
comes to answer that part of the charge, he does not
say, as he might, “ You have not been misled, my fel¬
low-citizens, in exposing your lives for the liberties and
119
T O H 387
safety of Greece; you are not without the most illus- Elocution,
trious examples of such conduct j for who can say these * —-y— *
great men were misled, who fought for the same cause
in the plains of Marathon ?” But instead of expres¬
sing himself thus, he gives the matter quite a different
turn ; and in a sort of rapture, appealing to those
brave defenders of their country, says, “ No, my fel¬
low-citizens, you have not done tvrong, you have not j
I protest by the ghosts of those great men vvho fought
for the same cause in the plains of Marathon.” By
this appeal to those ancient worthies whose memories
were in the highest esteem at Athens, that it was the
cause, and not the success, which rendered their actions
so glorious, he artfully corroborates his assertion in a
way which he knew must have the greatest weight with
his audience.
As the proper subjects of this character are either
divine things, or such as are in the highest esteem and
regard among mankind, which often require laudatory
discourses, or panegyric ; these naturally admit of all.
the ornaments and assistance of eloquence. Which,
however, must be used with discretion ; for Avhen the
mind is wrapt up in thought, and stretched to the
utmost of its powers in the pursuit of some noble and
sublime idea, it cannot attend to all the lesser fineries
and niceties of language $ but from its own vigour,
and lively conception of things, will be led to express
them in terms the most emphatical, and best suited to
their nature. In such cases, therefore, the sublimity
must appear rather from the elevation of the thought,
attended with a simplicity of expression, than from the
ornaments and dress of the language. These things
seem more natural when the mind is relaxed, and em¬
ployed upon loAArer objects. Though, upon the Avhole,
grandeur and majesty of expression is the proper mark
of this character with relation to the language, as beau¬
ty and splendour is of the middle style.
Chap. VIII. Of the Style of an Orator.
The style of an orator comprehends all the cha-Thefow ,
racters already explained, of low, middle, and sublime, middle, uni.
as they are applied by him in the different parts ofSM^me
his province. For that the language must be suited sit^for ar!
to the nature of the subject, we have had occasion orator,
often to observe already \ and the different view’ of the
speaker or writer necessarily occasions a variety in
the manner of expression. Now an orator has three
things in his view $ to prove what he asserts, to re¬
present it in an agreeable light, and to move the pas¬
sions. These are all necessary, we do not mean in the
order wherein we have now mentioned them, but that
the discourse may upon the whole have its desired
effect upon the audience. For unless the mind he
convinced of the truth of what is offered by solid and
cogent arguments, neither will the most eloquent dis¬
course afford a lasting pleasure, nor the most pathetic
long influence the affections. Though, on the other
hand, the hearers expect to be entertained at the
same time they are informed ; and, therefore, unless
the language be agreeable to their taste, they vvill soon
call off their attention, and think but meanly of the
speaker. And unless both these are warmed and ani¬
mated by a becoming pathos, the speaker may very
probably miss of his end in bringing his audience
3 € 2 over
H U>
88
locution.
ORATORY.
For bare conviction is not be changed, the figure is lost
over to his sentiments.
sufficient with many persons to excite them to action.
They 'will acquiesce in the truth of a thing which
they cannot contradict, or will not give themselves
the trouble to examine j and at the same time remain
unconcerned to prosecute it. And the pleasure ot a
florid discourse will of itself soon vanish, like the har¬
mony of music, or the charms of a fine poem. And
therefore to captivate his audience, secure them in his
interest, and push them upon action, it is necessary
for the orator to engage their affections : these are,
as it were, the springs of the soul, which, managed
by a skilful hand, move and direct it at pleasure.
Now each of these parts of an orator’s province re¬
quires a different style. The low style is most proper
for proof and information 5 because he has no other
view hereout to represent things to the mind in the
plainest light, as they really are in themselves, without
colouring or ornament. The middle sUjle is most suited
for pleasure and entertainment, because' it consists of
smooth and well-turned periods, harmonious numbers,
■with florid and bright figures. But the sublime is ne¬
cessary in order to sway and influence the passions.
Here the orator calls in all the assistance both of na¬
ture and art j the most raised and lofty thoughts,
clothed with the brightest and strongest colouring, enter
into this character.
But as an orator has frequently each of these views
in the same discourse, we shall first give a summary
description of the several characters of style, which we
have formerly discoursed on more at large ; that, by
placing them together in one view, the difference be¬
tween them may be more plain and obvious: and then
we shall proceed to show to what particular parts of a
discourse each of them is more especially to be applied.
I. First, then, as shorter periods are proper in the
low style, so less care is necessary in their turn and ca¬
dency. If a sentence now and then drop unexpectedly
and disappoint the ear, or has something rough and
harsh in its composition, it is no blemish in this cha¬
racter. For as it is suited to the manner of common
discourse, ah appearance of regard to the subject ra¬
ther than the form of expression, is more becoming
than any beauties of art. But the words should be
well chosen and proper, suited to the ideas they are
designed to convey j the expressions plain and clear,
and the artificial ornaments few and modest. By ar¬
tificial ornaments, are here meant tropes and figures;
and they are called artificial, because they vary from
the natural' dress of language, either in the words or
manner of expression: though they are often used by
those who are wholly unacquainted with the rules of
art} and particularly metaphors, which persons who
-"have the least command of language frequently run
into through mere necessity, for want of a sufficient
stock of proper words to convey their ideas. The low
style therefore admits of these: but care should be
taken to choose such as have been rendered familiar
by use, or at least where the similitude is very plain and
evident. Bold or lofty metaphors, or where the allu¬
sion is dark and remote, ought to be avoided. Nor is
the moderate use of the other tropes wholly disagreeable
to this style. And the same thing is to be said with
respect to verbal figures, or such as consist in the parti¬
cular disposition of the sentence, so that if the form of it
Part III.
Of these, such as come Elocution,
nearest to the natural way of expression are most proper *-—v—
for this style; and therefore those which consist in a
jingle of words, arising from the same or like sound,
are to be avoided, as carrying in them too much the
appearance of art. Those likewise which consist in a
repetition of the same word have often too great a force
and vehemence for this mild anil gentle character. And
as to figures of sentences, which do not depend on the
construction of words, but lie in the sense, many of
them are too gay and sprightly, and others too rapid
and impetuous, for the simplicity of the low style ; so
that only the more moderate and sedate ones are to be
allowed a place here. It is therefore no wonder if per¬
sons are often mistaken in their notions of this charac¬
ter : the beauty of which consisting in a certain plain¬
ness and simplicity, without any thing in it but what
seems natural and common, every one is apt to imagine
he can readily be master of it, till by experience he finds
the contrary. For the case is much the same here, as
in persons of fashion and good breeding, whose beha¬
viour and address is attended with that agreeable free¬
dom and seeming negligence, which in appearance is
very easy to express, but in reality is scarce imitable
by others.
As the middle style is more adapted for pleasure and
delight, it admits of all those beauties and ornaments
which soothe and entertain the mind. It has more force
and energy than the low style, but less than the sublime.
Smooth and harmonious numbers, well turned periods,
of a just length, delightful cadency, and accurate dis¬
position of the ivords, are suited to this style. The most
beautiful and shining tropes, which strike the fancy, and
all those verbal figures which, by a repetition, simili¬
tude, or proportion of sounds, please and gratify the
ear, help to form this character. The like is to be said
as to figures of sentences : The most florid and beautiful,
such as enumeration, description, similitude, and the
like, are here the most proper.
But it is the sublime style which perfects the orator.
This requires the most forcible and emphatical words,
the boldest metaphors and stx-ongest figures. In verbal
figures, repetitions, synonyms, gradations, contraries,
with others of a like force and energy, are chiefly
employed here. But figures of sentences are the most
considerable, and principally contribute to make up
this character. Among these are similies taken from
lofty subjects, prosopopoeia, apostrophe, exclamation,
epiphonema, aposiopesis, and others of a like nature.
But due care must likewise be taken of the form, con¬
struction, and harmony of the periods ; which seem
best disposed, when long and short ones are inter¬
mixed. For though round and swelling periods carry
them something grand and majestic, yet many
times they move too slow to strike the passions •, where¬
as short ones are more acute and pungent, and by re¬
turning quick, awaken the mind, and raise the passions.
But to render it complete, it must be supported with
strong reason, grandeur of thought, and sentiments eve¬
ry way equal to the expression ; without which it will
be very liable to swell into bombast, and end barely in
amusement.
II. Having given a short sketch of this part of the
orator’s furniture, we shall now go on to show where,
and-in what manner, he is to make use of it. This
will
Part HI.
Elocution, 'vill best appear by considering bis principal view in
-y—' each part of his discourse. Now the parts of a just
oration (as we have formerly shown) are six; Introduc¬
tion, Uarration, Proposition, Confirniution, Confuta¬
tion, and Conclusion. Not that all these are necessary
in every discourse, but it is proper they should all be
mentioned, that we may consider what style is fittest
for them when they are necessary.
I22 In the Introduction, the orator has three things be¬
fore him ; to gain the esteem of his hearers, to secure
their attention, and to give them some general no¬
tion of his subject. To set out modestly is undoubt¬
edly the most likely way to recommend himself. For
to attempt to inflame an audience, before they are
prepared for it, or see the reason of much warmth, is
highly improper. A prudent speaker will, like De¬
mosthenes, begin with temper, and rise gradually, till
he has insensibly warmed his hearers, and in some
degree engaged their aifections in his favour. So
that this part scarcely rises above the middle style.
And if it carry in it an air of pleasantry and good-
humour, it is generally the more apt to engage the at¬
tention.
122 r-fihe introduction is usually followed by the narra¬
tion, or a recital of such things as either preceded, ac¬
companied, or followed upon the subject under consi¬
deration. Now, as the qualities that recommend a
narration are clearness, brevity, and probability ; these
sufficiently point out the style. Perspicuity arises from
the choice of proper words, and such tropes as have been
rendered most familiar by use ; brevity requires mode¬
rate periods, whose parts are but little transposed ; and
a plain and simple dress, without ornament or colouring,
is best suited to represent things probable : all which
are the properties of the low style. And therefore Ci¬
cero says, narrations come pretty near to our ordinary
discourse. Indeed, sometimes it is necessary not only
to relate the facts themselves, but likewise to describe
the manner in which they were performed. And then
a further degree of art may be requisite to represent
them with all their circumstances, and paint them to
the mind in their proper colours.
*24 The next part in older is the proposition, or subject
of the discourse in which there can be no room for
ornament. But as it is the basis and foundation of the
orator’s whole design, it ought to be laid down in the
plainest and clearest terms, so as to leave no room for
doubt or uncertainty what it is which he intends to
discourse upon.
125 The next thing is confirmation, wherein the orator
endeavours to maintain and defend his own cause, and
to convince his hearers of the truth of it by reason
and argument. Now the low style is certainly fittest
for cool reasoning and debate. But the orator’s me¬
thod of reasoning often very much differs from that of
the philosopher. The latter contents himself with the
most plain and familiar manner of representing the
truth, and thinks it sufficient if what he says be clear¬
ly understood. But the former, at the same time that
he convinces the judgment, endeavours likewise to af¬
fect the passions, and that in a great variety of ways.
So that in this part of the discourse the style is very
different, according to the nature and circumstances
of the case. Sometimes, while he is dwelling upon
the proof of a thing, he talks coolly, and reasons
389
with the sedateness of a philosopher; and where any Elocutioa/
part of his argument appears doubtful or obscure, he ^
endeavours with the same even temper to explain and
clear it up. But frequently he intermixes with his
proofs all the arts of persuasion, and embellishes his
reasons with the greatest ornaments and beauties of elo¬
quence.
Confirmation is usually followed by confutation, in 126
which the orator endeavours to enervate and overthrow
all that has been advanced in favour of the opposite side
of the question. But as the style is much the same here
as in the former part, what has been said upon that may
be sufficient for this likewise.
The last part above mentioned is the conclusion. 127-
This consists of two branches, recapitulation, and ad¬
dress. Recapitulation is a short recital of the several
arguments, at the least the chief of them, which were
before advanced in support of the cause ; that, being
brought together into a narrow compass, they may
appear in a stronger light. Wherefore the language
here ought rather to be forcible and strong than flo¬
rid, because brevity and conciseness is a necessary qua¬
lity. The other branch of the conclusion consists in
an address to the passions, and is wholly persuasive ;
for which the speaker is now entirely at leisure. In¬
deed, this is often done occasionally in other parts of
the discourse, particularly in the introduction and con¬
firmation : But, as in the former of these, his view is
principally to secure the good opinion of the hearers,
and excite their attention ; and in the latter to defend
his own side of the question by reason and argument ;
when these two points are gained, he has nothing left
but to prevail with them to fall in with his design, and
declare for him. And the best way to attain this is,
by engaging their passions in his interest. Hence,
then, to use Quintilian’s words, “ All the springs of
eloquence are to be opened. Now we are past the
rocks and shallows, all the sails may be hoisted. And-
as the greatest part of the conclusion consists in illus¬
tration, the most pompous language and strongest figurea
have place here.”
All the variety above mentioned, however, is not
always necessary. Regard must be had to the nature
of the subject, the time, place, persons, and other cir¬
cumstances ; by all which the style is to he regulated.
To discourse in a lofty and grand way upon a common
topic, or in a low and flat manner upon a sublime ar¬
gument, are both equally injpdicious. Cicero refers
us to some discourses of his own, as instances of each
kind. His oration for Csecina, he says, is written in
the low style, that for the Manilian law in the middle
style, and that for Rabirius in the sublime ; and his.
Actions against Verres, with some others, are patterns
of the variety here mentioned. And he gives us a very
comprehensive description of a perfect orator in very
few words, when he says, He is one who can speak
upon a low subject acutely, upon a lofty subject with
sublimity, and upon a moderate subject temperately.”
By which he means no more, than one who is master of
the three characters here described, and knows when
and how to use them. But although he mentions several
among the Greeks, and some few among the Romans,
who excelled in one or other of these different kinds ;
yet one who excelled in them all, he supposes never to
have existed, except in the imagination. The reasoa
perhaps
ORATORY.
ORATORY.
Part IV.
perhaps may be, because each of them seems to require a
very different genius, so that it is scarce possible for the
same person to succeed in them all. Since therefore it
is so rare and difficult a matter to gain the command of
each in any good degree, it is better perhaps for every
one to pursue that which nature seems most inclined to, Pronuncia-
and to excel in it, than to strive against their genius. < tion.
For every kind has its perfections *, and it is more com- ’ 1 ■’
mendable to be master of one thing, than to do several
but indifferently.
PART IV. OF PRONUNCIATION.
Chap. I. Of Pronunciation in general*
12 S
Pronun- Pronunciation is also called Action by some of
ciation a the ancients. Though, if we attend to the proper
conformity signification of each of these words, the former respects
°f •t,'e a the voice, and the latter the gestures and motions of the
gesture to body. But it we consider them as synonymous terms,
the subject, in this large sense pronunciation or action may he said
to he a suitable conformity of the voice, and the several
motions of the body, in speaking, to the subject matter
of the discourse.
The best judges among the ancients have represent¬
ed this as the principal part of an orator’s province,
from whence he is chiefly to expect success in the art
of persuasion. When Cicero, in the person of Crassus,
has largely and elegantly discoursed upon all the other
parts of oratory, coming at last to speak of this, he
says: “ All the former have their effect as they are
pronounced. It is the action alone that governs in
speaking j without which the best orator is of no va¬
lue, and is often defeated by one in other respects
much his inferior.” And he lets us know, that De¬
mosthenes was of the same opinion, who, when he was
asked what was the principal thing in oratory, re¬
plied, action; and being asked again a second and a
third time, what was next considerable, he still made
the same answer. By which he seemed to intimate,
that he thought the whole art did in a manner consist
in it. And indeed, if he had not judged this highly
necessary for an orator, he would scarce have taken so
much pains in correcting those natural defects, under
which he laboured at first, in order to acquire it. For
he had both a weak voice, and likewise an impedi¬
ment in his speech, so that he could not pronounce di¬
stinctly some particular letters. The former of which
defects he conquered, partly by speaking as loud as he
could upon the shore, when the sea roared and was
boisterous j and partly by pronouncing long periods
as he walked up hill $ both of which methods contri¬
buted to the strengthening of his voice. And he found
means to render his pronunciation more clear and ar¬
ticulate, by the help of some little stones put under
his tongue. Nor was he less careful in endeavouring
to gain the habit of a becoming and decent gesture ^
for which purpose he used to pronounce his discourses
alone before a large glass. And because he had got
an ill custom of drawing up his shoulders when he
spoke $ to amend that, he used to place them Under a
sword, which hung over him with the point down¬
ward. Such pains did this prince of the Grecian ora¬
tors take to remove those difficulties, which would
have been sufficient to discourage an inferior and less
aspiring genius. And to how great a perfection he
arrived in his action, under all these disadvantages, by
his indefatigable diligence and application, is evident
from the confession of his great adversary and rival in
oratory, -/Fschines. Who, when he could not bear
the disgrace of being worsted by Demosthenes in the
cause of Ctesiphon, retired to Rhodes. And being
desired by the inhabitants to recite to them his own
oration upon that occasion, which accordingly he did ;
the next day they requested of him to let them hear
that of Demosthenes ; which having pronounced in a
most graceful manner, to the admiration of all who
were present, “ How much more (says he) would you
have wondered if you had heard him speak it himself!”
By which he plainly gave Demosthenes the preference
in that respect. We might add to these authorities
the judgment of Quintilian, who says, that “ it is not
of so much moment what our compositions are, as how
they are pronounced 5 since it is the manner of the de¬
livery by which the audience is"moved.” And there-
foi’e he ventures to assert, that “ an indifferent discourse,
assisted by a lively and graceful action, will have greater
efficacy than the finest harangue which wants that ad¬
vantage.”
The truth of this sentiment of the ancients concern¬
ing the power and efficacy of pronunciation, might be
pi'oved from many instances ; but one or two may here
suffice. Hortensius, a contemporary with Cicero, and
while living next to him in reputation as an orator, was
highly applauded for his action. But his orations after
his death, as Quintilian tells us (for we have none of
them now remaining), did not appear answerable to his
character ; from whence he justly concludes, there must
have been something pleasing when he spoke by which
he gained his character, which was lost in reading them.
But perhaps there is scarce a more considerable instance
of this than in Cicero himself. After the death of
Pompey, when Csesar got the government into his^ own
hands, many of his acquaintance interceded with him in
behalf of their relations and friends, who had been of
the contrary party in the late wars. Among others,
Cicero solicited for his friend Ligariusj which Tubero
understanding, who owed Ligai’ius a grudge, he opposed
it, and undertook to represent him to Caesar as unwor¬
thy of his mercy. Caesar himself was prejudiced against
Ligarius j and therefore, when the cause was to come
before him, he said, “ We may venture to hear Cicero
display his eloquence $ for I know the person he pleads
for to be an ill man, and my enemy.” But, however,
in the course of his oration, Cicero so worked upon his
passions, that by the frequent alteration of his counte¬
nance, the emotions of his mind were very conspicuous.
And when he came to touch upon the battle of Pharsa-
lia, which had given Caesar the empire of the world, he
represented it in that moving and lively a manner, that
Ctesar could no longer contain himself, but was thrown
into such a fit of shivering, that he dropped the papers
which
Part IV.
ORA
Pronuucia- which he held in his hand. This was the more remark-
tion able, because Ctesar was himself one of the greatest
'■ * orators of that age, knew all the arts of address, and
avenues to the passions, and consequently was better pre¬
pared to guard against them. But neither his skill, nor
resolution of mind, was of sufficient force against the
power of oratory ; but the conqueror of the world be¬
came a conquest to the charms of Cicero’s eloquence ;
so that, contrary to his intention, he gave into his plea,
and pardoned Ligarius. Now that oration is still ex¬
tant, and appears exceedingly well calculated to touch
the soft and tender passions and springs of the soul; but
we believe it can scarce be discernible to any in reading
it, how it should have had so surprising an efl’ect; which
must therefore have been chiefly owing to the wonder¬
ful address and conduct of the speaker.
The more natural the pronunciation is, it will of con¬
sequence be the more moving, since the perfection of art
consists in its nearest resemblance to nature. And there¬
fore it is not without good reason, that the ancients
make it one qualification of an orator, that he be a good
man; because a person of this character will make the
cause he espouses his own, and the more sensibly he is
touched with it himself, his action will be the more na¬
tural, and by that means the more easily affect others in
the same manner. Cicero, speaking upon this subject,
says, “ It is certain that truth (by which he means na¬
ture) in every thing excels imitation •, but if that was
sufficient of itself in action, we should have no occasion
for art.” In his opinion therefore (and who was ever
a better judge), art, in this case as well as in many
others, if well managed, will assist and improve nature.
But that is not all; for sometimes we find the force of
it so great and powerful, that, where it is only counter¬
feit, it will for the time work the same effect as if it was
founded in truth. This is well known to those who
have been conversant with the representations of the
theatre. In tragedies, though we are sensible that every
thing we see and hear is feigned and counterfeit, yet
such is the power of action, that we are oftentimes af¬
fected by it in the same manner as if they were all reali¬
ties. Anger and resentment at the appearance of cruel¬
ty, concern and solicitude for distressed virtue, rise in our
breasts ; and tears are extorted from us for oppressed in¬
nocence, though at the same time, perhaps, we are
ready to laugh at ourselves for being this decoyed. If
art then has so great an influence upon us, when sup¬
ported only by fancy and imagination, how powerful
must be the eftect of a just and lively representation of
what we know to be true and real ?
How agreeable it is both to nature and reason, that
a warmth of expression and vehemency of motion should
rise in proportion to the importance of the subject and
concern of the speaker, will further appear, by looking
back a little into the more early and simple ages of the
world. For the higher we go, the more we shall find
of both. We shall give the observation of a very
Vial, of great man upon this head, in his own words. “ The
Woguencc, Romans (says he) had a very great talent this way, and
the Greeks a greater. The eastern nations excelled in
it, and particularly the Hebrews. Nothing can equal
the strength and vivacity of the figures they employed
in their discourse : and the very actions they used to ex¬
press their sentiments, such as putting ashes on their
heads, and tearing their garments, and covering them-
tion.
T ° R Y. m
selves with sackcloth under any deep distress and sorrowprommeia-
of mind. I do not speak of what the prophets did to
give a more lively representation of the things they'
foretold, because such figurative actions were the effect
of divine inspiration. But even in other cases we find
those people understood much better than we do how to
express their grief, and fear, and other passions. And
hence, no doubt, arose those surprising effects of elo¬
quence, which we never experience now.” Thus far
this excellent writer. And what he says here with re¬
spect to the actions of the eastern nations, was in a good
measure customary among the Greeks and Romans; if
not entirely of the same kind, yet perhaps as vehement
and expressive. They did not think language of itself
sufficient to express the height of their passions,unless en¬
forced by uncommon motions and gestures. Thus, when
Achilles had driven the Trojans into their city with the
greatest precipitation and terror, and only Hector ven¬
tured to tarry without the gates to engage him ; Homer
represents both King Priam and his queen under the
highest consternation for the danger of their son. And
therefore, in order to prevail with him to come into the
city, and not fight with Achilles, they not only intreat
him from the walls in the most tender and moving lan¬
guage imaginable; but he tears off’ his grey locks with his
hands ^ and she, m a flood of tears, exposes her breasts, and
adjures him by those paps which suckled him, to comply
with their request. The poet knew very well, that no
words of themselves could represent those agonies of
mind he endeavoured to convey, unless heightened by
the idea of such actions as were expressive of the deep¬
est sorrow. And indeed this was anciently esteemed so
requisite in an orator, that in matters of importance he
was scarce thought to be in earnest who wanted it. In
one of Cicero s orations, he does not stick to argue in
that manner with, his adversary. “ Would you talk
thus (says he) if you was serious P Would you, who are
wont to display your eloquence so warmly in the danger
of others, act so coldly in your own ? Where is that
concern, that ardour, which used to extort pity even
from children ? Here is no emotion either of mind or
body : neither the forehead struck, nor the thigh, nor
so much as a stamp of the foot. Therefore, you have
been so far from inflaming our minds, that you have
scarce kept us awake.”
As action therefore was judged so necessarily a quali¬
fication in an orator among the ancients, so they made
use of several methods and expedients for the better
attaining it. The principal of which we shall briefly
mention.
Decency of pronunciation is a habit. And as all
habits are gained by time, so the sooner they are learn¬
ed, they are generally acquired with greater ease. For
while persons are young, they are not only more flexi¬
ble and capable of any particular bent, but they are like¬
wise free from the trouble of encountering and subduing
contrary habits, which doubles the labour, and increases
the difficulty of attaining any laudable quality. Quin¬
tilian was very sensible of this in the case here before
us y and therefore, in order to have persons trained up
to it, he begins with them in.their childhood, and de¬
scends so low as even to give dAections how they should
be taught to pronounce when they first learn to read.
And he advises, that they should then be instructed
where to suspend their voice, and make the proper pau¬
ses.
392
O R A T
* Promincia-Ses, both in custlnguisliing tile several fftrts of the same
tion. sentence, and in separating one sentence from anothei j
1 likewise when to raise or sink theii" voicej or it a
proper inflection 5 to be slower or faster, more vehement
or sedate, as the nature of the things may require; and
that the tone of their voice be always manly and grave,
but at the same time mixed with an agreeable sweetness.
These things may perhaps appear in themselves small ;
but if duly attended to, they will he found of consider¬
able service to bring us to a just and proper pronun¬
ciation. For in every thing that is to be attained by
practice, it is a great advantage to set out right at
The ancients likewise had persons whom they called
p7ionasci, whose proper business it was to teach them how
‘to regulate and manage their voice; and others, who in¬
structed them in the whole art of pronunciation, both
•as to their voice and gestures. ’I hese latter were gene¬
rally taken from the theatre, being some eminent expe¬
rienced actors. So Quintilian, treating of the province
of these persons, says, “ The comedian ought to teach
them how to relate facts, with what authority to ad-
^.vise, with what vehemence to express anger, and
with what softness compassion.” ’And speaking ot ges¬
tures, he says, “ Jfle should admonish them to raise their
countenance, not distort their lips, or stretch their
mouths.” With several other directions of the like
kind. And we are told concerning the emperor M.
Antoninus, usually called the philosopher, that His first
masters were Euphoria the grammarian, and Geminm
•the comedian.
But though they made-’use of actors to instruct their
youth in forming their speech and gestures, yet the ac¬
tion of an orator was much different from that of the
theatre. Cicero very plainly represents this distinction
in the words of Crassus, when, speaking of orators, he
cays, “ The motions of the body ought to be suited to
the expressions, not in a theatrical way, mimicking the
words by particular gesticulations, but in a manner ex¬
pressive ot the general sense, with a sedate and manly
inflection of the sides ; not taken from the stage and
actors, but from the exercise of arms and the palestra.”
And Quintilian says to. the same purpose, “ Every ges¬
ture and motion of the comedians is net to be imitated,
nor to the same degree.” I hey thought the action of
the theatre too light and extravagant for the imitation
of an orator; and, therefore, though they employed ac¬
tors to inform young persons in the first rudiments, yet
they were afterwards sent to the palestra, or.schools de¬
signed on purpose, to teach them a decent and graceful
management of their bodies. And such schools, as
Quintilian informs us, were in use both among the
Greeks and Homans: Just as of later ages children
learn to dance, in some measure with the same inten-
tion.
Being thus far prepared, they were afterwards sent
to the schools of the rhetoricians. And here, as their
business was to cultivate their style, and gain the whole
art of eloquence ; so particularly to acquire a just and
accurate pronunciation by those exercises, in which for
that end they were constantly employed. And as the
Greeks were most celebrated for their skill in all the
polite arts, and especially oratory; the Roman gentry
and nobility generally sent their sons abroad, and placed
them under the tuition of - some Grecian master, to m-
2
O It Y. Pwt IV.
struct them in the art of speaking, and by that means plor.uncja.
to fit them for the service of their country, either in the < t'011-
courts of judicature or the senate. '1 bus Cicero was v J
sent to Rhodes, to study under the famous Molo, and
Brutus under Pammenes; Caesar was going to the same
place when taken by pirates; and Augustus afterwards
studied there under Apollodorus.
Nor, after all this pains and industry, did they yet
think themselves sufficiently qualified to take upon them
the character of orators. But it was their constant cus¬
tom to get together some of their friends and'acquaint-
ance who were proper judges of such performances, and
declaim before them in private. The business of these
persons Was to make observations both on their language
wnd pronunciation. And they were allowed the great¬
est freedom to take notice of any thing they thought
amiss, either as to inaccuracy of method, impropriety of
style, or indecency of their voice or actions. Ibis
gave them an opportunity to correct any such defects at
•first, before they became habitual. What effects might
not justly be expected from such an institution ! Per¬
sons trained up in this manner, with all those ads antages,
■joined to a good natural genius, could not fail of ma¬
king very complete orators. J hough even after they
came to appear in public, they did not lay aside the
custom of declaiming. I'or Quintilian tells us, that ( .
•Garbo used to practise it daily in his tent.. And Au¬
gustus is reported to have continued it during the war
cf Mutina against M. Antony. Nor is it to be suppo¬
sed, that so constant an attendance to this practice was
only serviceable to them in their public performances ;
but it must necessarily affect their whole conduct, give
them a freedom of speech, easiness of address and be¬
haviour, and render them in all respects fine gentlemen
as well as excellent orators. And from hence, perhaps,
we may see less reason to wonder at the surprising ef¬
fects of some of their discourses, when w’e consider what
pains they took to arrive at those abilities.
Having thus far treated on pronunciation in general,
we shall now proceed to consider the parts of it sepa¬
rately ; which are voice and gesture.
Chap. II. Of the Voice.
12()
Voice is one kind of sounds. Nowt the influence of Voice, a
sounds, either to raise or allay our passions, is evident kind of
from music. And certainly the harmony of a fine dis-sojnd ^
course, well and gracefully pronounced, is as capable to ways influ.
move us, if not in a way so violent and ecstatic, yet notences tiie
less powerful, and more agreeable to our rational facul- passions,
ties. As the business of this chapter is to offer some either^
considerations for the just and decent management of
the voice, it may not be improper in the first place to
observe in general what nature does when free and un¬
constrained. As persons are differently affected when
they speak ; so they naturally alter the tone of then-
voice, though they do not attend to it. It rises, sinks,
and has various inflections given it, according to the
present state and disposition of the mind. When the
mind is calm and sedate, the voice is moderate and even ;
when the former is dejected with sorrow, the latter is
languid; and when that is inflamed by passion, this is
raifed and elevated. It is the orator’s business, there¬
fore, to follow nature, and to endeavour that the tone
of his voice appear natural and unaffected. And for
Part IV.
O R A T O R Y.
393
Pronuncia- this end, he must take care to suit it to the nature of
tion the subject; but still so as to be always grave and de-
cent. Some persons continue a discourse in such a
low and drawling manner, that they can scarce be
heard by their audience. Others again hurry on in
so loud and boisterous a manner, as if they imagined
their hearers were deaf. But all the music and harmo*
jiy of speech lies in the proper temperament of the
voice between these extremes. In order to set this
matter in a just light, it will he necessary to consider
the principal affections or properties of the voice, and
how they are to be regulated by an orator. Now these
may aU be referred either to quantity or quality.
The quantity of the voice consists in its highness or
lowness, swiftness or slowness, and the intermediate de¬
grees between them.
Every person who speaks in public should endeavour,
if he can, to fill the place where he speaks. But still
he ought to be careful not to exceed the natural key
of his voice. If he does, it will neither be soft nor
agreeable, but either harsh and rough, or too shrill and
squeaking. Besides, he will not be able to give every
syllable its full and distinct sound ; which will render
what he says obscure, and difficult to be understood.
He should therefore take care to keep his voice within
reach, so as to have it under management, that he may
raise or sink it, or give it any inflection he thinks pro¬
per: which it will not be in his power to do if he put a
force upon it, and strain it beyond its natural tone.
The like caution is to be used against the contrary
extreme, that the voice be not dropped, and suffered to
sink too low. This will give the speaker pain in raising
it again to its proper pitch, and be no less offensive to
the hearers. For though the music of speech consists
in the variations of the voice, yet they must be gradual
to render them pleasant. Such sudden and great chan¬
ges at once are rather to be esteemed chasms in speak¬
ing than variations. Besides, as they often prevent
the hearers from taking in the sense of what is said,
it gives them no smalt uneasiness that they are obliged
to stretch their attention. Many persons are too apt
to be guilty of this, especially at the end of a sentence,
by dropping the last word j which ought, in a particu¬
lar manner, to be expressed distinctly, because the
meaning of the whole sentence often depends upon it.
The medium between these two is a moderate and
even voice. But this is not the same in all; that which
is moderate in one would be high in another Every
person , therefore, must regulate it by the natural key of
his own voice. A calm and sedate voice is generally
best; as a moderate sound is most pleasing to the ear, if
it be clear and distinct.- But this equality of the voice
must also be accompanied with a variety, otherwise there
can be no harmony ; since all harmony consists in varie¬
ty. Nothing is less pleasing than a discourse pronoun¬
ced throughout in one continued tone of the voice,
without any change or alteration. Besides, a variation
of the voice is an ease 'to the speaker ; as the body is
relieved by shifting its posture. The equality, there¬
fore, we are here speaking of admits a variety of inflec¬
tions and changes within the same pitch. And when
that is altered, the gradations, whether higher or lower,
should be so gentle and regular as to preserve a due pro¬
portion of the parts and harmony of the whole, which
cannot be done when the voice is suddenly varied with
Vol. XV. Part I.
too great a distinction. And therefore it should move Prommcia-
from one key to another, so as rather to glide like a tion.
gentle stream, than pour down like a rapid torrent, ^
as an ingenious writer has well expressed it. An
even voice is best fitted to keep the mind to close
attention. And therefore, in subjects designed only
for instruction, without any address to the passions,
there is little room for a variety of voice. For the
voice ought to agree with the style ; and as upon such
subjects this should be equal, moderate, and smooth, so
should the other. Every thing, as we say, is beautiful
in its season 'T and there is a certain propriety in things
which ought always to be regarded. And, therefore,
an affected Variety, ill-placed, is as disagreeable to a
judicious audience as the want of it, where the subject
requires it. We may find some persons, in pronouncing
a grave and plain discourse affect as many different tones,
changes, and variations of their voice, as if they were -
acting a comedy j which is doubtless a very great im¬
propriety. But the orator’s province is not barely to
apply to the mind, but likewise to the passions j which
require a great variety of the voice, high, or low, vehe¬
ment or languid, according to the nature of the passions
he designs to affect. So that for an orator always to
use the same tone or degree of his voice, and expect to
answer all his views by it, would be much the same
thing as if a physician should propose to cure all distem¬
pers by one medicine. From hence it is evident, that
although various inflections and tones of the voice are,
requisite to make it harmonious and pleasing to the ear j
yet the degree of it should differ according to the nature
of the subject, and design of the speaker. And, as a
perfect monotony is always unpleasant, so it can never
be necessary in any discourse.
The next property of the voice above mentioned was
swiftness. That some expressions ought to be pronoun¬
ced faster and swifter than others, is very manifest.
Gay and sprightly ideas should not only be expressed
louder, but also faster, than such as are sad and melan¬
choly. And when we press an adversary, the voice
should be brisk and quick. But to hurry on in a pre¬
cipitant manner, without pausing till stopt fox want of
breath, is certainly a very great fault. This destroys,
not only the necessary distinction between sentence and
sentence, but likewise between the several words of the
same sentence; nay, and often occasions us to express
our words by halves, while one is thrown so fast upon
another, that we are not able to give each its full and
just sound. By this means all the grace of speaking is
lost, and in a great measure the advantage of hearing.
For when the ears of the hearers cannot keep pace
with the volubility of the speaker’s tongue, they will be
little the better for what he says.. Besides, by not
commanding his voice, and easing his breath at the
proper pauses and points of distinction, he is often obli¬
ged to stop in the middle of a sentence ; and so di¬
vides what should be continued, and joins what should
be separated ; which must necessarily destroy the sensf,
and confound his discourse. Young persons ax-e very
liable to this, especially at first setting out. And it
often arises from diffidence. They are jealous of their
performances, and the success they may have in speaking,
which gives them a pain till it is over; and this puts
them into a hurry of mind, which incapacitates them
from governing their voice, and keeping it under that
f 3D due
OKA T O R Y. Part IV,
line regu’ration wliich perhaps they proposed to them¬
selves before they began to speak. And the greater
degree such persons have of a native and ingenuous mo¬
desty, accompanied with a laudable ambition to excel,
they are commonly more exposed to tins. I*or while,
on the one hand, they are fired with an ardent desire to
recommend themselves, and on the other are fearful oi
the event, this dubious state of mind is very apt to
throw them off their guard, and run them into this
excess. From which we may see the great advantage
of having the voice well formed betimes •, for when
once it is become habitual to speak with justness and
propriety, persons readily practise it without much at¬
tention or concern.
And as a precipitant and hasty pronunciation is cul¬
pable, so likewise, on the other hand, it is a fault to
speak too slow. This seems to argue a heaviness in the
speaker. And as he appears cool himself, he can never
expect to warm his hearers, and excite their affections.
"When not only every word, but every syllable is drawn
out to too great a length, the ideas do not come fast
enough to keep up the attention without much uneasi¬
ness. For till the sense is completed, the mind is in
suspense : and, if it be held long in that situation, it
will of course flag and grow tired. Indeed, in some
cases, it is requisite the pronunciation should be slower
than in others •, as in representing things great and dif¬
ficult j or in expressing some particular passions, as ad¬
miration or grief. But the extreme we are now speak¬
ing of, is a slowness equally continuing through a whole
discourse, which must necessarilyrender it flat and lifeless.
Now, to avoid cither of the two extremes last men¬
tioned, the voice ought to be sedate and distinct. And
in order to render it distinct, it is necessary, not only
that each word and syllable should have its just and full
sound, both as to time and accent; but likewise that
every sentence, and part of a sentence, should be sepa¬
rated by its proper pause and interval. This is more
easy to he done in reading, from the assistance of the
points 5 hut it is no less to he attended to in speaking,
if we would pronounce in a distinct and graceful man¬
ner. For every one should speak in the same man¬
ner as lie ought to read, if he could arrive at that
exactness. Now the common rule given in pausing is,
that we stop our voice at a comma till we can tell one,
at a semicolon two, at a colon three, and at a full period
four. And as these points are either accommodated
to the several parts of the same sentence, as the first
three j or different sentences, as the last ; this occasions
the different length of the pause, by which either the
dependence of what precedes upon that which follows,
or its distinction from it, is represented. And, there¬
fore, in the first three stops, the voice is rather to be
suspended in different degrees or measures of time than
entirely dropt, to shew that the sense is not yet comple¬
ted. But between sentence and sentence we respire,
and begin anew. So that in long periods, the voice
should be favoured by beginning low and sedately, that
it may hold to the end without respiration *, or if it will
not, the breath ought to be recovered without sinking
the voice. For if once the voice drop for want of
breath before the period be finished, not only the beau¬
ty, but likewise the sense of it, will be lost. Quintilian
Jays a great stress upon a due attention to these pauses $
aofl says, “ Though it may appear not so considerable
in itself, yet all the other virtues ol a good pronuncia- pronuncia¬
tion are deficient without it.” tion.
Flitlierto we have considered such properties of the
voice as respect quantity, we come now to speak of its
qualities. And the chief of these are strength or
weakness, clearness or obscurcncss, j'ulness or smallness,
smoothness or roughness. Now, one halt of these is
what every one would willingly choose, as he would
wish to be free from the others. But it is not in our
power to give ourselves what qualities of the voice we
please} but only to make the best use we can of what
nature has bestowed upon us. However, several defects
of the voice are capable of being helped by care and
proper means ; as, on the other hand, the best voice may
be greatly hurt by ill management and indiscretion.
Temperance is a great preservative of the voice, and all
excess is highly prejudicial to it. The voice must ne¬
cessarily suffer, if the organs of speech have not their
proper tone. And in order to their having this, they
must be kept in due temperature j that is, they must
neither be too moist nor too dry. If they abound with
fluids, these will obstruct the clearness of the voice,
and render it obscure and confused j and if they arc
parched with drought, the voice will be harsh and
rough. Now all excesses, as well as some bodily in¬
dispositions, are apt to affect the organs one or other of
these ways.
A strong voice is very serviceable to an orator, be¬
cause if it want some other advantages, he is, however,
capable to make himself beard. And if at any time he
is forced to strain it, he is in less danger of its failing
him before he has finished his discourse. But he who
has a weak voice, should be very careful not to strain
it, especially at first. He ought to begin low, and rise
gradually to such a pitch as the key of his voice will
well carry him, without being obliged to sink again af¬
terwards. Frequent inflections of the voice will like¬
wise be some assistance to him. But especially he should
take care to speak deliberately, and ease his voice, by
allowing due time for respiration at all the proper pau¬
ses. It is an extreme much less inconvenient for such
a person rather to speak too slow, than too fast. But
this defect of a weak voice is sometimes capable of
being helped by the use of proper methods $ as is evi¬
dent from the instance of Demosthenes, before men¬
tioned.
A voice is said to be clear, when the organs of speech
are suited to give every single letter, and all the combi¬
nations of them in syllables and words, their proper and
distinct sound. Such a voice is very pleasing and agree¬
able to the hearers ; and no less an happiness to the
speaker, as it saves him a great expence of spirits. lor
a moderate voice, if clear, will be as distinctly heard,
as one much louder, if thick and obscure. Which a
great advantage to the speaker, because be can better
keep his'voice under command, and modulate it at plea¬
sure, as the several parts and circumstances of his dis¬
course may require. On the contrary, an obscure and
confused voice is not always occasioned from a deficien¬
cy in the organ \ but many times is the effect of enstom
and a bad habit. Some persons, either from want of
due care in their education at first, or from inadverten¬
cy and negligence afterwards, run into d very irregular
and confused manner of expressing their words ; either
bv misplacing the accent, confounding the sound of the
J letters,
Part IV.
ORATORY.
Proauncia-letters, or Imdtlling the syllables one upon another, so
| as to render what they say often unintelligible. Indeed,
sometimes this arises from a natural defect, as in the case
of Demosthenes; who found a method to rectify that,
as well as the weakness of his voice. But in faults of
this kind, which proceed from habit, doubtless the most
likely way to mend them is to speak deliberately.
A full voice is not the same as a strong or a loud
voice. It fills the ear hut it is often not pleasant.
And therefore to render it so, as well as audible, it
should he frequently varied. However, this seems bet¬
ter suited to the character of an orator, than a small
and shrill voice j because it has something in it more
grave and manly. And those who have the misfortune
of a very small voice, should he cautious of raising it to
too high a pitch, especially at once j because the sudden
compressure of the organ is apt to occasion a squeaking
and very disagreeable sound.
A soft and smooth voice is of all the most musical,
especially if it he flexible. And, on the contrary, no¬
thing is less harmonious than a voice that is harsh and
rough. For the one grates as disagreeably upon the ear,
as the other gives it pleasure and delight.
From the consideration of these several properties of
the voice, we may conclude that to be the best, and fit¬
test for an orator, which is moderate, distinct, firm, clear,
and smooth, and withal easily flexible to the several de¬
grees and variations of sound which every part of the
discourse may require.
130 _
Gesture is
the confor¬
mity of the
motions of
the counte¬
nance, &.C.
to the na¬
ture of the
discourse.
Chap. III. Of Gesture.
By this is meant, a suitable conformity of the mo¬
tions of the countenance, and several parts of the body,
in speaking, to the subject-matter of the discourse. The
.word gesture is here used in a larger sense than is ordi¬
narily done in common language. For we rarely make
use of that word to denote the motions of the counte¬
nance, or any parts of it 3 hut as these make a consider¬
able part of our present subject, they must here be com¬
prehended under this term.
It is not agreed among the learned, whether voice
or gesture has the greater influence upon us. But as
the latter affects us by the eye, as the former doe# by
the ear, gesture in the nature of it seems to have this
advantage, that it conveys the impression more speedi¬
ly to the mind ; for the sight is the quickest of all our
senses. Nor is its influence less upon our passions j
nay, in some instances it appears to act more powerful¬
ly. A cast of the eye shall express desire in as moving
a manner as the softest language •, and a different motion
of it, resentment. To wring the hands, tear the hair,
or strike the breast, are all strong indications of sorrow.
And he who claps his hand to his sword, throws us into
a greater panic than one who only threatens to kill us.
Nor is it in some respects less various and extensive than
language. Cicero tells us, he often diverted himself
by trymg this with Roscius the comedian 3 who could
express a sentence as many ways by his gestures, as he
himsell by words. And some dramas, called panio-
mim”s, have been carried on wholly by mutes, who have
performed every part bv gestures only, without words,
in a way very intelligent, as well as entertaining to the
spectators. Well, therefore, might Cicero call action
(or gesture) the language of the bodij, since it is capable
in so lively a manner to convey both our ideas and pua Pi
sions. But with respect to oratory, gesture may very
properly be called the second part of pronunciation ; in
which, as the voice should be suited to the impressions
it receives from the mind, so the several motions of the
body ought to be accommodated to the various tones
and inflections of the voice. \\ ben the voice is even
and moderate, little gesture is required 3 and nothing is
more unnatural than violent motion, in discoursing upon
ordinary and familiar subjects. The motions of the bo¬
dy should rise therefore in proportion to the vehemence
and energy of the expression, as the natural and genuine
effect of it.
But as gesture is very different and various as to the
manner of it, which depends upon the decent conduct
of several parts of the body 3 it will not be amiss to con¬
sider more particularly the proper management of each
of those parts. Now all gesture is either natural, or
from imitation. By natural gesture we mean such acr
tions and motions of the body, as naturally accompany
our words, as these do the impressions of our minds. And
these either respect the whole body, or some particular
part of it. But before w’e enter upon this, give us leave
just to observe, that it has been customary in all ages
and countries, in making a set discourse before an assem¬
bly, to do it standing. Thus we read, that Abraham
stood vp, and spake unto the children of Hcth. And it
seems as if he sat down when be had ended his speech 3
because, immediately after the account of their answer,
it is said again, that Abraham stood up and bowed him¬
self to the people of the land, the children of Heth. In
like manner Homer represents the Grecian princes, as
standing up, when they made a speech, either to the
army, or in their councils. So when Achilles has
assembled the army, to inquire into the reason pf the
great plague which at that time raged among them,
he rises up before he begins to speak, and sits down
again when he has done. After him the prophet
Calchas rises, and charges it upon Agamemnon 3 who
rising up in a passion, does not refuse to comply with
what Calchas proposed, but expresses his resentment
at him for saying it. And upon another occasion
both Agamemnon and Nestor do the same in council.
And Cicero acquaints us, that when Lentulus had
been charged in the senate as an associate with Catiline-,
he stood up to make bis defence. Nor does the advan¬
tage of being better heard, seem to have been the only
reason for so general an agreement in this posture 3 but
it appears likewise to have been chosen, as the most de¬
cent and respectful. Sitting carries in it an air of au¬
thority, ami is therefore a posture scarce used upon such
occasions, unless perhaps where that is designed to be ex¬
pressed by it. Wherefore it was a thing very much re¬
sented, that when Caesar after he had got the power in¬
to his hands, once addressed the senate, either refused to
rise, as some say, or as others, one of his friepds held him
down by his gown.
But though standing appears to be the most proper
posture for speaking in public, yet it is very unbe¬
coming for the body to be entirely without any mo¬
tion like a statue. It should not long continue in
the same position, hut be constantly changing, though
the motion be very moderate. There ought to be no
appearance of stiffness, but a certain ease and pliable¬
ness, naturally suiting itself\to every expression 3 by
3 D 2 which
JV3
ORATOR Y.
59 6 . .
I'ronuncia- which means,, when a greater degree of motion is
tioii necessary, it will appear less sudden and vehement.
For as the raising, sinking, and various inflections o
the voice must he gradual j so likewise should the mo¬
tion of the body." It is only on some particular oc¬
casions that an hasty vehemence and impetuosity is pro¬
per in either case.
As to the several parts of the body, the head is the
most considerable! To lift it up too high has the air
of arrogance and pride ; to stretch it out too tar, or
throw it back, looks clownish and unmannerly; to
ban or it downwards on the breast, shows an unmanly
bashfulness and want of spirit: and to suller it to lean
on either shoulder, argues both sloth and indolence.
'Wherefore in calm and sedate discourse it ought to
keep its natural state, an upright posture. However,
it should not be long without motion, nor yet always
moving j but gently turn sometimes on one side, and
sometimes on the other, as occasion requires, that the
voice may be heard by all who are presentand then
return again to its natural position. It should always
accompany the other actions of the body, and turn on
the same side with them •, except when aversion to any
thing is expressed, which is done by stretching out the
right hand, and turning the head to the left. i he an¬
cients erected a statue of Venus in this posture, who was
called by the Greeks and by the Latins er-
iicordiay and in English may be termed the/0r^ȣ
Venus But nothing is more indecent than violent mo¬
tions and agitations of the head. And therefore when a
wittv writer, who is well known among us, would con¬
vey the most ridiculous idea of a pretender to know¬
ledge, he expresses it thus :
For having three times shook his head
To stir his wit up, thus he said. Hudibras.
But it is the countenance that chiefly represents both
the passions and disposition of the mind. By this we
express love, hatred, joy, sorrow, modesty, and con¬
fidence : by this we supplicate, threaten, soothe, in¬
vite forbid, consent, or refuse} and all this without
gpeakino1. Nay, from hence we form a judgment not
only of °a person’s present temper, but of his capacity
and natural disposition. And therefore it is common
to say such an one has a promising countenance, or that
he promises little by his countenance. It is true, this
is no certain rule of judging J nor is it in the power ot
*,ny one to alter the natural make of his countenance :
however, it may put us upon endeavouring to gain
the most pleasing aspect we can; since it is so natural
for mankind to draw such conclusions from it: and
some persons are so unhappy, as to render their coun¬
tenance more disagreeable, than otherwise it would be,
by ill habits.
Bat the several parts of the face bear their pait,
and contribute to the proper and decent motion ot the
whole. In a calm and sedate discourse, all the features
retain their natural state and situation. In sorrow, the
forehead and eyebrows lower, and the cheeks hang
down. But in expressions of joy and cheerfulness, the
forehead and eyebrows are expanded, the cheeks con¬
tracted, and the corners of the mouth drawn upwards.
Anger and resentment contract the forehead, draw the
brows together, and thrust out the lips. And terror
elevates both*the brows and forehead. As these are the
Partly,
natural signs of such passions, the orator should endea- Pi-onunpia.
vour to conform to them. bon.
But as the eyes are most active and significa/t, itv-*-'
is the advice of Cicero that the greatest care should
he taken in their management. And he gives this
reason for it, “ Because other parts of the countenance
have but few motions •, whereas all the passions of the
soul are expressed in the eyes, by so many diilerent
actions, which cannot possibly he represented by any
gestures of the body, if the eyes are kept in a fixed pos¬
ture. Common experience does in a great measure
confirm the truth of this observation. We readily guess
at a person’s intention, or how lie is afiected to us, by
bis eyes. And any sudden change or emotion of the
mind is presently followed by an alteration in the look.
In speaking therefore upon pleasant and delightful sub¬
jects, the eyes are brisk and cheerful; as on the contra¬
ry, they sink and are languid in delivering any thing
melancholy and sorrowful. This is so agreeable to na¬
ture, that before a person speaks, we are prepared with
the expectation of one or the other from his different as¬
pect. So likewise in anger, a certain vehemence and
intenseness appears in the eyes, which, for w-ant of pro¬
per words to express it by, we endeavour to represent by
metaphors taken from fire, the most violent and rapid
element, and say, in such eases, the eyes sparkle, burn,
or are inflamed. In expressions of hatred or detestation,
it is natural to alter the look, either by turning the eyes
aside, or downwards. Virgil has very justly observed
this: for when he describes iEneas meeting with Dido,
in the Elysian shades, and addressing her, he represents
her disregard of him, by saying,
Disdainfully she look’d ; then turning round,
Still fix’d her eyes unmov’d upon the ground.
She showed her resentment for his former treatment of her,
by not vouchsafing to look on him. Indeed, the eyes
are sometimes turned downwards upon other occasions,
as to express modesty. And if at any time a paiticulai
object be addressed to, whatever it he, the eyes should
be turned that way. And therefore Philostrattrs very
deservedly ridicules a certain rhetorician as guilty of a
solecism in gesture, who, upon saying, OJupiter! turned
his eyes downward j and when he said, O Earth! looked
upward. A staring look has the appearance of giddi¬
ness and want of thought; and to contract the eyes,
gives suspicion of craft and design. A fixed loots, may
he occasioned from intenseness of thought, hut at the
same time shows a disregard to the audience *, and a too
quick and wandering motion of the eyes denotes levity
and wantonness. A gentle and moderate motion oi the
eyes is therefore in common most suitable, always direc¬
ted to some of the audience, and gradually turning from
side to side with an air of respect and modesty, and
looking them decently in the face, as in common dis¬
course : Such a behaviour will of course draw an atten¬
tion. As in conversation, when a person addresses us in
an handsome and becoming manner, we presently put
ourselves in a posture to give what he says a proper re¬
ception. But as all the passions are in the most lively
manner expressed in the eyes, their motions ought to
vary according to the different nature of those passions
they are suited both to discover in the speaker, and con¬
vey to his hearers j since, as the quickest access to the
mind is by the sight, a proper well-timed look will
J sometimes
1 Part IV. . O B A T O E Y.
"I pronancia- sometimes soonav effeet this than it can be done by
tion words 5 as in discharging a cannon we are struck with
* the light before we hear the sound.
As to the other parts of the body distinct from the
head, the shoulders ought not to be elevated $ for this
is not only in itself indecent, but it likewise contracts
the neck, and hinders the proper motion of the head.
Nor, on the other hand, should they be drawn down,
and depressed ; because this occasions a stiffness both to
the neck and the whole body. Their natural posture
therefore is best, as being most easy and graceful. To
shrug the shoulders has an abject and servile air j and
frequently to heave them upwards and downwards is a
very disagreeable sight.
A continued motion of the arms any way, is by all
means to be avoided. Their action should generally be
very moderate, and follow that of the hands, unless in
very pathetic expressions, where it may be proper to
give them a more lively spring.
The hands need never be idle. Quintilian seems to
think them as necessary and powerful in action, as
Cicero does the eyes. “ The hands (says he), without
which all gesture is lame and weak, have a greater va¬
riety of motions than can well be expressed ; for they
are almost equal to our words. Do not we desire with
them, promise, call, dismiss, threaten, beseech, detest,
fear, inquire, deny ? Do not they express joy, sor¬
row, doubt, confession, penitence, measure, plenty,
number, and time? Do not they excite, restrain, prove,
admire, and shame? that in so great a variety of speech
among all nations and countries, this seems to me the
common language of all mankind.” Thus far Quinti¬
lian. Now, all bodily motion is either upward or down¬
ward, to the right or left, forward or backward, or else
circular. The hands are employed by the orator in all
these, except the last. And as they ought to correspond
with our expressions, so they ought to begin and end
with them. In admiration, and addresses to heaven,
they must be elevated, but never raised above the eyes j
and in speaking of things below us, they are directed
downwards. Side motion should generally begin from
the left, and terminate gently on the right. In demon¬
strating, addressing, and on several other occasions, they
are moved forward } and in threatening, sometimes
thrown back. But when the orator speaks of himself,
his right hand should be gently laid on his breast. When
no other motion is necessary, the hands should be kept
about as high as the breast, so as to make near a right
angle with the arm. This is not only graceful, but like¬
wise the most easy posture, and gives the least strain to
the muscles. They should never be suffered to bang down,
nor to loll upon the cushion or bar. The left hand
should never move alone, but accommodate itself to the
motions of the right. In motions to the left side, the
right hand should not be carried beyond the left shoul¬
der. In promises and expressions of compliment, the
motion of the hands should be gentle and slow j but
in exhortations and applause more swift. The hands
should generally be open j but in expressions of com¬
punction and anger they may be closed. All finical
and trifling actions of the fingers ought to be avoided;
nor should they be stretched out and expanded in a stiff
and rigid posture, but kept easy and pliable.
Neither the breast nor the belly should be thrust out j
which in itself looks ungainly, and hinders the free mo-
4
tion of the trunk j which ought not to be kept too stiff Pronuii cia
and upright, but easy and flexible, always suiting itself tion.
to the motions of the head and hands. The feet shouldv—*
continue steady, and not give the body a wavering and
giddy motion by frequently shifting ^ though some per¬
sons fall into that habit without moving their feet. Cu¬
rio, a Roman orator, as Cicero tells us, was addicted to
this ; which occasioned a friend of his once to pass a
joke upon him, by asking, IFho that was talking out of
a boat ? The jest is too plain to need explication ’T for
every one knows the waving of a boat will give the bo¬
dy such a motion.
The gestures we have hitherto discoursed of, are
such as naturally accompany our expressions. And we
believe those we have mentioned, if duly attended to,
w’ill be found sufficient to answer all the purposes of
our modern pronunciation. The ancients, indeed, used
several more vehement actions and gestures than we
are accustomed to ; as we have formerly shown. Philip
the Roman orator, as Cicero informs us, did not use
to prepare his discourses ; but spoke, as we say, off-
hand. And lie was wront to tell his friends, “ he wras
never fit to talk till he had warmed his arm.” He
doubtless, therefore, used a more violent motion wi th
his arms and hands than is common with us. And
Cicero calls the arm projected the orator's weapon. In¬
deed, to extend or brandish the arm, carries in it an air
of command and authority, which was not unbecoming
the character of Philip, who was a person of the highest
rank and quality. And therefore young orators, both
among the Greeks and Romans, for a time used no mo¬
tion of the arm, hut kept it confined in their garment,
as an argument of modesty, till age and experience al~
lowed them to use greater freedom. Nor was it uncom¬
mon for the ancient orators to express the excess of their
passions by tears. They thought nothing unbecoming
that was natural : and judged it agreeable to the cha¬
racters even of the bravest men, to be touched with a
sense of humanity in great calamities : And therefore
we find both Homer and Virgil make their greatest he¬
roes shed tears on some occasions.
The other sort of gestures above mentioned are such
as arise from imitation ; as where the orator describes
some action, or personates another speaking. But here
great care is to be taken not to overact his part, by
running into any ludicrous or theatrical mimicry. It is
sufficient for him so to represent things of this nature, as
may best convey the image of them in a lively manner
to the minds of the hearers j without any such change
either of his actions or voice as are not suitable to his
own character.
Chap. IV. Some particular Rules for the Voice and
Gesture.
The subject of pronunciation is of so great inipor-
tance to an orator, that it can neither be too clearly the voice
laid down, nor too strongly inculcated. If we inquire and ges-
into the causes of that surprising power it has over us,ture*
and by what means it so strongly aflects us, this may
in some measure appear by reflecting on the ftatne
and constitution of human nature. For our infinitely
wise and great Maker has so formed us, that not ojjly
the actions of the body are subject to the direction of
the miud, but we are likewise .endowed with various
passions
5 93 0 E A T
I’ronuncia- passions and affections, that cXtitc us to pursue those
tilings which make for our happiness, and avoid others
which are hurtful to us. And as we are made for so¬
ciety, we are also furnished with speech, which enables
tis to converse with one another. And such is the con¬
trivance of our make, and influence of our minds upon
the mechanism of our bodies, that we can not only
'Communicate our thoughts to each other, but likewise
*'our passions. For, as Cicero well observes, “ F.very
motion of the mind has naturally its peculiar counte¬
nance, voice, and gesture j and the whole body, every
position of the face, and sound of the voice, like the
strings of an instrument, act agreeably to the impression
tliey receive from the mind.” Nor is this all : but as
everyone is differently affected himself, he is capable to
make the like impressions upon others, and excite them
to the same motions which he ieels in himself. As when
twTo instruments are set to the same pitch, the strings of
the one being touched, produce in the other the like
sound. This common sympathy ill the human frame
show's how necessary it is that an orator should not only
in general be well acquainted with the rules of pronun¬
ciation, but likewise know how to use them as occasion
requires •, for a general knowledge of the rules of art is
not of itself sufficient to perfect an artist, without a fur¬
ther acquaintance W'ith the particular application of them
to their several cases and circumstances. Thus, for
instance, it is not enough for an orator to understand
all the beauties and ornaments of language, and which
of them are suited to form the several kinds of style,
unless he can likewise accommodate each of those cha¬
racters to their proper subject. And so likewise in
pronunciation, he ought not only to know the seveial
qualities of the voice, and proper gestures of the body,
but also when and where to make use of them. ! or
not only different subjects, but also different parts of
the same discourse, and even particular expressions,
often require a difference in the manner of pronuncia¬
tion, both as to the voice and gesture. Having there*
fore treated on both these parts of pronunciation in
general, it may not be amiss now to consider how
they are to be applied in each of the two respects last
mentioned.
We shall begin with the parts of a discourse, and
treat of them in their natural order. And here the
view and design of the speaker in each of them will
easily help us to see the proper manner of pronuncia-
tion.
Let us suppose then a person presenting himself be¬
fore an assembly, in order to make a discourse to them.
It cannot be decent immediately to begin to speak so
soon as ever he makes his appearance. He will first
settle himself, compose his countenance, and take a
respectful view of his audience. This prepares them
for silence and attention. To begin presently, and
hurry on, without first allowing either himself or his
hearers time to compose themselves, looks as if he was
rather performing a task than had any design to please
them; which will be very apt to make them as uneasy
till he has done, as he seems to be himself. Persons
commonly form some opinion of a speaker from their
first view of him, which prejudices them either in his
favour, or otherwise, as to wo at he says afterwards.
A grave and sedate aspect inclines them to think him
serious j that he has considered his subject, and may
5
O E Y. Part IV.,
have something to offer worth their attention. A haugh- Pronuncia.
ty and forbidding air occasions distaste, as it looks like ^ tion.
disrespect. A wandering giddy countenance argues le-‘ ’
vity. A dejected drooping appearance is apt to raise
contempt, unless where the subject is melancholy. And
a cheerful aspect is a proper prelude to a pleasant and
agreeable argument.
To speak low at first has the appearance of mo¬
desty, and is best for the voice j which, by rising gra¬
dually, will with more ease be carried to any pitch
that may be afterwards necessary, without straining it.
However, some variation of the voice is always proper
to give it an harmony. Nay, and sometimes it is not
improper for an orator to set out with a considerable
degree of warmth, expressed by such an elevation of
the voice, and gestures of the body, as are suited to
represent the emotions of his mind. But this is not
ordinarily the case. We have some few instances of
this in Cicero j as in his oration for Roscius Amennus,
where the heinousness of the charge could not but ex¬
cite his indignation against the accusers. And so
likewise in that against Piso, and the two first against
Catiline, which begin in the same manner, from the
resentment he had conceived against their persons and
conduct. t
In the narration, the voice ought to be raised to
somewhat an higher pitch. Matters of fact should be
related in a very plain and distinct manner, with a pro*
per stress and emphasis laid upon each circumstance,
accompanied with a suitable address and motions of the
body, to engage the attention of the hearers. For there
is a certain grace in telling a story, by which those
who are masters of it seldom fail to recommend them¬
selves in conversation. The beauty of it consists in an
easy and familiar manner of expression, attended with
such actions and gestures as are suited to the nature ot
the things related, and help to enliven each particular
circumstance and part of the discourse.
The proposition, or subject of the discourse, should
he delivered with a very clear and audible voice. lor
if this be not plainly heard, all that follows in proof of
it cannot well be understood. And for the same rea¬
son, if it be divided into several parts or branches,
they should each be expressed very deliberately and
distinctly. But as the design here is only information*
there can be little room for gesture.
The confirmation admits of great variety both of the
voice and gestures. In reasoning, the voice is quick
and pungent, and should be enforced with suitable ac¬
tions. And as descriptions likewise have often a place
here) in painting out the images of things, the orator
should so endeavour to adapt both his voice, and the
motions of his body, particularly the turn of his eyes,
and action of his hands as may best help the imagina¬
tion of his hearers. Where he introduces another per¬
son speaking, or addresses to an absent person,. it
should be with some degree of imitation. And in dia¬
logue the Voice should alter with the parts. When he
diverts from his subject by any digression, his voice
should be lively and cheerful ; since that is rather de¬
signed for entertainment than instruction.
In confutation, the arguments of the adverse party
ought first to be repeated in a plain and distinct man¬
ner, that the speaker may not seim ro conceal, or
avoid the force of them, unless they appear triflmg
and
tion.
*3*
Part IV. O R A
Frommcia-and unworthy of a serious answer; and then a faee-
tious manner, both of expression and gesture, may be
the properest way to confute them. For to attempt
to answer in a grave and serious manner, what is in it-
self empty and ludicrous, is apt to create a suspicion
of its having more in it than it really has. So when
Tubero, in his accusation of Ligarius before Cicsar,
had. made it part ot his charge, that Ligarius was in
Africa during some part of the civil war between Cec-
sar and Pompey; Cicero, in his answer, not thinking
it deserved a serious reply, contents himself with bare-
ly mentioning it ironically. I'or thus he begins his
defence of Ligarius: “ Ctesar, my kinsman Tubero
has laid before you a new crime, and till this day un¬
heard of, that Q. Ligarius was in Africa.” Every
one must easily perceive, by the manner in which these
wards were pronounced, that the design of them was
to make the charge appear ridiculous. But caution
should be used not to represent any argument of weight
in a ludicrous way, lest by so doing the speaker should
more expose himself than his adversary.
In the conclusion, both the voice and gesture should
be brisk and sprightly, which may seem to arise from
a sense of the speaker’s opinion of the goodness of his
cause, and that he has offered nothing but what is agree¬
able to reason and truth; as likewise from his assurance
that the audience agree with him in the same sentiments.
In every undertaking that requirescare and thought, per¬
sons are apt at first to be sedate and moderate; but when
it is drawing to an end, and is near finished, it is very
natural to appear more gay. If an enumeration of the
principal arguments of the discourse be convenient, as it
sometimes is, where they are pretty numerous, or the
discourse is long, they ought to be expressed in the most
clear and forcible manner. And if there be an address
to the passions, both the voice and gesture must be
suited to the nature of them, of which more will be said
presently.
W e .proceed now to the consideration of particular
expressions. And what we shall offer here, will be first
in relation to single words, then sentences, and lastly
the passions.
I. Even in those sentences which are expressed in
the most even and sedate manner, there is often one
or more words which require an emphasis and distinc¬
tion of the voice. Pronouns are often of this kind ;
as, This is the man. And such are many words that
denote the circumstances and qualities of things. Such
as heighten or magnify the idea of the thing to which
they are joined, elevate the voice ; as noble, admirable,
majestic, greatly, and the like. On the contrary, those
which lessen the idea, or debase it, depress the voice,
er at least protract the tone; of which sort are the
words little, mean, poorly, contemptible, with many others,
Some tropes likewise, as metaphors and verbal figures,
which consist in the repetition of a single word, should
have a particular emphasis. As when Virgil says of
the river Araxes, It disdained a bridge. And Nisus of
himself in the same poet, i, I am the man; where the
repeated word is loudest. This distinction of words,
and giving them their proper emphasis, does not only
render the expression more clear and intelligible, but
>ery much contributes to the variation of the voice, and
t e preventing a monotony. And the different pronun-
tion.
—v—
133
T O R Y. m
ciation of these words will also require a peculiar ges Prommciu-
ture.
II. In sentences, regard should be had to their
length, and the number of their parts, in order to di¬
stinguish them by proper pauses. The frame and struc¬
ture of the period ought likewise to be considered, that
the voice may be so managed as to give it the most
musical accent. Unless there be some special reason for
the contrary, it should end louder than it begins. And
this diflerencc of tone between the end of the former
sentence and the beginning of the next, not only helps to
distinguish the sense, but adds to the harmony of the
voice. And that the last syllables of a sentence might
become more audible and distinct, was doubtless one
reason why the ancient rhetoricians dislike short feet at
the end of a period. In an antithesis, or a sentence
consisting of opposite parts, one contrary must be louder
than the other. As, “ He is gone, but by a gainful
remove, from painful labour to quiet rest; from un¬
quiet desires to happy contentment; from sorrow to
joy; and from transitory time to immortality.” In a
climax or gradation, the voice should rise with it. So,
“ There is no enjoyment of property without govern¬
ment; no government without a magistrate; no magis¬
trate without obedience; no obedience where everyone
acts as he pleases.” And so in other gradations of a
different form. As, “ Since concord ivas lost, friendship
teas lost, fidelity was lost, liberty was lost, all was lost."
And again, “ You would pardon him whom the senate
hath condemned, whom the people of Home have con¬
demned, whom all mankind have condemned." YVe
might mention several other figurative expressions,
which require a particular conformation and manage- ,
ment of the voice; but these, we presume, with some
others we shall have occasion to name presently wdien
we come to the passions, may be sufficient to guide us
in the rest. But that it may appear more evidently
how necessary a different inflection and variation of the
voice is in most sentences, give us leave to show how
Quintilian illustrates it, by a passage which he takes
from Cicero. The place is the beginning of Cicero’s
defence for Milo, and the words are these : “ Although.
I am apprehensive it may seem base to discover fear
when I enter upon the defence of a most courageous man,
and it may appear very indecent, when Milo discovers,
more concern for the public safety than for his own,
not to show a greatness of mind equal to his cause, yet
this new form of the court terrifies my eyes, which can¬
not discern the ancient manner of the forum, and for¬
mer custom of trials, whatever way they look: your
bench is not surrounded with its usual attendants.”
This sentence consists of four members. And Quin¬
tilian supposes, that though these words are the be¬
ginning of a speech, and were accordingly expressed
in a calm and submissive manner, yet that the orator
used a great deal of variety in the pronunciation of
their several parts. In the first member (as he ima¬
gines) his voice was- more elevated in expressing the
word, a most courageous man, than in those other parts
of it, / am apprehensive it may seem base, and, to discover
f ar. In the second member he rose higher, in saying,
when Milo discovers more concern for the public safety
than for his own ; and then again, as it were, checked
himself in what follows, not to show a greatness of mind'*
equal'
400
I* rofluteia
tiou.
*34
ORATORY.
Part IV
equal to /it's ectitsc. The beginning of the third member
carrying a reflection in it, was spoke with a different
tone of the voice, t/iis new form of the court terrifies
my eyes; and the other part ot it more loud and di¬
stinctly, which cannot discern the ancient manner of the
forum, and former custom of trials. And the last
member was still more raised and audible, your bench is
not surrounded with its usual attendants. And it must
he supposed, that while he was saying this, he cast his
eyes round the assembly, and viewed the soldiers whom
Pompey had placed there, which renders the expression
still more grave and solemn. If this was the manner of
the ancient orators, and they were so exact and accurate
in expressing their periods, and the several parts of
them, as we have reason to believe they were, it must
have given a very great force, as well as beauty to
their pronunciation.
III. That the passions have each of them both a
different voice and action, is evident from hence \ that
we know in what manner a person is affected, by the
tone of bis voice, though we do not understand the
sense of what he says, or many times so much as see
him : and we can often make the same judgment from
his countenance and gestures. Love and esteem are
expressed in a smooth and cheerful tone : but anger and
resentment, with a rough, harsh, and interrupted voice;
for when the spirits are disturbed and ruffled, the organs
are moved unequally. Joy raises and dilates the voice,
as sorrow sinks and contracts it. Cicero takes notice
of a passage in an oration of Gracchus, wherein he be¬
wails the death of his brother, who was killed by Sci-
pio, which in his time was thought very moving: “ Un¬
happy man ^says he), whither shall I betake myself.
where shall l go? Into the capitol ? that flows with
my brothers blood. Shall I go home; and behold my
unhappy mother all in tears and despair?'''' Though
Gracchus had a very ill design in that speech, and his
view was to excite the populace against their governors,
vet (as Cicero tells us) when he came to this passage,
he expressed himself in such moving accents and gestures,
that he extorted tears even from his enemies. Fear
occasions a tremor and hesitation of the voice, and as¬
surance gives it strength and firmness. Admiration
elevates the voice, and should be expressed with pomp
and magnificence : O surprising clemency, worthy of
the highest praise and greatest encomiums, and flit to be
perpetuated in lasting monuments/ This is Cicero’s com¬
pliment to Ccesar when he thought it for his purpose.
And oftentimes this passion is accompanied with an ele¬
vation both of the eyes and hands. On the contrary,
contempt sinks and protracts the voice. In the dispute
between Cicero and Cecilius, which of them should
accuse Verres, Cicero puts this contemptuous question to
him : “How are you qualified, Cecilius, for such an im- Prommcia-j
dertaking ? I will not ask, when you ever gave a proof tion.
of it, but when you So much as attempted ? l)o you v—^
consider the difficulty of managing a public cause ?”
with much more to the same purpose. Though such
kind of expressions require little gesture, yet sometimes
a motion of the hand may not be improper, to signify
disdain or aversion. We may suppose Cicero to have
acted thus in his defence of Rabirius. For to show his
assurance of his client’s cause, having used this expres¬
sion in a very audible manner, “I wish I had it to say,
that Rabirius bad with his own hand killed Saturninus,
who was an enemy to the Roman state,” some persons
in the crowd began to raise a clamour, just as of later
times hissing lias been practised on the like occasions.
Upon which Cicero immediately replies, “ This noise
does not disturb me, but please me, since it shows,
though there are some weak persons, yet they are but
few.1” Then presently after follows the expression we
refer to: “ Why do not you cease your clamour, since
it only discovers your folly, and the smallness of your
number?” All exclamations should be violent. When
we address to inanimate things, the voice should be
higher than when to animated beings ; and appeals
to heaven must be made in a loftier tone than those to
men.
These few hints for expressing the principal passions
may, if duly attended to, suffice to direct our practice
in others. Though, after all, it is impossible to gain
a just and decent pronunciation of voice and gesture
merely from rules, without practice and an imitation
of the best examples. Which shows the wisdom of
the ancients, in training up their youth to it, by the
assistance of masters, to form both their speech and ac*
tions.
But there is one thing which ought always to be at¬
tended to ; namely, that persons should well consider
their own make and genius, especially with respect to
the passions. We seldom find, that any actor can excel
in all characters ; but if he performs one well, he is de¬
ficient in another: And therefore they are commonly
so prudent as to confine themselves to such as best suit
them. The case is the same in an orator; who should
therefore keep within those bounds which nature seems
to have prescribed for him. Some are better fitted for
action than others, and most for some particular actions
rather than others; and what fits well upon one would
appear very awkward in another. Fvery one, there¬
fore, should first endeavour to know himself, and ma¬
nage accordingly. Though in most cases nature may
be much assisted and improved by art and exercise. See
Professor WTard’s System of Oratory.
Oratory,
Orb.
ORB
Oratory, among the Romanists, a closet or like
apartment near a bed-chamber, furnished with an altar,
crucifix, &c. for private devotions.
ORB, in Astronomy, denotes a hollow globe or
sphere. .
Orb, in tactics, is the disposing of a number ol sol-
O R B
diers in circular form of defence. The orb has been
thought of consequence enough to employ the attention
of the famous Marshal de Puysegur in his Art of War,
who prefers this position to throw a body of infantry in
an open country, to resist cavalry, or even a superior
force of infantry; because it is regular, and equally
strong,
Orb*
o R C [ 401 ] O R C
^,1,^ strong, and gives an enemy no reason to expect better
|| success by attacking one place than another. Caesar
Orchard, drew his whole army in this form, when he fought a-
^ gainst Labienus. The whole army of the Gauls was
formed into an orb, under the command of Sabinus and
Cotta, when fighting against the Romans. The orb
was generally formed six deep.
ORBIT, in Astronomy, the path of a planet or co¬
met, or the curve that it describes in its revolution
round its central body 5 thus, the earth’s orbit is the
curve which it describes in its annual course round the
sun, and usually called the ecliptic. See Astronomy,
passim.
ORCADES, the Orkney Islands. See Orkney.
ORCHARD, a 'garden department, consigned en¬
tirely to the growth of standard fruit-trees, for furnish¬
ing a large supply of the most useful kinds of fruit.
For the particular management of the orchard, see
Gardening.
In the orchard you may have, as standards, all sorts
of apple-trees, most sorts of pears and plums, and all
sorts of cherries : which four species are the capital or¬
chard fruits ; each of them comprising numerous valu¬
able varieties. But to have a complete orchard, you
may also have quinces, medlars, mulberries, service¬
-trees, filberts, Spanish nuts, berberries *, likewise wal¬
nuts and chesnuts ; which two latter are particularly
applicable for the boundaries of orchards, to screen the
other trees from the insults of impetuous winds and
«old blasts. All the trees ought to be arranged in rows
from 20 to 30 feet distance, as hereafter directed.
But sometimes orchards consist entirely of apple-
trees, particularly in the cyder-making counties, where
they are cultivated in very great quantities in large
fields, and in hedge rows, for the fruit to make cyder
for public supply.
And sometimes whole orchards of very considerable
extent are entirely of cherry-trees. But in this case,
it is when the fruit is designed for sale in some great
city, as London, &c. for the supply of which city, great
numbers of large cherry orchards are in some of the ad¬
jacent counties, but more particularly in Kent, which
is famous for very extensive cherry-orchards j many of
which are entirely of that sort called Kentish cherry,
as being generally a great bearer *, others are stored
with all the principal sorts of cultivated cherries, from
the earliest to the latest kinds.
A general orchard, however, composed of all the be¬
fore-mentioned fruit-trees, should consist of a double
portion of apple-trees or more, because they are consi¬
derably the most useful fruit, and may be continued for
use the year round.
The utility of a general orchard, both for private use
and profit, stored with the various sorts of fruit-trees,
must be very great, as well as afford infinite pleasure
from the delightful appearance it makes from early
spring till late in autumn : In spring the various trees
in blossom are highly ornamental; in summer, the plea¬
sure is heightened by observing the various fruits ad¬
vancing to perfection 5 and as die season advances, the
mature growth of the different species arriving to per¬
fection, in regular succession, from May or June, until
the end ol October, must afford exceeding delight, as
well as great profit.
Of the Kxtent, Situation, and Soil for the Orchard.*—
. You XV. Part II. f
As to the proper extent of ground for an orchard, this Orchard,
must be proportioned, in some measure, to the extent * v •• '
of land you have to work on, and the quantit of fruit
required either for private use or for public supply ; so
that an orchard may be from half an acre to 20 or more
in extent.
With respect to the situation and aspect for an orch¬
ard, we may observe very thriving orchards both n low
and high situations, and on declivities and plains, in va¬
rious aspects or exposures, provided the natural soil is
good: we should, however, avoid very low damp situ¬
ations as much as the nature of the place wifi admit;
for in very wet soils no fruit trees will prosper, nor the
fruit be fine : but a moderately low situation, tree from
copious wet, may be more eligible than an elevated
ground, as being less exposed to tempestuous winds j
though a situation having a small declivity is vi ry de¬
sirable, especially if its aspect incline towards the east,
south-east, or southerly, which are rather more eligible
than a westerly aspect j but a north aspect is the worst
ot all for an orchard, unless particularly compensated by
the peculiar temperament or good quality of the soil
And as for soil, any common field or pasture that
produces good crops of corn, grass, or kitchen-garden
vegetables, is suitable for an orchard *, if it should prove
of a loamy nature, it will be a particular advantage;
any soil, however, of a good quality, not too light and
dry, or too heavy, stubborn, or wet, hut of a medium
nature, of a soft, pliant temperature, not less than one
spade deep of good staple, will be proper for this pur¬
pose.
Preparation of the ground.-^YXw preparation of the
ground for the reception of trees, is by trenching ; or,
it for very considerable orchards, by deep ploughing j
but trench-digging, one or two spades, as the soil will
admit, is the most eligible, either wholly, or only for the
present in the places where the lines of trees are to
stand, a space of six or eight feet wide, all the way in
each row, especially if it be grass-ground, and intended
to be kept in the sward 5 or if any under-crops are de¬
signed to be raised, the ground may be whofiy trench¬
ed at first; in either case trench the ground in the usual
way to the depth of the natural soil } and if in grass,
turn the sward clean to the bottom of each trench,
which, when rotted, will prove an excellent manure.
In planting orchards, however, on grass-grounds,
some only dig pits for each tree, capacious enough for
the reception of the roots, loosening the bottom well,
without the labour of digging any other part of the
ground.
The ground must be fenced securely against cattle,
Stc. either with a good ditch and hedge, or with a pal
ing-fence, as may be most convenient.
Method of planting the Trees.—The best season for
planting all the sorts of fruit trees is autumn, soon af¬
ter the fall of the leaf, from about the latter end of
October until December 5 or indeed it might be per-
formed any time in open weather from October until
March.
Choose principally full standards, with straight clean
stems, six feet high ; each with a branchy welMormed
head, of from two or three to four or five years grow th 5
and let several varieties of each particular specit- be
chosen, that ripen their fruit at different times, from the
earliest to the latest, according to the Nature of the dif-
3 £' fejest
one
f 402 ]
O R C
Orchard, ferent sorts, that there may he a proper supply of every
v — 1 sort regularly during their proper season. Ot apples and
pears in particular, choose a much greater quantity ot
the autumnal and late ripening kinds than ot the early
sorts, but most of all of apples •, tor the summer-ripen¬
ing fruit is but of short duration, only proper for tem¬
porary service j but the later ripening kinds keep sound
some considerable time for autumnal use j and the latest
sorts that ripen in October, continue in perfection for
various uses all winter, and several sorts until the sea¬
son of apples come again.
Having made choice of the proper sorts, and marked
them, let them be taken up with the utmost care, so as
to preserve all their roots as entire as possible ; and
when taken up, prune off any broken or bruised parts
of the roots, and just tip the ends of the principal roots,
in general, with the knife on the under side with a kind
of slope outward.
If the trees have been already headed, or so trained
as to have branched out into regular shoots to form each
a proper head, they must be planted with the said heads
entire, only retrenching or shortening any irregular or
ill-placed shoot that takes an awkward direction, or
grows across its neighbours, or such as may run consi¬
derably longer than all the rest, &c.
The arrangement ot the trees in the orchard must be
in rows, each kind separate, at distances according to
the nature of the growth of the different sorts } but for
the larger growing kinds, such as apples, pears, plums,
cherries, &c. they should stand from 25 to 30 0* 40
feet every wav asunder, though 25 or 30 feet at most is
a reasonable distance for all these kinds.
Each species and its varieties should generally be in
rows by themselves, the better to suit their respective
modes of growth : though for variety there may be some
rows of apples and pears arranged alternately, as also of
plumbs and cherries ; and towards the boundaries there
may be ranges of lesser growth, as quinces, medlars, fil¬
berts, &c. and the outer row of all may be walnut-
trees, and some chesnuts, set pretty close to defend the
other trees from violent winds.
According to the above distances, proceed to stake
out the ground for making the holes for the reception
of the trees, which if made to range every way, will
have a very agreeable effect, and admit the currency of
air, and the sun’s influence, more effectually.
But in planting very extensive orchards, some divide
the ground into large squares or quarters, of different
dimensions, with intervals of 50 feet wide between ;
serving both as walks, and for admitting a greater cur¬
rency of air } in different quarters planting different
sorts of fruit, as apples in one, pears in another, plums
and cherries in others, &c. and thus it may be repeat¬
ed to as many quarters for each species and its varie¬
ties as may be convenient.
As to the mode of planting the trees : A wide hole
must be dug for each tree, capacious enough to receive
all the roots freely every way without touching the
sides. When the holes are all ready, proceed to plant-
iiv, one tree in each hole, a person holding the stem
erect, whilst another trims in the earth, previously
breaking it small, and casting it in equally all about the
roots, frequently shaking the tree to cause the mould to
settle in close about all the smallerroots and fibres, and
so as to raise the tree gradually up, that the crown of
3
the roots may be but two or three inches below the ge- Orchard.
neral surface ; and when the hole is filled up, tread it ' *
gently, first round the outside, then near the stem of
the tree, forming the surface a little hollow } and then,
if on the top of all be laid some inverted turf to the
width of the hole, forming it with a sort of circular
bank, three or four inches high, it will support the
tree, and guard the roots from drying winds and the
summer’s drought: observing that each tree stand per¬
fectly upright, and that they range exactly in their pro¬
per rows.
Method of improving the Fruit.—The following me¬
thod is said to have been successfully employed, by a
German clergyman, in promoting the growth of young
trees, and increasing the size and flavour ol the fruit in
orchards. Having planted several young plum trees in
an orchard, he covered the ground, for some years,
around the trunks, as far as the roots extended, with
flax-shows, or the refuse of flax when it is scutched or
heckled*, by which means these trees, though in a grass-
field, increased in a wonderful manner, and far excelled
others planted in cultivated ground. As far as the
shows reached, the grass and weeds were choked } and
the soil under them was so tender and soft, that no bet¬
ter mould could have been wished lor by a florist.
When he observed this, he covered the ground with
the same substance, as far as the roots extended, around
an old plum-tree, which appeared to he in a languishing
state, and which stood in a grass-field. The consequen¬
ces were, that it acquired a strong new bark, produced
larger and better tasted fruit, and that those young
shoots, which before grew up around the stem, and
which it was every year necessary to destroy, were pre¬
vented from sprouting forth, as the covering of flax-
shows impeded the free access ol air at the bottom of
the trunk.
In the year 1793, he tiansplanted, from seed-beds,
into the nursery, several fruit-trees ; the ground around
some of which he covered, as above, with flax-shows.
Notwithstanding the great heat of the summer, none of
those trees where the earth was covered with shows died
or decayed, because the shows prevented the earth un¬
der them from being dried by the sun. Of those trees,
around which the ground was not covered as before
mentioned, the fourth part miscarried *, and those that
continued alive were far weaker than the former.
Tiie leaves which fall from trees in autumn may also
be employed for covering the ground in like manner j
but stones, or logs of wood must be laid on them, to
prevent their being dispersed by the wind. In grass
land, a small trench may be made around the roots of
the tree, when planted, in order to receive the leaves.
If flax-shows are used, this is not necessary 5 they lie
on the surface of the ground so fast as to resist the force
of the most violent storm. The leaves which our author
found most effectual in promoting the growth and ferti¬
lity of fruit trees, are those of the walnut-tree. Whe¬
ther it is, that, on account of their containing a greater
abundance of saline particles, they communicate manure
the ground, which thereby becomes tender under
to ..... ^ ,   j
them ; or that they attract nitrous particles from the
atmosphere *, or that, by both these means, they tend to
nourish the tree both above and below.
Those who are desirous of raising tender exotic trees
from the seed, in order to accustom them to our climate,
may*
o R D [ 403 ] O R D
Orchafd m.aT» wheti they transplant them, employ flax-shows
|| with great advantage. This covering will prevent the
Orieal frost from making its way to the roots ; and rats and
Y mice, on account of the sharp prickly points of the
flax-shows, will not be able to shelter themselves under
them.
ORCHESTRA, in the Grecian theatres, was that
part of the proscenium or stage where the chorus used
to dance. In the middle of it was placed the Aoyim or
pvlpit. The orchestra was semicircular, and surround¬
ed with seats. In the Roman theati’es it made no part
of the sccna, but answered pretty nearly to the pit in
our playhouses, being taken up with seats for senators,
magistrates, vestals, and other persons of distinction.
The actors never went down into it. See Theatre.
ORCHIA LEX, instituted by Orchius the tribune in
the year of Rome 566. Its intention was to limit the
number of guests that were to be admitted in an enter¬
tainment ; and it is also enforced, that during supper,
which was the chief meal among the Romans, t,he doors
of every house should be left open.
ORCHIS, Foolstones; a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the gynandria class, and in the natural method
giving name to the seventh order Orchidece. See Bo¬
tany Index.
ORCUS, god of the infernal regions, the same with
Pluto, so called from the Greek word signifying
a “ tomb or sepulchre,” or from “ an oath by the
river Styx.” The ancients gave this name to all the
divinities of the infernal regions, even to Cerberus.
There -was a river of the same name in Thessaly, which
took its rise from the marshes of the Styx, and the wa¬
fers of which were so thick, that they floated like oil
upon the surface of the river Peneus, into which they
discharged themselves. This river probably suggested
to the poets the idea of the infernal abodes, which they
denominated Orcus. This deity has been confounded
with Charon. He had temple at Rome.
ORDEAL, an ancient form of trial. See Trial.
—It was an appeal to the immediate interposition of
divine power, and was particularly distinguished by the
appellation ot judicium Jlei; and sometimes vulgaris
purgatio, to distinguish it from the canonical purgation,
which was by the oath of the party. There were two
sorts of it more common than the rest, at least in Eu¬
rope ; fire-ordeal, and water-ordeal. The former was
confined to persons of higher rank, the latter to the
common people. Both these might be performed by
deputy •, but the principal was to answer for the success Ordeab
of the trial 5 the deputy only venturing some corporal v"-- » —
pain, for hire or perhaps for friendship.
That the purgation by ordeal, of some kind or other,
is very ancient, admits not of a doubey and that it was
very universal in the times of superstitious barbarity, is
equally certain. It seems even to have been known to
the ancient Greeks ; for in the Antigone of Sophocles,
a person suspected by Creon of a misdemeanour, de¬
clares himself ready “ to handle hot iron and to walk
over fire” in order to manifest his innocence; which the
scholiast tells us was then a very usual purgation. And
Grotius gives us many instances of water-ordeal in Bi-
thynia, Sardinia, and other places. It seems, however,
to be carried to a greater height among the Hindoos,
than ever it has been in any nation or among any peo¬
ple, however rude or barbarous ; for in a paper of the
Asiatic Researches communicated by Warren Hastings,
Esq. we find that the trial by ordeal among them is
conducted in nine different ways : first by the balance;
secondly, by fire ; thirdly, by water; fourthly, by poi¬
son ; fifthly, by the Cosha, or water in which an idol
has been washed ; sixthly, by rice ; seventhly, by boil-
ing oil ; eighthly, by red-hot iron ; ninthly, by images.
I. Ordeal by the balance is thus performed. The
beam having been previously adjusted, the cord fixed,
and both scales made perfectly even, the person accused
and a Pandit fast a whole day ; then, after the accused
has been bathed in sacred water, the homa, or oblation,
presented to fire, and the deities worshipped, he is care¬
fully weighed ; and when he is taken out of the scale,
the Pandits prostrate themselves before it, pronounce a
certain mentra or incantation, agreeably to the Sastras,
and, having written the substance of the accusation on a
piece of paper, bind it on his head. Six minutes after,
they place him again in the scale ; and, if he wreigh
more than before, he is held guilty; if less, innocent;
if exactly the same, he must be weighed a third time;
when, as it is written in the Mitacshcra, there will cer¬
tainly be a difference in his weight. Should the ba¬
lance, though well fixed break down, this would be
considered as a proof of his guilt.
II. For the fire-ordeal, an excavation, nine hands
long, two spans broad, and one span deep, is made in
the ground, and filled with a fire of pippal wood : into
this the person accused must walk barefooted ; and, if
his foot be unhurt, they hold him blameless; if burned,
guilty (a).
3 E 2 III,
(a) In Europe fire-ordeal was performed either by taking up in the hand, unhurt, a piece of red-hot iron, of
one, two, or three pounds weight; or else by walking, barefoot and blindfold, over nine red-hot plough-shares,
'a'd lengthwise at unequal distances; and if the party escaped being hurt, he was adjudged innocent; but if it hap¬
pened otherwise, as without collusion it usually did, he was then condemned as guilty. However, by this latter
method Queen Emma, the mother of Edward the Confessor, is mentioned to have cleared her character, when su¬
spected of familiarity with Alwyn bishop of Winchester. The first account we have of Christians appealing to the
fire-ordeal, as a proof of their innocence, is that of Simplicius, bishop of Autun, who lived in the fourth century.
Tliis prelate, as the story is related, before his promotion to the episcopal order, had married a wife, who loved
him tenderly, and who, unwilling to quit him after his advancement continued to sleep in the same chamber with
him. The sanctity of Simplicius suffered, at least in the voice ot fame, by the constancy of his wife’s affection ;
and it was rumoured about, that the holy man, though a bishop, persisted, in opposition to the ecclesiastical canons,
to taste the sweets of matrimony: upon which his wife, in the presence of a great concourse of people, took up a
considerable quantity of burning coals, which she held in her clothes, and applied to her breasts, without the least
'•uirt to her person or her garments, as the legend says; and her example being followed by her husband with the
like
O 1) I) r; 4C-4 1 O R D
III. Water-ordeal is: performed by causing the person
accused -to stand in a sufficient depth ot water, either
flowing or stagnant, to reach his navel $ but care should
be taken that no ravenous animal be in it, and that it
be not moved by much air ; a brahman is then directed
to go into the water, holding a staff in his hand ; and
a soldier shoots three arrows on dry ground from a bow
of cane ; a man is next despatched to bring the arrow
which has been shot farthest j and, after he has taken it
up. another is ordered to run from the edge of the wa¬
ter •, at which instant the person accused is told to grasp
the foot or the staff of the brahman, who stands near
him in the water, and immediately to dive into it. He
must remain under water, till the two men who went to
fetch the arrows are returned j for, if he raise his head
or body above the surface before the arrows are brought
■ back, his guilt is considered as fully proved. In the
villages near Benares, it is the practice for the person
who is to he tried by this kind of ordeal, to stand in
water up to liis navel, and then, holding the toot of a
brahman, to dive under it as long as a man can walk
50 paces very gently ; if, before the man has walked
thus far, the accused rise above the water, he is con¬
demned *, if not, acquitted (b).
IV. There are two sorts of trial by poison *, first, the
pandits having performed their homa, and the person
accused his ablution, two rettis and a half, or seven bar¬
ley-corns of vishanaga, a poisonous root, or of sanc'hya,
that is, white arsenic, are mixed in eight niashas, or 64 Ordeal
rettis, of clarified butter, which the accused must eat *
from the hand of a brahman : if the poison produce no
visible effect, he is absolved 5 otherwise condemned.
Secondly, the hooded snake, called nagga, is thrown in¬
to a deep earthen pot, into which is dropped a ring, a
seal, or a coin •, this the person accused is ordered to
take out with his hand; and, if the serpent bite him,
he is pronounced guilty j if not, innocent.
V. Trial by the cosha is as follows : the accused is
made to drink three draughts ol the water, in which
the images of the sun, of Devi, and other deities, have
been washed for that purpose j and if, within 14 days,
he has any sickness or indisposition, his crime is con¬
sidered as pioved.
VI. When several persons are suspected of theft,
some dry rice is weighed with the sacred stone called
salgram, or certain slocus are read over it j alter which
the suspected persons are severally ordered to chew a
quantity of it: as soon as they have chewed it, they are
to throw it on some leaves ot frippal, or, if none be at
hand, on some b'fmrja patra, or bark ol a tree, from
Nepal or Cashmir. The man, from whose mouth the
rice comes dry or stained with blood, is holden guilty j
the rest is acquitted.
VII. The ordeal by hot oil is very simple : when it
is heated sufficiently, the accused thrusts his hand into
it; and, if he be not burned, is held innocent (c).
like success, the silly multitude admired the miracle, and proclaimed the innocence of the loving pair. A simi¬
lar trick was played by St Brice, in the filth century. Mosh, Eccl. Hist. vol. ii.
(b) A very peculiar species of water-ordeal is said to prevail among the Indians on the coast of Malabar. A
person accused of an enormous crime is obliged to swim over a large river abounding with crocodiles j and if he
escapes unhurt, he is esteemed innocent. t . j 1 r c
At Siam, besides the usual methods of five and water-ordeal, both parties are sometimes exposed to the ffiry t
a. tiger let loose for that purpose •, and if the beast spares either, that person is accounted innocent *, it neit icr,
both are held to be guilty; hut if he spares both, the trial is incomplete, and they proceed to a more certain cri¬
terion. . ,
In Europe water-ordeal was performed, either by plunging the bare arm up to the elbow in boiling-water, and
escaping unhurt thereby, or by casting the person suspected into a river or pond ot cold water 5 and if he noate
therein without any action of swimming, it was deemed an evidence of his guilt j but if he sunk, he was ac¬
quitted. It is easy to trace out the traditional relics of this water-ordeal, in the ignorant barbarity still piac-
tised in many countries to discover witches, by casting them into a pool of water, and drowning them to prove
their innocence. And in the eastern empire the fire-ordeal was used tor the same purpose by the emperor Theo¬
dore Lascaris} who, attributing his sickness to magic, caused all those whom he suspected to handle the hot
iron : thus joining (as has been well remarked} to the roost dubious crime in the world, the most dubious piooi
of innocence,.
(c) This species of (rial bv ordeal is thus performed: The ground appointed for the trial rs cleared and rubbed
with cow-dung, and the next day at sunrise the Pandit worships Ganesa or the Hindoo Janus, presents his oblations,
and pays adoration to other deities, conformably to the Sdstra : then having read the incantation prescribed, he
places a round pan of gold, silver, copper, iron, or clay, with a diameter of sixteen fingers, and four fingers deep,
and throws into it one ser, or eighty sicca weight, of clarified butter or oil ol sesamum. Alter this a ring of gold,
or silver, or iron, is cleaned and washed with water, and cast into the oil $ which they proceed to heat, and when
it is very hot put into it a fresh leaf of pippala, or of bilwa : when the leal is burned, the oil is known to be suffi*
ciently hot. Then, having pronounced a menlra over the oil, they order the party accused to take the ring out or
the pan; and if he take it out without being burned, or without a blister in his hand, his innocence is considered,
as proved ; if not, his guilt. It is reported that this custom, with some slight variations, still prevails among the
Indians on the coast ol Malabar. The process there is said to begin alter the accused person has been thoioug ily
washed in the presence of the prince of the country, the priests, &c. :—the pot is filled with boiling h ad ; ant the
accused must take the ring out three times successively. On the Malabar coast, this ordeal seems only to be use
when the person is accused of a capital crime ; for after the process the arm is bound with cloth and sealed , an
after several days, being brought out publicly, and the arm inspected, if it is found burnt he is instantly put to
death 3 if not, his accuser undergoes the same trial, anti being burnt, forfeits his life.
0 ft D [ 40:5 ] O ft B
Orrfea!. VIII. In the same manner they make an iron ball,
or the /lead of a hince, red hot, and place it in the
hands of the person accused j who, if it burn him not,
is judged guiltless.
IX. To perform the ordeal by dharmdch, which is
the name of the sloca appropriated to this mode of trial,
either an image, named Dharma, or the genius of jus¬
tice, is made of silver, and another, called Adhartna, of
clay or iron, both of which are thrown into a large
earthen jar •, and the accused having thrust his hand in¬
to it, is acquitted if he bring out the silver image, but
condemned if he draw forth the iron ; or, the figure of
a deity is painted on white cloth, and another on black $
the first of which they name dharma, and the second
adharma: these are severally rolled up in cow-dung, and
thrown into a large jar without having ever been shown
to the accused j who must put his hand into the jar, and
is acquitted or convicted as he draw's out the figure on
white or on black cloth.
Though w'e have proceeded thus far, we have not ex¬
hausted Mr Hastings’s communication. He goes on
to show (to greater extent than our limits permit us to
follow' him) the manner in which each ordeal above
mentioned w’as executed, giving examples, and unfold¬
ing other particulars of some importance in developing
the nature of these barbarous customs. For these par¬
ticulars, however, we must refer to the book itself. But
as this subject unquestionably occupies an important de¬
partment in the history of human superstition, we shall
give the Indian law of ordeal from the same paper j
when we shall introduce some further particulars con¬
cerning this extraordinary custom, which are not to be
found in the above account, but which deserve to be
noticed.
“ 1. The balance, fire, w'ater, poison, the idol—these
are the ordeals used here below for the proof of inno¬
cence, when the accusations are heavy, and when the
accuser offers to hazard a mulct, (if he should fail) :
2. Or one party may be tried, if he please, by or¬
deal, and the other must then risk an amercement; but
the trial may take place even without any wager, if the
crime committed be injurious to the prince.
3. The sovereign having summoned the accused while
his clothes are yet moist from bathing, at sunrise, be¬
fore he has broken his fast, shall cause all trials by or¬
deal to be conducted in the presence of Brahmans.
4. The balance is for women, children, old men, the
blind, the lame, Brahmans, and the sick ; for the Su-
dra, fire or water, or seven barley-corns of poison.
5. Unless the loss of the accuser amount to a thou¬
sand pieces of silver, the accused must not be tried by
the red-hot ball, nor by poison, nor by the scales ; but
if the offence be against the king, or if the crime be
heinous, he must acquit himself by one of those trials
in all cases.
6. He who has recourse to the balance must be at¬
tended by persons experienced in weighing, and go
down into one scale, with an equal weight placed on the
other, and a groove (with water in it) marked on the
beam.
7. ‘ Thou, O balance, art the mansion of truth ; ordeal
thou wrast anciently contrived by deities: declare the »
truth, therefore, O giver of success, and clear me from
all suspicion.
8. ‘ If 1 am guilty, O venerable as my own mother,
then «ink me down, but if innocent raise me aloft.’
Thus shall he address the balance.
9. If he sink he is convicted, or if the scales be bro¬
ken : but if the string be not broken, and he rise aloft,
he must be acquitted.
10. On the trial by fire, let both hands of the accu¬
sed be rubbed with rice in the husk, and well examin¬
ed : then let seven leaves of the AswaWha (the reli¬
gious fig-tree) be placed on them, and bound with seven
threads.
xi. ‘ Thou, O fire, pervadest all beings: O cause
of purity, who givest evidence of virtue and of sin, de¬
clare the truth in this my hand.
12. When he has pronounced this, the priest shall
place in both his hands an iron ball, red-hot, and
weighing fifty palas (d).
13. Having taken it, he shall step gradually into se¬
ven circles, each with a diameter of sixteen fingers, and
separated from the next by the same space.
14. If, having cast away the hot ball, he shall again
have his hands rubbed with rice in the husk, and shall
show them unburned, he will prove his innocence.
Should the iron fall during the trial, or should a doubt
arise (on the regularity of the proceedings), he must be
tried again.
15. ‘ Preserve me, O Varuna, by declaring the
truth.’ Thus having invoked the god of waters, the
accused shall plunge his head into the river or pool,
and hold both thighs of a man, who shall stand in it up
to his navel:
16. A swift runner shall then hasten to fetch an ar¬
row shot at the moment of his plunging; and if, while
the runner is gone, the priest shall see the head of the
accused under water, he must be discharged as inno¬
cent.
17. ‘ Thou, O poison, art the child of Brahma, stead¬
fast in justice and in truth : clear me then from this
heavy charge, and if I have spoken truly, become nec¬
tar to me.’
18. Saying this, he shall swallow the poison Sdrnga,
from the tree which grows on the mountain Hima¬
laya ; and if he digests it without any inflammation, the
prince shall pronounce him guiltless.
19. Or the priest shall perform rites to the image of
some tremendous deity; and, having bathed the idol,
shall make the accused to drink three handfuls of the
water that has dropped from it.
20. If in fourteen days after he suffers no dreadful
calamity from the act of the deity or of the king, he
must indubitably be acquitted.”
The superstitious weakness of mankind, when left
to themselves, is astonishing. There is indeed no¬
thing so absurd but they may be made most firmly to
believe, nor so impious but they will do. Nor can a
more notorious instance of the truth of this assertion
be
(d) A pala is four carshas, and a carsha eighty racticas or seeds of the gungd creeper, each weighing above
a grain and a quarter, or correctly, 1 Ts7 gr.
Ordeal.
O R D [406
tie poafcibly given than that of the trial by ordeal. The
’ gross absurdity as well as impiety of pronouncing a man
guilty unless he was cleared by a miracle, and of ex¬
pecting that all the powers of nature should be suspend¬
ed by an immediate interposition of Providence to save
the innocent, when it was even presumptuously required,
is self-evident. Yet the origin of it may be traced as
well to necessity as to superstition. At the time in
which it originated in England, as well as in other
countries of Europe, it was no easy matter for an inno¬
cent person, when accused of guilt, to get himself clear¬
ed by the then established mode of trial. (See Trial).
It was therefore natural for superstition to fly to Hea¬
ven for those testimonies of innocence which the absur¬
dity of human laws often prevented men from obtain¬
ing in the ordinary way; and in this vray doubtless did
the trial by ordeal commence: and thus begun by ne¬
cessitous superstition, it was fostered by impious priest¬
craft and unjust power. There was during all the pro¬
cesses great room for collusion and deceit j and there
can be no question but it wras often practised : it could
not therefore on any account, or in any case, be a sign
of innocence or of guilt.
Besides those particular methods of trial which we
have already mentioned, there were some few more
common in European countries $ as the judicial combat
-—the ordeal of the cross—the ordeal of the corsned.
The judicial combat was well suited to the genius
and spirit of fierce and warlike nations, and wras, as we
may reasonably expect, one of the most ancient and uni¬
versal modes of trial. We know that it was exceedingly
common in Germany in very remote ages. It was also
used in some countries on the continent at pretty early
periods : it is not, however, mentioned in any of the
Anglo-Saxon laws ; and it does not appear to have
been much used in England till after the Conquest.
There are, however, two remarkable instances of it
upon record, which we shall give in the words of Dr
Henry: “ Henry de Essex, hereditary standard-bearer
of England, fled from a battle in Wales, A. D. 1158,
threw from him the royal standard, and cried out,
with others, that the king w as slain. Some time af¬
ter, he was accused with having done this with a treason¬
able intention, by Robert de Montfort, another great
baron, who offered to prove the truth of his accusation
by combat. Henry de Essex denied the charge, and
accepted the challenge. When all preliminaries were
adjusted, this combat was accordingly fought, in the
presence of Henry II. and all his court. Essex was de¬
feated, and expected to be carried out to immediate ex¬
ecution. But the king, who was no friend to this kind
of trial, spared his life, and contented himself with con¬
fiscating his estate, and making him a monk in the ab¬
bey of Reading.
“ The priory of Tinmouth, in Northumberland,
was a cell of the abbey of St Alban’s. One Simon
of Tinmouth claimed a right to two corrodies, or the
maintenance of two persons in the priory, which the
prior and monks denied. This cause was brought be¬
fore the abbot of St Alban’s and his court-baron, who
appointed it to be tried by combat on a certain day,
before him and his barons. Ralf Gubion, pricr of
Tinmouth, appeared at the time and place appointed,
attended by his champion, one William Begun, a man
] O R D
of gigantic stature. The combat was fought, Begun
was defeated, and the prior lost his cause ; at which he ^
was so much chagrined, that he immediately resigned
his office. This judicial combat is the more remark¬
able, that it was fought in the court of a spiritual ba¬
ron, and that one of the parties w as a priest.”
We need scarcely add, that this detestable form of
trial wTas the foundation of the no less detestable crime
of duelling, W’hich so much disgraces our age and na¬
tion; which is defended only by ignorance, false honour,
and injustice; which is a relick of barbarous supersti¬
tion ; and which was absolutely unknown to those brave
and generous nations, the Greeks and Romans, which it
is so much the fashion to admire, and who in this par
ticular so well merit our imitation. See Duel.
It was so much the custom in the middle ages of
Christianity, to respect the cross even to superstition,
that it would have been indeed wonderful if the same
ignorant bigotry had not converted it into an ordeal;
accordingly we find it used for this purpose, in so
many different ways as almost to preclude description.
We shall, however, transcribe, for the satisfaction of
our readers, Dr Henry’s account of it, and of the
corsned : “ In criminal trials, the judgment of the
cross was commonly thus conducted. When the pri¬
soner had declared his innocence upon oath, and ap¬
pealed to the judgment of the cross, two sticks were
prepared exactly like one another : the figure of the
cross was cut on one of these sticks, and nothing on
the other : each of them was then wrapped up in a
quantity of fine white wool, and laid on the altar, or
on the relicks of the saints; after which a solemn prayer
was put up to God, that he would be pleased to dis¬
cover, by evident signs, whether the prisoner was in¬
nocent or guilty. These solemnities being finished, a
priest approached the altar, and took up one of the
sticks, which was uncovered with much anxiety. If
it was the stick marked with the cross, the prisoner
was pronounced innocent: if it was the other, he was
declared guilty. When the judgment of the cross was
appealed to in civil causes, the trial was conducted in
this manner : The judges, parties, and all concerned,
being assembled in a church, each of the parties chose
a priest, the youngest and stoutest that he could find,
to be his representative in the trial. These representa¬
tives were then placed one on each side of some famous
crucifix ; and, at a signal given, they both at once
stretched their arms at full length, so as to form a
cross with their body. In this painful posture they
continued to stand while divine service was perform¬
ing ; and the party whose representative dropped his
arms first lost his cause.
“ The corsned, or the consecrated bread and cheese,
was the ordeal to which the clergy commonly appealed
when they were accused of any crimes ; in which they
acted a very prudent part, as it was attended with no
danger or inconveniency. This ordeal was performed
in this manner : A piece of barley bread, and a piece
of cheese, were laid upon the altar, over which a priest
pronounced certain conjurations, and prayed with great
fervency, that if the person accused was guilty, God
would send his angel Gabriel to stop lus throat, that
he might not be able to swallow that bread and cheese.
These prayers being ended, the culprit approached the
altar.
Ordeal,
O R D
Ordeal, altar, took up the bread and cheese, and began to eat
—-V—*t. II he swallowed freely, he was declared innocent j
hut if it stuck in his throat, and he could not swallow
(which we may presume seldom or never happened), he
was pronounced guilty.”
There were besides these a variety of other ordeals
practised in Christian countries, many of which retain
the same names as among Pagans, and differ only in
the mode of execution. In all nations of Christians
where those trials were used, we find the clergy enga¬
ged in them. Indeed, in England, so late as King
John’s time, we find grants to the bishops and clergy to
use the judicium ferri, aquee, et ignis. And, both in
England and Sweden, the clergy presided at this trial,
and it was only performed in the churches or in other
consecrated ground : for which Stiernhook gives the
reason, jVo« defuit Mis operce ct laborispretium; semper
enim ab ejusmodi judicio aliquid lucri sacerdotibus ob-
veniebat. But, to give it its due praise, we find the
canon law very early declaring against trial by ordeal,
or vulgaris purgatio, as being the fabric of the devil,
cum sit contra prceceptum Domini, Non tentabis Domi¬
nant Deum tuum. Upon this authority, though the
canons themselves were of no validity in England, it
was thought proper (as had been done in Denmark
above a century before) to disuse and abolish this trial
entirely in our courts of justice, by an act of Parlia¬
ment in 3 Hen. III. according to Sir Edward Coke, or
rather by an order of the king in council.
It may still perhaps be apostulatum with some of our
readers how the effects of these trials were evaded, and
how it was possible to appear to do, what we know
could not be really done, without material injury to
the persons concerned: on this subject the learned hi¬
storian whom we have already quoted, observes with
regard to the ordeals in ancient Britain, which, mutatis
mutandis, will answer for others, that, “ If we suppose
few or none escaped conviction who exposed themselves
to those fiery trials, we shall be very much mistaken.
1 or the histories of those times contain innumerable ex¬
amples of persons plunging their naked arms into boil¬
ing water, handling red-hot halls of iron, and walking
upon burning ploughshares, without receiving the least
injury. Many learned men have been much puzzled
to account for this, and disposed to think that Provi¬
dence graciously interposed, in a miraculous manner, for
the preservation of injured innocence. But if we ex¬
amine every circumstance of those fiery ordeals with
due attention, we shall see sufficient reason to suspect
that the whole was a gross imposition on the credulity
of mankind. The accused person was committed whol¬
ly to the priest who was to perform the ceremony, three
days before the trial, in which he had time enough to
bargain with him for his deliverance, and give him in¬
structions how to act his part. On the day of trial,
no person was permitted to enter the church but the
priest and the accused till after the iron was heated,
when twelve friends of the accuser, and twelve of the
accused, and no more, were admitted, and ranged
along the wall on each side of the church, at a respect¬
ful distance. After the iron was taken out of the fire,
several prayers were said ; the accused drank a cup of
holy water, and sprinkled his hand with it, which
might take a considerable time if the priest was indul-
[ 4°7 3
O R D
gent. The space of nine feet was measured by the Ordeal,
accused himself with his own feet, and he would pro- —y——■>
bably give but scanty measure. He was obliged only
to touch one ol the marks with the toe of his right
foot, and allowed to stretch the other foot as far to¬
wards the other mark as he could, so that the convey¬
ance was almost instantaneous. His hand was not im¬
mediately examined, but wrapped in a cloth prepared
for that purpose three days. May we not then, from
all these precautions, suspect that these priests were in
possession of some secret that secui’ed the hand from
the impressions of such a momentary touch of hot
iron, or removed all appearance of these impressions
in three days j and that they made use of this secret
when they saw reason ? Such readers as are curious in
. matters of this kind may find two different directions
for making ointments that will have this effect, in the
work here quoted*. What greatly strengthens these*BuCan c,
suspicions is, that we meet with no example of any tom.
champion of the church wlio suffered the least injury^* P ^97-
from the touch of hot iron in this ordeal : but when
any one was so fool-hardy as to appeal to it, or to that
of hot water, with a view to deprive the church of any
of her possessions, he never failed to burn his fingers,
and lose his cause.”
To this we shall add what the learned Beckmann
has said concerning the imposition that was probably
practised in the ordeal by fire. “ I am not acquaint¬
ed with every thing that concerns the trial by ordeal,
when persons accused were obliged to prove their inno¬
cence by holding in their hands red-hot iron $ but I am
almost convinced that this was also a juggling trick of
the popes, which they employed as might best suit their
views. It is xvell known that this mode of exculpation
was allowed only to weak persons, who were unfit to
wield arms, and particularly to monks and ecclesiastics,
to whom, for the sake of their security, that by single
combat was forbidden. The trial itself took place in
the church, entirely under the inspection of the clergy j
mass was celebrated at the same time: the defendant
and the iron were consecrated by being sprinkled with
holy water ; the clergy made the iron hot themselves j
and they used all these preparatives, as jugglers do many
motions, only to divert the attention of the spectators.
It was necessary that the accused person should remain
at least three days and three nights under their imme¬
diate care, and continue as long after. They covered
his hands both before and after the proof; sealed and
unsealed the covering: The former, as they pretended,
to prevent the hands from being prepared any how by
art •, the latter, to see if they were burnt. _
Some artificial preparation was therefore known, else
no precautions would have been necessary. It is high¬
ly probable, that during the three first days the preven¬
tive was applied to those persons whom they wished to
appear innocent j and that the three days after the trial
were requisite to let the hands resume their natural state.
The sacred sealing secured them from the examination
of presumptuous unbelievers 5 for to determine whether
the hands were burnt, the three last days were certain¬
ly not wanted. When the ordeal was abolished, and -
this art rendered useless, the clergy no longer kept
it a secret. In the 13th century, an account of it
was published by Albertus Magnus, a
Dominican
monk
ORB [408
Ordeal, monk (a). If his receipt be genuine, it seems to have
Order consisted rather in covering the hands with a kind of
■■■V 1 paste than in hardening them. The sap of the altlvta
(marshmallow), the slimy seeds of the flea-bane, which
is still used for stiffening by the hat-makers and silk-
weavers, together with the white ot an egg, were em¬
ployed to make the paste adhere. And by these means
the hands were as safe as if they had been secured by
gloves.
“ The use of this juggling trick is very old, and may
be traced back to a Pagan origin. In the Antigone of
Sophocles, the guards placed over the body of lJolynices,
which had been buried contrary to the orders of Creon,
offered, in order to prove their innocence, to submit to
any trial. We will, said they, take up red-hot iron in
* Vol. iii. our hands, or walk through fire*.
2P7* ORDER, in Architecture, is a system of the several
members, ornaments, and proportions of columns and
pilasters \ or a regular arrangement of the projecting
parts of a building, especially the column, so as to form
one beautiful whole. See Architecture.
Order is also used for a division or class of any
thing : thus the tribe of animals called birds is subdi¬
vided into six orders. See ORNITHOLOGY.
Order, in Rhetoric, is the placing of each word and
member of a sentence in such a manner, as will most con¬
tribute to the force, beauty, or evidence of the whole *,
according to the genius and custom of different languages.
.With regard to order, we may observe in general, that,
in English, the nearer we keep to the natural or gram¬
matical order, it is generally the best *, but in Latin,
we are to follow the use of the writers ; a joint re¬
gard being always had to the judgment of the ear, and
the perspicuity of the sense, in both languages.
Order is also used for a class or division of the mem¬
bers of the body of a state j with regard to assemblies,
precedency, &c.
In this sense, order is a kind of dignity, which, un¬
der the same name, is common to several persons •, and
which, of itself, does not give them any particular pub¬
lic authority, but only rank, and a capacity of arriving
at honours and employments.
To abridge this definition, order may be said to be
a dignity attended with an aptitude for public employ.
^ iBy which it is distinguished from an office, which is the
exercise of a public trust.
In this sense, nobility is an order, &c. The cleri-
.cate is also an order, &c.
Order is also the title of certain ancient hooks, con •
taining the divine office, with the order and manner of
its performance.
Roman order is that wherein are laid down the ce¬
remonies which obtain in the Romish church. See Rl-
TIML.
Order, in Botany, is a name given to a subdivision
of plants in the Liniuean system. See Botany.
] ORB
Orders, by way of eminency, or Holy Orders, de¬
note a character peculiar to ecclesiastics, whereby they
are set apart for the ministry. See Ordination.
This the Romanists make their sixth sacrament.
In no reformed church are there more than three or¬
ders ; viz, bishops, priests, and deacons. In the Romish
church there are seven, exclusive of the episcopate, all
which the council of Trent enjoins to be received, and
believed, on pain of anathema.
They are distinguished into petty, or secular orders j
and major, or sacred orders.
Orders, the petty, or minor, are for viz. those of
doorkeeper, exorcist, reader, and acolyth.
Those in petty orders may marry without any dispen¬
sation : in effect, the petty orders are looked on as little
other than formalities, and as degrees necessary to arrive
at the higher orders. Yet the council of Trent is very
serious about them j enjoins that none be admitted into
them without understanding Latin ; and recommends it
to the bishops, to observe the intervals of conferring
them, that the persons may have a sufficient time to ex¬
ercise the function of each orderbut it leaves the bi¬
shops a power of dispensing with those rules *, so that the
four orders are usually conferred the same day, and only
make the first part of the ceremony of ordination.
The Greeks disavow these petty orders, and pass im¬
mediately to the subdeaconate j and the reformed to
the deaconate.
Their first rise Fleury dates in the time of the em¬
peror Justinian. There is no call nor benefice required
for the four petty orders 5 and even a bastard may en¬
joy them without any dispensation} nor does a second
marriage disqualify.
Orders, sacred, or major, we have already observed,
are three : viz. those of deacon, priest, and bishop.
The council of Trent, retrieving the ancient disci¬
pline, forbids any person being admitted to the major
orders, unless he be in peaceable possession of a benefice
Order.
sufficient for a decent subsistence; allowing no ordina¬
tions on patrimonies or pensions, except where the bi¬
shop judges it for the service of the church.
A person is said to be promoted to orders per sal-
tum, when he has not before passed the inferior or¬
ders. The council of Constantinople forbids any bi¬
shop being ordained without passing all the degrees j
yet church-history furnishes us with instances of bi¬
shops consecrated, without having passed the order of
priesthood j and Eanormus still thinks such an 01 d .na¬
tion valid. . ....
Military Orders, are companies of knights, insti¬
tuted by kings and princes, either for defence of the
faith, or to confer marks of honour, and make distinc¬
tions among their subjects.
Religious Orders, are congregations or societies of
monastics, living under the same superior, in the same
manner, and wearing the same habit. Religious or¬
ders
(a) In his work De Mirabilibus Mundi, at the end of his book He Secretis Mulierum, Amstelod. 1 2n)°*
p. 100. Experimentum mirabile quod facit hominem ire in ignem sine laesione, vel portare ignem vel eu n i ig
nitum sine laesione in manu. Recipe succum bismalvae, et albumen ovi, et semen psylli et ealeem, et puiv* 1 za, e
confice cum illo albumine ovi succum raphani} commisce; ex hac confectione illineas corpus tuuni ' e inanum,
et dimitte siccari, et postea iterum illineas, et post hoc poteris audacter sustinere ignem sine nocumcnto.
o R D [ 4o9
ders may be reduced to five kinds ; viz. monks, canons,
knights, mendicants, and regular clerks. See Monk,
Canon, &c.
Father Mabillon proves, that till the ninth century,
almost all the monasteries in Europe followed the rule
of St Benedict j and that the distinction of orders did
not commence till upon the reunion of several mona¬
steries into one congregation : that St Odo, abbot of
Cluny, first began this reunion, bringing several houses
under the dependence of Cluny : that, a little after¬
wards, in the nth century, the Camaldulians arose 5
then, by degrees, the congregation of Vallombrosa ;
the Cistercians, Carthusians, Augustines ; and at last
in the 13th century, the Mendicants. He adds, that
Lupus Servatus, abbot of Ferrieres, in the ninth cen¬
tury, is the first that seems to distinguish the order of
St Benedict from the rest, and to speak of it as a par¬
ticular order.
White Order denotes the order of regular canons of
St Augustine. See Augustines.
Black Order denoted the order of Benedictines.
These names were first given these two orders from
the colour of their habit ; but are disused since the
institution of several other orders, who wear the same
colours.
Gray Order was the ancient name of the Cisterci-
] O R D
In the French jurisprudence, ordinances are such Ordinance
laws as aie established by the king,s authority alone. H
All ordonnances begin with, a tons presens, et a venir Ordination.
saint.
ORDINARY, in general, signifies common, usual :
thus, an ambassador, or envoy in ordinary, is one sent
to reside statedly, and for a number of years, in the
court of some foreign prince or state, in order to keep
up a good understanding, and watch over the interest
of his own nation.—This term is also applied to seve-
1 al officers in the king’s household, who attended on
common occasions. Ihus we say, physician in ordi¬
nary, &c.
Ordinary, in naval language, denotes the establish¬
ment of the persons employed by government to take
charge of the ships of wrar, which are laid up in the
several harbours adjacent to the royal dock-yards.
These are principally composed of the warrant officers
of the said ships, as the gunner, boatswain, carpenter,
deputy-purser, and cook, and three servants. There is
besides a crew of labourers inrolled in the list of the or¬
dinary, who pass from ship to ship occasionally, to pump,
, remove, or clean them, whenever it is neces-
mooi
sary
ans } but since the change of the habit, the name suits
them no more.
Orders, religious military, are those instituted in
defence of the faith, and privileged to say mass j and
who are prohibited marriage, &c.
Of this kind are the knights of Malta, or of St John
of Jerusalem. Such also were the knights Templars,
the knights of Calatrava, knights of St Lazarus, Teu¬
tonic knights, &c. See Malta, Templar, &c.
Father Putignani accountsthose military orders where
marriage is not allowed, real religious orders. Pape-
bioch says, it is in vain to search for military orders
before the 12th century.
Orders, in a military sense, all that is lawfully
commanded by superior officers. Orders are given out
every day, whether in camp, garrison, or on a march,
by the commanding officer ; which orders are afterwards
given to every officer in writing by their respective ser-
jeants.
ORDINAL, a book containing the order or manner
of performing divine service. See Ritual.
Ordinal Numbers, those which express order, as
1st, 2d, 3d, &c.
ORDINANCE or Ordonnance, a law, statute, or
command of a sovereign or superior ; thus the acts of
parliament are sometimes termed ordinances of parlia¬
ment, as in the parliament rolls. Though in some cases
we find a difference made between the two $ ordinances
being only temporary things, by way of prohibition j
and capable of being altered by the commons alone :
whereas an act is a perpetual law, and cannot be al¬
tered by king, lords, and commons.
Coke asserts, that an ordinance of parliament dif¬
fers from an act, as the latter can only be made by the
king, and the threefold consent of the estates ;
whereas the former may be made by one or two of
them.
Ordinance of the Forest, is a statute made in the
Sd1*1 year of Henry I. relating to forest-matters.
^OL. XV. Part II.
The term ordinary is also applied sometimes to the
ships themselves ; it is likewise used to distinguish the
inferior sailors from the most expert and diligent.
The latter are rated able on the navy books, and have
higher pay than those who are rated ordinary.
Ordinary, in common or canon law, means one
who has ordinary or immediate jurisdiction in matters
ecclesiastical, in any place. In this sense archdeacons
are ordinaries, but the appellation is most frequently
applied to the bishop of the diocese, who has of course
the ordinary ecclesiastical jurisdiction, and the colla¬
tion to benefices within such diocese. J here are some
chapels, chapters, abbeys, &c. exempted from the ju¬
risdiction of the ordinary. The arshbishop is ordinary
of the whole province, to visit, and receive appeals
f10111 ^le inferior judicatures. The Romish writers on
canon law call the pope by way of eminence ordinary
ojordinaries, since by the Lateran council he has usurp¬
ed the right of collating, by probation, to all benefices;
m exclusion of the common collators.
Ordinary of r/ssizes and Sessions, was a deputy of
the bishop of the diocese, anciently appointed to give
malefactors their neck-verses, and judge whether they
read or not : also to perform divine service for them,
and assist in preparing them for death. So the
Ordinary of Newgate, is one who is attendant in
ordinary upon the condemned malefactors in that prison,
to prepare them for death ; and he records the behavi¬
our of such persons!
Ordinary, or Honourable Ordinary, in Heraldry,
a. denomination given to certain charges properly be¬
longing to that art. See Heraldry, Chap. HI. sect. i.
ORDINATES, in Geometry and Conics, are lines
■drawn from any point of the circumference of an ellipsis,
or other conic section, perpendicularly across the axis,
to the other side See CoNic-Sections.
ORDINATION, the act of conferring holy orders,
or of initiating a person into the priesthood by prayer
and the laying on of hands.
Ordination has alw'ays been esteemed a principal pre¬
rogative of bishops, and they still retain the function
+ 3 F as
O R D [ 41
Ordination,as a mark of spiritual sovereignty in their diocese.
Ordnance.' Without ordination, no person can receive any benefice,
' parsonage, vicarage, &c. A person must be 23 years
of age, oj- near it, belore he can be ordained deacon, or
have any share in the ministry , and full 24 before he
can be ordained priest, and by that means be permitted
to administer the holy communion. A bishop, on the
ordination of clergymen, is to examine them in the pre¬
sence of the ministers, who, in the ordination of priests,
hut not of deacons, assist him at the imposition of hands j
but this is only done as a mark of assent, not because it
is thought necessary. In case any crime, as drunken¬
ness, perjury, forgery, &c. be alleged against any one
that is to be ordained, either priest or deacon, the bishop
ought to desist from ordaining him. The person to be
ordained is to bring a testimonial of his life and doctrine
to the bishop, and tp give account of his faith in Latin j
and both priests and deacons are obliged to subscribe
the 39 articles.
The ordination of bishops is more properly and more
commonly called consecration.
In the ancient discipline there was no such thing as
a vague and absolute ordination } but ever\ one \>as to
have a church, whereof he was to be ordained clerk, or
priest. In the twelfth century they grow more remiss,
and ordained without any title or benefice. . _
The Council of Trent restored the ancient discipline,
and appointed that none should be ordained but those
who were provided of a benefice sufficient to subsist them.
Which practice still obtains in England.
The council of Home, in 944, ordered, that no ordi¬
nations shall be held, except on the first, fourth, seventh,
and tenth months. In England, by can. 31. ordination
days are the four Sundays immediately following^ the
Ember-weeks •, being the second Sunday in Lent, Tn-
nitv-Sundav, and the Sundays following the first Wed¬
nesday after September the 14th, and December the
13th. These are the stated times ; but ordinations may
take place at any other time, according to the discretion
of the bishop or circumstances of the case.
Pope Alexander II. condemns ordination per sallum,
as they call it*, i. e. the leaping to a superior order
without passing through the inferior.
Ordination is one of the sacraments of the church of
Pome.
In the establishment of Scotland, where there are no
bishops, the power of ordination is lodged in the pres¬
bytery, and by the Independents in the suffrage of the
people. See Episcopacy, Presbyterians, and In¬
dependents. „ „
ORDNANCE, a general name for all sorts of great
guns used in war. See Gunnery.
Boring of Ordnance. Till within these 20 years,
iron ordnance were cast with a cylindrical.cavity, near¬
ly of the dimension of the caliber of the piece, which
was afterwards enlarged to the proper caliber by means
of steel cutters fixed into the dog-head of a boring-
bar-iron. Three side cutters equidistant were requisite
to preserve the caliber straight and cylindrical 5 and a
sin o le cutter was used at the end of the bar to smooth
the breech of the piece. In boring ordnance east hol¬
low, the piece was fixed upon a carriage that could be
moved backwards and forwards in a direct line with the
centre of a water-wheel j in this centre was fixed the
boring-bar, of a sufficient length to reach up to the
o ] O R D
breech of the piece, or more properly to the further end Ordnance.
of the caliber. The carriage with the piece being r—-J
drawn backwards from the centre of the water-wheel to
introduce the boring and finishing bars and cutters, it is
then pressed forwards upon this bar by means of levers,
weights, &c. and the water wheel being set a-going, the
bar and cutters are turned round, and clean out and
smooth the caliber to its proper dimensions. ^
Experience at last pointed out many inconveniences
arising from the method of casting guns hollow^ and
widening the calibers by these boring bars. 1 or the
body of iron of the hollow-gun, being, at casting, in
contact with the core that made the caliber within-side,
and with the mould without-side, began to consolidate
towards these sides in the first place, sooner than in the
intermediate space, where of course the contraction of
the iron takes place ", by which means, all guns cast
hollow become more or less spongy where they ought
to have been most compact and numberless cavities
also were created round the cores, from stagnated air
generated in them, which were too deep to be cut out
by the boring.
^ To remedy these defects, iron ordnance is nowr uni¬
versally cast solid, by which means the column of iron
is greatly enlarged, and the grain more compressed ;
and the contraction of the iron becomes in the heart of
the column, and consequently is cut out by the perfora¬
tion for the caliber.
Guns are bored out of the solid reversely from the piate
hollow method. The piece A is placed upon twro stan- CCCXC
dards BB, by means of two journeys, turned round by
the water wheel C, the breech D being introduced
into the centre of the wheel, with the muzzle towards
the sliding carriage E, which is pressed forwards by
a ratch F, and weights, in the same way as the gun-car¬
riage wras in the hollow-boring. Upon this sliding car¬
riage is fixed, truly horizontal and centrical to the gun,
the drill bar G, to the end of which is fixed a carp’s
tongue drill or cutter II j which, being pressed for waul
upon the piece whilst it is turning round, perforates the
bore, w'hich is afterwards finished with borers and cut¬
ters as the hollow guns were. 'Ihe principal difficulty
of perforating solid guns truly centrical, arises from the
contraction of the iron above mentioned; which, resist¬
ing the drill unequally, tends to throw it out of the
centrical line. _ #
Office of Ordnance, an office kept within the Tower
of London, which superintends and disposes of all the
arms, instruments, and utensils of war, both by sea
and land, in all the magazines, garrisons, and forts, in
Great Britain. We have the following copious ac¬
count of this establishment in Beatson’s Political Index.
In ancient times, before the invention of guns, this
office was supplied by officers under the following
names : the boivycr, the cross bowyer, the galeator or
purveyor of helmets, the armourer, and the keeper of the
tents '; and in this state it continued till Henry A ill.
placed it under the management of a master, a lieute¬
nant, surveyor, &c. &c. .
Some improvements have been since made ; and tins
very important branch is now under the direction of
the master general of the ordnance, having under him
a lieutenant general, a surveyor general, a clerk, a
storekeeper, a clerk of the deliveries, and a treasurei,
with a very“great number of inferior officers, employed
plate cam
BORING of ORDNANCE.
O K 13 [ 4.11 1 O R D
in the Tower of London, at Woolwich, and in almost
all the forts, garrisons, and principal ports in his ma¬
jesty’s dominions. The office of ordnance is divided in¬
to two distinct branches, the civil and themilitaryj the
latter being subordinate, and under the authority of the
former. For the better understanding the business of
the dift’erent officers, they shall be distinctly treated of,
beginning with the principal one, viz.
Mastci' General of the Ordnance is deemed the prin¬
cipal officer in the civil branch of the ordnance *, yet he
is always chosen from amongst the first generals in his
majesty’s service. His trust is very great, as in him is
vested the sole power of storing all the military magazines
in the king’s dominions with proper munitions of war,
and likewise to supply the royal navy with what they
may need in his department, the parliament granting
money in the most liberal manner for this purpose. He
is colonel in chief of the royal regiment of artillery, at
present consisting of four battalions; and he is invested
with a peculiar jurisdiction over all his majesty’s engi¬
neers employed in the several fortifications in his ma¬
jesty’s dominions ; and to him they are al! accountable
for their proceedings, and from him they receive their
particular orders and instructions, according to the di¬
rections and commands given by bis majesty in council.
As master general of tlie ordnance he has the appoint¬
ment of almost all the inferior officers and servants. He
has a secretary, and an under-secretary ; and besides
there is a secretary and a counsel to the board of ord¬
nance.
Lieutenant General of the Ordnance receives all or¬
ders and warrants signed by the master-general, and from
the other principal officers, and sees them duly executed,
issues orders as the occasions of the state require, and
gives directions for discharging the artillery when re¬
quired at coronations, birth days, signal victories, and
other solemn occasions. It is also his peculiar office to
seethe train of artillery, and all its equipage, fitted for
motion, when ordered to he drawn into the field, or sent
upon any particular service. He is colonel en second of
the royal regiment of artillery, and has a secretary and
several inferior officers and clerks under him.
Surveyor General of the Ordnance inspects the stores
and provisions of war in the custody of the storekeeper,
and sees that they are ranged and placed in such order
as is most proper for their preservation. He allows all
hills of debt, and keeps a check upon all labourers and
artificers work ; sees that the stores received be good
and serviceable, duly proved and marked, as they ought
to be, with the king’s mark, taking to his assistance the
rest of the officers and proof-masters. To assist him in the
business of his office, he has under him the proof-master
of England, and clerks, and other inferiors officers.
Clerk of the Ordnance, an officer whose function-is
to record all orders and instructions given for the govern¬
ment of the office; all patents and grants ; the names
of all officers, clerks, artificers, gunners, labourers, &c.
who enjoy those grants, or any other-fee for the same ;
to draw all estimates for provisions and supplies to be
made, and all letters, instructions, commissions, deputa¬
tions, and contracts for his majesty’s service ; to make
all bills of imprest and debentures, for the payment and
satisfaction of work done and provisions received in the
said office ; and all quarter books for the salaries and
allowances of ail officers, clerks, &c. belonging to the
office; and to keep1 journals and ledgers of the receipts Ouin
and returns of his majesty’s stores, to serve as a check
between the two accountants of the office, the one for 0n1°
money, and the other for stores. "“—‘■'v
Storekeeper of the Ordnance takes into his custody
all his majesty’s ordnance, munitions and stores belong--
ing thereto, and indents and puts them in legal security,
alter they have been surveyed by the surveyor-general,
any part of which he must not deliver without a war¬
rant signed by the proper officers : nor must he receive
back any stores formerly issued till they have been re¬
viewed by the surveyor, and registered by the clerk of
the ordnance in the book of remains ; and he must take
care that whatever is under his custody be kept safe,
and in such readiness as to be fit for service upon the
most peremptory demand.
Clerk of the Deliveries of the Ordnance draws all
orders for delivery of any stores, and sees them duly exe¬
cuted ; charges by indenture the particular receiver of
the stores delivered; and, in order to discharge the
store-keeper, registers the copies of all warrants for the
deliveries, as wrell as the proportions delivered.
Treasurer and Paymaster of the Ordnance receives
and pays all moneys, both salaries and debentures in and
belonging to this office. In his otfice are several clerks,
ordinary and extraordinary, for the dispatch of business.
Office of Ordnance. Besides the principal officers
already mentioned, there belong to this office two proof-
masters ; a clerk of the works; a purveyor for the land,
and a purveyor for the sea ; an architect; an astronomi¬
cal observer; and other officers. The other part of this
office, which is termed the military branch of the ord¬
nance, is a chief engineer, who has under him two di¬
rectors, four sub-directors, with an unlimited number
of engineers in ordinary, engineers extraordinary, sub¬
engineers, and practitioner engineers.
Ordnance Pills, commonly called ordnance deben¬
tures, are bills issued by the board of ordnance on the
treasurer of that office, for the payment of stores, &c.
These are not payable at any certain time, and do not
bear any interest, so that the discount upon them is
often very high ; but they are seldom much above two
years in arrears.
ORDONNANCE, in architecture, is the compo¬
sition of a building, and the disposition of its parts,
both with regard to the whole and to one another; or,
as Mr Evelyn expresses it, determining the measure of
what is assigned to the several apartments. Thus ordon-
nance is the judicious contrivance of the plan or mould;
as when the court, hall, lodgings, &c. are neither too
large nor too small, but the court affords convenient
light to the apartments about it; the hall is of fit capa¬
city to receive company ; and the bed-chambers, &c. of
a proper size. When those divisions are either too great
or too small, with respect to the whole, as where there
is .a large court to a little house, or a small hall to a
magnificent palace, the fault is in the ordonnance. See
Architecture.
Ordonnance, in Painting, is used for the disposi¬
tion of the parts ol a picture, either with regard to the
whole piece, or to the several parts, as the groups, mas¬
ses, contrasts, &c. See Painting.
ORDOVICES, ancient Britons, of whom we have
the following account in Henry’s History of Great Bri¬
tain. They lived “ in that country w hich is now called
3 F 2 North
ORE [41
Orlovices, North Wales, and contains the counties of Montgomery,
Ore. Merioneth, Caernarvon, Denbigh, and Hint. Ihese
1 ■ —v— ■; Ordovices, or (as they are called by Tacitus) Ordeuices,
are supposed to have been originally of the same tribe or
nation with the Huicii of Warwickshire, who were under
some kind of subjection to the Cornavn j but the Huicii
of North Wales, being a free and independent people,
were called Ordh Huici, or the free Huici. When they
were invaded by the Romans, they showed a spirit wor¬
thy of their name, and fought with great bravery in de¬
fence of their freedom and independency. Though they
received a great defeat from the Roman general Osto-
rius, in conjunction with the Silures, they maintained the
war for a considerable time, until they were finally sub¬
dued, with great slaughter, by the renowned Agricola.
It was probably owing to the nature of the country, and
to the vicinity of Diva, now Chester, where a whole le¬
gion was quartered, that the Romans had so few towns
or stations in the territories of the Ordovices. Medio¬
lanum, which is mentioned by Ptolemy, was the capital
of the nation, and was probably situated at Maywood,
in Montgomeryshire. It was a place of some consideia-
tion in the Roman times, but was afterwards quite de¬
molished by Edwin, king of Northumberland. Besides
this, the Romans had a few other towns in this country }
as Segontium, now Caernarvon j Conovium, now Con¬
way •, and Varse, now Bodvary, which are all mentioned
in the eleventh journey of Antoninus. The country of
the Ordovices was comprehended in the Roman province
which was called Britannia Secunda.”
ORE, a mineral body, partly or entirely composed
2 ] ORE
of metallic substances, in the natural state in which it Ore.
exists in the earth. Metallic substances are found, either '  
native, that is, pure, and uncombined with other sub¬
stances, or alloyed with other metals, or combined with
oxygen, or sulphur, or with acids } and thus it appears,
that metals exist in ores, in four different states. 1. In
the metallic state, when they are either pure, or com¬
bined with each other, as in the state of alloy. 2. In the
state of an oxide. Combined with sulphur in the state
of sulphuret. And, 4. with acids, forming salts. For the
particular description of ores, see Mineralogy j and
for the mode of their distribution in the earth, see Geo¬
logy.
But ores are rarely found exactly in the state of com¬
bination now mentioned. It seldom indeed happens,
that they are not mixed with various earthy minerals.
As all metals are extracted from ores, it is of great im¬
portance to be acquainted, in the first place, with the
materials of which they are composed, as they are ob¬
tained from the earth, with the view of ascertaining the
nature and proportions of the various ingredients which
enter into the composition ^ and in the second place, to
know the simplest and easiest processes by which the
metals may be separated, for the purposes of economy
and manutactures. Hence, in the treatment of ores,
two objects are in view. The first is their analysis,
which is the province of the chemical philosopher j and
the second is their reduction in the large way, which is
the business of the metallurgist. The most improved
methods for accomplishing each of these objects, will bp
detailed in the following treatise.
ORES, Reduction and Analysis of.
I
N the treatment of metallic ores, it has been already
- hinted, that two objects are in view : the one is to ob¬
tain a knowledge of the nature and proportions of their
component parts 5 and the other is to be acquainted with
the best methods of separating the metals which they
contain, that they may be applied in their pure or un¬
combined state to useful purposes. In the following trea¬
tise, therefore, we shall keep in view the same objects :
and under each of the metals we shall first detail the most
improved methods of analysing its different ores j and,
secondly, give a short account of the best and most ap¬
proved processes that are employed in their reduction.
The last object, however, refers only to some ol the me¬
tals, others not being found in sufficient quantity, or not
being applicable to useful purposes. . .
In this treatise we shall consider the metals m the
same order in which they have been described under
Mineralogy, and to each metal we shall devote a par¬
ticular chapter.
Chap. I. Of the Ores of Platina.
PLATINA, on account of its infusibility, density, and
indestructibility, is one of the most important and use¬
ful of the metals yet known, and particularly tor differ¬
ent chemical instruments and utensils, because there are
few chemical agents whose effects it cannot resist. Pla¬
tina is only found in the state of alloy, with rhodium
and palladium, two of the newly discovered metals j and
4
it is accompanied also with another alloy, iridium anu
osmium, also newly discovered metals, as well as with
particles of iron, gold and some other substances. The
discovery of these metals, and the importance of platina
itself, have rendered the ores of this metal peculiarly in¬
teresting. We shall therefore in the present chapter,
give a pretty full detail of the methods of analysing the
ore, and of working it for the purposes of manufacture.
These subjects will occupy the two following sections.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of the Ores of Platina.
The whole of the platina which is brought to Europe,
has been previously subjected to the process of amalga¬
mation in South America ; and hence it happens, that
a small quantity of mercury remains in it, sometimes in
very small distinct particles, but more commonly in a
state of combination with gold, in the form of an amal¬
gam. In treating the ores of platina, therefore, the first
object is to separate the mercury, and the easiest process
is to drive it off by means of heat, either in an open
ladle, if it be not intended to collect the mercury, or in
an earthen retort, if the object of the operator be to re¬
tain that metal. The platina remaining after the mer¬
cury is thus driven off, appears much yellower, because
the particles of gold dispersed through it exhibit their
peculiar colour. The ore is next to be spread out thin
on a smooth table, and by means of a pair of common
bellows, the lighter particles may be separated with to-
Chap. I. ORE
Platina. lerable accuracy from the heavier ones. The lighter
particles in the ore are found, on examination, to be
minute crystals and fragments of quartz, and two kinds
of iron ore, which are also in fragments, or in the form
of small octahedrons. Some of the particles of iron are
attracted by the magnet, forming the ox-e of iron called
magnetic iron-sand; but others, which are not attracted
by the magnet, give out, when roasted, a slight sulphu¬
reous odour.
The lighter particles being separated by mechanical
action, the heavier particles are to be treated with a
small quantity of slightly diluted nitro-muriatic acid,
and by this means the whole of the gold is taken up,
with a portion of iron, and a small quantity of platina
and other ingredients. The gold may be thrown
down from this solution by adding green sulphate of
iron, and it may be purified by mixing it with nitre and
borax. If the quantity of platina to be pm-ified be con-
sidexable, it is an object worth the attention of the
chemist, to separate and collect the gold, because the
propoi’tion of the latter contained in crude platina is not
small. Proust obtained seven ounces of gold from a
quantity of platina consisting of ioo ounces ; and from
another quantity of the same weight he separated not
* Ann. de ]ess tj)an ounces of gold*. It may be observed that
mvhi i 6 ^ie plat*na which is whitest, is found to be the richest
in gold, and that the black varieties scarcely contain
any at all.
The gold being separated, the platina is next to be
digested in nitro-muriatic acid, and excepting a black
matter, the whole is dissolved. This black matter,
when first observed, was supposed to be plumbago; but
it appears fi-om the discovery of Mr Tennant, to he a
compound of two new metals, to which he has given
the names of osmium and iridium. By adding muriate
of ammonia to the nitro-muriatic solution, almost the
whole of the platina is precipitated in the form of a
yellow powder. This powder is a muriate of ammonia
and platina, and it is nearly insoluble. The solution
being next treated with zinc, the whole of its metallic
contents, excepting the iron, ai-e thrown down. The
precipitate thus obtained is to be washed and digested in
nitxic acid much diluted. By this means the copper
and lead with which crude platina is usually contami¬
nated, are separated. The remainder is to be dissolved
in nitro-muriatic acid ; to the latter sollution add com¬
mon salt, and evaporate the whole to dryness; the salt
remaining contains the muriates of soda and of platina,
palladium and rhodium; and as the salt of rhodium is
found to be insoluble in alcohol, it may, by means of it,
be separated from the former. The platina and palla¬
dium now remain in the alcoholic solution, and Irani
this the greater part of the platina may be separated by
means of muriate of ammonia; and alter diluting the
solution by adding prussiate of potash, a deep orange
precipitate is obtained, which is palladium. By con¬
centrating the remaining liquor, the platina may be
precipitated by means of muriate of ammonia.
Sect. II. Of the Methods of working Platina.
Platina, on account of its peculiar properties in resist¬
ing great degrees of heat and the action of many of the
most powerful chemical agents, is by far the most impor¬
tant and valuable of the metals yet known for the pur-
S, &c. 413
pose of constructing various instruments'and utensils Platina.
which are found highly useful in chemical analysis. But
the refractory nature of this metal has presented many
difficulties, and has greatly exercised the ingenuity and
skill of chemists and artists to rendered it malleable and
capable of assuming the requisite forms. It has been
observed that the largest and whitest grains picked out
from crude platina have a considerable degree of mallea¬
bility even when cold ; but when they are heated, this
property appears in greater perfection : and if two of
these grains be brought into contact, and subjected to
the highest degree of white heat, the stroke of a hammer
will make them adhere more or less perfectly. In this
way, a small mass of metal may be obtained by the union
of a few grains. But it is obvious that the patience and
dexterity required in this slow and tedious process will
prevent it from being practically useful.
In the progress of experiments made on platina it was
discovered that arsenic combined readily with that metal,
and formed an alloy of easy fusibility. The great vola¬
tility of the arsenic, particularly when in contact with
charcoal, gave reason to hope that the whole of it, by
proper management, might be driven off, leaving the
platina behind in a mass, and retaining its peculiar and
characteristic properties^ In this way different chemists
succeeded in forming, of this alloy, crucibles and other
chemical utensils, which were found to be less fusible
than silver, and were capable of resisting many of the
common chemical agents. The most successful me¬
thod of rendering platina malleable, and working it by
means of this alloy, was discovered by Jeanety, aParisian
silversmith, xvho long directed bis attention to this
object. An account of his method has been given by
Berthollet and Pelletier, of which the following is an
abstract*. * Ann. de
The crude platina being first ground in water, and^'”’xi/*
washed for the purpose of separating the earthy matters,'
three half pounds of the metal, three pounds of white
arsenic, and one pound of pearl ashes, are to be well
mixed together. A crucible, capable of holding 20.
pounds of this mixture, is then to be placed in a furnace
of any convenient construction. When the crucible is
thoroughly red hot, introduce one-third of the mixture,
and continue stirring it with a rod of platina till it comes
to a state of quiet fusion ; then add another one-third,
stirring it in the same manner till the fusion is comple¬
ted, and afterwards add the remaining one-third, and
apply a strong heat, so that the whole may become very
fluid. Then withdraw the crucible, and when it
has cooled gradually, break it up ; a well formed me¬
tallic button will be found in it, covered by blackish
brown scoriae, which has a considerable action on the
magnetic needle. The button, which is very brittle,
being broken to pieces, is to be fused again with white
arsenic and pearl ashes as before, and the metallic mass
obtained from this second fusion is generally found to
have no effect on the magnetic needle ; but if this
should not be the case, a third fusion in the same way
becomes necessary.
The first step of the process is now completed. A
flat-bottomed cylindrical crucible, about three inches and
a half in diameter, is to be made thoroughly hot in a
furnace, and charged with one pound and a half of the
arsenicated platina, mixed with a equal weight of white
arsenic, and one half pound of pot-ash.; and when this
mixture
O R E
mixture lias been completely fluid, tbe crucible is to be
removed from the fire, and allowed to cool in a hori'/.on-
tal position, that the thickness of the cake of metal may
be uniform. AVhen the cruciole is cold, it is to be care¬
fully broken, and the scoria; being removed, a cake of
metal is obtained, well-formed and sonorous, weighing
three ounces more than the arsenicated platina employed.
The metal is now quite saturated with arsenic. It has
been observed, that there is no inconvenience from in¬
corporating too much arsenic, for it would appear that
the full success and rapidity of the purification of the
platina, are exactly in proportion to the quantity of ar¬
senic with which it has been previously combined.
The mass of metal thus obtained, is placed in a muffle,
and the heat is gradually increased, till the evaporation
of the arsenic commence; after which the temperature
is to be kept up as nearly as possible at the same degree,
for the space of six hours, carefully watching not to in¬
crease it, lest the cake should be brought to a state of fu¬
sion. At the end of the six hours, the cake has usually
become considerably porous; it is then to he withdrawn,
and extinguished in common oil; after which it is re¬
turned to the muffle, by which means a fuither quan¬
tity of arsenic is drawn oft; and this alternate heating
and application of oil are to he continued till the arsenic
no longer makes its appearance. In proportion as the
arsenic is driven oft’, the fusibility of the mass diminishes,
so that a greater degree of heat may he applied in the
latter stage of the process. After having carefully burnt
off at a high degree of heat the whole of the charcoal
-which is produced by the decomposition of the oil, the
spoil°'y cake of metal is to he digested m mtious aciu,
and °then edulcorated by repeated boiling in water.
Three or more of tbe cakes are then to be placed in a
crucible, and exposed to the highest degree of heat in a
powerful furnace, and while they-are thus rendered soft,
an iron pestle let down upon them, will make them co¬
here; and being withdrawn from the crucible, they are
to be heated to the utmost in a smith’s fire, and careful¬
ly forged like iron on the anvil, into compact bars.
The cheapness of the process now detailed is the only
advantage which it holds out, for the platina does not
require to be previously dissolved in nitromnriatic acid;
but it is to be observed, that the metal by this treatment
is by no means perfectly pure; a small portion of arse¬
nic and iron still adhering to it, and probably some lead
and copper, which may have been accidentally mixed
with the ore, while it contains the whole of the palla¬
dium, osmium, iridium, and rhodium; and thus con¬
taminated, it is obvious, that it must be less capable
. of resisting the action of alkalies, and high degrees of
heat without injury, than when it is brought to a state
of greater purity. Accordingly, other processes for the
purification of this valuable metal, have been contrived
and practised.
The followingistheprocesses proposed by Count Mous-
sin Poushskin, to render platina malleable. I. Precipi¬
tate the platina from its solution by muriate of ammo¬
nia, and wash the precipitate with a little cold water.
2. “ Reduce it in a convenient crucible to the well-
known spongy metallic texture, which wash two or
three times with boiling water to carry off any portion
of saline matter which may have escaped the action of
the fire.
3. Boil it for about half an hour in as much water,
S, &C.
Chap
mixed with one-tenth part of muriatic acid, as will co- platina
vtu- the mass to the depth of about half an inch, in a
convenient glass vessel. This will carry off any quan¬
tity of iron that might still exi»t in the metal.
4. “ Decant the acid water, and edulcorate or strong¬
ly ignite the platina.
5. “ To one part of this metal take two parts of mer¬
cury, and amalgamate in a glass or porphyry mortar.
This amalgamation takes place very readily. The pro¬
per method of conducting it is to take about two drams
of mercury to three drams of platina, and amalgamate
them together; and to this amalgam may be added al¬
ternate small quantities of platina and mercury till the
whole of the two metals are combined. Several pounds
may be thus amalgamated in a few hours, and in the
large way a proper mill might shorten the operation.
6. “ After the amalgam is completely produced, it
must be quickly moulded in bars or plates, or any other
forms that maybe preferred; taking care that these
moulded pieces should at least be half an inch in thick¬
ness, and of a proper length to manage them afterwards
in the fire; it is also requisite that the mould should he
perfectly even and smooth. Half an hour after the
pieces are formed they begin to harden by the oxidation
of the mercury, and change their brilliant metallic col¬
our for a dull learden ore.
7. “ As soon as the pieces have acquired a proper de¬
gree of hardness to be handled without danger of break¬
ing, which commonly takes place in a little more than
an hour, place them in a proper furnace, and keep them
ignited under a muffle or in a small reverberatory. No
other precaution is necessary in this operation, but that
of not breaking the pieces during their transport. I he
mercury flies oft during the heat, and the platina re¬
mains perfectly solid; so that, after being strongly ig¬
nited two or three times before the bellows, it may be
forged, or laminated in the same manner as gold or sil¬
ver ; care being taken, at the commencement of the
forging, or of passing it between rollers, not to apply too
great a force till the metal has acquired all its density,
it is almost superfluous to add, that in evaporating the
mercury from large quantities of amalgam, a proper ap¬
paratus, such as in the silver amalgamation, must be em¬
ployed, to receive the volatilized mercury; but for small
quantities, where the loss of this metal is of no conse¬
quence, the furnace must have a proper chimney to car¬
ry oft the metallic vapours. ^\hen the platina comes
out of the first fire, its dimensions are about two thir¬
teenth parts smaller every ivay than the original amal¬
gam from the mould. Tdie whole of this operation
seems to be governed by the pressure of the atmosphere
and the laws of cohesive attraction: for the air is driven
out from between the molecules of the platina, which
by their solution in mercury are most probably in their
primitive and consequently uniform figure. It is very
visible, and at the same time a very amusing phenome¬
non to observe, (during the process of ignition, which
is performed in four or five minutes), how the platina
contracts every way into itself, as if pressed by some
external force.”
The count then adds, “ that, as soon as my amalgam
of mercury is made, I compress the same in tubes of
wood, by the pressure of an iron screw upon a cylinder
of wood, adapted to the bore of the tube. This forces
out the superabundant mercury from the amalgam, and
renders
IK tfichol,
Journ- ix.
Sv
I. O R E
rentiers if. solid. xVfter two or three hours 1 burn upon
the coals, or in a crucible lined with charcoal, the sheath
in which the amalgam is contained, and urge the fire to
a white heat •, after which I take out the platina in a
very solid state, fit to he forged
A simpler method for rendering platina malleable,
at the same time not less effectual, has been proposed
by Mr Knight. The following is an account of this
method in the words of the author.
“ To a given quantity of crude platina, I add fifteen
times its weight of nitro-muriatic acid (composed of
equal parts of nitric and muriatic acid) in a tubulated
glass retort, with a tubulated receiver adapted to it.
It is then boiled, by means of an Argand’s lamp, till
the acid lias assumed a deep saffron colour ; it is then
poured off; and if any platina remain undissolved,
more acid is’added, and it is again boiled until the
whole is taken up. The liquor, being suffered to rest
till quite clear, is again decanted : a solution of sal-am¬
moniac is then added, by little and little, till it no longer
gives a cloudiness. By this means the platina is thrown
down in the form of a lemon coloured precipitate, which
having subsided, the liquor is poured off, and the preci¬
pitate repeatedly washed with distilled water till it ceases
to give an acid taste ; (too much water is injurious, the
precipitate being in a certain degree soluble in that li¬
quid) : the water is then poured off, and the precipitate
evaporated to dryness.
“ So far my process is in a great measure similar to
that which some others have also followed; but my me¬
thod of managing the subsequent, and which are indeed
the principal manipulations, will he found to possess
many advantages over any that has yet been made public.
The best process hitherto followed has been, to give the
precipitate a white heat in a crucible, which in some
measure agglutinates the particles; and then to throw
the mass into a red-hot mortar, or any similar imple¬
ment, and endeavour to unite them by using a pestle or
stamper. But the mass is so spongy that it is hardly
possible to get a single stroke applied to it before the
welding heat is gone ; and though by peculiar dexterity
and address some have in this way succeeded, it has
been found to require such innumerable heatings and
hammerings, that most of those who have attempted it,
have either failed entirely, or given it up as being too
laborious and expensive. I have succeeded in obviating
all these difficulties by adopting the following simple,
easy, and expeditious method :—
“ A strong, hollow, inverted cone of crucible earth
being procured, with a corresponding stopper to fit it,
made of the same materials, the point of the latter is
cut off about three-fourths from the base. The platina,
now in the state of a light yellow powder, is pressed
tight into the cone, and a cover being fixed slightly on,
it is placed in an air furnace, and the fire raised gra¬
dually to a strong white heat. In the mean time the
conical stopper, fixed in a pair of iron tongs suitable for
the purpose, is brought to a red or to a bright red heat.
The cover being then removed from the cone, the tongs
with the heated, stopper is introduced through a hole
m the cover of the furnace, and pressed at first gently
on the platina, at this time in a state nearly as soft as
dough, till it at length acquires a more solid consistence.
It is then repeatedly struck with the stopper, as hard as
the nature of the materials will admit, till it appears to
S, &c.
415
f Phil. _
Mas- vi. 2.
receive no farther impression. The cone is then re- Platina.
moved from the furnace, and being struck lightly with l-—v—-
a hammer, the platina falls out in a metallic button,
from which state it may be drawn, by repeatedly heat¬
ing and gently hammering, into a bar fit for flatting,
drawing into wire, planishing, &c.
“ Besides the comparative facility of this process, it
has the farther advantage of rendering the platina much
purer than when red-hot iron is obliged to be had re¬
course to ; for platina, when of a white heat, has a strong
affinity for iron, and, with whatever care it may have
been previously separated from that metal, will be found
to have taken up a portion of it, when it is employed of
a red heat, to serve to unite the particles of the platina.
To the superior purity of platina, rendered malleable
by the process before described, I attribute the greater-
specific gravity which 1 find it to possess, than that pre¬
pared by other methods. Having taken the specific
gravity of about ten pennyweights of it, which I had
previously passed repeatedly through a flatting mill, I
found it to be 22.26i.”
Another method, which has been successfully practi¬
sed, was contrived by Mr Cock. The following is an
account of his process. After the solution of the platina
in nitro-muriatic acid, the liquor is filtered through clean
sand, for the purpose of separating the black powder
which floats in it. The clear solution is then decom¬
posed by means of sal ammoniac ; the yellow precipitate
being collected, is to be moderately well washed in warm
water and dried ; and being distributed into saucers
placed in a small oven, constructed for the purpose, in
which they are to be exposed for a short time to a low
red heat, that the platina may he brought to the metallic
state, and the greater part of the sal ammoniac may be
sublimed. When the platina, after this treatment, is
withdrawn, it is in the form of a gray coloured, spongy
mass ; and in this state half an ounce of it is to be put
into a strong iron mould, one inch and a half wide, and
two and a half long. It is theli to he compressed as
strongly as possible, by striking with a mallet upon a
wooden pestle accurately cut to fit the mould ; another
half ounce is then added, and treated in the same man¬
ner, till six ounces have been forced into the mould ; a
loose iron cover, just capable of sliding down the mould,
is then laid upon the platiria. This part of the process
requires particular care ; for if any material quantity of
air be left in the mass, the bar into which it is formed
is extremely apt to scale and be full of flaws in the sub¬
sequent operations. The pressure being properly made,
the mould is to be taken to pieces, and the platina will
be found in the form of a dense compact parallelepiped.
It is next to be placed in a forge fire of charcoal, and
heated to the most intense white heat, in order to drive
oft' the muriate of ammonia which remains : this being
done, it is to be quickly placed on a clear bright anvil,
and gently hammered in every direction by a clean
hammer. This is several times to be repeated, at the
end of which the mass will he perfectly compact, and
fit to be laminated or wrought in any other manner at
the pleasure of the artist. It is to be observed, that
while the platina is heating, it must be loose in the fire,
for if it were held by the tongs, they would infallibly
become welded to the platina, and by this means greatly
damage it. When the platina is thus drawn down to
a compact bar,it will he covered by a semivitreous crust,
somewhat
4i 6 ORE
Gold. somewhat reddish, chiefly proceeding from particles of
—y—-” the ashes melted down upon it, and extended by the
hammer over its surface. To remove this, the bar, af¬
ter being made red hot, is to be sprinkled over with glass
of borax reduced to powder, and then kept at a white
heat for a few minutes j it is to be plunged into diluted
muriatic acid when moderately cool, by which the
borax and other vitreous matters will be dissolved, and
the platina with a perfectly clean white surface lelt be-
* Aikins hind *•
Diction, of
Chem. &c. Chap. II. Of the Ores of Gold.
ii, 233- J
Gold exists in nature only in the metallic state; but
it is scarcely ever found perfectly pure, for it is alloyed
in different proportions with silver, copper, tellurium,
and some other metals. When it is alloyed with silver
or copper, or even with both, the gold retains its ducti¬
lity; but when combined with tellurium, its distinctive
characters entirely disappear.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of the Ores of Gold*
The method of analysing gold ores is very simple.
The principal difficulty with which it is attended arises
from the small proportion of this metal contained in the
o-reater part, even of those ores which are considered as
very rich. Native gold contains invariably, but generally
in small proportion, silver or copper, and sometimes
both, and the gangue is often a very hard quartz. In
this case the following is an approved mode of proceed¬
ing. Reduce the ore to fine powder, mix it with six
times its weight of carbonate of soda, or, what answers
better, with four parts of carbonate of soda, and one of
glass of borax: put the mixture into an earthen crucible,
and melt it. Pour out the fused mass on a stone slab,
and detach the small portion remaining in the crucible
by means of a little diluted muriatic acid. Reduce the
mass to coarse powder; put it into a flask with the muria¬
tic solution; add strong muriatic acid, and apply a gentle
heat. Continue the digestion, adding from time to time
a little nitrous acid, till no farther action is produced,
and the undissolved residue becomes of a pure white co¬
lour. Then pour off the liquor, wash the residue, and
add the washings to the liquor.
1. After the insoluble residue is dried, expose it to
the sun, and if it contain any muriate of silver, it will
assume a purplish colour. When this is the case, let it
be mixed with three times its weight of pearl-ash, and
fused in an earthen crucible for five minutes. The silver
will thus be reduced to metallic globules, and will be
obtained pure by digesting it in muriatic acid, which
combines with the earth and alkali, but does not act on
the silver.
2. The nitro-muriatic solution is now to be carefully
neutralized by means of soda or of potash -, and a solution
of green sulphate of iron is to be added, as long as any
precipitate is formed. The precipitate thus obtained is
gold, and this being carefully collected, is to be fused in
a small crucible with nitre just in sufficient quantity to
cover its surface.
3. The residual liquor, after being decomposed by the
carbonate of an alkali, and the precipitate beiny well
washed, is to be digested in liquid ammonia, to dissolve the
copper. The ammoniacal solution being slightly super-
S, &c. Chap. 1
saturated with muriatic acid, a rod of zinc being intro- Gold ,
duced, will precipitate the copper in the metallic state.
Auriferous pyrites. It appears that iron pyrites of a
bronze yellow colour in masses, or in striated cubes, and
hepatic pyrites, which are found in veins in primitive
mountains, contain a quantity of pure gold, or of gold
alloyed with silver, which is worth the trouble and ex¬
pence of extracting it. A considerable proportion, not
only of the American, but also of the Hungarian gold,
is obtained from ore of this kind. The produce of the
latter sometimes does not exceed a few grains of gold in
the quintal, but occasionally the auriferous py rites of the
Hungarian mines yield not less than 450 ounces of gold
in the quintal of the ore.
The following is the method of analysis to be fol¬
lowed in ores of this kind. The pyrites being reduced
to powder, is digested in muriatic acid, occasionally
adding a small portion of nitric acid, till every thing
soluble is taken up. The residue, after being well wash¬
ed and dried, is to be weighed, and exposed to a heat
which is just sufficient to burn oft the sulphur, the quan¬
tity of which is indicated by the loss of weight. The
residue is again to be digested in nitro-muriatic acid,
and this solution is to be added to the first. I he earthy
residue, which contains the silver in the state of muriate,
is then to be fused with an equal weight of glass of bo¬
rax, and three times the quantity of pearl ashes. By
this process the silver is reduced, and may be separated
from the alkali and the earth by means of muriatic acid
very much diluted. The nitro-muriatic solution is to be
neutralized by a fixed alkali, and if it be afterwards
treated with nitrate of mercury prepared in the cold, the
gold will be thrown down in the state of a brown powder.
It may be reduced to the metallic state by fusing it with
nitre. The oxide of iron which remains in solution, may
be obtained in the usual way in the state of magnetic
oxide.
Auriferous galena.—Galena, or the native sulphuret
of lead, almost always contains a small portion of silver,
and very often it is in such quantity as to be worth the
trouble of extracting it. Galena sometimes has also
combined with it a little gold as well as silver, and it is
worked as one of the ores of gold. This is the case with
some of the galena of Hungary, as that of Boicza yields
l -Joz. of alloy in the quintal, of which 31 parts are silver,
and one of gold.
The analysis of auriferous galena is to be conducted
nearly in the same way as the auriferous pyrites. The
pulverised ore being digested in nitro-muriatic acid, the
gold and the lead, and, if any are present, the iron and
antimony, are taken up ; leaving behind the earthy
matters, as well as the sulphur and silver, which may be
separated according to the method employed in the for¬
mer process. By gradually evaporating the nitro-muria¬
tic solution, a crystallized muriate of lead is obtained;
and by again diluting the solution with water, the gold
may be separated by adding nitrate of mercury.
The analysis of the ores ol gold containing tellurium,
will be given under the head of that metal.
Sect. II. Reduction of the Ores of Gold.
Many of the most profitable veins of gold are of
trifling magnitude, but at the same time yield ample
returns to the miner, although they are mixed with so
large
p. I Chap. II.
BoldJ Gold- ^ar8e a proportion of stony matter and other impurities
“Ys v——v ; as would render the working of any other metal alto¬
gether unprofitable. This obviously arises from the great
commercial importance of gold compared with other me¬
tals, which no doubt is owing as well to its rarity as to
its peculiar properties. In the Hungarian gold mines,
which ax-e the richest yet known in the old continent,
the attention of the miner is not merely limited to the
strings of ore, but to the whole contents of the vein,
which are usually extracted and raised to the surface in
large masses. These masses are distributed to thevwork-
men, who break them down, first with lax-ge hammers,
ftnd afterwards with smaller ones, till they are reduced
to pieces of the size of a walnut. In the course of this
process, every piece is carefully examined, and arx-anged
according to its value. The smallest visible grain of
native gold is separated from the quartz in which it is
chiefly imbedded, and put by itself. The auriferous
pyrites and galena are also put into separate heaps j even
the small splinters that are detached in breaking down
the masses, and the sand and mud of the mine, are all
collected, washed, and sifted, and ranged according
to their apparent richness. What has been rejected in
the first examination, is re-examined by boys, whose
labour is not of gx-eat value, and who pick out almost
the whole that has been oveidooked by the men, and ar¬
range it in the same manner.
The native gold with the matrix attached to it, is
again to be broken by hand into still smaller pieces, by
which means other impurities and stony matters are se-
pai’ated. The ore is then introduced into a wooden box
floored with cast-iron plates $ and by the action of two
or more heavy spars of oak, which are shod with iron,
and alternately worked like the common stamping mill,
it is reduced to a fine powder. This powder, which is
called flour, is then removed into a vessel like a large
bason, and is mixed with such a quantity of salt and wa¬
ter as will render it damp. The workman then takes a
thin porous leather bag, introduces a quantity of mer-
ciuy intoit,and by a regular and continued pressure forces
the mercury in very minute drops through the leather. In
this divided state it falls upon the pulverized ore,and isim-
mediately kneaded up with it, till the requisite quantity,
which depends on the proportion of gold, has been added.
After completing this part of the process, the next object
is to incorporate the mercury and the gold. This is ef¬
fected by rubbing the. mixture together for some time by
means of a wooden pestle. The mixture is then heated
in a proper vessel, and subjected for thi’ee or four days, to
the temperature of boiling water; and, lastly, the mix¬
ture is to be carefully washed by small parcels at a time,
so that the earthy particles may be carried off by the wa¬
ter. The mercury combined with the gold, only remains
behind, in the form of amalgam. A portion of this
mercury is then separated by pressure in a leathern bag,
and the remainder is di’iven off by distillation, leaving
behind the gold, and silver with which it may be alloyed.
But a moi’e complicated process is requisite in separat¬
ing that portion of the gold which is invisibly dispersed
in the pyrites, in galena, and other metallic substances,
as well as the stony parts of the matrix. In the treat¬
ment and sox-ting already described, those ores are sepa¬
rated, not only according to their apparent richness, but
they are arranged also according to the degi'ees of hard¬
ness. They are then carried to the stamping mill, of
Vol. XV. Part II. t
417
which the principal parts are, x. The coffers or cisterrts, Gold,
in which the ore is reduced to powder, and through which
a stream of water continually passes, and so managed as to
be increased or diminished at pleasure: 2.The stampers,
or vertical beams, which are shod with irouj and, 3. The
axle, which is fixed horizontally, and one end of which
works in a pivot, while the other is rivetted into the
centre of a large water wheel. The mode of action of
this apparatus is obvious. A stream of water falls upon
the wheel, and turns it round, as well as the axle to
which it is attached. The cogs, which are fastened to
the axle, alternately raise the stampers to a given height,
and then let them fall upon the ore placed in the coffers.
And as the ore is sufficiently broken, it is carried by the
stream of water continually passing through, out at the
sides of the coffer into the labyrinths, where the stony and
metallic contents of the ore are deposited, according to
their specific gravity, nearer to or at a greater distance
from the aperture. 1 he cofl’er is a rectangular hole
sunk below the level of the gi’ound, and it is about five
feet in length, two feet and sometimes less in width,
and lour feet deep. Five stampers are employed: they
are strong oaken beams shod with iron, and weighing
about 200 pounds each. They are placed side by side,
at the distance of about 2^ inches from each other.
When the ore is to be pounded, the first thing is to
cover the bottom of the cofler with a flooring or pave¬
ment, composed of lai-ge pieces of the hardest and poorest
part of the vein. These pieces are to be close set toge-
ther, and a floor of this kind is found to answer better
than an iron floor. The thickness of the floor is to be
proportioned according to the degree of hardness of the
ore to be pounded ; for it is obvious that the higher it
is, the smaller will be the space through which the stam¬
pers fall; and their momentum will therefore be propor-
tionably diminished. One pi'ecaution must be invariably
observed, that the part of the floor immediately under
the middle stamper be about two inches lower than that
below the stamper on each side, and that this again be an
inch lower than that beneath the two outermost stampers.
After the coffer is thus prepared, the machinery is set
in motion, a small stream of water being allowed to flow '
into the coffer. The ore is to be carefully thrown in,
just below the middle stamper, or the proper quantity is
supplied by means of a hopper. The ore being thus
broken down by the middle stamper, is gradually deli¬
vered to the stampers on each side, where it is still far¬
ther induced to powder, and from them it passes on to
the two outermost stampers, where it is reduced to suck
a degree of fineness as to be for a time suspended in the
water, and carried along with the stream through the
openings at the ends of the coffer.
In stamping the ores of gold and silver, great atten¬
tion is necessary, that no pieces of ore be subjected to
the process that can he conveniently separated from the
gangue by the hand ; and that the ore be reduced to a
coarse or fine powder, according to its nature. When na¬
tive gold is dispersed in minute particles, in a hard sili¬
ceous matrix, it is found impossible to separate the whole
of the metal, unless it be very finely pulverized j and in
this case the ore may be reduced to fine powder, both on
account of the great difference of the specific gravity of
the two ingredients of the ore, and also because the sili¬
ceous particles, however minute, acquire no degree of
tenacity, so as to adhere to the particles of gold. In
3 G stamping
ORES, &c.
4i8 ORE
Gold, stamping ores of this kind, ther'efore, the coffers may be
1 -" 'v . - ‘ set very low, that the stampers may have the greater
power, and a small stream of water only may be let in,
that the current which passes out may carry with it only
the smaller particles. But when the gold is dispersed in
iin indurated and ochrey clay, or in calcareous spar j if
the ore in this case be not finely pulverized, a great
proportion of the metal will be retained in the earthy
matrix ^ and if the stamping be continued too long, the
whole will be brought to a fluid mud, which will pre¬
vent the subsidence .of the particles of gold. In the
management of this part of the process, no small degree
of skill and experience is requisite, to obtain the greatest
produce of gold.
The reduction of the ore to grains of a uniform size,
greatly facilitates the washing which follows the stamp¬
ing, and yields a greater product of metal. This is ef¬
fected by taking care that the ore, when first introduced
into the coffer, shall fall under the middle stamper, and
also by the velocity of the water wheel being properly
regulated. When the motion of the stampers is too
slow, loss of time is the only consequence •, but when
the motion is greatly accelerated, the w’ater is violently
thrown about, carrying with it to the apertures at the
end of the coffer, pieces of the ore that are not suffi¬
ciently comminuted.
The ore heing reduced to particles of a sufficient de¬
gree of fineness to be carried by the force of the water
out of the coffer, passes into shallow channels of different
dimensions. These channels or troughs, the whole series
of w hich is called a labyrinth, are constructed of wood or
stone, and communicate with each other at the extremi¬
ties. The various parts of the ore are deposited in these
channels, according to their specific gravities ; the hea¬
viest particles are detained in the first, and the lightest
are carried along, and subside in the last and lowest,
liach of the channels has a groove at its lowest extre¬
mity, and thus admits of being closed at pleasure by
pieces of wood about an inch in height, which slide dow n
upon each other. By varying the rapidity of the cur-
. rent through the channels, the heavy particles can be
more accurately separated from the lighter ones, which
. is done hy diminishing the slope, and increasing the
. width and length of the channels.
But with whatever care the first operation of the
washing may he conducted, it is by no means sufficient
to separate the whole of the sand from the ore. A
second washing on tables, as they are called, is requisite.
These tables axe long wooden planes, which are consi¬
derably inclined, and are crossed at regular distances
hy narroxv shallow grooves. A long wicker basket, or
pexf’orated wooden trough, filled with the washed ore,
is fixed to the upper extremity of the table, and a small
stream of water is admitted, which passing between the
twigs of the basket, carries with it particles of the ore.
These particles ai’e either carried by the current off
the table, or are deposited, according to their specific
gravity, in the grooves, the heaviest particles subsiding
first. In this way the auriferous ores of iron and copper
pyx-ites, galena, &c. ai’e sufficiently separated from the
quartz and other stony matter, to be fit for the furnace 5
hut for the ores of native gold, a third washing is neces¬
sary. This is performed in small quantities at a time, in
«, wooden vessel resembling in shape a common fire-shovel
without a handle, but having the sides more elevated, and
S, &c. Chap. II
being furnished with two ears, by which it is held du- Gold,
ring the operation. The ore is put into this vessel,y—
which is gently immersed in water, and a circulaT mo¬
tion is communicated to it by a peculiar dexterity,
which can only be acquired hy practice. By this mo¬
tion in the water the lighter particles are gradually
thrown out of the vessel, and scarcely any thing remains
behind but the gold, which is either amalgamated or
fused with the addition of a little nitre, in an earthen
crucible. Here it may be added, that the separation of
the gold which is found in alluvial soil, or in the sands
of rivers, is conducted precisely in the same way, only
that it is not necessary to be subjected to the process of
stamping previous to washing.
The produce of the proper auriferous ores is seldom
of sufficient value to admit of the same attention in
washing as native gold j and therefore it is always
found, after this opei’ation, mixed with a considerable
proportion of earthy matters. When the metallic part
is composed of pyrites, which is frequently the case, it
may be useful, previous to the fusion of the ore, to give
it a moderate roasting, for the purpose of expelling the
greater part of the sulphur ; but it must be observed,
that this process is to be regulated hy the quantity, and
refractory xxature of the stony part of the ore $ because
the sulphur in the subsequent fusion acts the part of a
flux, and therefore the cleaner the ore, the more perfect¬
ly it may be roasted. This part of the process being
completed, a little quicklime, as a flux, is added, and
carefully mixed with the ore, and a portion of galena,
according to the proportion of gold and silver contained
in the pyrites, previously discovered by assaying it.
This mixture is next to be introduced into a reverbera¬
tory furnace, which is to be raised to a red heat; and
when the mixture begins to clot together, it is to be
stirred from time to time, and kept at a temperature
inferior to that of fusion, till part of the sulphur is ex¬
pelled } and when this is accomplished, the fire is to be
increased, so that the whole may be brought to a state
of thin fusion, after which it is let out in the usual way,
and received in a mould of sand. During the process
of fusion, the iron having a very strong affinity for sul¬
phur, recombines with that portion of which it had been
deprived by the roasting, in consequence of the decom¬
position of the sulphurets of lead and copper with which
it is mixed } and these metals, by their specific gravity,
fall in drops through the vitreous ferruginous scoriae,
and caiTy with them the gold and silver, with which
they unite at the bottom into a dense mass of metal.
Thus it happens that the pig formed in the mould con¬
sists of two parts, which adhere to each other, but may
he easily separated by the hammer. The superior and
the larger portion, is a cellular mass of scoriae, and the
lower is a black, heavy, compact mass, containing the
gold and silver, along with lead, copper, and a portion
of sulphur and iron. It is again broken into pieces,
and roasted and fused once or twice, till the whole of
the sulphur and other impurities are separated, and no¬
thing remains but the metallic substances.
In the farther treatment of the ores of gold, the ob¬
ject of the refiner is to separate it from the metallic sub¬
stances with which it is alloyed. We shall now men¬
tion the diffei'ent methods which are followed in sepa¬
rating the metals from gold with which it is usually al¬
loyed.
1. Separation,
Chap. II. ORE
Gold. I. Separation of gold from platina.—As platina, like
1 * gold itself, is not susceptible of oxidation by exposure to
heat and air, it cannot be separated by the process of
cupellation •, and platina having as little affinity for sul¬
phur as gold itself, that substance, or the sulphurated
metals, cannot be successfully employed for this purpose.
It has been found that mercury combines more readily
with gold than with platina, and from the knowledge
of this circumstance a method has been devised of sepa¬
rating these metals. When the proportion of platina is
so large, that the mass is brittle, it must be reduced to
powder in a mortar; but if it be ductile, it may be re¬
duced to small pieces by granulation. A quantity of
mercury equal to seven or eight times the weight of the
alloy, is then to be heated in an iron crucible, and raised
to the boiling point. The alloy being first made red
hot, is to be dropt in, and the whole kept for half an
hour nearly at the same temperature. The mixture is
then emptied into an iron mortar, and being covered
with hot water, is to be carefully triturated for some
hours, the water being renewed from time to time. In
this way the gold combines with the mercury, and a
considerable proportion of the platina will rise to the
surface of the amalgam in the state of a black powder,
which may be easily scraped off. In this way the alloy
is to be purified as much as possible, and the superfluous
mercury may be separated by straining through leather,
and the amalgam is deprived of the remaining mercury
by the process of distillation. The gold, which still
holds a small quantity of platina, is now to be melted
with three times its weight of silver ; and the mixture
being granulated, is to be parted by means of nitrous
acid. It has been found (although it be a singular cir¬
cumstance) that pure platina, or even when mixed with
gold, is perfectly insoluble in this acid ; but, when com¬
bined with a large proportion of silver, it is readily dis¬
solved, and the solution is of a dark yellowish brown
colourand, therefore, by digesting this triple alloy of
gold, platina, and silver, in nitrous acid, the silver and
platina are dissolved, and the gold remains behind. But
it may be necessary to ascertain whether the whole of
the platina be separated. This is done by melting a
few grains of the gold, after careful washing, with
three times their weight of silver, and treating it as be¬
fore with nitrous acid. If it contain one half per cent,
or even a smaller proportion of platina, the acid will
be perceptibly coloured, and this being the case, the
process must be repeated again on the whole mass. But
this is rarely necessary when the previous trituration with
mercury has been carefully performed. By adding to
the remaining nitrous solution, a solution of common
fait, the silver will be precipitated, leaving the platina
in the solution.
By the following method, which is still more compen¬
dious, gold may be separated from platina. The alloy
is dis olved in nitro-muriatic acid, and the gold is preci¬
pitated by means of carbonate of soda, or a large quan-
titv o^ green sulphate of iron, neither of which has the
effect of decomposing the solution of platina. The pre¬
cipitated gold being dried, and mixed with a little bo¬
rax and nitre, is subjected to fusion, after which it will
be found in a state of perfect purity.
2. Reparation of gold from silver.—In ores in which
the proportion of gold is small, the silver may be con¬
veniently separated by means of sulphur. The alloy is
&C.
first melted, and granulated, by pouring it into cold wa¬
ter, which is kept in constant agitation with a rod or
wicker biush. I'rom an eighth to a fifth of the granu¬
lated metal is reserved, and the remainder is carefully
mixed with about one-eighth of its weight of powdered
sulphur, which adheres readily to the moist grains. The
mixture is introduced into a covered crucible, and kept for
some time at a gentle heat, that the metal may be com¬
pletely penetrated by the sulphur, after which the heat
is increased till the whole mass is brought into fusion.
I bis sulphuret ol silver becomes a tough viscous fluidy
which retains the particles of gold, and prevents them
from subsiding. 1 he mass being kept in fusion for
about an hour, that the union of the sulphur and silver
may be completed, and any excess may be burnt off, a
third part of the reserved silver in grains is to be added,
and when it is melted, is to he stirred with a wooden
rod, that it may be accurately mixed with the other
matermls, and brought into contact with the gold, with
vyhich it immediately enters into combination. The fu¬
sion being continued another hour, a similar quantity of
gi amed silver is to be added, and after a third hour has
elapsed, the remaining third is introduced, and treated
in the same manner. The crucible, which is now to be
kept carefully covered, is to be exposed to a high tem¬
perature for three hours, while the melted mass is stirred
from the bottom every half hour. At the end of this
time the surface of the mass, instead of being dark,
brown, becomes whitish as the sulphur escapes, and some
bright white drops of melted silver, about the size of
pease, make their appearance. I he fused mass is now
to be poured into a greased cone ; and when it is cold,
it will be found to he composed of a mass of sulphuret
of silver, resting upon a white metallic button, which is
nearly equal in weight to the added silver, and contains
the whole of the gold that originally existed in the en¬
tire mass. If it appears that any of the gold remains
among the sulphuret of silver, it maybe separated by
fusion in an open crucible. By this process part of the
sulphur is burnt off, and a corresponding quantity of
silver is reduced to the metallic state, which being care¬
fully mixed with the remainder, and repeatedly stirred
with a piece of stick, the whole of the gold remaining
in the silver, which is still sulphurated, will be attracted;
and by being poured into a cone, will be collected at
the bottom in a mass.
The silver containing the gold, which is collected in
these two operations, being melted and granulated, is
subjectedffo one or more repetitions of the same process,
till the silver that remains is found to contain a sufficient
proportion of gold, to render it worth while to proceed
to the process ol parting by means of aquafortis. The
whole of the silver may be separated by means of sul¬
phur ; but when the proportion of gold is considerable,
the sulphuret of silver always takes up a part of it,
which cannot again be entirely separated without re¬
peated fusions j and therefore, when the gold is equal
to Voth of the silver, a further purification by means of
sulphur, will scarcely be found advantageous.
An ingenious and economical method of separating
the gold from old gilt silver lace or wire, has been ex¬
tensively practised in Saxony. This method proceeds
on the principle, that the affinity of gold for copper,
and of silver for lead, is much greater than the affinity
which subsists between gold and silver j and it is con-
3 Gf 2 ducted
4r9
(Jo! b
42P
Gold.
O K E
ducted in the following manner. The alloyed metal is
first granulated, and Trg- of it is mixed with 4 its weight
of litharge, and 4 of sandiver.. This is called the precipi¬
tating mixture. The next is mixed with of powder¬
ed sulphur, and is brought into fusion, which being com¬
plete, as will appear from the flashing at the surface, 4 °f
the precipitating mixture is added at three difierent times,
allowing an interval of five minutes between each time }
and the fusion is then continued for ten minutes longer.
Part of the sulphurated silver is taken out with a small cru¬
cible made red hot, and the remainder being poured in¬
to the melting cone, a quantity of metallic silver com¬
bined with the greatest part of the gold, subsides to the
bottom. The sulphuret of silver is again melted, and
the remaining part of the precipitating mixture is added
as at first, and thus a second portion of gold alloyed with
silver is obtained. But as the sulphuret still retains a
small portion of gold, it is to be fused a third time }
and a precipitating mixture, equal in weight to the for¬
mer, but consisting of an alloy of equal parts of copper
and lead, is to be added, and thus a third precipitate of
gold holding silver is obtained, and the sulphuret is now
deprived of the whole of its gold.
The different metallic masses thus obtained, are melted
with 4 °f lead, then granulated, and treated in the same
way as at first, with sulphur and the precipitating mix¬
tures. The silver thus obtained being rich in gold, is
first to be granulated, then mixed with xrg of sulphur,
and kept in fusion for about half an hour without any
addition $ and being poured into a cone, the sulphuret
is separated from the metal, and this last is treated two
or three times more with sulphur, in a similar manner.
The metallic button obtained, which now appears of a
yellow colour, is to be melted with one sixteenth of
copper, then granulated, and mixed with one sixteenth
of sulphur ; and the mixture being first gently heated in
a covered crucible, and kept in fusion for about a quarter
of an hour, is poured into a cone, at the bottom of
which the gold is collected of a brass colour, and about
eighteen carats fine. The purification is afterwards
completed by means of sulphuret of antimony, a pro¬
cess which will be afterwards described.
3. Parting operation.—When the proportion of the
gold and silver, alloyed together, is such, that the former
is not much less than one sixteenth, or greater than one
fourth of the whole mass, the operation of parting may
be followed. In this method the gold is separated from
the silver by means of diluted nitric acid, or, as it is
termed by manufacturers, aquafortis, which dissolves the
silver, and leaves the gold untouched. The button of
gold and silver is prepared for this process by flattening
with the hammer, again heating it red hot, and slowly
cooling to anneal it for the purpose of increasing its mal¬
leability. It is then to be extended into a small plate as
thin as a wafer, by passing it between rollers of polished
steel, again heated, but only to redness, and last of all
rolled up in the form of a small loose coil or spiral, called
a cornet. The annealing is useful in allowing the metal
to be rolled up without cracking, and at the same time
the freer action of the acid, in consequence of the tex¬
ture of the metal being somewhat opened.
The cornet thus prepared is introduced into a pear-
formed matrass, called a parting-glass, and three or
four times its weight of pure nitric acid of 1.25 specific
gravity are added} the mouth being slightly covered to
S, 8cc.
Chap. II
keep out the dust, the glass is set on a sand bath, or over Gold,
charcoal, to boil. As soon as it becomes warm, the acid v——y—
begins to act on the silver, and dissolves it with the evo¬
lution of nitrous fumes. During the whole action of
the acid, the cornet appears all over studded with mi¬
nute bubbles, and when these discontinue, or run into-
one another, forming a few large ones, the action of the
acid is nearly over. The process is usually completed
in about fifteen or twenty minutes from the time that
the acid begins to boil. The cornet now appears cor¬
roded throughout, and has lost during the solution the
whole of the silver j and the remaining gold which is
slender and brittle, retains the same spiral form. Indeed
it is of considerable importance that it should not be
broken, for much of the accuracy of the operation depends
on having the gold in one piece and not in fragments.
The acid solution of silver, while yet hot, is next to be
carefully poured off, and a portion of fresh acid, somewhat
stronger, is to be added, to separate all the remains of
silver 5 the boiling is to be repeated as before, but only
for five or six minutes ; it is then poured off and added
to the former solution, and the parting-glass is filled with
hot distilled water, to wash off the remains of the solution..
The cornet, which is now of a brown colour and spongy
texture, and has little of the metallic appearance, is
taken out in the following manner. A small crucible is
inverted over the mouth of the parting-glass, while it is
yet filled with the distilled water, and the latter being
rapidly inverted upon the crucible, the cornet falls softly
through the water down the neck of the glass into the
crucible, where it is deposited, and the water is carefully
poured off. The crucible after being dried is next
heated to redness under a muffle. The cornet contract*
greatly in all directions, becomes of a firm texture, and
resumes its metallic lustre j and after being bi ought to
a red heat and cooled, it exhibits the appearance of a
cornet of pure gold, having all the splendour, softness,
and flexibility of this precious metal. By accurate
weighing, the amount of the product is precisely ascer¬
tained, and thus the operation of parting is completed.
But if the proportion of gold amount to one third of
the mass, it combines with part ol the silver, and pro¬
tects the latter by its insolubility from being acted on
by the acid, so that in the process of parting, too great
a proportion of gold in the alloy must be avoided ; and
farther, as the acid is expensive, unless the silver be rich
in gold, this process, which is in many respects conve¬
nient, will not be found economical. In reducing the
fineness of the alloy which is too rich in gold to be ad¬
vantageously parted by itself, it will be the object of the
refiner not to employ pure silver, but such as contains »
small portion of gold ; and at the same time it will be
his study to save the quantity of acid.
The following is the usual method of conducting the
process of parting. After selecting a proper quantity
of rich and poor ingots of mixed metal, the whole is to
be fused in an iron crucible ; and being well mixed by
frequent stirring, it is to be removed by a clean iron la¬
dle, and granulated in cold water. The parting-glasses,
which are nearly of the form of a truncated cone with
a rounded bottom, are about twelve inches high and se¬
ven inches wide at the lower extremity, and they should
be of equal thickness, well annealed, and free from any
kind of flaws. About forty ounces ol metal are intro¬
duced into each glass, and the nitrous acid, half satnra*
II. O E E
teil with silver, is added till it stand two or three fingers
breadth above the surface of the metal. Twenty or
even more of these glasses are placed in a sand bath,
and the heat, which should at first be moderate, is gra¬
dually increased till it nearly reach the boiling point
about the time that the acid is saturated. The nitrate
of silver is poured olf, a new portion of stronger acid is
added, and boiled as before till it is nearly saturated,
when almost the whole of the silver is taken up, and
what remains undissolved has the appearance of a brown
mud, and consists of the gold finely divided with a small
portion of silver. The acid again saturated is poured
oil, and a third portion of still stronger acid is added,
which is kept at the boiling temperature till the evolu¬
tion of nitrous gass ceases, and the bubbles are enlarged,
which shews that all the silver is taken up. The acid
is then decanted off, and reserved for the first part of
a future process of the same kind j and the gold is re¬
peatedly washed with fresh portions of hot water till
the washings dropped on a polished copper plate pro¬
duce no stain j and the powder, being dried and mixed
with little nitre and borax, is fused, and is then in a
state of purity.
To decompose the nitrate of silver with the view of
procuring the pure metal, the solution is poured into a
wooden vessel lined with copper, and in which are pla¬
ced plates of copper that the silver may be precipitated
from its solution in consequence of the greater affinity
of the nitrous acid for the copper. The surface of the
plates is to be cleared from time to time of the silver
crust, that a fresh surface of copper may be exposed to
the action of the acid, and the decomposition of the ni¬
trate of silver may be promoted j after which the ni¬
trate of copper formed in the solution is decanted off,
the plates are scraped, and the silver being washed is
fused with nitre, and is also obtained in a state of pu¬
rity.
4. Separation of gold from silver or other metals by
sulphuret of antimony.—All the common metals, ex¬
cepting zinc, which come under the denomination of
imperfect metals, may be separated from gold by this
process j for as gold is incapable of combining with sul¬
phur, and as the affinity of almost all the other metals
for sulphur is stronger than that of antimony, it is suffi¬
ciently obvious, that an alloy of gold with any of these
metals, as for instance gold and copper, being added to
aulphuret of antimony, the sulphur will combine with
the copper, and the antimony will form an alloy with
the gold. When common crucibles are employed for
this process, some previous preparation is necessary. A
well burned crucible is selected, and soaked for two or
three days in linseed oil, which is then to be cleared
away from the inner surface till some finer powdered
glass of borax dusted upon it shall just adhere, when it
is to be put into a dry place for two or three weeks,
after which it is fit for use.
The gold alloy is first melted in the crucible, and then
about twice its weight of coarsely-powdered sulphuret
of antimony is thrown in at two or three different times.
At each addition the mixture froths and swells up, so
that the crucible must be larger than the quantity con¬
tained, and great caution must be observed to prevent
any bits of charcoal dropping into the crucible; for
then the mass of melted matter would certainly flow
aver. WTheii the mixture begins to sparkle oil the surface.
S, &C.
and appears to be perfectly fluid, it is to be poured into
a melting cone which has been previously heated and
greased, and the settling of the gold at the bottom is
promoted by communicating a tremulous motion to the
cone by means of slight blows. When the matter has
become cold, it is removed from the cone by giving it
a few blows in an inverted position. The mass is com¬
posed of an alloy of gold and antimony, covered with
scoriae consisting of the metal formerly alloyed with the
gold now in combination with the sulphur or the anti¬
mony. But the gold still retains a little of its alloy,
and from this it is to be freed $ the same process is to
be repeated not only a second, but even a third and
fourth time, with a similar quantity of sulphuret of
antimony. The metals from which gold may be ad¬
vantageously purified by this process are iron, copper,
tin, lead, and silver.
5. Separation of goldfrom antimony.—When the pro¬
portion of antimony exceeds that of the gold, the alloy
is brittle. It must be reduced to small pieces, mixed
with one-fourth its weight of sulphur, melted in a cover¬
ed earthen crucible, and after the fusion is completed,
poured into a melting cone previously heated and greas¬
ed. When examined after being cooled, it will be
found to consist of two parts, which may be easily se¬
parated by melting the alloy, exposing it to a high tem¬
perature, and at the same time directing a stream of air
from a pair of bellows into the crucible which contains
it. By this means the antimony is oxidated, and driven
oft in the form of white vapour. The gold having ac¬
quired a clear bright green colour, it is to be poured
out and melted again in a small crucible with a little
nitre. The remaining portions of antimony will be oxi¬
dated, and driven ofl from the gold as before. The
small proportion of gold which remains attached to the
sulphuret of antimony may be separated by bringing the
whole mass into thin fusion, and precipitating part of
the antimony by adding about one-fifth of its weight of
iron filings. In this way the gold falls down in the
form of alloy with the antimony, and it may be separat¬
ed by means of the process described above.
Separation of gold from lead by cupellation.—This is
the most economical method of separating gold from
lead. The nature of the process of cupellation, and the
method of conducting it, have been already described
under Chemistry, N° 2026. p. 682. But besides lead,
other metals may be separated from gold, by employing
that metal as a flux, the effects of which in scorifying
and carrying down most of the imperfect metals, are
such, that by the process of cupellation with lead, which
is to be repeated according to the proportion of the
alloy, and its affinity for the gold, almost every particle-
of the metals combined with it, may be separated. This
method is usually followed where the prpportion of alloy
is but small; but when it is more considerable, some of
the other methods are preferable. It is found however,
that in the cupellation of pure gold with lead, it always
retains a small portion of this metal, which affects it&
colour and ductility. But if the alloy to be purified,
contain, beside lead, to the amount of one-twenty-fourth
of the gold of copper, the whole of the lead may be
separated, but scarcely any of the copper; and if it
contain silver in a greater proportion than that of cop¬
per, the latter may be separated by the process of cupel¬
lation, and a little of the lead remains, But if the silver
exceed
422 ORE
Cold, exceed tlie gold, oi' be equal to it, the copper and lead
» —.—■ may be entirely separated, while the gold and silver re¬
main behind. From a knowledge of these facts, the
refiners, in separating the base metals from gold, by the
process of cupellation, add to the mixture a considerable
proportion of silver. When the gold is alloyed with
tin, cupellation with lead alone will not succeed, be¬
cause the tin, with part of the lead, forms a spongy
nnd refractory oxide, and floats on the surface of the
fluid metal, and at the same time retains part of the gold.
But as iron is found to combine with tin into an alloy
that may be scorified by lead, the addition of iron filings
during the process removes the difficulty.
The following table shews the quantity of gold which
is got from the different countries of the old and new
world, taken on an average, between the years 1790
and 1802.
Old Continent. Kilogrammes.
Siberia, 1700
Africa, 1500
Hungary, 650
Saltzburg, 75
Norway, 75
Total of the Old Continent,   4000
'New Continent.
North America, *300
South America—
Spanish possessions, 5000
Foj tuguese possessions, 7500
Total of the New Continent, —— 13800
* Brongni- '
'art> 1U 351- The kilogramme being equal to 2lbs. 30Z. 5drs.
avoirdupois, the whole amount is equal to about 39,285
pounds avoirdupois.
Chap. III. Of the Ores of Mercury.
\ The ores of mercury present less variety than those
of many other metals; and on account of its peculiar
properties, the management of its ores, whether for the
purposes of analysis or reduction, is less complicated
and difficult.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of the Ores of Mercury.
To analyze the ore of native mercury, or native
amalgam, it is to be digested in nitric acid of moderate
strength 5 the mercury and silver, and bismuth, will be
dissolved, and if the ore should contain a minute portion
of gold, it will remain untouched in the form of a
brown powder at the bottom of the solution The ni¬
trous solution is next to be gently evaporated till it is
so far concentrated as to be on the poinr of crystallizing.
It is then to be poured into a large quantity of pure wa¬
ter, by which means the most part of the bismuth will
be separated, and a solution of common salt, or any
other neutral muriate, being added to the filtered liquor,
the silver and mercury will be precipitated in the form
of muriate. After this is separated, add to the clear
liquor some carbonated alkali, while any precipitation
5
S, &c. Chap. HI.
takes place j then boil the liquor, and separate the pre- Mercury
cipitate by filtration. The muriatic precipitate is next > ■■ y—^
to be digested in nitro-muriatic acid moderately diluted,
which takes up every thing excepting the muriate of
silver, from which, after being washed and dried, the
proportion of silver in the ore may be easily ascertained.
The nitro-muriatic solution is now to be decomposed at
a boiling heat, by a carbonated alkali, and the white
precipitate thus obtained being added to the former car¬
bonated precipitate, mix them with a little oil, or what
answers better, sugar, and distil in a small coated glass
retort. Kaise it gradually to a red heat, and continue
at that temperature while any mercury comes over.
The residue in the retort consists of a little metallic
bismuth and charcoal.
Native amalgam.—With the view of ascertaining the
proportion of mercury and silver in this ore, Klaproth
examined some of the garnet-like crystals from the
quicksilver mines of Deux Fonts. Some pure crystals
weighing 33^ grains were introduced into a barometer
tube of a larger diameter than usual, and closed at the
lower end. This end was placed in sand, within a small
crucible j heat wTas applied, and its intensity gradually
increased to the degree of ignition. After cooling, he
cut oil the lowrer end of the tube, and found that it
contained the silver, which had undergone ignition in
its former crystalline form, and weighing 12 grains.
On collecting the mercury which had been sublimed in
the tube, he obtained 21 grains. Therefore since the
deficiency of one-third of a grain may be reckoned as
a loss of quicksilver, the following will be the propor¬
tion of the parts in 100 of this crystallized amalgam of
silver.
Silver, 36
Mercury, 64
100
Cinnabar.—The analysis of cinnabar may be conduct¬
ed in the following manner. The ore being reduced
to a fine powder, is repeatedly digested in a mixture of
1 part of nitric acid, and 3 of muriatic, moderately di¬
luted, by which every thing in the ore is dissolved ex¬
cepting the siliceous earth and the sulphur. The re¬
sidue being washed, dried, and weighed, is subjected to
a red heat, and the remaining silex being deducted, the
dillerence of weight shews the amount of the sulphur.
The nitro-muriatic solution is next to be decomposed at
a boiling heat, by carbonated alkali, and the precipi¬
tate obtained being mixed with a little lamp-black, and
distilled, the mercury passes over in the metallic form.
The residue in the retort consists of magnetic oxide of
iron, and any accidental earth excepting silex that is
contained in the ore, together with a little charcoal,
which may be separated in the usual way.
Hepatic ores.—The hepatic ores of mercury, and such
as contain bituminous substances, may be treated in the
same way •, but these ores are sometimes combined with
a little silver, and therefore the matter which remains
undissolved in nitro-muriatic acid, may be muriate of
silver, as well as sulphur and silex. When the sulphur
is burnt off, the residue is to be mixed with twice its
weight of pearl-ash, and being strongly ignited in an
earthen crucible, dduted muriatic acid is added, by
which the alkali and the earth will be taken up, and
thfe
€iiap. III. O R-' E S, &c. 423
Mercury, the silver will remain behind in the form of small me- is extracted, the scoria is taken out of the furnace, and Mercury.
^ tallic grains. the aludels are emptied of their contents. But besides
Corneous ore of mercury.-—analyze this species of the mercury, they are found to contain a quantity of
mercurial ore, let it be digested in a little distilled vi- black matter like soot. This matter is easily separated
negar, by which the native mercury which is dispersed by spreading the whole about on an inclined table, so'
though the ore will be left behind. Add to the clear that the mercury may run to the lower extremity, where
solution nitrate of barytes, by which the sulphuric acid it is collected in a channel, and the impure sooty matter
will be separated in the state of sulphate of barytes j remains behind.
and this being removed, drop in nitrate of silver, by The method of extracting mercury from its ores now
which the muriatic acid will be separated in the form of described, is advantageous, on account of the simplicity
muriate of silver. I he mercury now remains in solution of the apparatus, and the smaller expence of fuel; but
in the state of nitrate, and being precipitated by means it would appear that a portion of the mercury remaining
of iron, it is afterwards washed in muriatic acid, and in the ore is lost. There is besides a considerable loss
thus appears in the metallic state. It may also be re¬
duced to the metallic state by precipitating by carbon¬
ated alkali, and distilling the precipitate with a little
lamp black.
A simple and easy process is followed in assaying the
ore of mercury in the dry way. The ore to be examin¬
ed is first to be reduced to poivder, and carefully mixed
with one-fourth of its weight of quicklime, and an equal
portion of iron filings. It is then to be exposed to a
red heat in an iron or earthen retort, as long as any
mercury passes over into the receiver.
Sect. II. Of the Reduction of the Ores of Mercury.
A very simple process is followed for reducing the
ores of mercury. The following is the method prac¬
tised at the celebrated mines of Almaden in Spain.
The pieces of pure cinnabar are first selected and sepa¬
rated from the ore, to be sold to painters and manufac¬
turers of sealing-wax. The rest is soiled into three
parts, of which the first is the richest, and is broken in¬
to pieces of a moderate size; the second, containing a
smaller proportion of metal, is broken into smaller
pieces; and the third consists of the dust and smaller
fragments of the other two. These are kneaded up
with clay, and being formed into bricks, are carefully
dried in the sun. The furnace which is used for ex¬
tracting the mercury is built in an oblong form, and is
divided horizontally by an iron grate, into an upper
and lower compartment, and near its top it communi¬
cates with a series of aludels. In charging the furnace,
a stratum of flat rough stones is placed on the grate,
intervals between each of the stones being left for the
passage of the fire. A bed of ore of the second quality
is laid on the stratum of stones, and then a stratum of
the ore of the first quality, after which another of the
second kind, and last of all a stratum of the third kind,
which has been made up into bricks. A few faggots
are then thrown into the lower cavity of the furnace,
and lighted up ; and a gentle fire is to be kept up bv oc¬
casionally adding faggots for eight or twelve hours, ac¬
cording to the previous state of the ore with regard to
moisture. After the moisture is separated, which is
known by the vapour ceasing to be exhaled, the fire¬
place is filled again with faggots, and by the time they
are consumed, a sufficient heat will be communicated
to the ore, to allow the combustion to go .on, by
means of the sulphur which it contains, without re¬
quiring any more fuel. In the course of the next two
days, while the sulphur burns slowly away, the mercury
rises in the state of vapour, and passes into the aludels,
where it is condensed. TV hen the whole of the metal
in throwing away the soot, after separating the running
mercury on the tables, not only because many of the
globules of the metal itself are thrown away, but also
the calomel, and cinnabar, which are found to be in
considerable proportion, are wasted. Hence it has been
recommended as a more profitable method, 1. To se¬
parate the sulphate of ammonia, which, according to the
examination of Proust, forms part of the matter depo¬
sited in the aludels, and then by mixing what remains,
with 12 or 15 per cent, of quicklime, distil it in an iron
retort, by which means the whole of the running mer¬
cury would be obtained, as well as that which is pro¬
duced by the decomposition of the calomel and cinna¬
bar.
A more improved process is practised at the mines of
Deux Fonts, and Idria. The ore, as it is brought out
of the mine, is carefully sorted by the hand, and these
parts that seem destitute of metal, are rejected. This
process, although tedious and expensive, is found to be
more advantageous than the older method of separating
the cinnabar by washing, in which there is a great loss
of metal. The ore being thus sorted, it is reduced to
powder, and accurately mixed with one-fifth of quick¬
lime, which has fallen to powder by exposing it to the
air ; but it ought to be observed that the quantity of
quick lime is to be regulated by the proportion of cinna¬
bar contained in the ore. The mixture being thus pre¬
pared, is introduced into iron retorts, which are capable
of holding about 6olbs. • weight. The retorts, to the
number of 40 or 50, are fixed in a long, furnace, and a
glass receiver is attached to each, but it is not luted.
A moderate heat is then applied for tin: purpose of driv¬
ing off the whole of the moisture; and when this is
done, the joinings of the vessels are to be closely stopt
with tempered clay, and a full red heat is to be applied,
and continued for seven or eight hours, at the end of
which time the whole of the mercury will be volatilized,
and condensed in the receiver. By this process it is
found, that loolb. of the ore yield from 6 oz. to 10 oz.
of metal.
Chap. IV. Of the Ores of Silver.
The ores of silver present a considerable variety.
Sometimes it is found in the metallic state in masses of
from 3olbs. to 4olbs. weight, but it is oftener combined
with sulphur in the state of sulphuret; with other me¬
tals, especially antimony, arsenic, iron, copper, lead, and
bismuth ; or with acids, as the carbonate and the muria¬
tic, forming the carbonate and muriate of silver. ’Hie
analysis and reduction of these different ores, it is scarce¬
ly necessary to observe, must be conducted according to
4H
Silver.
ORE
ttie nafilYC and proportion of the Ingredients which en-
' ter into the composition of the ore to be examined or re¬
duced.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of the Ores of Silver.
When a silver ore is to be examined, and? the only
object in view is to ascertain the proportion of silver
it contains, the operation is usually conducted in the dry
way. The ore is first roasted and reduced to powder j
it is then mixed with litharge in proportion to the earthy
matter combined with the ore, and quickly vitrified.
The mass thus obtained is again reduced to powder, and
being mixed with black flux, is to be fused in a cruci¬
ble, with a sufficient degree of heat. By this process
the lead of the litharge is revived, and collected at the
bottom of the crucible, carrying with it the whole of
the silver, as well as some of the other metals which
may be combined with the ore. The button thus ob¬
tained is to be subjected to the process of cupellation,
with the requisite quantity of pure lead, and in this way
the base metals are scorified, and the silver remains be¬
hind in a state of purity, or combined only with the
gold, which many of the ores of silver contain in small
proportion. The gold is to be separated by some of the
methods which we have already described, in treating
of the ores of gold. This operation, in which the ob¬
ject only is to ascertain, as in this case, the quantity of
silver, is called assaijing. In the examination of ores in
this view, more assays then one should always be per¬
formed, that an accurate and nearly invariable result
"may be obtained.
But in examining metallic ores,-it is always more
satisfactory to ascertain the whole of the ingredients of
which they are composed. We shall therefore proceed
to give an account of the best conducted analysis of the
ores of silver.
Corneous silver ore.—-The following is the analysis or
this ore by Klaproth.
“ Upon 200 grains of the corneous silver ore I poured
three times their weight of pure nitric acid j but no
action took place, either in the cold or in the heat of
boiling", only a subtle brown red iron-ochre was sepa¬
rated, which, being washed off from the remaining ore,
and dried, amounted to four grains. Caustic ammonia,
added to the nitric acid employed, precipitated five
grains more of iron. When it was afterwai'ds mixed
with muriatic acid, only a pale milky colour was pro¬
duced, but no real corneous silver ore deposited. It
followed from this, that neither any free native silver,
nor any portion of it mineralized by sulphur, had been
contained in that ore. The horn-silver, after treat¬
ment with nitric acid, was reduced by twice its weight
of salt of tartar, and yielded 133 grains of reguline
-silver.
“ 1. For the purpose of finding out, more accurately,
its constituent parts, I mixed 200 grains with 600 grains
of the purest alkali prepared from tartar, and brought
the mixture into the state of fusion in a glass retort, ap¬
plying the necessary degree of heat. After refrigera¬
tion, I broke off the upper half of the retort, softened
the fused mass, which was of a light-brown colour, with
hot distilled water, filtered the whole, and edulcorated
the residue.
“ 2. This residue was then dissolved in nitric acid. The
3
Silver.
S, &c. Chap. TV.
solution acquired a brown tinge, and the scum floating
upon the liquor assumed the colour of bricks. When v—
the argenteous parts were completely dissolved, there
remained 8|- grains of a brown-red powder, which im¬
parted a golden yellow colour to the aqua regia, with
which it was digested, and left a white residue behind.
This last consisted of horn-silver, mingled with a slight
portion of the gangue, or matrix of the ore, and afford¬
ed, on reduction, two grains more of silver. Caustic
ammonia precipitated from the yellow solution seven
grains of oxyded iron.
“ 3. The nitric solution of the silver was precipitat¬
ed by common salt 5 and the muriate of silver thus ob¬
tained weighed, after reduction by means of soda, 134^
grains of reguline silver.
« The fluid, left after the separation of the horn-
silver, had a pale-yellow colour, owing to a portion of
iron; which, precipitated by pure ammonia, weighed
five grains.
“ 5. After this, I proceeded to examine the saline
mass, dissolved in distilled water, and separated from
the silver, after the corneous ore had been fused with
pure alkali. On saturating this mass with distilled \ine-
gar, the solution was rendered turbid, and a loose white
earth deposited, which, collected and dried, amounted to
three grains and a half of argillaceous earth.
“ 6. The alumina being separated, the solution was
reduced to a dry salt by evaporation, and the alcohol,
affused upon it,'took up the acetite of pot ash. The
neutral salt, which was left behind by this process, and
which consisted of the mineralizing muriatic acid and
the alkali employed, I dissolved in water, and obtained
from it, by repeated evaporation and crystallization,
1174 grains of muriate of potash.
“ 7. In order to learn whether and in what proportion
sulphuric acid, which by some writers has been mention¬
ed as one of the constituent parts of the corneous silver
ore, were really present in it, I again dissolved that salt
in distilled water, and dropped into it liquid muriate of
barytes. The mixture became turbid, exhibiting that
appearance which indicates the presence of only a slight
quantity of sulphuric acid. I continued to add the
barytes, until no more turbidness appeared. The weight
of the precipitate thus obtained was three grains : but,
as in these three grains of sulphated barytes the acid
cannot properly be estimated to be more than half a
grain, I think this quantity is too trifling to be consider¬
ed as one of the essential constituent parts of the corne¬
ous silver ore. But if that half grain of sulphuric acid
be estimated equal to li grain of sulphur of potash, and
be subtracted from the above 117^ grains of digestive
salt, or muriate of potash, there will remain of the latter
only 116 grains, in which the concentrated muriatic
acid amounts to 42 grains. Therefore,
“ One hundred parts of this corneous ore contain
Silver,
Muriatic acid,
Oxide of iron,
Alumina,
Sulphuric acid
67-75
21
6
J-75
0.25
96 7
Red silver ore.—The following is* the analysis of this
ore, also by Klaproth.
“ Upon
i Chap. IV.
Silver,
“Upon 500grains of Ijiight, crystalline, red silver ore,
—' most finely pulverized, I poured six times their quantity
of a mixture of equal parts of nitric acid of 1.350 spe¬
cific gravity and distilled water. The phial was kept
for several hours in a low digesting heat, so that the
agency of the acid would be but moderate. I then di¬
luted the solution with water; caused it to boil ; and,
after the residuum had subsided to the bottom, I decant¬
ed the clear solution. Upon the remaining pulverulent
ore, a quantity of nitric acid and water, equal to the
preceding, was again affused ; and, in the same manner,
proceeded with as at first. The ore appeared now to
have been effectually decomposed ; and for this reason
the solutions, together with the residuum, were put on
the filter, and the latter properly washed.
“ The filtered nitric solution had no colour at all, hav¬
ing been very much diluted by the water by which the
residue had been edulcorated. I subjected it to evapo
ration to |th part, and found the bottom of the evapo¬
rating glass vessel, after cooling, covered with copious,
finely grained, resplendent, and heavy crystals of a
gray white. I o ascertain their nature, I procured, by
a separate process, a quantity of a solution of the same
red silver-ore, sufficient for this enquiry, and found that
they were sulphate of silver. Being assured of this, I
dissolved that sulphate by a proportionate quantity of
water, assisted by heat, added it again to the nitric so¬
lution, and combined this last with muriatic acid, as Jong
as any muriate of silver would precipitate ; which, when
collected, edulcorated, and dried, wras found to weigh
3914 grains.
“ The fluid, from which the horn-silver had been thus
separated, was then reduced to a smaller bulk, by dis¬
tillation from a retort. This concentrated fluid became
turbid, and left another grain of muriated silver on the
filter. At this time it contained no other foreign sub¬
stance, except a considerable portion of sulphuric acid.
“ What remained undissolved hy the nitric acid, con¬
sisted of an ash-gray, pretty loose, or flocculent powder,
of 202 grains in weight. When this had been gently
digested for half an hour, with a mixture of five parts
of muriatic acid, mixed with one part of the nitric, and
then diluted with half its quantity of water, there re¬
mained, after filtering, careful edulcoration, and drying,
65 grains; which were the sulphureous contents of the
ore. When this residue had been gently heated, the
sulphur deflagrated, leaving 6^ grains of muriated silver
behind. This sulphur, therefore, consisted of 58!- grains.
After the filtered solution had been evaporated in
part, it was poured into a large quantity of water. By
management, a white precipitate immediately ensued,
which being separated by the filter, edulcorated, and
dried, and lastly heated in a porcelain cup, gave 133
grains in weight. But I could not find the least trace
of arsenic in it, though I had subjected it to all the trials
deemed proper for discovering its presence. On the
contrary, it was manifest, that this precipitate wholly
consisted of oxide of antimony, quite of the same nature
with that which is produced when muriatic solutions of
antimony are precipitated by water. On exposing it to
heat, a small portion of moisture still evaporated, attend¬
ed with a muriatic smell, which was hardly perceptible.
When again put on a test, and mingled with a third
part of charcoal dust, the coaly powder was slowly con¬
sumed, by burning, without any arsenical smell, and left
Vol. XV. Part JI.
ORES, See.
behind it the metallic oxide, possessed of a gray colour,
and partly blended, partly covered, with a quantity of
line, gray-white,shining, acicularcrystals, or the flowers
of antimony, as they are called. But when it was fused
in a covered crucible with tartar and powdered charcoal,
it was completely revived into reguline antimony, which
being blown off with the bellows, a bead of silver was
left, weighing half a grain.
The liquor also, from which the antimonial oxide
wras separated, contained free sulphuric acid. On thi*
account, I put it into a retort, together with the nitric
acid, from which the silver had been precipitated in the
state of horn-silver, by means of muriatic acid, and con¬
tinued the distillation until, at this temperature, nothino-
more would pass over ; but, on raising the heat, thick
white vapours had begun to rise. The fluid left behind
in the retort was found upon trial, to be concentrated
sulphuric acid. Upon diluting this last with water, and
subsequent allusion of muriated barytes, the sulphate of
barytes from thence produced, amounted, after eduleo-
lation and desiccation, to 194 grains#
“ Consequently, the constituent parts discovered by
these researches are, silver, antimony, sulphury and
sulphuric acid ^
Vitreous silver ore.—This lias been also analyzed by
ivlapioth, according to the following method.
1 • ^ ductile vitreous silver ore be fused upon a piece
0 charcoal, hy the assistance of the blow-pipe, its sul¬
phur is quickly volatilized, and a button of pure silver
remains. But it is otherwise with the brittle ore : for
the bead left after the evaporation of the sulphur is
brittle, and cannot be purified by the addition of borax
However, if a little nitrate of potash be added to the red-
hot bead, it will destroy the portion of Laser metal which
it contains, and then the borate of soda causes it to
yield a pure button of silver.
2. One hundred grains of ore, previously levigated
were gently boiled in a sufficient quantity of nitric acid’
diluted with an equal quantity of water. This opera¬
tion was repeatedly performed, till the black colour of
the powdered ore disappeared, and the insoluble portion
bad become of a loose texture, and had acquired a graV-
yeHow colour. When filtered and dried, this residue
weighed 26 grains.
3-
above
On adding a solution of common salt to the
. Altered solution, which had assumed a pale-
greenish colour, a copious precipitate of horn-silver en¬
sued, which, edulcorated and dried, gave 884- grains,
f our parts of this afforded three of silver, by fusion
with soda. J
“ 4. The remaining solution was next combined with
sulphate of soda ; but neither any turbidness, nor any in¬
dication of the presence of lead, appeared. Upon this,
caustic ammonia was affused to excess ; and the gray
precipitate, which then fell down, and which the vola¬
tile alkali could not again render soluble, weighed five
giains. iged by heat, it melted into a consistence
like pap, at the same time that a weak arsenical smell
was perceived. After this precipitate had been once
more dissolved in nitric acid, the addition of soda caused
it to yield a whitish yellow, alkaline sulphuret a dirty
irovvn, and Prussian alkali a deep blue precipitate,
liabie to the attraction of the loadstone, after ignition.
J nerelore, it consisted of iron, with a slight trace of ar¬
senic.
t 3h
Essays.
5. The
Iver.
Essays.
O R E
“ c. The proportion of copper, indicated by a Hun
colour, in consequence of the addition 01 ammonia, am
which still remained in the solution, was hut slight. 1 or,
after the solution had been saturated with sulphuric acid,
polished iron immersed in it, was invested with so s ig it
a coppery crust, that no copper to any amount could be
“ 6. Those 26 grains, which continued insoluble in the
nitric acid (2.), were digested in nitro-munatic acid,
till nothing appeared to remain hut the mere sulphur.
Its weight amounted to 13 grains ; but after deflagra¬
tion, it left behind it about one grain oi quartzose mat¬
ter of the mine.
“ <7. From this it is obvious, that 1-3 grains, or one-
half of the above 26 grains, were held in solution by the
nitro-muriatic acid •, and these were precipitated entire¬
ly in the form of a white powder, upon the allusion ol 20
parts of water. When ignited, this precipitate assumed
a yellowish colour 5 but there was nothing either ot
arsenic, or any other volatile substance, perceivable, liy
combination with soda, it became reduced to pure regu-
line antimony 5 which, as such, admitted of being own
oil', without leaving any residue, in its usual lorm ol a
thick white smoke, adhering to the contiguous bodies
in the form of needle-shaped flowers (oxide) ot anti¬
mony. Those 13 grains of oxided antimony are equi¬
valent to ten grains of that matter in the reguhne
state
For’the analysis of some of the other ores of silver,
we must refer our readers to the ingenious and elaborate
Essays of the sagacious Klaproth, from which we have
extracted what is given above on this subject.
Sect. II. Reduction of the Ores of Silver.
Although the ores of silver contain a larger propor¬
tion of extraneous matters than the ores of some other
metals, the value of that metal being greater than that ot
many others, admits of greater expence m the processes
employed for their reduction. The ores of silver are
reduced either by fusion, or amalgamation.
Reduction of silver ores byfusion.—^S ative sulphuret
of lead, or galena, commonly contains a portion ot sil¬
ver, and often in such quantity, as to make its separa¬
tion from the lead a profitable undertaking. Ihe pro¬
portion of silver contained in lead is very variable. Ihe
greatest produce of silver which we have heard of, was
got from the lead ore of Craven in orkshire, which
amounted to 230 ounces of silver in the ton ot lead.
The mines of Cardiganshire yielded formerly SO ounces
per ton \ the Durham and Westmoreland mines aflord
lead, from which 17 ounces of silver are obtained upon
an average per ton. The lead procured from the mines
of Islay, one of the Western islands ot Scotland, yielded,
we have’ been informed, 40 ounces per ton j and the a-
verage produce of lead at the refinery at Poullaouen, in
Brittany in France, is above 39 ounces of silver per
ton. The following is the process carried on at the
latter establishment, for separating the silver from the
^After the lead has been extracted from the ore, the
object of the refiner is to obtain the silver in a separate
state, which is dispersed through the mass of lead. I his
sime, vuii«-u "■“i"'*  o
is performed by the process of eupellation on a large
scale, or refining, as it is usually termed. Ihe floor of
S, &c. < Chap
the reverberatory furnace, in which the process is con¬
ducted, is horizontal, and it is lined with wood ashes
and sand mixed together, and well beaten, and formed
into a shallow bason, which is the cupel. There is an
aperture at one side of the cupel, which forms a right
angle with the flue by which the flame from the fire¬
place passes into the cavity ol the furnace. Flnough
this aperture the lead, brought to the state of litharge,
runs ; and opposite to it there is another aperture by
which a blast of air is admitted. The top ol the fur¬
nace has a circular aperture directly above, and corre¬
sponds in extent with the cupel, which may be shut up
with a frame work of iron filled with bricks. When
the furnace is ready, the cupel is lined with hay, and is
then charged with about 177 quintals of lead, in bars
or pigs, through the circular aperture, and the cover
being put on, the fire is lighted up. In the course of
six hours, the whole of the lead being melted, and
brought to a red heat, a blast of air is directed upon the
surface of the lead, and the ashes of the hay, and other
impurities are removed with a wooden rake. Hie blast
being continued lor half an hour and more, the suiface^
of the lead begins to be covered with a thick crust ol
oxide, which is scraped off, and is soon succeeded by
another, but it is no-, till the surface has been cleared five
or six times that the true litharge appears. When this is
the case, the temperature is raised to a cherry red, and
by the action of the blast, with the occasional aid of the
workman, the litharge flows out through the aperture
mentioned above. The intense heat volatilizes a con¬
siderable portion of lead, and so fills the interior of the
furnace with vapour, that a person of experience only
can discover what is going on in the cupel. At the
end of 38 or 40 hours from the time that the lire is
lighted, the contents of the cupel are reduced to about
six quintals, and the litharge which comes over at this
time is kept separate, because it contains a small portion
of silver. At last the litharge ceases to flow, and the
surface of the melted metal appears covered only by a
thin pellicle. It then becomes gradually convex at the
ed<res j the pellicle breaks up, and the surface of the
metal appears quite bright. The blast is now to be
turned off, the fire damped, and an aperture m the iur-
nace, previously stopped with clay, is opened to admit
a tin plate tube, through which a stream oi water is
poured into the cupel, in order to cool the metal rapid¬
ly, that it may be prevented from spirting, which would
be’ the case, if this precaution were not observed at the
moment of congelation. But the silver thus obtained
is still contaminated with a portion of lead, from which
it is freed by a second cupellation, which is perlormed
in a moveable cupel containing about 700 or 800 ounces,
and is placed in a small reverberatory furnace, which
being heated about three hours, is charged with silver
of the first cupellation. After the fusion ol the silver,
a proper working heat is kept up for four or five hours,
when the refining is usually completed. Ihe loss ol
lead by volatilization during the refining process is esti¬
mated at about eight per cent. When the quantity oi
litharge produced is large, it is reconverted into lead,
by being returned into the reverberatory lurnace, and
treated in the same manner as the ore. I bis forms lead
of the best and softest quality, because it is in a state 0
the greatest purity. And besides, the scoriae to at re-
mam after the xectacthm of tbe ore, ami the htharge.
iChap
Silver.
NicTiol.
'iitrn.
.IV. CHE
along with the old cupels, and the metallic soot which
is deposited in the chimney of the furnace, are treated
in a common blast furnace, and a considerable portion
of lead is thus obtained.
A difterent practice is followed in the English re¬
fineries. A common reverberatory furnace, having the
area perforated with a large oval hole to receive the
cupel, is employed. The cupel is formed of six parts
of well burnt bone ashes, and one of good fern ashes,
mixed together, and moistened to a proper consistence.
A quantity of this mixture is strewed to the depth of
about two inches in an iron frame, which consists of a
raised elliptical rim, with five broad bars rivetted to its
bottom, so as to occupy nearly one-half of its area. The
ashes are rammed down very close with a wooden beat¬
er, and particularly within the bars of the frame, as it
is laid on a flat floor. More ashes are then added, and
beaten carefully in, till the frame is quite full. By
means of a sharp-edged spade, five inches square, a ca¬
vity is formed in the test for containing the melted me¬
tal, arid at one end of the frame a semi-elliptical hole is
cut through the breast, which latter is to be left of suf¬
ficient solidity and thickness. The test is now to be
turned on its side, and dressed from all superfluous ashes
adhering to the bottom, taking care that none shall be
left flush with the bottom of the frame or cross bars,
otherwise the test might he bulged, by fixing it at the
bottom of the furnace. The rim being plastered with
clay or moistened ashes, the test is placed upon the sup¬
porting cross bars, and fixed firmly with wedges against
the bottom of the furnace, the breast being next to the
feeding hole. A moderate heat is now applied, and
gradually increased till the test he red hot; and when
it ceases to emit steam from the under side, it is suf¬
ficiently dry. This previous preparation being com¬
pleted, the following is the method of operation as it is
described by Mr Sadler *.
“ Lead previously melted in an iron pot is ladled
into the test until the hollow part he nearly filled, the
operator closes the feeding aperture, and increases the
heat of fhe furnace until the surface of the lead is well
covered with litharge; he then removes the door from
the feeding hole, and with an iron rod, which has one
end bent dbwn at right angles about three inches, and
made flat or chissel-shaped, scrapes the small gutter or
channel until the litharge just flows into it; the blast
from a pair of double bellows is then directed from the
back part over the surface of the test, the litharge is
urged forward, and flows from the gutter upon the
floor of the refinery ; the operation now goes forward,
gradually adding lead as the escape of litharge makes
it necessary, until the gutter is Bo worn down that the
test does not contain more than an inch in depth of lead,
the blast is then taken off, the gutter filled up with
moistened ashes, and a fresh one made on the other side
the breast; the test is again filled, though not so full
as at first, and the operation carried on until this gut¬
ter also is worn down and the test contain from about
£0 to 70 pounds of alloy. This quantity is run into an
iron pot, and set by until a sufficient number of pieces
have been collected to make it worth while to take oft’
a plate of pure silver from them.
“ The quantity of alloy left in the working off each
test must depend in a great measure upon the quan¬
tity cl silver which by estimation it is supposed to con-
S, See.
tain. A sufficient quantity of lead should always be
left in the alloy to make it fuse easily in the iron pot.
“ When the test is removed from the furnace and
broken up, the litharge will be found to have penetra¬
ted to an inconsiderable but an equal depth in the ashes ;
that part not impregnated with litharge may be pulve¬
rized, mixed with fresh ashes, and again used for an¬
other test.
“ The operation of taking oft the silver pure differs
in no respect from the foregoing, only more care is ob¬
served in the working, not to suft’er the escape of any
metallic particles with the litharge, as that would oc¬
casion coiisiderable waste of silver As the process ad¬
vances, and the proportion of silver to lead inert ases,
the litharge assumes a darker colour, a greater heat be¬
comes necessary, and at last the brightning takes place;
the interior of the furnace, which during the whole of
the process had been very obscure and misty, clears up.
M hon the operator observes the surface of the silver to
he free from litharge, he removes the blast of the bel¬
lows, and suffers the furnace to cool gradually ; as the
silver cools many protuberances arise on the surface,
and fluid silver is ejected from them with considerable
force, which falling again on the plate, spots it very
fantastically with small globules
“ The latter portions of litharge bring over a consi¬
derable quantity of silver with them ; this is generally
reduced by itself and again refined.
“ The litharge as it falls upon the floor of the refinery
is occasionally removed; it is in clots at first, but after
a short time as it cools it falls for the most part like
slaked lime, and appears in the brilliant scales it is
met with in commerce : if it is intended as an article
for sale, nothing more is necessary than to sift it from
the clots which have not fallen, and pack it in
barrels.
“ If, on the contrary, it is intended to be manufactu¬
red into pure lead, it is placed in a reverberatory fur¬
nace, mixed with clean small-coal, and exposed to a heat
just sufficient to fuse the litharge. The metal as it is
reduced flows through an aperture into an iron pot, and
is cast into pigs for sale. During the reducing, care
is taken to keep the whole surface of the litharge in the
furnace covered with small coal.
“ In some smelt works, instead of a reverberatory
furnace for reducing, a blast furnace is made use of, on
account of the greater produce, but the b ad so reduced
is never so pure as that made in the wind furnace. The
oxides of the metals, which require a greater heat to
reduce than the lead, are in the blast furnace generally
reduced with it.
“ The volatile oxides, as zinc, antimony, and arsenie,
are mostly carried off by evaporation during refining; a
considerable portion of the oxide of lead itself is carried
oft by evaporation, making the interior of the furnace
so misty and obscure that a person unused to refining
cannot see more than a few inches into it.
“ A considerable portion of these oxides is driven by
the blast of the bellow's through the feeding aperture,
and would he dissipated in the refining-house, to the
great injury of the workmen’s healths; to prevent
their ill effects, the arch or dome over the feeding hole
is erected to carry the fume into the stack of the fur¬
nace.”
We shall now describe the method of treating the
3 H 2 jropci
427
Silver.
428 ORE
Silver, proper ores of silver, as it is conducied by Schreiber at
w—Allemont in France. These ores are native silver, and
the sulphuret of silver mixed with arsenical cobalt, py¬
rites, iron ochre, clay, calcareous spar, and some other
earthy minerals. The silver being dispersed in very mi¬
nute grains through the gangue, cannot be separated from
the stony parts by washing. After the ore is picked by
the hand, it is pounded dry in the stamping mill, and is
reduced to the consistence of coarse sand. Roasting,
pi’evious to fusion, is not required ; but the ore being
refractory, it is found necessary to employ a flux compo¬
sed of quicklime, scoriae from a preceding fusion, and
slag from the iron forges. To supply the proper quan¬
tity of lead, powdered galena, with the litharge and
scoriae furnished by the refinery, and with old cupels
ground to powder, is added to the ore in such propor¬
tions that the lead, which is obtained by the fusion,
may contain two per cent, of silver, allowing 20 per
cent, of the lead at least to be lost by evaporation, or
combining with the scoriae. After being properly mix¬
ed, the materials are subjected to the heat of a powerful
blast-furnace, with alternate charges of charcoal. The
products of the fusion are lead combined with silver, a
black, compact, sulphureous, semi-metallic substance
which is called matt, and some scoriae. The scoriae
thus obtained is neglected, excepting a certain propor¬
tion, which is reserved as a flux for the next parcel of
ore. But the matt, which is tolerably rich in silver, is
again melted with litharge, and the lead carries with it
almost the whole of the silver} and although this second
matt contain a portion of silver, it is not found worth
while to subject it to a second fusion. After refining the
lead procured by these operations, it is found to yield
about two per cent, of silver. The process of cupella-
tion is performed at a higher heat than usual, which it
is supposed is necessary by the presence of a small por¬
tion of iron y but the consequence of employing this high
temperature is to increase the waste of the metal by eva¬
poration ; for instead of seven or eight per cent, it a-
mounts to no less than 20 per cent. And as every pound
avoirdupois of the lead thus volatilized, contains from
six to ten grains of silver, the loss in this process is very
great. Perhaps it might be diminished by mixing a
larger proportion of lead with the silver ore.
But other silver ores afford both lead and copper, and
in this ease a more complicated operation becomes re¬
quisite. In the first part of the process the poorest kinds
of silver ore, or such as contain but a small proportion
of copper and lead, and a great deal of stony matter,
are to be mixed with the poorer pyritical ores, or such
as contain little silver and copper, and a great deal of
sulphur and iron. A portion of scoriae obtained from a
former process, and containing the oxides of lead and
copper, with some silver, is added to this mixture by
way of flux. The materials thus prepared being ex¬
posed to heat in a blast-furnace, re-act on each other,
and enter into fusion. The stony matter is dissolved,
and the melted mass separates into two distinct parts, of
which the heaviest occupying the bottom of the furnace
forms about one-fourth of the whole mass. This is
called matt, and contains all the silver, with the greater
part of the copper, most of the lead, iron, and sulphur,
and generally zinc and arsenic. The slag which swims
on the surface, as being the lighter portion, consists of
the greater part of the sulphur, oxide of iron, and earthy
S, &c. Chap. IV,
matters •, the small proportion of lead and copper is not Silver,
worth the trouble of extraction. *——y—
To drive off part of the sulphur and other volatile
impurities, the crude matt obtained in the preceding
operation is roasted, and being mixed with one and a
half times its weight of a richer kind of silver ore, and
twice its weight of lead scoriae, by way of flux, it is
again fused, and thus a rich matt is procured, which
may contain from nine to ten pounds of lead, from three
to four pounds of copper, and from six to seven ounces
of silver in the quintal, besides a quantity of scoriae
which holds a little silver, and which may therefore be
successfully employed as a flux in subsequent lusions.
This rich matt being roasted, is mixed with half its
weight of litharge and scoriae in equal proportions, and
again subjected to fusion. The product of this fusion is
a quantity of metallic lead, containing from six to eight
ounces of silver in the quintal ; a similar quantity of
copper matt, which contains from 30 to 40 pounds of
copper, and about four ounces of silver in the quintal
and lastly a quantity of scoriae, which contains from six
to 10 pounds of lead, and about 40 grains of silver in
the quintal.
The copper matt of the above operation is next roasts
ed, and fused with a quantity of lead and copper sco¬
riae, and the product obtained is black copper, which
contains from 60 to 80 pounds of copper, and from five
to ten ounces of silver in the quintal. 1 Ins black cop¬
per being melted with litharge and scoriae, the most
part of the silver combines with the lead, and after one
or two fusions, the copper is entirely freed, not only
from the lead and silver, but also from the sulphur, iron,,
and other impurities.
Liquation.—The affinity between lead and silver is
much stronger than the affinity between lead and cop¬
per. In consequence of this affinity, lead and silver are
easily separated from copper, by being exposed to a mo¬
derate heat. This process is called liquation or eliqua-
tion. When the black unrefined copper, or copper matt,
contains the proper proportion of silver for this opera¬
tion, it is first used with lead or litharge, or with a
mixture of the two, and an alloy consisting of copper,
lead, and silver, is thus obtained. This is cast into
moulds, so that the metallic product shall be in the
form of round masses or loaves, which being set in a
furnace on an inclined plane of iron, with a small chan¬
nel grooved out, are exposed to a moderate red heat.
By this process the lead melts, or, as it were, sweats
out of the loaf, and carrying the silver along with it,
on account of its stronger affinity for this metal, runs
down the groove, while the copper remains behind as a
dark red spongy mass. The lead containing the silver
being subjected to the process of cupellation, the latter
is obtained separate. But, in adopting this process, the
proportion of the three metals must be attended to. The
lead should not be more than four times the weight of
the copper, otherwise the alloy becomes so fusible, that
part of the copper will be melted and carried along
with the lead and silver; or, if too great a degree of
heat is applied, the whole loaf of liquation will be fused,
and the process must again be repeated. The pro¬
portion of lead should at least be times the quantity
of copper, otherwise a considerable proportion of it, and
also part of the silver, will remain in the loaf after heat¬
ing. But as this process is now more rarely followed, ,
we
iChap. IV. ORE
Silver. we not enter into any farther detail of the particu-
—Y—Jars connected with it.
Reduction of silver ores by amalgamation.—This pro¬
cess, by which silver ores are reduced, and which is
now pretty generally followed in different parts of Eu¬
rope, was first practised by the Spaniards in South
America. The ores which are subjected to amalgama¬
tion, are such as contain only a small quantity of lead
or copper; but it is of some importance that there
should be a certain proportion of iron pyrites, and if
this proportion be not naturally mixed with the ore, it
is a good practice to supply the deficiency, by adding
what is wanting to the dressed ore, so that the pyritical
contents may, as nearly as possible, be in a certain pro¬
portion to the quantity of silver, which is to be ascer¬
tained by previously assaying a portion of the ore.
f he ore being reduced to the consistence of coarse
sand, is carefully mixed with common salt, in the
proportion of eight or nine per cent, when the silver ili¬
the ore amounts to eight ounces per quintal; and when
the latter amounts to 32 ounces, or even a greater pro¬
portion, from 10 to 12 per cent, of salt is to be added.
The next process is roasting the ore, in which about
three quintals are spread on the floor of a reverberatory
furnace, and subjected to a moderate red heat. During
the roasting the ore is to be turned twice or thrice, that
every part of it may be equally exposed to the heat.
The first charge being withdrawn, an experienced
workman knows by its appearance whether the propor¬
tion of salt be too little or too much, and, as may be
required, more salt or ore is added to the unroasted par¬
cel. When the whole of the ore is roasted, it is ground
in a mill, passed through sieves, by which it is made as
fine as meal, and is then prepared for the proper process
of amalgamation. This is performed in the following
manner. A number of small barrels, which are made
to revolve rapidly on their axes by means of machinery,
or fixed tubs, either open or covered, having in the
centre of each an instrument resembling a chocolate
mill, which may be turned rapidly by similar machi¬
nery. The tubs or barrels are filled about one-third
with water, and afterwards a sufficient quantity of roast¬
ed ore and mercury, in nearly equal proportions, is in¬
troduced, so that the whole may be of the consistence,
of thin mud. The machinery is put in motion, and
continued without interruption for 30 or 48 hours, ac-.
cording to the nature of the ore, when the amalgama¬
tion is completed. About a quarter of an hour after
the agitation of the matter in the barrels has ceased, the
greater part of it falls to the bottom, and is withdrawn,
by opening a hole made for the purpose. The earthy
residue is carefully washed by small portions at a time,
and thus a good deal of the amalgam which, from be¬
ing very minutely divided, could not sink through and
mix with the rest, is recovered. The earth, however,
if originally rich in silver, still retains a small propor¬
tion It is therefore dried, and being mixed with about
3 per cent, of salt, is again roasted, but at a higher
temperature than at first; and the process of amalgama¬
tion being again repeated, the whole of the silver is ex-
tracted. The fluid amalgam is strained through a close¬
ly woven bag, and is thus separated into nearly pure
mercury and a stiff amalgam ; and the latter being sub¬
jected to distillation, the mercury is driven over, and
S, &c.
the silver remains behind. The copper, which is com¬
bined with the silver, is separated by cupellation.
The process of amalgamation is thus explained. The
greater part of the sulphur of the silver and pyrites is
by roasting, burnt off, and converted into sulphurous
acid, which latter, as soon as it is formed, and assisted
also by the affinity of the silver for muriatic acid, de¬
composes the common salt, forming a sulphate or sul¬
phite of soda, while the muriatic acid combining with
the silver, forms muriate of silver. In the amalgama¬
tion which follows, the mercury, being in great propor¬
tion, decomposes the muriate of silver, and is partly
converted into calomel. Hence it appears, that the
loss of mercury, which is sometimes very considerable in
this process, arises, first, from the conversion of part of
it into calomel ; and, secondly, from the extremely mi¬
nute division of another part, so that it is carried off in
washing the earthy residue ; but the proportion of the
latter depends much on management.
Ky the following method silver may be separated
fiom copper, according to Napione, without the expen¬
sive and complicated process of liquation. The mixed
metal is melted ; a quantity of sulphur is sprinkled over
its surface, while the whole is stirred about with a stick
by an assistant, so that the sulphur may combine with
the copper into a matt, which floats above the metal,
and is to be removed with a pair of tongs, previously*
moistening its surface with water, to make it solid.
Another portion of sulphur is next to be stirred in, and ■
the second matt produced is to be removed in the same
manner. This process being repeated a sufficient num¬
ber of times, the greater part of the copper is converted -
into matt, holding a small proportion of silver, while
the remaining copper, which retains the most of the sil¬
ver, originally diffused through the whole mass, be¬
comes rich enough to be sent immediately to the re¬
finery. In treating the matt, it is first to be reduced
to powder, mixed with common salt and quicklime, in
the proportion of 12 per cent, of each, roasted for 10
hours, amalgamated as before ; and after three succes¬
sive roasting* and amalgamations, the whole of the sil- .
ver may be extracted.
Table of the quantity oj Silver introduced into Com**.
merce, taken at an average between the years 1790 .
and 1802.
Old Continent.
Siberia,
Hungary,
Austrian States,
Hartz and Hesse,
Saxony,
Norway,
France,
New Continent.
North America,
Spanish possessions
in South America,
Kilogrammes,
I7.50O
20,000
5000
5000
10,000
10,000
5000
600,000
1275,000
72,500
875,000
Kilogrammes, 947,500,
or about 2,091,162 lbs. avoirdupois.
Chap0
430
Copper.
ORE
Chap. V. Of the Ores of Copper.
The ores of copper are very various. This metal is
found native, in the state of oxide, in the state of sul-
phuret, and in that of salt, combined with carbonic,
muriatic, phosphoric, and arsenic acids.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of the Ores of Copper.
The analysis of the ores of copper, it is obvious, must
varv, according to the nature ot the substances with
which they are combined ; but as a great proportion of
the ores of that metal are combined with sulphur or
arsenic, when they are to be treated in the dry way,
they are first roasted, for the purpose of expelling those
substances. To effect this, the ore is mixed with about
one half its bulk of charcoal powder, or fine saw-dust,
and then subjected to a low red heat, on a flat tile or
muffle, on which it should be thinly spread. The sul¬
phur or the arsenic rises in fumes j and to accelerate the
separation of these substances, the mixture should be
frequently stirred, observing at the same time not to in¬
crease the heat to such a degree as to make the ore clot
together, which is one of the objects in the use of the
saw-dust or charcoal. When it appears that the fumes
cease to rise, and the whole of the charcoal is burnt off,
the part of the ore remaining is now in the state of
oxide, but mixed with a quantity of sulphur or arsenic,
which cannot be entirely separated by roasting, and
with the earthy matters with which the ore was origi¬
nally combined.
The next object is to reduce the oxides, thus obtain¬
ed, to the metallic state; and in this process of reduc¬
tion the oxide is exposed to a high temperature, in con¬
tact with some carbonaceous matter, and secluded from
the air. It has been a common practice to add some al¬
kaline matters by way of flux, to promote the fusion of
the extraneous matters combined with the ore ; but the
experience and observation of more enlightened chemists
have proved, that a portion of the metallic oxide is al¬
ways dissolved by saline fluxes, so that by assays in the
dry way with saline fluxes, a less proportion of metal than
the ore really contains, is obtained from it. The loss,
according to Klaproth, between the treatment of a cop¬
per ore in the dry way, and the same ore, in the moist
way, amounted to no less than 9 per cent. To obviate this
inconvenience, a flux is employed by some, composed of
fusible glass, into which a large proportion of alkali and
silica enters, without any metallic matter; or fluor spar,
lime, and particularly borax. By the latter, a thinner
fusion of the vitrifying mixture, than by an equal quan¬
tity of any other substance, is produced, so that a small¬
er proportion of borax than of the alkaline matters an¬
swers all the purposes of a flux; and thus the loss of the
metallic oxide, by solution, is less.
But in reducing the pure oxides, or the carbonated
oxides of copper, the method which is attended with
scarcely any loss, is by subjecting them in contact with
charcoal, in a covered crucible, to an intense heat. It
is indeed in this way that the reduction of roasted cop¬
per ores is conducted on a large scale; but as these lat¬
ter contain sulphur, arsenic, iron, and other impurities,
the process must be many times repeated before the cop-
?>er is brought to a malleable state.
I
S, See. Chap. V.
In reducing the sulphurated ores of copper, a button Copper,
of metal, of considerable purity, may be sometimes ob-‘—-re¬
tained by means of a single operation. The tedious
process of roasting is avoided by adding to the ore two
or three times its weight of nitre, and projecting it into
a hot crucible. When thrown into the crucible, a defla¬
gration takes place, in which the sulphur is burnt, and
converted into sulphuric acid, which unites with the
potash of the decomposed nitre. The metal being now
freed from the sulphur, is in a state of complete oxida¬
tion by the nitric acid, and may be reduced by adding
a flux of tartar and pitch, or other similar matters, and
applying a strong heat for a sufficient length ot time.
But it seems to he more advisable to separate the metal¬
lic oxide after deflagration. This may be done by wash¬
ing the mixture, after which the oxide is to be reduced
by the proper flux.
In the analysis of copper ores in the moist way, the
metal is obtained separate in three states; either in the
metallic state, in the state ol black oxide, or in that of
green carbonate. If a polished piece of iron he intro¬
duced into an acid solution of copper, it is immediately
covered with a coating of shining metallic copper, which
is owing to a part of the iron being dissolved by the
acid, and a corresponding portion of copper being sepa¬
rated from the solution. The whole of the copper may
be precipitated in this way, and at last the solution con¬
tains only iron. The precipitate, which is in the form
of ragged filaments, may be washed, dried, and weigh¬
ed, so that the proportion of the metal in the ore exa¬
mined may he ascertained. It may be added, that the
precipitation is greatly promoted, by boiling for a short
time, especially tov'ards the end of the process, which
produces the separation of the last portions of the cop¬
per ; and it should be farther observed, that a perfect
separation of copper from iron is obtained only when the
solution is made in sulphuric or muriatic acid, and
not in nitric acid. The method of separating copper
from silver has been already mentioned. It may he se¬
parated from lead, by adding sulphate of soda to the so¬
lution, by which an insoluble sulphate of lead is obtain¬
ed, and the copper remains behind. To separate cop¬
per from antimony, the oxides of copper and antimony
are digested with nitric acid ; the copper is dissolved,
and the antimony is left. By immersing a piece of me¬
tallic tin in the solution, copper may be separated from
tin ; for by this means the copper only is precipitated.
Arsenic is separated from copper by dissolving in nitrous
acid, and adding acetate or nitrate of lead, which pro¬
duces an insoluble arseniate of lead, and leaves the cop¬
per behind. In case there should be an excess of lead,
the addition of sulphate of soda will throw it down in
the form of insoluble sulphate. When nickel is com¬
bined with copper, it is usually conjoined with iron.
Ammonia precipitates all the three metals; but, when
added in excess, redissolves the nickel and copper. To
obtain the latter separate, supersaturate with muriatic
acid, and introduce a polished piece of iron, by which
the copper is precipitated, and the nickel remains in the
solution.
To ascertain the quantity of precipitated copper ob¬
tained from the examination of an ore, it is to be wash¬
ed and dried, put into a small crucible, moistened with
a drop or two of oil, and covered with borax. Thus
■prepared, it is subjected to strong heat for a few mi-
nutes,
Jhap. V.
O K K
Copper, notes, ami a solid button of malleable copper is produ-
—■Y-—^ ced, which may be accurately weighed. But if the
product of the analysis be in the state of green carbo¬
nate, which is obtained by adding carbonate of potash
or soda to a solution of copper, the green precipitate,
thus formed," is to be washed and dried at the tempera¬
ture of boiling water. An hundred and eighty parts of
this carbonate are equivalent to 100 of metallic copper.
The quantity of copper obtained by analysis may be
estimated also in the state of black oxide. If the green
carbonate be boiled for a few moments in caustic pot¬
ash, it shrinks and becomes a deep brownish black fine
powder, which is a pure oxide of copper in its highest
state of oxidation. One hundred parts of this oxide,
after being well washed, and dried in a low red heat,
for a minute or two, are constantly found to contain 80
parts of pure metallic copper.
We shall now give a few examples of the analyses of
particular ores of copper.
Vitreous copper ore, or sulphuret of copper from Si¬
beria.—The following is the mode of analysis of vi¬
treous copper ore by Klaproth.
“ l. Upon 200 grains of the ore, coarsely powdered,
moderately strong nitric acid was affused, which attack¬
ed and dissolved them with frothing and extrication of
red vapours. The solution was clear, and the sulphur
alone in the ore Avas left behind, floating in the fluid,
in gray, loose flocculi, without any other residue $
which indicated that no antimony was present. The
sulphur collected on the filter was heated in a small cru¬
cible to inflammation, and it burned with its peculiar
odour, without any trace of arsenic ; yet leaving a slight
portion of oxidated iron and siliceous earth.
“ 2. The solution, which had a pure blue colour, was
treated first with muriate, and then with sulphate of
soda. But none of these, nor any other salt, rendered
it turbid, or produced any other alteration 5 by which
it appears, that this ore contains neither silver nor
lead.
“ 3* T0 determine, with proper accuracy, the propor¬
tion of the constituent parts, I repeated the examination
in the following manner Two hundred grains of the
powdered ore were combined and heated with muriatic
acid, to the degree of boiling. But as this alone ma¬
nifested no action on it, I added nitric acid graduallv,
by drops, which exerted a strong attack in each in¬
stance. When the solution of the ore had been accom¬
plished, I separated the fluid from the sulphur floating
on the surface ; and digested this last once more with
a fresh quantity of muriatic acid, dropping into it some
nitric acid, after which I collected it upon the filter.
This sulphur, washed and desiccated, weighed 38^grs.
out of which, after its combustion, i| grain of siliceous
earth remained j so that the true amount of sulphur was
37 grains.
“ 4. The solution exhibited a glass-green colour. I
divided it into two parts. Into one half polished iron
was immersed, upon which the copper precipitated of a
dendritical form, and pure metallic brilliance. It weigh¬
ed 784- grains, when washed, and immediately desiccat¬
ed in a moderate temperature.
“ 5. In order to ascertain the proportion of iron con¬
tained in the ore, I combined the other half of the so¬
lution with caustic ammonia added to excess of satura-
vS, £vC.
tion, I he precipitated iron remained behind, m the Copper,
form of a subtle brown mud, which, collected on the 1 —, ’
hltei, desiccated and ignited, weighed three grams.
But as the iron is contained in the mixture of the ore,
not in this calciform state, but in the reguline, which
last is to the first in the proportion of 3 to 4, these
three grains o! oxidated iron give 2^ of metallic iron to
be added in the computation.
“ Therefore, an hundred parts of the Siberian vi¬
treous copper ore consist of,
Copper, 78.50
lion, 2.25
Sulphur, 18-50
Silex, 0*75
100.001,” f Essays,
r Variegated copper ore.—This ore was analysed by 541’'
Klaproth, in the following manner.
‘ 1. One hundred grains of the pulverized ore were
subjected to gentle digestion with nitric acid, whose
action upon it was but moderate. From the residue,
the sulphur was driven out by combustion. This re¬
sidue, when a second time digested with nitric acid, dis¬
solved in it, leaving only a slight portion of a red oxide
of iron. On examining the solution, first by common
salt, and then by Glauber salt, it continued limpid and
unchanged.
“ 2. Upon 200 grains of the powdered ore, muriatic
acid was affused, the mixture heated, and then com¬
bined in small portions with nitric acid. The solution,
which was thus performed, bad a brown colour while
concentrated ; but as soon as it was diluted with water,
it acquired a green. The remaining sulphur was gray,
tenacious, and spongy, and weighed 72 grains when
dry. By slorv combustion it left 35 grains, of which,
after extraction by muriatic acid, five grains still re¬
mained behind. These lost one grain more of sulphur'
by burning, and the remaining four grains dissolved
entirely in muriatic acid. Whence the quantity of sul¬
phur amounted to 38 grains.
“ 3- The muriatic solution was divided into two equal
parts j and the copper was precipitated from one of
them by means of iron. It amounted to 69-^ grains.
» “ 4- other half was supersaturated with caustic
ammonia, and the oxide of iron which fell down was
collected. This, when moistened with linseed oil, and
exposed to a low red heat, weighed 10 grains j which
are equal to 74- grains of metallic or reguline iron.
“ 1 bus, in 100 parts of this variegated copper ore
from Norway were found,
Copper, 69.50
Sulphur, 19.
Iron, 7.50
Oxygen 4.
100.00
“ In supplying the deficiency in the sum of weights
of the copper, iron, and sulphur, from the hundred, by
putting oxygen in the account, I mean to characterize
this last as a constant constituent par t of variegated cop¬
per ore, producing in it those variegated colours : iu
the same manner, as in steel, in copper pyrites, and
other
432 ORE
Copper, other metallic substances, the beginning of their oxida-
.< tion is indicated by a similar diversity of colours.
“ In the last-mentioned substances, however, the
changeable colours are only owing to external causes ;
for which reason they present themselves only on the
surface, when long exposed to air. On the contrary,
the variegated copper ore is penetrated throughout its
whole mass by the oxidating principle. This corre¬
sponds with the deficiency of weight to make up the
sum of the fixed constituent parts of the ore here ana¬
lysed } whereas no such loss is observable in the vitreous
copper ore, treated and decomposed by the same me¬
thod. It is on this account also, that the action of the
nitric acid is less strong, and the disengagement of ni¬
trous gas is less copious, in the variegated than in the
* Ibid. i. vitreous -copper ore
545. Malachite, or carbonate of copper.—Klaproth analy¬
sed a Siberian ore of this species, according to the fol¬
lowing process.
“ i. One thousand grains of compact reniform mala¬
chite, from the Turjin mines, on the Oral, were redu¬
ced to powder, and heated to complete redness in a small
glass retort, connected with the pneumatic apparatus.
Much carbonic acid gas was disengaged in this process,
to the amount of 252 cubic inches, without reckoning
that part which was absorbed by the water of the appa¬
ratus. This gas was entirely absorbed by lime water,
at the same time that a proportionate quantity of car¬
bonate or crude calcareous earth was produced. In
the intermediate small receiver a moisture collected,
'weighing 78 grains, which, upon trial, proved to be
pure water.
2. The pulverulent residue taken out of the retort ap¬
peared of a black colour, and weighed 716 grains. To
serve for the following experiments, it was divided into
four parts, at 179 grains each ; and hence correspond¬
ing to 250 grains of rough malachite.
3. One hundred and seventy-nine grains of ignited
malachite, combined with three times its quantity of
black flux, were put into an assay crucible, without lin¬
ing it, and covered with muriated soda. In this situa¬
tion it was committed to the fire of the blast furnace,
and when the coals had become red hot without the ac¬
tion of the bellows, it was kept melting for the space
of 20 minutes. After cooling, it was observed that,
In the broken retort, the whole mixture, under the co¬
vering of common salt, had run into an uniform, com¬
pact, and opaque mass, of the bright red colour of or¬
dinary sealing-wax, and that no metallic button had
been formed.
“ It follows from this, that there was not carbone
enough present to take up entirely the oxygen of the
metallic oxide. Therefore the copper has, by means of
this small remainder of oxygen still united with it, been
brought into the state of red oxide of copper*, and, as
such, it has diffused itself uniformly through the alka¬
line salt.
“ 4. One hundred and seventy-nine grains of ignited
malachite were mingled with three times their quantity
6f black flux, and one-tenth of powdered charcoal.
When fused in this state, during 20 minutes, under a
stratum of common salt, in an assay crucible not lined
in the inside, they afforded a button of reguline cop¬
per, which had run well together, and weighed 1364
grains.
S, &c. Chap. V,
“ 5. Another 179 grains of ignited malachite, mixed Copper,
with thrice as many grains of black flux, and one-fifth —-
part of their weight of colophony, and likewise fused
for 20 minutes, under a cover of muriate of soda, in a
crucible not secured by lining, yielded a well-melted
button of reguline copper, weighing 138 grains.
“ 6. The remaining 179 grains of ignited malachite
were, like the preceding, melted during the time of 20
minutes, under a cover of common salt. But the assay
crucible had previously been lined with powdered char¬
coal, and the malachite mingled with an equal weight
of calcined borax, with half its quantity of white glass,
and one-fourth part of colophony, or boiled turpentine.
By this process I obtained, indeed, a well-fused button
of reguline copper ; but with a considerable loss, as it
weighed only 1054- grains.
“ In order to discover more accurately the constituent
parts of the malachite, I performed the following expe¬
riments.
“ 7. One hundred grains of malachite, reduced to
powder by trituration, were dissolved in nitric acid *,
which was effected without leaving any residue. The
solution had a bright-blue colour, and was saturated to
excess with caustic of ammonia; but the precipitate
produced was entirely, and without turbidness, redis¬
solved by the excess of the alkali. This shewed that
the malachite here examined was perfectly free from
iron, and similar admixtures.
“ 8. I combined 100 grains of triturated malachite
with a sufficient quantity of sulphuric acid, previously
diluted with five parts of water, and accurately weighed
together with the vessel. After the malachite had
been wholly dissolved, which was effected gradually,
and with a moderately strong effervescence, the loss of
weight, occasioned by the carbonic acid gas that was
extricated, was found to consist of 18 grains.
“ 9. One hundred grains of the same powdered ma¬
lachite were ignited, at a moderate heat, in a covered
crucible. The black residue had lost 294- grains in
weight. If from these be subtracted 18 grains for the
carbonic acid, the remaining n-§ grains of loss will
consist of water.
“ 10. And lastly, 100 grains, which had been dissol¬
ved in diluted sulphuric acid, and px*ecipitated by zinc,
yielded 58 grains of pure copper.
“ In consequence of these experiments, the Siberian
malachite consists, in the 100, of,
Copper, 58.
Carbonic acid, 18.
Oxygen, 12.50
Water, n-jo
100.00*.” * ibil i.
Muriate of copper.-—This ore, when exposed uponS5C*
charcoal to the action of the blow-pipe, gave to the
flame a blue and green colour 5 the muriatic acid was
soon driven off, and a metallic button of pure copper
remained.
This ore of copper was examined and analyzed by
Klaproth in the following manner. A portion of the
ore being reduced to powder, and boiled with water,
communicated no colour to the solution $ and, with the
addition of a solution of nitrate of silver, afforded a
small quantity of a white precipitate which blackened
4 in
ssays,
58.
V. ORE
in the day ligftt. This experiment shews, that the pro¬
portion ot muriatic acid is too small to give a compound
soluble in water.
“ i. One hundred grains of the elutriated mineral
dissolved readily and quietly in nitric acrid affused in
the cold. The solution possessed a pure blue colour,
and deposited a little of a brown iron ochre, which, se¬
parated by filtering, weighed a grain and a half. It
was then diluted with water, and treated with a nitric
solution of silver. The precipitated muriate of silver,
when edulcorated, dried, and melted at a moderate de¬
gree of heat, in a silver pan, weighed 64^- grains.
“ One hundred parts of metallic silver yield by such
combination 133 parts of muriated silver. But as this
metal, to be rendered soluble in acids, takes up 12 per
cent, of oxygen, these must be subtracted; so that of
this increase of weight by 33 parts, there remain 20*-
for the muriatic acid.
“ These principles being laid down, the above 64^
grains of muriated silver will fix the proportion of the
muriatic acid, contained in 100 parts of the ore, very
nearly to 10 grains.
“ 2. That I might be sure of having completely se¬
parated the muriatic acid from the nitric solution of
this copper ore, I added the nitrated silver in a small
degree of excess 5 and this silver I afterwards threw
down with muriatic acid, and filtered it off. Which
done, the copper was precipitated in the metallic state,
by means of a piece of polished iron immersed in the so¬
lution. It amounted to grains when collected and
carefully dried.
“ '1 he copper, however, is contained in the ore as an
oxide. In this state its weight is increased 25 per
cent, by the. oxygen ; which, for those 57.50 grains of
metallic copper, just now mentioned, gives, by calcu¬
lation, 14.38 grains.
“ Now, since what is deficient from the first
weight of the ore employed is to be considered for the
greatest part as its water of crystallization, and since
those grains of ferruginous ochre do not belong to
the composition of the ore, the constituent parts of the
muriated ore of copper may be said to be in the too as
follows:
S, &e.
Oxide of copper,
Muriatic acid,
W ater of crystallization,
73-
10.1
16.9
* 100.0.”
P hasp hate of copper.—The following is the method
of analysis adopted by Klaproth, in the examination of
this ore.
“ 1. Because this ore is very much intermixed with
its quartzose matrix, I pulverized a portion of it, previ¬
ously freed as much as possible from the stony matter,
and ascertained the weight of quartz still united with
it, by solution in nitric acid. The quartz amounted
to 16 parts in 100 of the purified ore.
” On this consideration, I weighed 116 grains of
the powdered ore, and poured nitric acid upon it. The
mixture became of itself moderately warm. When
the solution, assisted by a little heat, was thoroughly
brought about, and by means of filtration freed from
ibe undissolved quartzy matrix, it showed by its pure
sky-blue colour, that it contained no iron.
Vol. XV. Part II. f
“ 2. After the small portion of the predominant acid
had been saturated with potash, I added to the solution
dissolved acetate of lead, until ilo farther precipitation
took place. The precipitate was at first drenched for a
while wuth weak acetic acid, then elixiviated with wa¬
ter, and at last perfectly dried in a low beat. It
weighed 138 grains.
“ That this precipitate was a combination of lead
with phosphoric acid, of this I had myself assured by a
previous experiment, made with another portion of the
same fossil. It exhibited the phenomenon, which is pe¬
culiar to phosphated lead; namely, that under the
blow-pipe it runs into a pearl, which in the very mo¬
ment of fixation, rapidly assumes a garnct-like form
with shining surfaces.
“ Upon another portion of that precipitate, half its
weight of sulphuric acid, sufficiently weakened with
water, was poured and digested with it. The clear
fluid, which had been filtered off from the generated
sulphate of lead, and contained free phosphoric acid,
was first half saturated with soda, and upon this per¬
fectly neutralized with ammonia. By crystallization,
it yielded microcosmic salt, or phosphate of soda and
ammonia.
“ 3- I'1 order to discover the proportion of the phos¬
phoric acid combined with those 138 grains of the pre¬
cipitate mentioned before, I proceeded to the following
experiment.
“ I burned pure phosphorus under a large glass-bell,
dissolved the obtained dry phosphoric acid in water, pas¬
sed it through the filter, and reduced it by evaporation,
in a sand heat, to a smaller volume. When towards
the end of this process, flames of phosphorated hydro¬
gen gas appeared, I added nitric acid by drops till no
longer any red vapours were disengaged.
“ Of this perfectly oxygenated unctuous liquid phos¬
phoric acid, I diluted 100 grains with water, and neu¬
tralized the liquor with finely powdered white marble ;
of which 324 grains w ere employed. The mixture was
evaporated to dryness, and the dry mass kept in a mo¬
derate red heat for half an hour. This ignited phos¬
phate of lime weighed 2564- grains. In the 324 grains
of marble employed in this experiment, the portion df
lime, or pure calcareous earth, amounts to 178.20
grains, which if subtracted from the above 256.50
grains, determine the quantity of the phosphoric acid
ingredient in that calcareous phosphate to be 78.30
grains.
“ From these data, taken together, it now wTas ren¬
dered evident, that in those 138 grains of phosphated
lead, which have been produced by the combination of
lead with the phosphoric acid, constituting a component
principle of the portion of the ore examined,—the con¬
crete phosphoric acid amounts to 30.95 grains.
“ 4. The remaining part of the solution, which yet
contained the cupreous part of the ore, was first treated
with sulphate of soda, to separate the small portion of
lead it still held dissolved from a slight excess of aceta-
ted lead added in the process ( 2.). Which done, it wras
mixed with a little of uncombined sulphuric acid, and a
piece of polished iron put into it to precipitate the cop¬
per, which I found to.weigh 54.50 grains. But as this
metal is contained in the ore in an oxidated state, which
requires 25 per cent, of oxygen > there must 68.13
grains be reckoned for the oxide of copper.
“ One
* Ibid.
ii. 162.
ORE
“ One hundred grains of this phosphated ore of cop¬
per, therefore, consist of,
Oxide of copper.
Phosphoric acid,
68.13
3°-95
99.08.”
Arseniate of copper, or needle-shaped copper ore.—
This ore was examined by Klaproth, according to the
following process.
“ 1. Under the blow-pipe, upon charcoal, this ore de¬
tonates, emits a white arsenical smoke, and runs into
small reddish-gray globules, which, when again fluxed
with borax, yield a pure regulus of copper. _
“ 2. A pure, massive specimen ot this ore, weighing
50 grains, was kept in a porcelain crucible, during 15
minutes, in a moderate red heat. Its figure was not
altered by the fire: but its dark olive colour was chan¬
ged into a bright grass green, inclining to that of the
siskin. Its weight was diminished by grain.
44 3. Nitric acid dissolves it quietly in the cold, and
the solution possesses an undefiled blue colour. By the
addition of nitrated silver, the mixture is not in the
least rendered turbid. Acetate oi barytes produces a
precipitate which entirely disappears upon dilution with
water. The allusion of dissolved acetate of lead, lorms
with this solution a white precipitate, which upon the
charcoal emits arsenical vapours, and is reduced to me¬
tallic lead, when combined with an excess ot ammonia,
the precipitate falling down at first, is directly 1 edissol-
ved, no cloudiness left behind, and the deep-blue colour
is;restored to the liquor.
“ 4. Also by the acetic acid this ore is gradually dis¬
solved. Upon the evaporation of the solvent, a dark-
green salt of a dendritical form remains behind.
“ 5. One hundred grains of the acicular olive copper
ore, which had previously been freed, by means of elu-
triation, from the admixed reddish iron ochre, soon dis¬
solved in nitric acid, and without the application of
heat. The solution, being accurately neutralized with
carbonated potash, was combined with oissolved acetate
of lead, until all precipitation ceased. Ihe obtained
precipitate, when edulcorated and dried in a raised
temperature, weighed 133^ grains*
“ 6. To be more convinced that this precipitate was
an arseniated lead, I drenched it with water, and digested
it with half its weight of sulphuric acid. The liquor,
separated by filtration, contained uncombined arsenic
acid. I neutralized it with soda, and treated part
of it with a solution of nitrated silver. This produced
a copious precipitate of arseniated silver, which posses¬
sed the brick-red colour peculiar to it, emitted arsenical
vapours upon the charcoal, and was readily reduced to
pure silver. The remaining part of the solution, when
mixed with liquid nitrate of iron, afforded the common
whitish precipitate of arseniated iron.
“ Now in order to ascertain, by means of a compara¬
tive experiment, the proportion of the acid of arsenic
combined with the 1334- grains of the above precipi¬
tate (1.), I dissolved in water 100 grains of solid arse¬
nical acid, and added to it a solution of acetated lead in
small portions so long as any precipitate would appear.
The arseniated lead then obtained weighed 297 grains
after edulcoration and drying in a warm place. Hence
it followed, that the quantity of concreted acid of arse-
S, &c. w Chap. V,
nic combined with those 1334 grains of the precipitate, Copper,
which the acid of arsenic contained in the ore had pro- '““v—-*
duced, must be estimated at 45 grains.
“ And to be more assured that all the arsenical acid
had been separated from the nitric solution of the ore, I
added a little more of acetated lead than would have
been absolutely requisite. This was afterwards again
precipitated as sulphate of lead, by adding sulphated
soda, and filtered off. To the solution, thus freed
from the last precipitate, I added uncombined sulphuric
acid, and precipitated the copper, now disengaged from
its mineralizing acid, by means of a polished piece of
iron, in the metallic state. Thus I obtained ot it 404
grains.
“ But since in the composition of the olive copper ore
the copper is contained in the state of an oxide, it yet
remained to discover the proportion of oxygen. To at¬
tain this end, I dissolved 200 grains of pure copper in
nitric acid, diluted the solution with a sufficient quan¬
tity of water, and again precipitated the metal with a
lixivium of caustic potash. The precipitate had a light
blue colour j but after the mixture had stood a couple
of days in a moderately warm place, that blue colour
was changed into a brown. When separated by filtra¬
tion, washed with a large quantity of water, and de¬
siccated in a low heat, this precipitate amounted to 269
grains. Upon ignition it weighed only 250 grains,
and appeared in the form of a very subtle, fully-black
powder.
“ Therefore, because according to this experiment,
copper acquires an increase ot 25 per cent, of weight by
combining with oxygen, it is obvious, that for the
above 404 grains of metallic copper, we must put in
the account 50.62 grains of oxidated copper.
“ In consequence of this decomposition, 100 parts of
the olive copper ore contain,
Oxid of copper,
Acid of arsenic,
Water of crystallization,
50.62
45-
3-5°
99.12.
* Ibid.
ii. 15°'
Sect. II. Of the Reduction of the Ores of Copper.
The proceskes employed for the reduction of cop¬
per ores in the large way are extremely simple. It
scarcely ever happens, it has been remarked, that the
same order in conducting the different reducing proces¬
ses, even in cases where the quality of the ore is found
to be the same, is observed at two works. The same
remark, however, might probably be made with regard
to other manufactories, where the same practical ma¬
nagement being long established, and attended with or¬
dinary success, its inconveniences or advantages are
rarely investigated, with regard to the abridgement of
labour, or the diminution of expence. We shall now
describe the processes for the reduction of copper ores,
which are followed in different places, by which our
readers, who are interested in the subject, will be en¬
abled to appreciate the advantages of each, or to sug¬
gest improvements of which they are susceptible j and
Avith this vieiv, avc shall describe the operations for re¬
ducing copper ores ay Inch are folio Aved in CornAvall, and
“ AnskSea- Method
hap. V. ORE
tapper. Method of reducing capper ores in Cornwall.—Th e ore
-Y-—• is hrst broken to pieces, of the size of a hazel nut. This
operation is known by the name of cobbing. The rich¬
er pieces of ore are then picked out by the hand. The
next operation is roasting, which is performed in large
reverberatory furnaces, x6 feet long, and 14 feet broad.
The bottom of the furnace is composed of fire bricks,
covered with sand, two feet thick. This sand becomes
a semivitrilied mass by the intense heat. The height
of the chimney is from 40 to 50 feet, the draught of
which is so strong, that the sulphur and arsenic, sepa¬
rated during the roasting, are carried almost entirely
through it. The ore is introduced through a kind of
funnel, and spread to the thickness of a foot over the
bottom of the furnace. The fuel is placed at the anterior
part of the furnace, so that the flame must pass over
the surface of the ore as it is directed by the current of
air towards the chimney. The ore is roasted in this
furnace with a dull red heat for 12 hours, and is fre¬
quently stirred with an iron rake, to expose fresh sur¬
faces to the flame.
The ore being sufficiently roasted, is carried to an¬
other furnace, nine feet long by six wide, where it is ex¬
posed to a fusing heat, without addition, except that of
a little calcareous sand, when the slag does not rise
-freely. It is raked out at the end of every four hours,
when it is of the consistence of soft dough, and is intro-
'tlueed into oblong moulds, a little water being sprink¬
led upon it, to make it sink down. The slag being ra¬
ked off, a fresh quantity of calcined ore is introduced
into the furnace, and the copper is tapped off by a hole
in its side, which had been stopped up with wet clay
mixed with one-fourth part of new coal, which prevents
the clay from becoming so hard as to render it difficult
io open the hole by means of an iron pick. As the
Tough copper flows from the furnace, it is conducted by
a gutter into a large bucket, suspended by chains in a
well, through which a stream of water is passing. The
metal, as it falls into the water, is granulated, without
explosion or danger, and is afterwards taken out by rai¬
sing the bucket.
But in this state the copper is very impure, being
quite brittle, and mixed with arsenic and sulphur, which
can only be separated by other processes. For this pur¬
pose it is again melted, and granulated two or three
times. Each time a slag is thrown up in the furnace j
but as it contains some copper, it is not, like the first
slag, rejected, but worked over and over again with
-new charges of calcined ore. The nature of the ore
must determine the number of fusions and granulations.
After the granulation, the mass is- melted and cast into
pigs, which have a blistered appearance on the surface.
These are again broken up, and melted and roasted se¬
veral times, by which the metal becomes purer, and is
then cast into iron moulds, after which it is carried to
the refining furnace j and being again melted with the
addition of some charcoal, it is brought to such a de¬
gree of purity as to bear the hammer, and be fit for the
market. In this way, by repeated calcination and fu-
cion, the common ores of copper are freed from arsenic,
sulphur, and earthy matters, and brought to the metal¬
lic state. Here it is proper to add, that where there is
variety of ores, no small degree of judgment is requi¬
site in sorting and distributing- them for the furnace,
that the more fusible ores being mixed with such as are
S, &X. 43^
more refractory, will render the poorer ores, by the Copper,
addition of a portion of the richer, worth the work- —y—
ing.
Method of reducing copper oresin Anglesea.—The ore,
which is the sulphuret of copper, is broken into small
pieces, and exposed to heat in a kiln, which is close co¬
vered. A little fire is applied to the mass of ore in
different places, by which the whole is gradually kind¬
led. The kiln is furnished with flues, which open into
a long, close, pent-house gallery, for the purpose of col¬
lecting the sulphur, which rises in the state of vapour
to the top ot the kiln, passes through the flues into the
long gallery, where it is slowly condensed, is afterwards
taken out, and farther prepared for sale. The mass of
ore, after it is once kindled, burns of itself for about six
months, and in this time the sulphur chamber is four
times cleared out. The improved sulphur chambers are
constructed in the form of lime kilns, having the ore at
the bottom, and the sulphur subliming at the top. The
richer part of the roasted ore is exported without being
subjected to any other preparation, but the poorest part
is melted on the spot, and contains, besides a great deal
of sulphur, many other impurities. The smelting houses
consist of a range of large reverberatory furnaces, hav¬
ing chimneys above 40 feet high, thus producing a very
strong current of air. Thirty one of these furnaces are
arranged side by side under the same roof. The fuel,
which is coal, is burnt on a grate at the anterior part of
the furnace, and the flame is carried over the ore pla¬
ced on the bottom of it, by the draught of air. Twelve
hundred weight of roasted ore is introduced into the
furnace, mixed with a small jiortion of coal dust. Here
the ore is melted, and brought to an impure regulus,
and when it is sufficiently fused, it is drawn off into
earthen moulds. Each charge of the furnace is worked
off in about five hours, and yields about half a hundred
weight of rough copper, which after being farther puri¬
fied, aftords about 50 per cent, of pure metal.
In reducing copper ores at Neusol in Hungary, lead
is employed in the refining part of the process. The
rough copper is spread out on the rough bed of a fur¬
nace, and after being six hours in fusion, a quantity of
lead, in the proportion of from six to eight per'cent, of
the copper, is thrown in. This immediately begins to
vitrify, and form a thick scoria, along with the impuri¬
ties of the copper. The scoriae are successively remo¬
ved, till the whole is separated, and the copper is puri¬
fied. The scoriae retain a portion of the copper, and
are employed in a future operation. The process con¬
tinues trom ten to twelve hours, with fifty quintals of
raw copper.
Some of the fine copper ores contain such a propor¬
tion of silver as to render it worth while to extract the
metal. In the different roastings and fusions which are
employed to bring the copper to a state of purity, the
silver always remains combined with it, so that it must
be separated by another process. The method of separ
rating silver from copper has been already described, in
treating of the reduction of the ores of silver.
The springs which are found in copper mines, or flow
from rocks which afford copper ores, are often so strong¬
ly impregnated with blue vitriol or native sulphate of
copper, as to yield a considerable quantity of this me¬
tal. It is obtained by the following process. Large,
square open pits, are formed of rammed clay, two or
3 I 2 three
436 Ov R E
lroll. three feet deep. Into these pits the vitriol water is
'-—v-—' pumped j a quantity of refuse iron is thrown in, which
being allowed to remain for a considerable time, the
iron is dissolved by its stronger affinity for the acid, and
the copper being separated, is precipitated in the form
of brown mud. After the water appears to be exhaust¬
ed of the copper, the oxide of copper collected at the
bottom is raked out, and being dried in the sun, may be
reduced in the usual way. This material which is the
richest employed in obtaining metallic copper, yielding
fifty per cent, although contaminated with some iron
and clay, is rarely smelted, excepting along with the
1 poorer ores, some of which do not afford more than five
per cent, of pure metal.
The plates of copper of a fine red colour, usually
known by the name of rosette copper, are made by a
particular management. When the metal is found to be
in a state of sufficient purity, the surface while in fusion
is well scummed, and allowed to cool till it is just ready
to fix. At this time the workman brushes it over with
a wet broom, by which the surface is immediately fixed,
and a thin plate is separated from the metal below,
which is still in a fluid state. The plate thus produced
is taken off and thrown into water, where it becomes of
a high red colour. The same operation is repeated and
continued successively till the whole of the fluid metal
is converted into thin irregular plates of the above
description.
Chap. VI. Of the Ores af Iron.
THE ores of iron, which present a considerable varie¬
ty, are reduced, on account of the refractory nature of
this metal, with no small difficulty. The most power¬
ful agents must be employed for this purpose. And as
the construction of furnaces is a matter of the greatest
importance in the smelting of iron ores, we were led,
when treating of that subject, to enter into a pretty
full account of the processes themselves 5 to this account
the reader is referred for information on the methods
followed in the reduction of these ores. The present
chapter therefore will be only occupied in giving an
abridged view of their analysis.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of Iron Ores.
Native Iron.—In analysing this ore, it may he dis¬
solved in diluted nitric acid j the lead may be separated
by adding sulphate of soda, thus forming an insoluble
sulphate of lead; the oxides of iron and copper may
be precipitated by means of caustic fixed alkali at a
boiling heat j the addition of caustic ammonia will dis¬
solve the copper, and the iron will remain behind.
Pyrites.—-Iron pyrites is either magnetical, or is de¬
stitute of this property. When the ore is magnetical,
it may he either proper magnetical pyrites, or common
pyrites with a mixture of magnetic iron, either in the
metallic state, or in that of black oxide. If the mag¬
netism he owing to black oxide mixed with common
pyrites, no hydrogen gas will be produced by digesting
it in muriatic acid ; and if metallic iron and pyrites
be combined together, the gas obtained will be hydro¬
gen gas : hut if the ore examined he magnetic pyrites,
the gas evolved by muriatic acid will he sulphurated
hydrogen. The following analysis is applicable to both
a
S, &c. Chap. Vltl
species of pyrites. I. After reducing the pyrites to a ivon
very fine powder, let it be digested in nitric acid of mo- l——v'-*—'
derate strength, and boiled almost to dryness; then add
a fresh portion of acid, and repeat this process till the
whole sulphur is converted into sulphuric acid. 2. Pour
off the liquor, edulcorate the undissolved residue, and
add the washings to the liquor. 3. Add to this carbo¬
nate of soda to a slight excess, and separate the precipi¬
tate, if any take place. 4. After neutralising the resi¬
dual liquor by a little nitrous acid, it may be decompo¬
sed by muriate of barytes, which is to he added while
any precipitate takes place. A hundred parts of this
precipitate indicate 14.5 of sulphur in the ore. 5. The
insoluble residue (2.) is next to be digested with caustic
soda, and being evaporated to dryness and slightly igni¬
ted, the precipitate (3.) is to be added, and the whole
dissolved in muriatic acid, and boiled nearly to dryness.
By the affusion of water the silica will be left in the
state of a white insoluble powder. 6. Mix the muriatic
solution with ammonia in slight excess, and the alumina
and oxide of iron will be precipitated together, leaving
the lime, if there should be any, in the solution, from
which it may he obtained in the state of carbonate, by
a mild alkali. 7. The iron and alumina may be sepa¬
rated by boiling in nitric acid, which leaves the metal¬
lic oxide untouched, or by digestion in caustic potash or
soda, which produces a similar effect.
Magnetic Iron Ore, Specula li on Ore, and Tied Iron
Ore,—are composed chiefly of oxide of iron, with an
accidental quantity of silica and alumina. These ores
are with difficulty acted on by acids alone. In conduct¬
ing the analysis, therefore, 1. The ore is to be reduced
to a fine powder, and heated in a silver crucible, with
caustic soda in solution. When the whole moisture is
evaporated, the remaining matter is to be ignited to a
low degree for a few minutes4 next dissolve the whole
contents of the crucible in diluted muriatic acid; eva¬
porate the solution nearly to dryness, and boil the resi¬
due in distilled watery acidulated with a little muriatic
acid, and the silica will remain behind undissolved. 2.
The solution being considerably reduced by evaporation,
add caustic soda to a slight excess, and boil it upon the
precipitate which is thus obtained. This precipitate,
after being edulcorated, is pure oxide of iron, and being
heated with a little wax, it may brought to the state
of magnetic oxide, one hundred parts of which indicate
seventy-three of metallic iron. In this way the quanti¬
ty of iron in the ore may be estimated. 3. The alka¬
line solution contains the alumina, which may be sepa¬
rated by muriate of ammonia, and after being washed
and ignited, its quantity may he ascertained.
Black Iron Ore, and Brown Iron Ore.—Besides the
ingredients contained in the former species, these ores are
combined with a portion of manganese*, the precipitate
obtained, therefore, is a mixture of the oxides ol iron
and manganese. These oxides may be separated by dis¬
solving them in muriatic acid, and adding to the hot so¬
lution caustic soda, drop by drop, till the liquor becomes
colourless, or till the precipitate thrown down at each
addition of the alkali begins to be white. In this way
the oxide of iron is precipitated^ while that of the man¬
ganese remains in solution. The iron being removed,
the oxide of manganese may he obtained, by continuing
the addition of soda till no farther precipitate is produ¬
ced. The two oxides may also be separated by adding
succinate
VI. ORE
succinate of soda to the muriatic solution, by which
means the iron is precipitated, and the manganese re¬
mains in solution.
Sparry Iron Ore.—This ore of iron, which is suppo¬
sed to contain carbonic acid, the oxides of iron and
manganese, lime, magnesia and barytes, in the state of
carbonate, with a small portion of silica and alumina,
may be examined according to the following analysis.
I. Digest the ore reduced to very fine powder, in muri¬
atic acid, with a little nitric acid : a slight efiervescence
takes place, and the loss of weight indicates the quan¬
tity of carbonic acid driven off. 2. The insoluble por¬
tion of the ore, after being twice or thrice digested in
muriatic acid, is silica. 3 The muriatic solutions and
washings, being mixed together, are to be concentrated
by evaporation, and decomposed at a boiling heat, by
adding caustic soda in excess. 4. Boil the precipitate
and supernatant fluid together for a short time, the alu¬
mina only will be dissolved. 5. The insoluble portion
is next to be well washed and ignited, and being once
abstracted with nitric acid, the lime, barytes, and mag¬
nesia, will be dissolved, leaving behind the oxides of iron
and manganese. 6. To separate the oxides, digest the
mixture with a gentle heat in diluted nitric acid, with
the addition of a small bit of sugar j the manganese is
dissolved, and the remaining oxide of iron may be
brought to the magnetic state, by heating it with wax.
7. The nitrate of manganese may be precipitated by
carbonate of soda, and after washing and drying it at a
heat below redness, pure carbonate of manganese is ob¬
tained, one hundred parts of which indicate fifty-five of
metallic manganese. 8. To the nitric solution (5.), a
good deal diluted with water, add sulphuric acid as
long as any precipitate is formed. The sulphate of
barytes thus obtained being removed, the other earths
may be thrown down by means of the carbonate of an
alkali; they are again dissolved in diluted sulphuric acid,
and the sulphates of lime and magnesia thus produced,
being precipitated by alcohol, may be separated from
each other by cold water. In this way the sulphate of
magnesia is dissolved, with only a very inconsiderable
quantity of the sulphate of lime.
Argillaceous iron ore, bog iron ore, blue earthy and
green earthy iron ores,—are chiefly composed of the
oxides of iron and manganese, phosphate of iron, silica,
alumina, and lime. The analysis of these ores mav be
conducted according to the following process. 1. After
the ore is reduced to powder, and ignited, abstract it
two or three times with nitric acid; pour off the acid,
and wash the residue with a small portion of strong ni¬
tric acid. 2. Add the acids together, evaporate nearly
to dryness, wash the residue with cold water; the phos¬
phate of iron remains behind. 3. Ignite the insoluble
residue (1.) with caustic soda, and separate the silica as
in a former analysis, by muriatic acid. 4. Mix the ni¬
tric and muriatic liquors, boil them with an excess of
caustic soda, and the alumina will be dissolved, while the
metallic oxides and lime are precipitated. 5. After ig¬
nition, abstract the compound precipitate with nitric
acid ; the lime is now dissolved, and nothing remains
but the oxides of iron and manganese, which may be
separated according to the preceding analysis.
Arsemate of Iron.—This ore is found to contain
oxides of iron and copper, with arsenic acid, besides a
portion of silica, and sometimes lime. It was ana*
S, &c.
lysed by Mr Chenevix, according to the following
process. Being reduced to powder, and subjected to
less than a red heat, the water of crystallization is dri¬
ven oft'; the residue is next boiled with caustic potash,
and the alkaline solution being separated by filtration, is
to be neutralized with nitric acid. The addition of
nitrate of lead affords a precipitate of arseniate of lead,
one hundred parts of which indicate thirty-three of
arsenic acid. Muriatic acid is next to be added to the
residue, which is insoluble in potash; the iron and cop¬
per are thus dissolved, and the silica remains behind.
By supersaturating the muriatic solution with ammonia,
the oxide of iron will be precipitated, and the oxide of
copper will remain in solution by the alkali.
But, for practical purposes, we shall give a short view
of the simpler methods of assaying the ores of iron,
which are chiefly employed in manufacture, with the
view of ascertaining the quantity of metal to be ob¬
tained from them, when treated in the large way.
Among the older metallurgists it was usual to employ
active saline fluxes in assaying the ores of iron ; but as
the metallic part of the ore can only be brought into
fusion at a very high temperature, the same degree of
heat effects the vitrification of the earthy matters, when
aided by lime and bottle glass, so that the use of borax,
or alkaline salts, which are more expensive, maybe dis¬
pensed with.
To assay the richer varieties of magnetic iron ore,
particularly iron sand, reduce them to a fine powder,
add one-twelfth of charcoal, or double the quantity of
fine saw dust, and expose the mixture in a covered cru¬
cible for an hour to the heat of a powerful wind fur¬
nace. After this the iron will be found at the bottom
of the crucible, in the form of an irregular button, and
covered with a small portion of cellular scorim. This
process will be sufficient where the quantity of earthy
matter is small; but as the common magnetic iron ore
contains a considerable portion of silica, a flux of the
following materials may be necessary. For every eight
parts of ore take eight of bottle glass, six of limestone
or chalk, and one of charcoal y mix the whole carefully
together with the ore, and expose the mixture to heat as
in the former case. If the operation have succeeded,
a button of iron will be found at the bottom of the
crucible, covered by a compact, vitreous, greenish
slag.
As the specular iron ore generally contains a portion
of sulphur, from the admixture of pyrites, it must be
roasted at a moderate red heat, till the sulphureous odour
is no longer perceptible ; then to eight parts of the ore,
add eight of bottle glass, six of chalk, and one twelfth
of charcoal, and treat the mixture as before. The
red, brown, and black iron ores, may be assayed in the
same way.
Sparry iron ore may be assayed without roasting, by
reducing it to powder, and placing it in a crucible
lined with a mixture of charcoal and clay, and then
covering it with about one-fourth of its weight of cal¬
cined borax.
In assaying argillaceous and bog ores of iron, they
are first to be roasted, and then mixed with eight parts of
bottle glass, seven of chalk, and one and a half of char¬
coal, to eight parts of ore, and subjected to fusion in an
unlined crucible. It is scarcely necessary to observe,
that the proportion of chalk may be diminished in treat-
ORE
ing those varieties of ore v liieh Contain calcareous earth
in considerable quantities.
Sect. II. Of the Reduction of the Ores of Iron.
In treating of the construction of furnaces, the pro¬
per fox’m and management of which are ot the utmost
importance in extracting the metal from the ores of
iron, we were led to enter pretty fully into the nature
and effects of the smelting process, or the method ot re¬
ducing iron ores. We shall not, therefore, resume the
subject in this place. See Furnace.
Chap. VII. Of Lead.
In the present chapter we shall first give an account
of the most improved methods ot analysing the ores of
lead } and secondly, treat ot the best methods ot redu¬
cing or smelting these ores.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of Lead Ores.
The analysis of the ores of lead is less difficult than
that of the other metals of which we have just now
treated •, and when accuracy is wanted, the humid way
of analysis is to be preferred. The method of separa¬
ting lead from silver has been already noticed,, as well
as that by which it is separated from iron and copper.
The same process as that employed for separating iron
and copper from lead, may be followed with regard to
the separation of lead from tin, cobalt, and zinc. . V\ e
shall now give an account of the analysis ot particular
Iccifl ores#
Galena, or sulphuret of lead.—This species, which is
the most common ore of lead, was analysed by ^ au-
* Jour, des quelin, by the following process * i. Three hundred
Mines, parts of the ore, reduced to powder, were roasted j and
N° Ixviii. lost, during.the process, twelve per cent. ,2. Ihree
P- IS7* hundred parts of the same ore were heated with nitric
acid very much diluted ; a strong odour of sulphurated
hydrogen was perceived, and the , solution of the lead
being completed and filtered, there remained on the fil¬
ter pure silica, which being .heated to redness and cool¬
ed, weighed fifty grains, or 16.67 parts per cent. 3.
The solution of lead in nitric, acid.being decomposed by
means of sulphate of soda, and the sulphate of lead pre¬
cipitated being washed and dried, weighed 250 grams,
or 63.1 of metallic lead per cent. 4. After the sul¬
phate of lead was separated, ammonia was added, and a
precipitate of oxide of iron was obtained, which being
subjected to a red heat, weighed ten grains, or was equal
t° 3*33 Per cent* 5* Carbonate of potash being added
to the residual liquor, threw down nine grains of carbo¬
nate of lime, which is equal to three per cent. The
sulphuret of lead thus analyzed, afforded in one hundred
parts,
Sulphur, - I2.
Silica, - - 16.67
Metallic lead, - 63,1
Oxide of iron, - 3'33
Carbonate of lime, - 3*
Loss, - I-9
100.00
S, &c. Part VII.
To assay galena in the dry way, it is to he mixed af- Lead,
ter roasting with three times its weight of black flux, v-—
covered with salt, and melted. A button of lead will
be found at the bottom of the crucible, but the silver
and other metals which existed in the ore, are still com¬
bined with the metallic lead.
Sulphuret of lead, antimony and copper.—An ore of
this kind was analysed by Mr Hatchett, by the follow¬
ing process. Two hundred grains ot the ore were heat¬
ed in a matrass, with two ounces of muriatic acid, and
nitric acid was very slowly added, till the whole exhibi¬
ted a moderate effervescence. Being gently heated for
an hour, the solution .assumed a green colour, and a
quantity of sulphur which floated on the surface, being
collected, digested separately with a little muriatic acid,
and rvashed and dried, weighed thirty-four grains j and
as it burnt entirely away without any residuum, in.a red
earthen cup, it was perfectly pure. I he solution with
the muriatic acid, in which the sulphur had been wash¬
ed, was first boiled, and afterwards mixed with six pints
of boiling distilled water, to which it communicated a
milky appearance. It was filtered while hot, and the
filter washed with another portion ot boning water.
The white precipitate, which was oxide ot antimony,
was dried in a sand bath, and weighed sixty three grains.
When the liquor with the washings cooled, some crystals
of muriate ot lead were deposited. I he liquor was af?
terwards evaporated nearly to dryness, and a tew drops
of sulphuric acid were added, to separate the lead which
remained in solution. rl he residue being again dissolved
in boiling water, was entirely decomposed by sulphate
ot soda, and the sulphate of lead thus obtained being,
added to the former portion, was washed and dried on a
sand bath. It weighed 120 grains.
The liquor, which was now bluish green, assumed a
deep blue colour by the addition of ammonia j a small
portion of the oxide of iron was separated, which, when
dried and heated with wax, became magnetic, and
amounted to 2.4 grains. Ihe liquor, after being eva¬
porated nearly to dryness, was boiled with a strong so¬
lution of potash, till it was nearly dry, and the residue
being washed with water, a black oxide of copper ic-
mained •, which, after being dried, weighed thirty-two
grains. , rr'i
White lead ore, or carbonate of lead.—Ihe white
tabular lead ore, from Leadhills in Scotland, was ana¬
lysed by Klaproth, according to the following pro-
“ 1. One hundred grains of it, in pure specimens, and
previously triturated to a powder, were by small portions
introduced into a mixture of 200 of nitric acid with
300 grains of water, and put in equilibrium upon the
balance. The ore dissolved readily, and with a strong-
effervescence, without leaving any residue. By the car^
bonic acid that escaped, there was a loss of 16 grains qt
weight. ' , , 1
« 2. The solution, which was clear and colourless, was
diluted with water, and a cylinder of zinc put into it.
After 24 hours, the whole of the lead had shot into
beautiful metallic laminae, which collected, washed, and
both quickly and carefully dried, to the end that no
oxidation might take place, afforded 77 grains of lead
in the reguline state, which correspond with 82 grains
of oxidated lead. , , '
« Consequently, the constituent parts of this tabular
Chap. VII. O II E
LeaiK^ and carbonated white lead ore, bear to each other the
—following proportion :
[ f ■ Essays,
ii. i32*
Ibid.
Oxide of lead,
Carbonic acid,
W ater,
82.
16.
2.
f 100.”
Green lead ore, or phosphate of lead.—The following
is an example of the method of analysing this species
of ore, adopted by Klaproth.
“ 1. An hundred grains of this ore, in very pure speci¬
mens, left on solution in dilute nitric acid one half grain
of the quartzose matrix behind 3 which 1 separated and
replaced by an equal quantity of pure ore. The colour¬
less solution, treated with nitrate of silver, yielded jo
grains of muriated silver : which indicates 1.54 of con¬
crete muriatic acid, contained in 100 of the ore.
‘ 2. In the next instance, the ingredient lead was se¬
parated by means of sulphuric acid. The collected sul¬
phate of lead, after gentle ignition, weighed 1044
grains j for which 77.10. grains of oxidated lead must
be put in the account.
“ 3-When after this the nitric solution had been freed,
by nitrated barytes, from the portion of sulphuric acid
added to excess, and subsequently treated with ammonia
so far, that the acid still predominated, X continued
adding a solution of acetated lead, till no more turbid¬
ness was effected. The generated phosphate of lead,
when collected and exposed to a gentle red heat, pro¬
ved to weigh 85 grains j and consequently, the pro¬
portion of the phosphoric acid must have been 19
grains.
“ 4. The remaining fluid was mixed with muriatic
acid, the mixture evaporated to dryness, and extracted
with ardent spirit. I he residue, after completely eva¬
porating the spirit, was again dissolved in water, and
treated with Prussian alkali. A precipitation of prussi-
ated iron ensued, which indicated the amount of oxide
of iron 10 grains.
“ From the results of this decomposition it follows,
that the constituent, parts of green lead ore, and their
proportion to each oilier, are :
Oxide of lead, _ 77-10
Phosphoric acid, - jp.
Muriatic acid, -
Oxide of iron, . 0.10
f 97.74”
Tied lead ore, or chromate of lead.——\.x\ analysing this
ore, Vauquelin adopted the following simple process.
Equal weights of the ore reduced to fine powder,
strong muriatic acid, and distilled water, were digested
together at a moderate temperature, and stirred from
time to time. The chromate of lead is thus decompo¬
sed, and converted, for the most part, to muriate of lead,
which is of a white colour. When the acid has ceased
to act, pour off the liquor, add fresh muriatic acid, dilu¬
ted as before with an equal quantity of water, and to the
amount of a.bout one fourth of the former quantity,
and digest till the whole of the orange-coloured par¬
ticles among the white muriate disappear. This liquor
io to be added to the former, along with the washings $
S, &c.
the whole is to be heated, and placed in a cool place for
a few days, that the small portion of muriate of lead
which it holds in solution, may be deposited ; and this
being removed, add very gradually oxide of silver, pre¬
cipitated from its solution in nitric acid by caustic po¬
tash, till the last portions assume a red purple colour-
In this way the whole of the muriatic acid is separat¬
ed, and the liquors contain only chromic acid, which is
deposited by slow evaporation in the form of small,
prismatic, ruby red crystals. The quantity of muriate
of lead obtained by this process being ascertained, will
shew the quantity of metallic lead contained in the
ore.
Yellow lead ore, or molybdate of lead.—Klaproth ana¬
lysed this ore in the following manner.
“ 1. A hundred grains of the crystals were carefully
freed from the adhering calcareous earth and ochre of
iron, and then finely pulverized. They were then dis-
solved in muriatic acid, assisted by heat, alternately
affusing upon them the acid, and a large quantity of
water. In this instance a trace of siliceous earth,
though scarcely discernible, appeared.
“2. The greatest part of muriate of lead, generated
in the process, was deposited in line needles, even be¬
fore the solution had completely grown cold. The su¬
pernatant clear fluid was then poured off, reduced to a
smaller volume by evaporation, and freed from the mu¬
riated lead, which still separated. The muriated me¬
tal, collected with care, aud briskly desiccated, weighed
if 1 grains. By dissolving it in hot water, and steeping
into the solution a polished piece of iron, the lead pre¬
cipitated upon this last in fine lamellae, and in the me¬
tallic state.
“ 3. But in order to find more accurately what pro¬
portion this muriated lead might bear to pure oxid« of
lead, I made the following experiment.
“ Two hundred grains of lead, cut into shred's, were
dissolved in 300 grains of nitric acid, diluted with 10
ounces of water, and, with the assistance of digestion, in
a boiling heat. The solution was then divided into two
parts.
“ a. Into one half I dropped muriated acid, as long
as it produced any turbidness ; evaporating afterwards
the mixture to the most perfect dryness of the residue,
ffhe muriate of lead here produced weighed 133
grains.
“ From the second half of the nitric solution I
precipitated the oxide of lead by dissolved caustic pot¬
ash. I his oxide, when edulcorated and briskly dried
till it began to turn yellowish, amounted to 115 grains.
I rom this it followed that those 744 grains of mu¬
riated lead, obtained from 100 grains of the yellow mo¬
lybdate of lead (2.) are equal to 64.42 grains of pure
oxide of lead.
4. The concentrated muriatic solution of molyb-
dena, which had a blue colour, was mixed with nitric
acid, and lodged in a sand bath for farther evaporation.
Being thus circumstanced, it was again divested of its
blue colour, and a yellow oxide of molybdena separa¬
ted. But when the evaporation had been carried on
to complete dryness, I collected and weighed the re¬
maining lemon-yellow oxide of molybdena j and found
it amount to 344 grains.
“ therefore, one hundred parts of the purest crystals
of the yellow lead ore, from Carinthia, contain,
Oxide.
Oxide of lead, 64.42
Oxide of molybdena, 34*25
IM.- *98.67.”
35 s Sulphate of lead.—This ore of lead was analysed by
Klaproth according to the following pi'oeess.
“ 1. One hundred grains of tabular sulphate of lead
from Wanlockhead, in select pure specimens, lost 2^
grains, by being heated in a covered crucible. When
finely pulverized and ignited in a platina crucible with
400 grains of carbonate of potash, they yielded a brown¬
ish yellow, moderately concrete mass. Upon this sub¬
stance, previously triturated, water was aff used and heat
applied to promote the solution of the soluble parts. As
in the case of the preceding fossil, so in this, an oxide
of lead deposited from the liquor, which, when washed,
dried, and moderately ignited, weighed 70^- grains.
' Diluted nitric acid took the whole of it up, without
the assistance of heat, and afforded a clear solution,
from which the lead has been precipitated in the regu-
line state, by means of zinc. The metallic lead, thus
obtained, when collected, washed and quickly dried,
amounted to grains.
“ 2. In order to ascertain the quantity of sulphuric
acid contained in the alkaline solution, it was combined
with nitric acid added to super-saturation in some de¬
gree, and, in the next instance, treated with acetate of
barytes. By this management sulphate of barytes was
formed and precipitated, to the amount of 76 grains,
after being heated to redness, which indicates 25£
grains of concrete sulphuric acid.
“ According to this decomposition, an hundred parts
of this tabular sulphate of lead consist of,
O RES, &c. Chap. VII.
denly solid, and are removed to the side of the furnace. Tin.
The tap hole is now opened, and the lead runs into ‘ —1 v
moulds, in which oblong masses or pigs, about 60 pounds
each, are formed. After the lead has run out of the
furnace, the hole is again closed, the scoriae are replaced
in the bed ; and the heat being raised to a glowing red,
they are soon melted. The greater part of the lead se¬
parates from the slag, and collects in a mass at the hot**
tom. The scoriae become solid with the addition of a
little lime, and the lead is let off into the mould. The
second scoriae still contain a portion of lead, from six to
eight per cent, j but as it is not worth the expence of
extracting, it is thrown away. It is found that the
first running of lead is the best 5 the second, which is ob¬
tained from the scoriae, being considerably harder, on ac¬
count of a greater proportion of iron combined with it.
The process which is followed, at least in most parts
of Scotland, is somewhat different from that now de¬
scribed, particularly in the previous preparation of the
ore. The masses of ore, as it is brought from the mine,
being separated from any adhering impurities, are redu¬
ced to small pieces, W’ell washed, and then pulverised.
In this state it is ready for the smelting process, which
till of late w'as usually performed in an open furnace.
In some mining countries there is a considerable pro¬
portion of white lead ore mixed with the galena 5 doubts
have been entertained whether it be profitable to retain
this ore, even although it contain a large proportion of
metal, because in the reverberatory furnace it is vitrified
immediately on the appellation ol the heat, and acting
as a powerful flux, the whole is brought into fusion be¬
fore the sulphur be entirely separated } so that the pro¬
portion of scoriae in this case is greatly augmented, with
very little increase in the produce ol lead.
■f Ibid-
ii. 130.
Oxide of lead, 70'5°
' Sulphuric acid, 25-75
Water of crystallization, 2.25
+98.50.”
Sect. II. Of the Reduction of the Ores of Lead.
Galena is by far the most abundant ore of lead, and
indeed almost the only ore which is subjected to the pro¬
cess of reduction. The treatment of this ore of lead
in this rvay is very simple. The first object in dressing
the ore, is to separate the extraneous matters or im¬
purities, such as iron pyrites, blende, calcareous spar,
quartz, &c. The purer part of the ore is broken to
pieces about the size of a hazel nut, and washed from
any earthy matters which adhere to it, and then it is
ready to be smelted. A ton, or a greater quantity, of
the ore, is spread on the floor of a common reverberatory
furnace with a low arch, and with the flame of pit coal
it is quickly brought to a red heat •, being, during this
time, occasionally stirred with iron rakes, toexpose fresh
surfaces to the action of the heat. When it begins to
assume the consistence of paste, the heat is lowered, and
kept at a dull red, till the whole of the sulphur is near¬
ly driven off; when the heat is increased, and the ore
brought to perfect fusion. The mass consists of two
fluids, the upper being a vitreous slag, and the lower me¬
tallic lead. The fire is now damped, and a few spadefuls
of quicklime thrown in, by which the scoria; become sud-
Chap. VIII. Of the Ores of Tin.
There is no great variety of the ores of tin. It is
'.'usually found in the state of oxide, or in that of sulphu-
ret, when it is also combined with copper, and a small
proportion of iron.
Sect. I. Analysis of the Ores of Tin.
Before treating of the analysis of the ore of tin, we
shall first describe a very simple process for assaying it.
The ore is first reduced to the consistence of coarse sand,
and separated from the stony matters by washing. If it
appear, by subjecting a grain or two to the action of the
blow-pipe, that it contains arsenic, 200 grains of the
ore mixed with a little charcoal, are to be roasted in a
calcining test at a low red heat, till the whole of the
arsenic is driven off. The residue is withdrawn, mixed
with a little pitch and fine saw-dust, introduced into a
crucible lined with charcoal, and after a cover is luted
on, placed in a large furnace, whose heat is to be raised
to a bright red. In about 20 minutes the reduction is
completed, the crucible is removed, and a button of me¬
tallic tin is found at the bottom, covered with a little
scerise. But if the ore should contain no arsenic, the
previous process of roasting is unnecessary.
Tin-stone.—The best method of analysing the ores of
tin, is that cohtrived by Klaproth, by means of the
fixed alkalies, which was conducted according to the
following process. ((
"hap. VIII. ORE
Tin. “ i. One hundred grains of tin-stone from Alternon,
J in Cornwall, previously ground to a subtle powder,
were mixed in a silver vessel with a lixivium contain¬
ing 600 grains of caustic potash. This mixture was
evaporated to dryness in a sand heat, and then mode¬
rately ignited for half an hour. When the gray-white
mass, thus obtained, had been softened while yet wrarm,
with boiling water, it left on the filter 11 grains of an
nndissolved residue.
“ 2. These ix grains, again ignited with six times
their weight of caustic potash, and dissolved in boiling
water, left now only grain of a fine yellowish-gray
powder behind.
“ 3 The alkaline solution (1. and 2.), which was
in some degree colourless, was saturated with muriatic
acid. A brilliant white, tender oxide of tin was thrown
down, giving to the mixture a milky appearance. This
precipitate, re-dissolved by an additional quantity of
muriatic acid, was precipitated afresh by means of car¬
bonated soda. When lixiviated and dried in a gentle
heat, it acquired the form of bright yellowish transpa¬
rent lumps, having in their fracture a vitreous lustre.
“ 4. This precipitate, being finally powdered, soon
and entirely dissolved in muriatic acid, assisted by a
gentle heat. Into the colourless solution, previously di¬
luted with from two to three parts of water, I put a
stick of zinc ; and the oxide of tin, thus reduced, ga¬
thered around it in delicate dendritic laminae of a me¬
tallic lustre. These, when collected, washed, and fused,
under a cover of tallow, in a capsule placed upon char¬
coal, yielded a button of pure metallic tin, weighing
77 grains.
“ 5. The above-mentioned residue of I ^ grain, left
by the treatment with caustic potash (2.), afforded with
muriatic acid a yellowish solution j from which, by
means of a little piece of zinc introduced into it, one
half grain of tin was still deposited. Prussian alkali,
added to the remainder of the solution, produced a small
portion of a light-blue precipitate j of which, after sub¬
tracting the oxide of tin now combined with it, hardly
one-fourth of a grain remained, to be put to the ac¬
count of the iron contained in the tin-stone, here exa¬
mined.
“ In these experiments, (excepting only a slight in¬
dication of silex, amounting to about three-fourths of a
gram),no trace basappeared, either of tungstenic oxide,
which some mineralogists have supposed to be one of
the constituent parts of tin-stone, or of any other fixed
substance. Therefore, what is deficient in the sum, to
make up the original weight of the fossil analysed, must
be ascribed to the loss of oxygen ; and thus the consti¬
tuent parts of pure tin-stone from Alternon are to each
other in the following proportion :
Tin, 77.50
Iron, 0.25
Silex, 0.75
Oxygen, 21.50
100.00*.”
•Mays,
The analysis of grained tin ore, or wood tin, may be
Conducted in the same way as the former.
Tin pyrites-—The following is the process which
Klaproth adopted in the analysis of this species of tin
ore.
Vol. XV. Part II. f
S, &C. 441
“ 1. Two drams of finely triturated tin pyrites were Tin.
treated with an aqua regia, composed of one ounce of —v-"--"’
muriatic and a half ounce of nitric acid. Within 24
hours the greatest part of the metallic portion was dis¬
solved in it, without application of heat 5 while the sul¬
phur rose up, and floated on the surface of the menstru¬
um. After the mixtitre had been digested upon it for
some time in a low sand heat, I diluted it with water,
and filtered it. It left 43 grains of sulphur on the paper,
still, however, mixed with metallic particles. When
the sulphur had been gently burnt off on a test, there
still remained 13 grains j of which eight were dissolved
by nitro-muriatic acid. The remaining part was then
ignited with a little wax ; upon which the magnet at¬
tracted one grain of it.—W hat remained was part of
the siliceous matrix, and weighed three grains.
“ 2. The solution of the metallic portion (1.) was
combined with carbonate of potash ; and the dirty green
precipitate, thus obtained, was re-dissolved in muriatic
acid, diluted with three parts of water. Into this fluid
a cylinder of pure metallic tin, weighing 217 grains,
was immersed. The result was, that the portion of cop¬
per contained in the solution, deposited itself on the
cylinder of tin ; at the same time that the fluid began
to lose its green colour, from the bottom upwards; un¬
til, after the complete precipitation of the copper in the
reguline state, it became quite colourless.
“ 3. The copper thus obtained weighed 44 grains.
By brisk digestion in nitric acid, it dissolved, forming
a blue tincture, and left one grain of tin behind, in the
character of a white oxide. Thus the portion of pure
copper consisted of 43 grains.
“ 4. The cylinder of tin, employed to precipitate
the copper, now weighed 128 grains 5 so that 89 grains
of it had entered into the muriatic solution. From this,
by means of a cylinder of zinc, I re-produccd the whole
of its dissolved tin, which was loosely deposited on the
zinc in a tender dendritical form. Upon being assured,
that all the tin had been precipitated, I collected it care¬
fully, lixiviated it cleanly, and suffered it to dry. It
weighed 130 grains. I made it to melt into grains,
having it previously mixed with tallow, and under a co¬
ver of charcoal dust, in a small crucible ; which done,
I separated the powder of the coal by elutriation. A-
mong the washed grains of tin, I observed some black
particles of iron, which were attracted by the magnet,
and weighed one grain. Deducting this, there remain
129 grains for the weight of the tin. By subtracting
again from these last, those 89 grains, which proceeded
from the cylinder of tin employed for the precipitation
of the copper (2.) there remained 40 grains for the
portion of tin contained in the tin pyrites examined.
Hence, including that one grain of tin, which had been
separated from the solution of the copper (3.), the por¬
tion of pure tin contained in this ore amounts to 41
grains. An hundred parts yielded,
Sulphur, 25
Tin, 34
Copper, 36
Iron, 2
Earthy matters, 13
3K
* lbi$. i.
Bi¬
sect.
ORE
Sect.'ll. Of the Reduction of the Ores of Tin.
Tin stone, or vein tin, as it is called in Cornwall, con¬
tains a large proportion of stony matters. It is first
broken by hammers into pieces of the size ot a hen s
eon-, when it is ready for the operation of stamping,
which is performed in the way already described lor the
ores of gold, excepting that there are only three stamp¬
ers. A tin plate about a foot square, and pierced with
holes to admit a moderate sized knitting-needle, is in¬
serted in front of the trough, and that surface of the
plate with the rough extremities of the holes is on the
inside, by which the holes are prevented from being
plugged up with the ore. As the ore is reduced to the
proper fineness, it passes with the water through the
holes into the labyrinth, where it is collected, and after
beiiv washed on a wooden table, when it is ready for
roasting. In this state it has a considerable proportion
of copper and iron pyrites, and is called black tin. Af¬
ter being calcined at a low red heat for several hours, m
a large reverberatory furnace, the ore comes out of a
bright ochrey red colour, owing to the decomposition
and oxidation of some of the metallic substances 5 but
the oxide of tin, when the operation is properly con¬
ducted, remsins unaltered. The ore is washed a second
time, to separate the remaining impurities ; and the wa¬
ter which is impregnated with sulphate ol copper, is le-
tained and decomposed by means of old iron.
The reduction of the ore ,is the next step in the P10-
cess. Seven cwt. of roasted ore, with one fifth of its
bulk of small coal, are introduced into a reverberatory
furnace, which is about seven feet long, and 3i 'vide.
No lime, or indeed flux of any kind is required. _ A
brisk heat is kept up for about six hours 5 the tin sinking
down as it is reduced, and covered with black scoriae.
The furnace is now tapt, and the metal flows into a
shallow pit. When the whole of the metal has run
out the scoriae are removed from the furnace, and a
fresh charge is made. The metal in the pit throws up
a slao-, rich in metal, which is immediately returned into
the furnace •, and after the melted tin has cooled a little,
it is taken out with iron ladles, and poured into granite
moulds. Each charge affords on an average from tour
to five cwt. of metal; but as the first scoriae are not en¬
tirely free from metal, they are again stamped and wash-
ed, and mixed with a new parcel of roasted ore. 1 he
pigs of tin are next put into a small reverberatory tui-
iiace } where, without any addition, they are subjected
to a very gentle heat *, the purest part of the tin melts
first, and is drawn off, forming what is called common
orained tin •, the other part contains some copper, arse¬
nic and iron, which is brought to a state of fusion, and
cast into pigs, forming common tin. .
Stream tin ore, which is peculiar to Cornwall, is
prepared for the furnace by reducing it to powder, and
passing it through wire sieves, which have 16 meshes in
the square inch. A blast furnace is employed, which is
about seven feet high, and is supplied with air from two
cylinders washed by an overshot water wheel. The me¬
thod of managing the furnace, after being fully heated,
is the following. Three or four shovels full of ore, and
two or three half bushels of charcoal, without any kind
of flux, form a charge with which the furnace is led
at short intervals. There is a small channel at the bot-
S, &c. Chap. IX.
tom of the furnace, through which the reduced tin is Bismuth,
constantly flowing into a pit below, and the slag which
accompanies it is removed from time to time, and le-
turned into the furnace. When the pit is full, the melt¬
ed metal is removed into an iron boiler three feet in
diameter, having a small fire under it, to keep the me¬
tal in fusion. Two or three large pieces ol charcoal
are then placed upon the tin, and forced to the bottom by
means of an iron instrument resembling a wheel, with a
long handle fixed in the. axle. This produces a violent
ebullition, and a little slag, before mixed with the metal,
rises to the surface, and is removed. In a minute or
two the metal is tried, as it is called, by taking up a la-
dleful, and returning it again into the massj when, if it
assume a bright silver-like appearance, and a uniform
consistence, the purification is complete. When cool to
the proper degree, it is removed into the moulds, where
it is formed into pigs of two or three cwt. Stream tin
ore yields from 65 to 75 per cent, of the best and pu-
. V * * Aikin's
resttm * Diction of
Chap. IX. Of the Ores of Bismuth. ^fm'
0*1
*r
Bismuth is found in the metallic state, accompanied
by native silver, blende, and galena, some other metals,
and earthy substances. It is also met with in the state
of oxide, and also in the state of sulphuret.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of the Ores of Bismuth.
In conducting the analysis of the ores of bismuth,
previous roasting is not requisite. The native bismuth,
or oxide of bismuth, dissolves readily in nitrous acid,
diluted with about one third of water, and either m the
cold, or with a moderate heat; but boiling is necessary
for the sulphuret, to precipitate the sulphur, and dissolve
the bismuth. The greater part of the nitrate of bismuth
may be precipitated from the solution, and separated
from the metals with which it is usually alloyed, by ad¬
ding a large quantity of water. But to separate the
bismuth totally, evaporate the clear liquor which remains
over the precipitated oxide to a small bulk, so as to re-
tain in solution the nitrates of the other metals. Add
muriatic acid by drops, as long as any white cloud is
formed. This last precipitate consists or the remaining
portion of the oxide of bismuth, mixed with muriate ol
silver, if the ore examined contain any of that metal.
Then add a few drops of strong nitric acid, which dis¬
solves the bismuth, and leaves the silver •, and to this
portion of the nitrate of bismuth add water, which se¬
parates the whole by precipitation, lo ascertain whe¬
ther the solution contains any silver, expose the precipi¬
tate bv muriatic acid to the light, which will become ot
a bluish or slatey colour, it any silver has been dissoh-
ed ; but if not, the pure white colour remains unalter¬
ed. As the oxide of bismuth is composed ot 81.3 per
cent, of metal, and 18.7 of oxygen, the proportion ot
metal in the ore may be precisely ascertained by weig -
in» it. The other metals held in solution by the nitrous
acid, which are chiefly lead, iron, copper and cobalt,
may be separated in the usual way.
Sect. II. Of the Reduction of the Ores of Bismuth.
The low degree of heat at which bismuth is fusible.
jap. X, OR
jsirutfi- rentiers the reduction of the ores of this metal a very
■nr-*-* simple process. In the treatment of the native metal,
and the oxide, the weight of the ore of black flux is
put into a crucible along with it, covered with salt, to
about a finger’s breadth, and melted for 5 minutes with
a brisk fire j when it is cold, the bismuth is found in a
clean button. The flux employed by others is one part
of borax, and the same quantity of powdered glass, to
two of the ore, and the fusion is effected in a crucible
lined with charcoal. With the oxide, a little oil, rosin,
or charcoal, should also be mixed. Previous roasting is
necessary in the treatment of the sulphuret of bismuth,
to separate the sulphur ; the other part of the treatment
is the same with that now described.
But in the large way, the ores of bismuth are redu¬
ced merely by heating them along with burning fuel.
Sometimes a shallow hole is made in the ground, and
filled loosely with pieces of wood and bushes, and after
the fire is kindled, the ore reduced to small pieces is
thrown in *, and sometimes the stump of a hollow pine
tree is filled with wood and ore alternately, and set on
fire *, the bismuth separates from its matrix, and collects
in a mass at the bottom.
Chap. X. Of the Ores of Zinc.
The ores of zinc are, the native carbonate, or com¬
mon calamine, the oxide of zinc, and the sulphuret.
■
Sect. I. Analysis of the Ores of Zinc.
On acount of the great volatility of zinc, it cannot
be examined in the dry way, or subjected to assay, with¬
out particular precaution. In assaying blende, or the
sulphuret of zinc, the ore, after being bruised, is to be
carefully separated from particles of galena, or other
impurities. It is then to be roasted, and the sulphur be¬
ing driven off, to be reduced to fine powder, mixed with
half its weight of charcoal, introduced into an earthen
retort, to which a tube is fitted. The retort being
exposed to a strong heat in a wind furnace, for three
quarters of an hour, is to be gradually cooled, and on
breaking it, the zinc is found in the neck, in metallic
drops. The object may be accomplished in another
way. Prepare the ore as before, and having mixed it
with charcoal, let it be stratified in a crucible, with its
own weight of copper clippings ; and having luted on
a perforated cover, subject it for nearly an hour to a low
white heat. Allow it to cool, and examine and wash
the contents. The globules of brass formed are thus
easily separated from the other impurities, and the ex¬
cess of weight of the brass above the copper, indicates
the quantity of zinc given out by the ore.
Blende, or sulphuret of •zinc.—This ore is found to
contain not only zinc and sulphur, but sometimes iron,
lead, copper, and arsenic, with silica, alumina, and a
portion of water. It may be analyzed by the following
process :
1. Introduce into a small coated glass retort, 200
grains of ore reduced to powder, and let it be gently
ignited for a quarter of an hour. The fluid collected
in the receiver will be found to be water.
2. Digest another portion of ore in repeated quanti¬
fies of diluted nitric acid, till every thing soluble is ta-
\ S, &c. 44 >
ken up j wash the residue j weigh and ignite it; the zinc,
loss of weight indicates the quantity of sulphur which y—J
is burnt off.
3. Digest the residue in a little nitro-muriatic acid,
till the insoluble portion becomes quite white, which is
pure silica.
4. Add to the nitric solution (2.) a few drops of sul¬
phate of soda ; evaporate gently, and continue to add
sulphate of soda while a precipitate is formed, and after
being evaporated nearly to drvness, digest in diluted
muriatic acid 5 the sulphate of lead remains behind.
5. Add together the nitro-muriatic solutions (3, 4.)j
decompose by carbonate of soda, and digest the precipi¬
tate in caustic ammonia $ the zinc and copper are thus
dissolved.
6. Let the ammoniacal solution (5.) be saturated with
muriatic acid ; boil it, and add caustic soda, while a
precipitate takes place : this is the brown oxide of
copper.
7. Oxide of zinc now only remains in the soda solu¬
tion, which is to be saturated with muriatic acid, and
decomposed by carbonate of soda. The precipitate ob¬
tained after ignition is oxide of zinc.
8. The residue which was insoluble in ammonia (5 ),
is to be treated repeatedly with nitric acid, and digested
in caustic soda. Oxide of iron, contaminated slightly
with arsenic, remains insoluble.
9 Having saturated the soda solution (8.) with nitric
acid, add nitrate of lead, till no farther precipitate is
formed ; the precipitate is arseniate of lead.
10. And to the residual liquor, add first, sulphate
of soda, to separate any nitrate of lead that may re¬
main 5 filter the liquor, decompose it by carbonate of
ammonia j the precipitate, washed and ignited, is pure
alumina.
Calamine, or carbonate of zinc.—The ores of this
species contain, besides the carbonate of zinc, the car¬
bonates of lead, iron, and lime. The following is the
mode of analysis.
1. The ore reduced to powder is to be dissolved in
diluted nitric acid j the loss of weight during the solu¬
tion indicates the quantity of carbonic acid Neutralize
the solution with caustic soda, evaporate gently, and
add from time to time a few drops of sulphate of soda
while any precipitate is formed-
2. Having thus cautiously brought it nearly to dry¬
ness, digest it in highly rectified alcohol, and afterwards
in a little cold water, which wull take up every thing
but the sulphates of lead and lime.
3. These may then be separated by digestion in sul¬
phuric acid very much diluted, which will take up the
sulphate of lime, leaving the sulphate of lead pure.
4. Neutralize the muriatic solution by soda, an * eva¬
porate nearly to dryness ; then add alcohol to the re¬
sidue, which will throw down the sulphate of lime with
a little sulphate of soda, which latter may then be wash¬
ed away by a little cold water.
5. The alcoholic solution (2.) after evaporation to
dryness, may be digested in caustic ammonia, which
will take up the oxide of zinc, and leave behind the
oxide of iron.
6. The alkaline solution, after being slightly supersa¬
turated with muriatic acid, is to be decomposed bv a
perfectly carbonated alkali, by which the zinc is pro-
3 K a cured
444
ORES, 8cc.
Chap. XL
Zinc.
cured in the state of carbonate ; ami this, after edulcora-
tion, being dissolved by sulphuric acid, and the solution
ignited in a platina crucible, affords dry sulphate ot
•/.inc, containing 50 per cent, of oxide oi zinc.
7. Thus, all the constituent parts are ascertained ex¬
cept the water: to determine the proportion of this,
take a fresh parcel of the ore, weigh it, and then ignite
it for half an hour, note the lose ot weight, and transfer
the residue into muriatic acid} if while it dissolves in
this fluid it gives out any gas, let the loss of weight be
noted 5 then add together the losses by ignition and so¬
lution j deduct from the sum the known weight of the
carbonic acid, and the residue is water.
Sect. II. Of the Reduction of the Ores of Zinc.
The ore being reduced to small pieces, and the dif¬
ferent impurities being separated, it is next calcined in
a reverberatory furnace at a moderate red heat, and if
the ore be calamine, the carbonic acid is driven off, and
if blende, it is deprived of its sulphur. After this it is
washed, and the metallic oxide being separated from the
earthy parts, it is dried, and carefully mixed with about
one-eighth of its weight of charcoal, by grinding the
ingredients together in a mill, and is now ready for the
smelting process. This is performed in a circular fur¬
nace, in which are fixed six large earthen pots, about
four feet high and nearly of the shape of oil jars. An
iron tube is inserted into the bottom of each pot, and,
passing through the arched floor of the furnace, ter¬
minates in a vessel of water placed beneath, while the
other end of the tube rises within the crucible to a few
inches of the top. The crucibles ai'e then filled with
the mixture of the ore and charcoal, to the level of the
tube, the cover of each is carefully luted on, and an in¬
tense heat is to be kept up for several hours. The zinc,
as the process of reduction goes on, rises in the form of
vapour to the top of the pot; but as it cannot escape, it
descends through the iron tube, passes into the water,
and is condensed in small drops. The globules are af¬
terwards fused, and cast into the form of ingots, when
it is fit for the market.
But as common zinc contains a little of other metals,
as copper, lead, arsenic, iron, and manganese, which
impair its quality, these impurities are partially separated
by melting the zinc in a crucible, and stirring into it,
with a stick or earthen rod, a mixture of sulphur and
fat j by the latter the zinc is preserved from oxidation,
and the sulphur combines with all the other metals ex¬
cept the zinc, and converting them into sulphurets, they
rise to the top in the form of scoriae, which may be re¬
moved. This process is to be repeated as long as any
scoriae appear. The method of purifying zinc proposed
by Proust, is simple distillation in an earthen retort.
The zinc passes over, and the oxides of the other metals
remain behind. But it is supposed that the arsenic or
lead cannot be separated in this way.
Chap. XL Of the Ores of Antimony.
Native antimony is a very rare production*, the
aaost common ore of antimony is the sulphuret j but it
is also sometimes found in. the state of oxide.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of the Ores of Antimony.
Antimony.
Gray ore of antimony, or sulphuret oj antimony.—As
the sulphurets of antimony are the principal ores of this
metal, we shall only describe the process by which the
analysis of these ores may be conducted.
1. Five hundred grains being reduced to fine powder,
are to be digested with 1500 grains of pure nitric acid
of specific gravity 1.25, and 1000 grains of water, for
half an hour, at 150° Fahrenheit j then add a quantity
of pure water, equal to the rest of the fluid j mix the
whole well together, and pour off the liquor as soon as
it becomes clear. This consists of the nitrates of silver,
lead, and copper, and perhaps a little iron dissolved in
an excess of acid. By simple boiling and filtration,
the iron is separated in the state of red oxide.
2. Add to the solution muriate of soda, while any
precipitate takes place, and let the whole stand till the
supernatant liquor becomes clear*, the precipitate is
pure muriate of silver.
3. The solution (2.) is next to be saturated with pot¬
ash or soda, and concentrated by evaporation to one-
third of its bulk. The addition of caustic ammonia in
excess throws down the lead in the state of oxide, and
the copper remains in solution.
4. Acidulate slightly the solution (3 ) with nitrous
acid j add carbonate of potash, by which the green oxide
of copper will be precipitated, and being subjected to a
low red heat, is reduced to the state of brown oxide, of
which 100 parts indicate 85 of metal.
5. The portion of ore (1.) which was insoluble, is
next to be digested at a degree of heat below boiling,
with successive portions of nitromuriatic acid, composed
of nitric acid, as long as any thing is taken up. The
difterent solutions are then mixed, concentrated by eva¬
poration, and poured into a large portion of pure water}
a precipitate immediately takes place, which is the
white oxide of antimony, which, after being separated
and washed, is to be mixed with twice its weight of
crude tartar and a little nitre, and then exposed to a full
red heat, which in a few minutes reduces it to the me¬
tallic state.
6. The solution (4.) contains now a little sulphuric
acid and iron, with some earthy matters. By adding
nitrate of barytes while any precipitate is produced, the
quantity of acid may be ascertained, and then adding
caustic potash in excess, which, assisted by a boiling
heat, will precipitate the iron, and retain the alumina
and silica.
7. The insoluble residue (6.) contains sulphur and-
earth } it is decomposed by a red heat, the sulphur be¬
ing dissipated, and the earth remains.
Sect. II. Of the Reduction of the Ores of Antimony.
The ore of antimony, which is found in sufficient
quantity to be employed in the process of reduction in
the large way, is the sulphuret, the analysis of which has
now been detailed. The ore being separated from the
greater part of the stony matters which adhere to it, is
placed on the bed of a reverberatory furnace, and cover¬
ed with charcoal powder} and being brought to a low
red heat, the sulphuret enters into fusion, and the
ii)
j!ti
hap. XI. O R
ntimony; earthy parts floating on the surface, are removed with a
J rake. The melted part is cast into the form of large
cakes, and is the crude antimony of the shops.
The metal is obtained in a state of purity from the
crude antimony, or sulphuret, by different processes.
The following is recommended as one of the best, and
most frequently practised. The sulphuret being redu¬
ced to small pieces, is strewed thinly on the floor of a
reverberatory furnace, to drive off the sulphur. The
heat at first must not exceed that of the melting point of
tin, otherwise the antimony will melt. A lambent blue
flame is observed over the surface of the ore, which pro¬
ceeds from the combustion of the sulphur j the metal is
deprived of its lustre, and is converted into a grayish
oxide. In the course of some hours, by carefully stirring
the ore, and cautiously increasing the temperature, as
the fusibility diminishes, it at last ceases to give out sul¬
phureous vapours, and can bear a moderate red heat
without melting. After the roasting, the ore is re¬
moved from the fire, and is found changed into an ash-
gray oxide, weighing from 30 to 36 per cent, less than
the sulphuret, but it is not yet entirely free from sul¬
phur. To reduce the oxide, mix it with half its weight
of crude tartar, and subject to a full red heat in a cover¬
ed crucible. The oxide is decomposed by the carbona¬
ceous part of the tartar, and the antimony, reduced to
the metallic form, is collected at the bottom of the cru¬
cible. A small proportion, however, still remains, dis¬
solved by the sulphuret of potash, formed by the alkaline
base of the tartar and the sulphur of the oxide. The
quantity of metal which is thus obtained in the large
way, amounts to 66 or 70 per cent, of the oxide em¬
ployed. The loss, however, would be greater, if the
ore has not been properly roasted.
The reduction is effected also by another process,
which is supposed to be more economical. The roasted
oxide is mixed with oil or fat, and a little powdered
charcoal, and then introduced into a crucible ; and as the
metal begins to appear, powdered nitre, in the propor¬
tion of an ounce to a pound of oxide, is gradually in¬
jected, after which the whole mass is brought to thin
fusion, affording a pure metal, and in greater propor¬
tion than in the usual way.
The only other process which we shall mention, for
reducing sulphuret of antimony, is that by means of
some of the other metals, for which the sulphur has a
greater affinity than for the antimony. Proceeding on
this principle, iron, copper, lead, silver, and tin, may be
employed in the process j but as iron is not only more
effectual, but also cheaper, it is preferred. The anti¬
mony obtained by this process, was formerly called
martial regulus, not only on account of the iron being
used in the preparation, but, not improperly, on account
of a small portion of that metal which still adheres to it.
The proportions recommended are the following : Eight
ounces of small iron nails are heated in a crucible
almost to whiteness j 16 ounces of crude or roasted-
sulphuret of antimony, coarsely pounded, are then added:
the crucible is covered, and the fire kept up; and in a
few minutes, when the whole is melted, three ounces
of nitre are to be added: after a slight detonation has
taken place, the whole is brought to perfect fusion. It
is then put into an iron cone previously heated and
greased, and as tire mass becomes solid, the sides of
the cone are struck, to promote the precipitation of
5
E S, &c.
the metal. When cold and weighed, a mass of an¬
timony is obtained, equal to about 20 ounces of the sul¬
phuret employed, covered with alkaline ferruginous
scoriae, from which it is easily separated by a blow of
the hammer.
Hut the metal is not yet entirely free from iron and
sulphur; to purify it still farther, therefore, it is to be
remelted, two ounces of crude antimony, and three of
nitre being added; and when the detonation has ceased,
it is poured into a cone, and the metal is separated as
before, from the scoriae. Fuse the metal again; project
upon it three ounces of nitre; separate the purified
metal from the scoriae; remelt with a strong heat, pro¬
jecting gradually three ounces of nitre, and immediately
pour it into a cone. About eight ounces of a beautiful
stellated regulus, covered with yellowish white scoriae,
are thus obtained.
Chap. XII. Of the Ores of Cobalt.
Cobalt exists usually in a state of combination with
arsenic and sulphur, or in the state of oxide. Scarcely
any of its ores are free from arsenic and iron. Nickel
is also sometimes abundantly mixed with the ores of co¬
balt, and occasionally a little manganese and copper.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of the Ores of Cobalt.
White and gray cobalt ores, consisting chiefly of ar¬
senic and cobalt, may be examined in the dry way, ac¬
cording to the following process, which, however, is not
to be considered as very perfect. The ore is to be mix¬
ed with charcoal or saw-dust, and roasted to drive off
the arsenic. The oxide after calcination is mixed with
four times its weight of an equal mixture of carbonate
of potash and tartar, and heated intensely, at tlve tem¬
perature which is required for melting cast-iron. A
button of metallic cobalt is found beneath the seorise,
which are always of a deep blue, or nearly black colour,
owing to the combination of part of the oxide of cobalt.
A hundred grains of this, ore, treated by Klaproth ac¬
cording to this process, yielded 44 grains of metallic
cobalt; but if the ore contained iron, copper, or nickel,
it must have been alloyed with these metals, andperliaps
not entirely free from arsenic.
But the analysis may be conducted with more accu¬
racy according to the following process by Tassaert *. * ^nn de
1. With a view to ascertain the quantity of arsenic C7;h«xxviU'.
he digested 100 parts of cobalt ore with diluted nitric p 9.
acid. The whole was dissolved in a few hours, and de¬
posited, on cooling, white crystalline grains. By eva¬
poration more crystals were deposited; the whole col¬
lected and dried, weighed 56 parts, and, excepting three
parts, the whole was sublimed. These 53 paiTs are
oxide of arsenic, and indicate 49 per cent, of metal in
the ore.
2. Three hundred parts of the ore digested with four
times as much nitric acid, afforded a rose-coloured solu¬
tion. After partial evaporation, and; with the addition
of water and heat, a pale-red precipitate (1.) was
formed, leaving a rose coloured solution. The solution
being boiled with an excess of potash, afforded an oxide
of cobalt, which was rose coloured, and then green,
and when dried in a red heat,.black. The amount was
85 parts.
3* These,
O li E
3. These 85 parts, dissolved in mtro-muriatic acid,
gave, with the addition of pure ammonia, a black pre¬
cipitate, which, excepting a small portion, was again
dissolved by an excess of alkali. The undissolved por¬
tion treated again with nitro-munatic acid and ammo¬
nia, was reduced to four parts, and appeared to be oxide
of iron. . . ,
4. The rose-coloured precipitate (2.), which was a
mixture of arseniate of cobalt and iron, being decom¬
posed by caustic potash in excess, afforded a precipitate,
which weighed, after being dried, 100 parts. .
c. The ico parts (4.) being again dissolved in nitric
acid, and the solution being partially evaporated, and
then diluted with water, gave a precipitate of 27 parts
of oxide of iron, and left a clear solution of cobalt.
6. The nitrate of cobalt (5.) was decomposed by am¬
monia 5 and the precipitate redissolved by an excess of
the alkali, excepting an insoluble oxide of iron, amount¬
ing to 15 parts. The solution was then added to the
ammoniated cobalt (3.)*
7. The insoluble precipitates of oxide ot iron (.3.
c. and 6.) were then mixed and examined. With
borax they gave a blue glass, indicating a portion of co¬
balt still combined. They were then dissolved in ni-
tro-muriatic acid, precipitated by ammonia, and the
wet precipitate was introduced into acetic acid, which at
first dissolved the whole, but by boiling and evaporation
nearly to dryness, four times successively, the oxide ot
iron became insoluble, while the cobalt remained m so¬
lution, and as it was more freed from iron, it assumed
more of a fine rose colour. The solution of acetate ot
cobalt was supersaturated with ammonia, and the solu¬
tion of ammoniated cobalt was added to the difterent
portions of the same, obtained in former experiments.
To expel the ammonia, the whole solution was boiled,
and, bv adding potash, the whole oxide of cobalt, was
precipitated, which being washed and dried, amounted
to 133 parts. The oxide being reduced in a crucible
lined with charcoal, afforded pure metallic cobalt, of
specific gravity 8.538. . „ , , , f
8. To determine the quantity of sulphur, 100 parts ot
the ore ivere separately boiled with 500 ol nitric acid,
and diluted with water, to separate the whole of the
oxide of arsenic that deposited spontaneously. I he sul¬
phur was now converted into sulphuric acid ; nitrate of
barytes was added, and a precipitate of sulphate ol
barytes was formed, the quantity of which being ascer¬
tained, the proportion of sulphur might in this way be
estimated.
Sect. II. Of the Reduction of the Ores of Cobalt.
As cobalt in the metallic state is not applied to any
useful purpose, the reduction of its ores in this view is
not an object of manufacture. But as it is extensively
employed in the state of oxide, to give a fine blue colour
to glass, porcelain, &c. we shall here give a short ac¬
count of the method of preparing the ores for this purpose.
When the oxide of cobalt is simply mixed, after calci¬
nation, with a quantity of vitrifiable earth, it is then
known by the name of %affre, and it is in the form of
a brown, gritty powder} but if it be melted with a
quantity of vitrifiable matters, it yields a glass of a very
deep blue colour, which being reduced to a fine powder,
constitutes the smalt of commerce.
I
S, &c. Chap. XIII.
Preparation of %affre.—This substance is chiefly pre- Nickel,
pared in the large way, in difterent parts ol Germany, *
but particularly in Saxony, and the foliowing is the me¬
thod of its preparation. The furnace employed is some¬
what like a baker’s oven, and is so constructed, that the
flame of wood may be reverberated on all sides. I he
cobalt ore is placed on the hearth of the furnace, and
by the action of the flame soon becomes red hot $ a
dense arsenical vapour arises, which is conducted through
a horizontal wooden square trough or chimney, some
times ico fathoms long. In this chimney the arsenic is
chiefly condensed, yet it is said, that some of the va¬
pours, on account of their great volatility, escape. I he
calcination is continued till the exhalation of vapouis
nearly ceases: the ore is then reduced to povvdei, cal¬
cined a second time, again ground, and passed through
a fine sieve. The powder is then mixed with two paits
of powdered flint or quartz, after which it is moistened,
and packed into barrels, where it acquires a great degree
of hardness. This is the zaffre of commerce, in the state
in which it is exported •, the exportation of the simple
coloured oxide being prohibited under heavy penalties,
it is said that the flints are added with a view to conceal
the real nature of the substance.
Preparation of Smalt.—This is also sometimes called
zaflre, and when reduced to a very fine powder, it is
called axurc blue. It is prepared with about equal parts
of calcined cobalt ore, potash, and ground flints. T-his
mixture is first fritted, and afterwards made into glass,
in pots like those ol the glass-house. Eight or ten hours
are required for its fusion. W hen the blue coloui is
perfect, the fused matter is taken out with iron ladles,
and dropt into cold water, which makes it crack in all
directions, so that it is easily reduced to fine powder.
This operation is performed m a mill of very haid stone,
inclosed in a wooden case. In the preparation of the
smalt by the above process, a portion of bismuth, which
usually accompanies the ores of cobalt, is found. Above
it there is also a mixed alloy of iron, copper, and ar¬
senic.
Chap. XIII. Of the Ores of Nickel.
Nickel, as it is found in the state of ore, is usually
combined with arsenic and sulphur, copper and iron, or
with oxygen, in the form of oxide.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of the Ores of Nickel.
When the ore contains, beside nickel, arsenic, sul¬
phur, copper, and iron, with which it is usually ac¬
companied, cobalt, silver, and bismuth, with some earthy
matters, the analysis may be conducted according to
the following process.
j. The ore being reduced to an impalpable powder,
is to be two or three times digested in nitric acid, con¬
siderably diluted, after which every thing soluble will
be taken up. During the process, nitrous gas is given
°U2. The insoluble part consists mostly of sulphur and
silica, which after being dried, weighed and heated, the
sulphur burns off, and the difference of weight before
and after ignition, indicates its amount, 1 he residue,
after boiling m a little nitrous acid, is pure silica.
2 Saturate the two nitrous solutions (i.and 2.) with.
pure
hap. XIV. QBE
Manga- Pure evaporate considerably, and pour the solution
ne?e into cold distilled water j the oxide of bismuth is preci-
1 pitated.
4. Add muriate of soda by drops to the filtered solu¬
tion, while any precipitate is formed, which is the mu¬
riate of silver.
5. Evaporate the solution nearly to dryness, boil it
with strong nitric acid while nitrous gas is given out $
red oxide of iron is precipitated during the process.
6. Remove the oxide of iron, saturate the liquor with
soda, and add nitrate of lead while any precipitate takes
place. This is the arseniate of lead, which may be se¬
parated by filtration.
7. Decompose the nitrous solution by carbonate of
soda : digest the washed precipitate in liquid ammonia;
the oxide of iron mixed with alumina, is left behind,
and may be separated by caustic fixed alkali.
8. Let the ammoniacal solution be slightly supersa¬
turated with nitric acid, and a polished bar of iron in¬
troduced ; in this way the copper will be separated 1
then decompose the liquid by Carbonate of soda, and di¬
gest the precipitate in ammonia, and the iron employed
in separating the copper will be removed.
9. The solution now contains only nickel and cobalt.
Let it be evaporated till the excess of ammonia be ex¬
pelled. This is the case when the vapour ceases to dis¬
colour moist turmeric paper. Then add pure potash or
soda to the solution largely diluted, while any preci¬
pitation takes place. The precipitate is the oxide of
nickel. The cobalt now only remaining in the solu¬
tion, may be separated in the usual way. To reduce the
oxide of nickel, mix it with glass of borax and a small
quantity of carbonaceous matter, and then subject it in
a crucible to the most powerful furnace heat. A but¬
ton of pure nickel is thus produced.
As the ores of nickel are not very abundant, and as
this metal is little employed for purposes of manufacture,
the reduction of its ores does not extend beyond chemi¬
cal analysis, which we have now detailed.
Chap. XIV. Of the Ores of Manganese.
Manganese usually exists in the state of oxide, com¬
bined with a small proportion of iron, or in the state of
carbonate, and sometimes in that of sulphuret.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of the Ores of Manganese.
Radiated gray ore of manganese.—This ore was ana¬
lysed by Klaproth according to the following process.
“ Two hundred grains of the ore, in grossly broken
crystal^, were heated to a thorough redness in a small
coated glass retort, connected with the pneumatic appa¬
ratus. The gas collected amounted only to nine grains,
upon deducting the common air of the apparatus ; but
shewed by the lively combustion of an iron wire con¬
fined in it, that it was pure oxygen gas.
“ 2. In the small intermediate hollow glass sphere of
the apparatus, a considerable quantity of moisture has
condensed, which weighed 14 grains, and was pure wa¬
ter.
“ 3. The manganese, having sustained that ignition,
weighed 181 grains. The external lustre of the crystals
was very much diminished, and their gray colour turned
blackish.
S, &C.
447
“ One hundred parts of this ore have, consequently,
been decomposed into,
Black oxide of manganese 90.50
Water, - - 7.
Oxygen gas, - 2.25
99-75 ” +
As manganese is chiefly employed for economical pur¬
poses, in the state of oxide, the reduction of its ores forms
no object of manufacture.
Manga¬
nese.
f Essays,
ii. 245'.
Chap. XV. Of the Ores of Mclybdena.
For an account of the treatment of the ores of molyb-
dena, which exists in the state of sulphuret and in that of
oxide only, see Chemistry ; see also the analysis of the
molybdate of lead, in the chapter on lead, in this article.
Chap. XVI. Of the Ores of Arsenic.
Arsenic is found native, when it is alloyed with a
small portion of iron, and sometimes also with a little
gold or silver; in the state of sulphuret, or in the state
of oxide.
Sect. I. Of the Analysis of the Ores of Arsenic.
The method of analysing the ores of arsenic by Berg¬
man, has been already given under Arsenic in the article
Chemistry, as well as the method of subliming the
metal in close vessels, to obtain it in a state of purity.
The following is recommended as a successful process
for preparing this metal for nice chemical purposes.
Mix a quantity of arseniate of potash with about £ part
of charcoal, and let it be sublimed in a close glass ves¬
sel, slowly heated to redness. The metallic arsenic thus
obtained is in the form of beautiful brilliant crystals.
Sect. II. Preparation of White Arsenic and Orpiment.
White arsenic In the large way, this is prepared,
by roasting the arsenical ores, previously ground to
powder, and mixed with charcoal or saw dust, at a
low red heat for several hours. The roasted ore is then
subjected to a second sublimation, according to the fol¬
lowing method ; which is practised in Bohemia. The
vessels in which the sublimation is performed, are strong
square boxes of cast iron furnished with conical heads,
which are closely luted with clay. These boxes are
arranged in a spacious brick area, which is heated by
flues proceeding from two furnaces, placed a little be¬
low them. When the impure arsenic has become red
hot, it is removed into the boxes by 15 pounds at a time,
where it is brought into fusion, and about an hour after
begins to sublime into the conical head. When the ar¬
senic ceases to rise, another quantity is introduced into
the vessel, and treated in the same way. These additions
are continued till about 150 pounds of arsenic have been
thus treated in each vessel; a period of about 12 hours
is requisite for the sublimation of the whole quantity.
When the vessels are cold, the conical head is taken
off, and the sublimed arsenic is broken oil with ham¬
mers, at the same time any impurities that adhere to it
are separated, for a second operation.
Orpiment.—
443 ORE
Arscr.it. Orpimcnl.—Tins substance is prepared in the same
Y*”*—’ manner, and with the same apparatus, but the arsenic
is previously mixed with half its weight of sulphur. In
both cases a uniform red heat should be kept up during
the operation, so that the materials in the lower vessel
may be alwavs in fusion ; and when these materials are
of any tolerable degree of purity, almost the whole is
sublimed.
As the remaining metals have yet been found only in
S, 8tc. Chap, XVI.
very small quantity, the reduction of their ores is not an Arsenic,
object of much importance. A short account of the v
me thod of analysing them will be found under Che¬
mistry, and the characters of the ores, with their con¬
stituent parts, will be found under Mineralogy. See
also Assaying, Chemistry, and Decomposition
Chemical, in the Supplement.
For the account of an elaborate analysis of the ores
of tellurium, see Klaproth’s Essays, ii. i.
ORE
Orellana ORELLANA, Francis, the first European, as is
11 commonly thought, who discovered the river of the
Qrestes- Amazons. In 1539, he embarked near Quito, upon the
river Coca, which farther down takes the name ot Napo.
From this he fell into another large river j and, leaving
himself entirely to the direction of the current, he arrived
at CapeNorth, on the coast of Guiana, after sailing near¬
ly 1800 leagues. Orellana perished 10 years after, with
three vessels which had been intrusted to him in Spain,
without being able to find again the mouth of this river.
In sailing down the river, he met with some armed wo¬
men, against whom an Indian cacique had told him to
be on his guard j and he thence named it the river of
the Amazons.
ORENSE, an ancient town of Spain, in the king¬
dom of Galicia, with a bishop’s sec, famous for its hot
baths, is seated at the foot of a mountain, on the river
Minho, over which there is a handsome bridge of one
arcb. W. Long. 7. 27. N. Lat. 42. 16.
ORESTES, in Ancient History, a son of Agamem¬
non and Clytemnestra. When his father was cruelly
murdered by Clytemnestra and /Egisthus, young Orestes
was saved from his mother’s dagger by means of his
sister Electra, called by Homer Loaclicea, having been
privately conveyed to the house of Strophius, who was
king of Phocis, and who had married a sister of Aga¬
memnon. He was tenderly treated by Strophius, who
carefully educated him with his son Pylades. The two
young princes soon became acquainted, and from their
familiarity arose the most inviolable attachment and
friendship. When Orestes came to years of discretion,
lie visited Mycenae, and avenged his father’s death by
-assassinating his mother Clytemnestra and her adulterer
ALgisthus. Various accounts are given of the way in
which these murders were committed. After their
commission, however, he was acknowledged king of
Mycenae j but being tormented by the Furies, a punish¬
ment which the ancients always thought followed parri¬
cide, he exiled himself to Argos, where he was still pur¬
sued by the vengeful goddesses. Apollo, however, puri¬
fied him, and he was acquitted by the unanimous opinion
of the Areopagites, whom Minerva herself instituted on
this occasion, according to the narration of the poet
iEschylus, who flatters the Athenians in his tragical
story, by representing them as passing judgment even
upon the gods themselves. According to Pausanias,
Grestes was purified of the murder, not at Delphi, but
< at Trcezene, where still was seen a large stone at the
entrance o f D iana’s temple, upon which the ceremonies
of purification had been performed by nine of the prin¬
cipal citizens of the place. There was also at Megalo-
O R E
polls, in Arcadia, a temple dedicated to the Furies, near Orestes,
which Orestes Cut off one of his fingers with his teeth
in a fit of insanity. These different traditions are con¬
futed by Euripides, who says that Orestes, after the
murder of his mother, consulted the oracle of Apollo at
Delphi, where he was informed that nothing could de¬
liver him from the persecutions of the Furies, if he did
not bring into Greece Diana’s statue, which was in the
Taurica Chersonesus, and which, as it is reported by
some, had fallen down from heaven. This was an ar¬
duous enterprise. The king of Chersonesus always sa¬
crificed on the altars of the goddess all such as entered
the borders of his country. Orestes and his friend were
therefore both carried before Thoas the king of the
place, and they were doomed to be sacrificed. Iphige-
nia, Orestes’s sister, was then priestess of Diana’s temple,
and it was her office to immolate these strangers. The
intelligence that they were Grecians delayed the prepa¬
rations, and Iphigenia was anxious to learn something
about a country which had given her birth. She even
interested herself in their misfortunes, and oft'ered to
spare the life of one of them, provided he would convey
letters to Greece from her hand. This was a difficult
trial: never was friendship more truly displayed, ac¬
cording to the words of Ovid, ex Pont. 3. el. 2.
Ire jubet Pylades carum moriturus Orestem.
Hie negat; inque vicem pugnat uterqne mori.
At last, however, Pylades gave way to the pressing in
treaties of his friend, and consented to carry the letters
of Iphigeuia to Greece. These were addressed to Orestes
himself; and therefore these circumstances soon led to a
discovery of the connections of the priestess with the man
whom she was going to immolate. Iphigenia was con¬
vinced that he was her brother Orestes j and when the
cause of their journey had been explained, she herself re¬
solved with the two friends to fly from Chersonesus, and
to carry away the statue of Diana. Their flight was
discovered, and Thoas prepared to pursue them ; but
Minerva interfered, and told him that all had been done
by the will and with the approbation ot the gods. Some
imagine that Orestes came to Cappadocia from Cher¬
sonesus, and that there he left the statue of Diana at
Comana. Others contradict this tradition , and Pau¬
sanias thinks that the statue of Diana Orthia was the
same as that which had been carried away from the
Chersonesus. Some again suppose that Oiestes brought
it to Aricia in Italy, where Diana’s worship was estab¬
lished. It was after this that Orestes ascended the throne
of Argos, w lie re be reigned in perfect security, married
Hermione the daughter of Menelaus, and gave his sister
O R F [ 449 ] O R G
Orestes t° friend Pylades. Tl\e marriage of Orestes with
jj Hermione is also a matter of,dispute among the ancients.
Krffyreus’s ^|[ are agreed that she had been promised to the son of
Wheel Agamemnon j but Menelaus had married her to Neo-
ptolemus the son of Achilles, who had shown himself so
truly interested in his cause during the Trojan war. The
marriage of Hermione with Neoptolemus displeased Ores¬
tes; he remembered that she had been early promised to
him; he was therefore determined to recover her by force
or artifice. This he did by procuring the assassination
of Neoptolemus. According to Ovid’s epistle of Her¬
mione to Orestes, Hermione had always been faithful to
Jier first lover, and even it was by her persuasions that
Orestes removed her from the house of Neoptolemus,
for she was dissatisfied with the partiality of Neoptolemus
for Andromache, and her attachment for Orestes was
increased. There are, indeed, various opinions likewise
about this: he, however, certainly managed to secure
fier affections, and retired to his kingdom of Argos.
His old age was crowned with peace and security, and
he died in the 90th year of his age, leaving his throne
to his son Tisamanes by Hermione. Three years after,
the Heraclidte recovered the Peloponnesus, and banish¬
ed the descendants of Menelaus from the throne of
Argos. Orestes died in Arcadia, as some say, by the
bite of a serpent : and the Lacedaemonians, who had
become his subjects at the death of Menelaus, w'ere di¬
rected by an oracle to bring his bones to Sparta. They
were some time after discovered at Tegea, and his sta¬
ture appeared to be seven cubits, according to the tra¬
ditions mentioned by Herodotus and others. The friend¬
ship of Orestes and of Pylades became proverbial: and
the two friends received divine honours among the Scy¬
thians, and were worshipped in temples.
ORFA, a considerable town of Diarbeck (anciently
Mesopotamia) in Asia, very pleasantly situated, and well
fortified. It formerly belonged to Persia; but is now in
the Turkish dominions, and is a place of very good
trade. It has a stately castle standing on a hill, which
makes a great show at a distances They pretend to show
the well where Rachel watered her father’s camels when
Jacob met her, and they call it Abraham''s well. E.
Long. 37. 45. N. Lat. 36. 20.
ORFFYREUS’s Wheel, in Mechanics, is a machine
so called from its inventor, which he asserted to be a
perpetual motion. This machine, according to the ac¬
count given of it by Gravesande, in his Oeuvres Philo-
sophiepjes, published by Allemand, Amst. 1774, consist¬
ed externally of a large circular wheel, or rather drum,
12 feet in diameter, and 14 inches deep ; being very
fight, as it was formed of an assemblage of deals, having
the intervals between them covered with waxed cloth, to
conceal the interior parts of it. The two extremities of
an iron axis, on which it turned, rested on two supports.
On giving a slight impulse to the wheel, in either direc¬
tion, its motion was gradually accelerated; so that after
two or three revolutions it acquired so great a velocity as
to make 25 or 26 turns in a minute. This rapid motion
it actually preserved during the space of two months, in
a chamber of the landgrave of Hesse, the door of which
was kept locked, and sealed with the landgrave’s own
seal. At the end of that time it was stopped, to prevent
the wear of the materials. The professor, who had been
an eye-witness to these circumstances, examined all the
external parts of it, and was convinced that there could
Vol. XV, Part II. t
not be any communication between it and any neigh- orffv.CUs'g
bouring room. Oiftyreus however was so incensed, or wheel
pretended to be so, that he broke the machine in I!
pieces, and wrote on the wall, that it was the impertinent QrSan-
curiosity of Professor Gravesande, which made him take v *
this step. The prince of Hesse, who had seen the inte¬
rior parts of this wheel, but sworn to secrecy, being
asked by Gravesande, whether, after it had been in mo¬
tion for soifie time, there was any change observable in
it, and whether it contained any pieces that indicated
fraud or deception, answered both questions in the ne¬
gative, and declared that the machine was of a very
simple construction.
ORFORD, a town of Suffolk in England, 88 miles
from London, situated between two channels, where the
river Ore, after having joined the Aid, falls into the
sea. It was once a populous town, with a castle ; of
which, and of a nunnery near the quay, there are still
some ruins. The towers of the castle and its church
are a sea-mark for colliers, coasters, and ships that come
from Holland. There is a light-house at Orford-Nesse,
which is also ,of great use to seamen, and is a shelter for
them when a north-east wind blows hard upon the shore.
The town was incorporated by Henry III. has a mayor,
18 portmen, 12 chief burgesses, a recorder, a town-
clerk, and two serjeants at mace. Though it sent mem¬
bers to parliament, in the 26th of Edward I. yet it had
no more elections till the reign of Edward IV. It still
sends two members to parliament, and has the title of an
earldom. There are still remaining the ruins of an holy
house, where the seamen’s wives used to pray for the safetv
of their husbands. By the withdrawing of the sea, it has
been deprived of its chief advantage, for it now deserves
not the name of a harbour. It had the honour to give
title of earl to the brave admiral Russel, which, after
being many years extinct, wjas revived in the person of
Sir Robert Walpole. The population in 1811 amount¬
ed to 737. E. Long. 1. 40. N. Lat. 52. 15.
ORGAL,among dyers,denotes the lees ofwine dried.
ORGAN, in general, is an instrument or machine
designed for the production of some certain action or
operation ; in which sense the mechanic powers, ma¬
chines, and even the veins, arteries, nerves, muscles,
and bones of the human body, may be called organs.
Organ, in Music, denotes the largest and most har¬
monious of all wind-instruments; on which account it
is called the organ, t^yuyoy, the instrument, by way of
excellence; chiefly used for playing a thorough bass,
with all its accompaniments.
That organs are the invention of remote antiquity
has been argued, and seems now to be generally al¬
lowed ; but the particular time and country in which
the discovery was made appears to be lost amidst the
ruins of time. In ancient authors there are a variety
of passages where mention is made of the organ, but
it is at least possible that an instrument is meant very
different from that which now goes by the same name.
From St Augustin’s commentary on the 4th verse of
the 150th Psalm we learn, that the Greeks had ano¬
ther name for those instruments in which bellows were
employed ; that the name organ was appropriated to
this particular instrument merely from the usage of
the Latin tongue ; and that it was indifferently given
to all instruments used to accompany the voice in com-
cert. We mention this, not because we doubt of the
3 L antiquity
O R G [ 45® ] O R G
Wi-Tan. antiquity of the organ, but merely to show that the
—v—-1 time of its invention cannot be determined by the era
of the authors where its name occurs. As the fol-
GenL Mag-Jewing observation, extracted from a periodical work
which has long been in deserved esteem with the pub¬
lic, are intended to ascertain its early use, we submit
them, without commentary, to the judgment of our
readers. Cassiodorus has described our organ in a few
words, lib. 1. Lpis. 4^. Praising that art, which makes
Organa extranets vocibus insonare, etperegrinis flatibits
complete ut musica possit arte cantare. And the emperor
Julian has given an exact description of it in an epigram
which may be found in the Ant/iologia, b. i. ch. 86.
In his time these instruments were in such request, that
Ammianus Marcellinus, b. xiv. ch. 6. complains that
they occasioned the study of the sciences to be abandoned.
However, those musical instruments whose melody is
produced by wind, had been known at Rome long before.
Witness that agreeable poem of Capa, which for its ele¬
gance has been ascribed to Virgil; where we find that
the musician introduces the wind into her pipes by means
of a pair of bellows, which she holds under her arms and
blows. In the hydraulic organ, the water moves the air,
instead of bellows. Cornelius Severus, in his Ettia, has
given an exact description of it (a). And though there
were two kinds of hydraulic and pneumatic instruments,
the first of which played by the inspiration and action of
bellows, and the other by the action of water, it is cer¬
tain, nevertheless, that both of them were pneumatic,
being inspired by the wind. And Heron of Alexandria,
in his Pneumatics,has treated of Hydraulics as belonging
to pneumatics. This Heron lived in the time of Ptolemy
Euergetes, king of Egypt. When Suetonius says, that
Nero Organa hydraulica novi et ignoti generis circum-
duxit, he did not mean that they were unknown at Rome
before Nero, but that those of Nero were of a new con¬
struction. Those were the hydraulics of a new fabric,
which he exhibited to the people at the public games,
as Seutonius relates a little after. Heliogabalus, one
of the worthy successors of Nero, like him was fond
of these hydraulics ; and Alexander Severus, his cousin
and successor, had the same inclination. Claudian, who Orgar,
lived some time after, has left us this elegant descrip- ~
lion of them :
Et qui magna levi detrndens mvrmnra tactu
Innnmeras voces segetis modcratnr aence ;
Jntonct erranii digito, pemtusque trabah
Vecte labor antes in carmina conciiat undas.
This very construction which is observed in the pipes of
an organ, gradually decreasing in magnitude, has been
represented in an epigram of Optatianus Porphyrius,
who lived in the time of Constantine. This epigram,
which is quoted in Pithon’s collection of ancient epi¬
grams, is composed of verses of an unequal length, suc¬
cessively increasing. This corresponds with those
words of the old scholiast on Juvenal, sat. 8. ver. 270.
Tunici Galli utuntur in sacris in modum organi utrin-
que decrescentibus virgulis purputeis.
On the whole, then, the antiquity of organs, or of
instruments of a very similar nature, can scarcely be
disputed ; but nothing very particular respecting the
time, place, or manner, of the invention can possibly be
determined from those incidental observations which oc¬
cur in the writings of the ancients (b). It appears indeed
to have been borrowed by the Latins from the Greeks,
but not to have been in general use till the eighth cen¬
tury ; and it has been affirmed, that, in France, it was
not known till the time of Louis le Debonair, i. e.
A. D. 815, when an Italian priest taught the use and
construction of it, which he himself had learned at Con¬
stantinople. By some, however, it has been carried as
far back as Charlemagne, and by others as far as Pepin.
Bellarmine says that the organ began to be used in the
service of the church about the year 660, as Platina re¬
lates out of the Pontifical: for when Pope Vitalian re¬
formed the singing of the Roman church, he added to it
organs in order to support and embellish it. Ammonius
thinks, however, that this happened after the year 820,
in the time of Louis the Pious. Perhaps the learned
Bingham is our surest guide in determining this point.
He positively asserts t that there were no such things astOaiciNES
organs Sflcra-
(a) Which is thus translated by Mr Jabez Hughes:
As in an organ*, first the rushing air
A mass of waters does before it bear ;
And then the waters, in their turn, we find
Drive through the hollow pipes the vanquish’d wind
Which strongly from its strait confinement sent,
Comes loudly rattling through the narrow vent:
Still as the waters press, the spirits sound,
And spread the bubbling symphony around.
So air and water meet, &c.
It is by no means certain that Cornelius Severus was the author of this poem, though it is published under his
name by Le Clerc. Seneca’s authority, on which the Younger Scaliger founds his opinion, enforces no such
conclusion. He only says, that “ Severus was not discouraged from writing on this subject, by its having been
already treated by Ovid and Virgil.” Barthius, in his notes on Claudian, refers it to Manilius, and in his Ad¬
versaria to some Christian writer. By others it has been ascribed to Virgil, and by Scaliger, the father, to
Quintilius Varus. But though it is less clear and methodical than Virgil, and though it has been much mutila¬
ted by time, it certainly was penned by a masterly and truly poetical hand. _ .
(b) Vitruvius describes an organ in his lothbookj and St Jerome mentions one with 12 pair 01 bellows,
which might be heard a thousand paces, or a mile $ and another at Jerusalem which might be heard at t ie
Mount of Olives.
O R G
Organ, organs In use in the ancient church 5 and that though
-—y*"“j church-music was as old as the apostles, instrumental
music was not so. He also says that it was the general
opinion of the learned in his days, that organs were not
introduced into churches till after the time of Thomas
Aquinas, A. U. 1250 ; and for this opinion, as far as
the authority of Aquinas will go, we have a positive
proof; for in his sermons we find these words : “ Our
church does not use musical instruments, as harps and
psaltries, to praise God withal, that she may not seem
to Judaize (c).” From hence it has reasonably been
Bingham, concluded, particularly by the learned Gregory f, that
>bt supra, they were not used in churches in his time. Mr Whar¬
ton has also observed that Marinas Sanutus (who flou¬
rished A. 1). 1290) first introduced wind organs into
churches; from this circumstance he derived the name
Torcellus, the name for organ in the Italian language.
About this same time Durandus in his Rationale speaks
of them as generally received in the church 5 and he,
in Mr Gregory’s opinion, is the first author who
takes notice of it. These authorities are strong, and
the opinions founded on them by the learned render
them still more eonvincing : it appears, however, from
the testimony of Gervas the monk of Canterbury, who
flourished A. D. 1200, that organs were introduced
upwards of 100 years even before that time j for in
his description of Lanfranc’s church, as it was before
the fire in 1174, he has these words, “ Crux austra¬
lis supra fornicem organa gesture solebaty We do not
say that this invalidates the reasoning of the learned
Bingham 5 of that our readers are to judge, and in form¬
ing their judgments they will be determined by the
credit of the testimonies which are here opposed to each
other. If we suppose that of Gervas the strongest, and
in opposition to the other conclude frem it, that organs
were introduced into England long before the 13th cen¬
tury, it will give some countenance to an opinion which
prevails pretty generally, viz. that in Italy, Germany,
and England, they became frequent about the 10th
century. See Music, p. 493. But however ure are dis¬
posed to determine this matter (which is in itself but of
little consequence), it is certain that the use of the organ
was very common in the latter ages of the church, and
the propriety of it was undisputed. In the last century,
however, during the civil wars, organs were remo¬
ved from the churches in England j and so gene¬
rally reprobated, that, at the Restoration, there could
scarce be found either organists, organ builders, or
singers (d).
The organs in Germany (says Dr Burney) in mag-
Q R G
nitude, and the organists in abilities, seem unrivalled Organ,
in any other part of Europe, particularly in the use cf1——-
pedals. In Marpurg’s Essays, vol. iii. there is a mi¬
nute account of a variety of organs in Germany; of
all which the longest pipe of the manuals is 16 feet
long, and of the pedals 32. One of the largest or¬
gans in Germany, but which Marpurg has omitted
in his list, is at Gorlitz in Upper Lusatia. It would
be to no purpose to enlarge our article with a more,
minute account of the state of organic music in dif¬
ferent parts of the world ; in various parts of the ar¬
ticle Music, observations connected with this subject
will be found, and to that we must refer. We may
particularly notice, for the perusal of those who wish
for further information on this subject, the observa¬
tions which have been made on organs in the His¬
tory of Music, at p. 493’ ^ e nt'ed scarcely refer
to the life of Handel, which all our readers who are
fond of music of any kind, particularly sacred, have un¬
doubtedly perused.
The church-organ consists of two parts ; the main
body, called the great organ ; and the positive or little
organ, which forms a small case or buffet, commonly
placed before the great organ. The size of an organ
is generally expressed by the length of its largest pipe :
thus they say, an organ of 8, 16, 32 feet, &c. The
organ in the cathedral church at Ulm in Germany is
93 feet high and 28 broad: its largest pipe is 13 inches
diameter, and it has 16 pair of bellows.
1 he several parts of the church-organ are as follows : Plate
H1H is the sound-board ; which is composed of two CCftxc*-
parts, the upper board or cover HHH, and the under l"
board HI, which is much thicker than the other ;
each of these consists of several planks laid with their
edges to each other, and joined very close together.
In the under side of the lower board there are made
several channels, which run in the direction LL, MM,
&c. and are continued as far as there are stops in the
organ, and come almost to the edge HK. These
channels are covered over very close with parchment
or leather all the w'ay, except a hole that is commonly
at the fore end next HK, upon which a valve or puff
is placed. These channels are called partitions. When
this valve or flap is shut, it keeps out the air, and ad¬
mits it when open. On the upper side of the lower
board there are likewise cut several broad square chan¬
nels, lying cross the former, but not so deep as to
reach them ; these lie in the direction LN, PQ, &c.
To fit these channels, there are the same number of
wooden sliders or registers f f f &c. running the
3 L 2 whole
I 451 ]
(c) The lawfulness of using organs in churches, has, however, been ably defended by an appeal to the use which
the Jews made of instruments of music in divine service ; and with much reason ; for were the use criminal in us
as was asserted by many well meaning men of the last century, and as it is still thought by some in this, it would*
unquestionably have been equally unlawful for the Jews. The Christians in Aquinas’s time, however, acted
wisely in avoiding the use of them, if by so doing they would have given offence to their weaker brethren. For
though they are highly ornamental, and in some churches may be productive of good efiects, yet the use of them
is far from being essential, and may be easily dispensed with.
(d) Organs have never yet been used in the establishment of Scotland, since that became Presbyterian ; but they
are used in Holland, where that form of church-government also obtains. Bishop Horne, in a sermon which he
preached at the opening of the new organ at Canterbury in 1784, says that he believes some Presbyterian dissen¬
ters .in England have adopted it in their places of worship. See his Sermon, p. 8.
Organ.
Fig.
2.
O R G [ 452 ] O R G
whole length ; and these may be drawn out or thrust
in at pleasure. The number of these is the same as
that of the stops in the organ.
IIvKK is the wind-chest, which is a square box fit¬
ted close to the under side of the lower board, and
made air-tight, so that no air can get out but what goes
through the valves along the partitions.
VV are the valves or pulls which open into the wind-
chest j they are all inclosed in it, and may be placed in
any part of it, as occasion shall require. One of these
valves, with the spring that shuts it, and the wire that
opens it, is represented by fig. 2.
C, D, E, F, &c. are the keys on which the fingers
are placed when the organ is played : these keys lie
over the horizontal bar of wood W, in which are stuck
ait equal number of wire-pins «, z, on which keys are
fixed ; and the keys move up and down on the bar,
as on a centre. There is another bar, against which
the keys fall when put down, and which is here mark¬
ed 3 : on this also are several wires, which go through
the keys, to guide them j and on this bar a list is fa¬
stened to hinder the keys from knocking against the
wood.
The keys are made to communicate with the valves
several ways, as we shall now describe. First, s, s,
are the key-rollers, moving on the pivots t, t: these
rollers lie horizontally, one above another, and are of
such a length as to reach from the valve to the key :
c, c, o, are arms or levers fixed to the key-rollers •,
ru, w, the valve-wires fixed to the arms a, a, and to
the valves V, and go through the holes h, h, in the bot¬
tom of the wind-chest: b, b, b, are likewise arms fixed
to the key-rollers: </, cl, d, the key-wires, fixed to the
arms b, b, and to the keys C, JD, K. Now, when the
end of any one of the keys C, 13, E, is put down, it
pulls down the arm b, by the wire d, which turns about
the roller s with the arm a, that pulls down the wire
w, which opens the valve that is shut by the spring as
soon as the pressure is taken off' the key. In this con¬
struction there must be a worm spring fastened to the
key, and to the bar W on the further side, to keep
down the end 5 of the key.
Another method of opening the valves is thus : a: y,
xy, are slender levers, moveable on the centres I, 1 ;
3 x, 5 x, are wires going from the further ends of the
keys to the ends x of the levers J y V, y V, are other
wires, reaching from the ends y of the levers, through
the holes //, to the valves V. So that putting down
the key C, D, &c. raises the end 5, which thrusts up
the end x of the lever, by the wire 5 a;; this depresses
the end y of the lever, which pulls down the wire y V,
and opens the valve V.
A third way of opening the valve is this: At the
end of the key b, is a lever, 8, 9, moving in the centre
y. This makes, with the key, a compound lever.
From the end 9, a wire goes to the valve. Now the
putting down the end 6 of the key, raises the end 8,
which depresses the end 9, of the lever 8, 9, pulls down
the wire, and opens the valve. There is only one of
these drawn in the scheme, and but a few of the others,
to avoid confusion.
R, R, are the rollers, to move the sliders, by help
©f the arms cf, cf, which are fixed horizontally in
these rollers : fe e, ke, are also levers fixed in the rollers ;
le le, are the bandies, which lie horizontally, and pass
through the holes//; they are fastened to the lever Organ.
k c, being moveable about a joint at e. —y—
Now, any handle Ip, being drawn out, pulls the end
e towards /, which turns about R k, along with the
arm cj ; and the end f pulls out the slider jg ; and
when p is thrust in, the arm cf likewise thrusts in the
slider y^.
Upon the several rows of holes which appear on the
top of the upper board, there are set up an equal num- (
ber of row's of pipes. The pipes ol an organ are of
two kinds } the one has a mouth like a flute, the other
with reeds. The first, called pipes of mutation, con¬
sist, (1.) of a foot AABB (fig. 3.), which is a hollowFig 3.
cone, that receives the wind that is to sound the pipe :
(2.) To this foot is fastened the body of the pipe
BBDD. Between the foot and the body of the pipe
is a diaphragm or partition FEF, that has a long but
narrow aperture, by which the wund comes out j over
this aperture is the mouth BBC, whose upper lip C,
being level, cuts the wind as it comes out..
The pipes are of pewter, of lead mixed with a
twelfth part of tin, and of wood. Those ol pewter
are always open at their extremities : their diameter
is very small, and their sound very clear and shrill.
Those of lead mixed with tin are larger; the shortest
are open, the longest quite stopped ; those of a mean
size are partly stopped, and have beside a little ear on
each side the mouth, to be drawn closer or set further
asunder, in order to raise or lower the sound. I he
wooden pipes are square, and their extremity is stop¬
ped with a valve or tampion ol leather. I he sound
of the wooden and leaden pipes is very soft; the large
ones stopped are commonly ol wood, the small ones
of lead. The longest pipes give the gravest sound,
and the shortest the most acute : their lengths and
widths are determined by a fixed proportion to their
sounds ; and their divisions are regulated by a rule,
which is called the diapason. The longest has common¬
ly 16 feet; but in very large organs it has 32 feet. I he
pedal tubes are always open, though made of wood and
of lead. Whatever note any open pipe sounds, when
its mouth is stopped, it will sound an octave lower; and
a pipe of tw'ice its capacity will likewise sound an oc¬
tave lower.
A reed-pipe consists of a foot AABB (fig. thatlig 4’
hollow demi-cylinder, fitted at its extremity D, into a
sort of mould, by a wooden tampion G. The shallot is
covered with a plate of copper KKLL, fitted at its ex¬
tremity II, into the mould, by the same wooden tam¬
pion. Its other extremity KK is at liberty : so that the
air entering the shallot makes it tremble or shake against
the reed ; and the longer that part of the tongue IL,
which is at liberty, is made, the deeper is the sound.
The mould II, that serves to fix the shallot or reed, the
tongue, tampion, &.c. serves also to stop the foot ol the
pipe, and make the wind go out wholly at the reed.
Lastly, in the mould is soldered the tube HH, whose
inward opening is a continuation of that ot the reed :
the form of this tube is different in different ranks of
pipes. The degree of acuteness or gravity in the sound
of a reed pipe, depends on the length ol the tongue, and
that of the pipe CK, taken from the extremity of the
shallot to the extremity of the tube. The quantity or
intention of the sound depends on the width of the reed,
the.
ORGAN
PJATJ1 CCCXCI
Or)
o R G [ 4
(Organ, tongue, ami the tube 5 as also on the thickness of
y——/ the tongue, the figure of the tube, and the quantity of
wind. To diversify the sounds of the pipes, a valve is
added to the port-vent, which makes the wind go out
in fits or shakes. In fig. 1. X represents a flute-pipe
of wood, Z a flute-pipe of metal, Y a trumpet-pipe
of metal. The pipes, to prevent them from falling, pars
through holes made in boards, placed upon the upper
board.
The pipes are made to communicate with the wind-
chest in the following manner. There are holes bored
that go through the upper and lower boards, and through
the slider (when it is drawn out), into the partition be¬
low j so that any pipes placed upon those boles will then
communicate with the partition, which by its valve,
communicates with the wind-chest. But when the slider
is thrust in, its holes do not answer to those in the up¬
per and lower boards; therefore, the communication is
stopped, so that no wind can get to the pipe.
To every large organ there must be at least two pair
of bellows, which are marked in fig. 1. by TU, TU.
Plate O, O, are the handles, moving upon the axis n ?/, n n.
CCXCJ. ]^acJ, 0f these bellows consists of two boards, the low¬
est of which is immoveable ; and in this there is a valve
r, opening inwards, and a tube leading to it, called
the conveying tube. There is also a hole in this under
board, from which a tube leads to the port-vent, which
is a square tube marked 4, rising upward, and inserted
into the under side of the wind-chest at 2. In the tube
leading to the port-vent, there is a valve that opens to¬
wards the port-vent, and suffers the air to go up the
port-vent, but not to return. Now the handle O being
pulled down, raises the upper board T, and the air en¬
ters through the valve r; and when the handle is let
go, the weight of the upper board, which carries three
or four pounds to every square foot, continually descen¬
ding, drives the air through the port vent to the sound¬
board: and as the bellows work alternately, one pair is'
constantly descending, winch occasions a continual blast
through the port vent. In chamber organs there is but
one pair of bellows 5 but they are formed of three hoards,
in the manner of a smith’s bellows, and so have a conti¬
nual blast. All the internal structure of the organ is
concealed from the sight by the front of the instrument,
which stands upon the part between the numbers 5 and
6 (fig. 1.).
In every organ, the number of partitions LL, MM,
&c. there are in the sound-board (fig. 1.), that of the
valves VV, that of the rollers s s, or of the levers
.r ?/ or 8 9 and their wires, and that of the keys ABC,
&c. must be always equal. Large organs have com¬
monly four or five sets of keys, beside those that be¬
long to the pedals or large pipes, the stops to which
are played by the feet •, said to be the invention of
Bernard, a German, about the year 1400. These
command certain pipes, which, to increase the harmony,
are tuned below the diapason. The keys of an organ
are usually divided into four octaves j which are, the first
sub-octave, second sub-octave, middle octave, and first
octave. Each octave is divided into 12 stops or frets,
of which seven are black and five white: the former
mark the natural notes, and the latter the artificial notes,
that is, flats and sharps. The number of keys, therefore,
when there are four octaves, must be 48. Some orga¬
nists add one or more stops to the first and second sub-
2
;3 ] O R G
octaves. The pedals have two or three octaves, at the Organ,
option of the organist; so that the number of stops is
indeterminate. The keys are placed between GG
(fig. I.), but the scheme could not contain them all.
There are also as many handles /, /, &c. rollers HR,
&c. sliders /^ /’, &c. as there are stops upon the organ ;
and it must be observed, that between the sliders
&c. there are as many sliders on the right hand, and
the same number of handles and rollers, and other row's
of pipes placed between LN, PQ, which could not be
expressed in the figure.
The least pipes and partitions are placed toward the
middle of the organ, and the greatest on the outside.
The stops of an organ have various denominations, ac¬
cording to the sounds they are to produce ; some of
which are diapason, principal, fifteenth, twelfth, tearce,
cornet, trumpet, French horn, vox humana, flute, bas¬
soon, cremona, &c. The foreign organs, especially those
of Germany, have many more : particularly that in the
abbey church of Weingarten, a town in the Upper Pa¬
latinate, which has 66 stops, and contains no fewer than
6666 pipes. The organ at Haerlem is said to have 60
stops, many of them but little known to the English
workmen, and distinguished by names that express the
sound which they produce.
When this magnificent instrument is played, the
handle O of the bellows is first put down, which raises
the upper board T, and gives room for the air to en¬
ter by the valve r. Then the other handle O is put
down : In the mean time the board T, belonging to
the first handle, descending, and shutting the valve r,
drives the air through the other valve, up the port-
vent, and into the wind-chest. Then drawing out any
handle, as that of the flute-stop p l, which draws out
the slider fg, all the pipes in the set LN are ready to
play, as soon as the keys C, D, E, &c. are put down :
therefore if the key D be put down, it opens the coj--
responding valve m V, through which the air enters
into the pipe X, and makes it sound. In the same
manner any other pipe in the set LN, will sound when
its key is put down; but no pipe, in any other set, will
sound till the slider be drawn out by its corresponding-
handle.
Aniong the modern improvements of the organ, the
most remarkable are the swell and the tremblant : tbe
former, invented by an English artist, consists in a
number of pipes placed in a remote part of the instru¬
ment, and inclosed in a kind of box, which being
gradually opened by tbe pressure of the foot, increases
the sound as the wind does the sound of a peal of
bells, or suppresses it in like manner by the contrary,
action. The tremblant is a contrivance by means of
a valve in the port-vent, or passage from the wind-
chest, to check the wind, and admit it only by starts;
so that the notes seem to stammer, and the whole in¬
strument to sob, in a manner very offensive to tbe ear.
There is a tremblant in the organ at the German cha¬
pel in the Savoy. See Hawkins’s History of Music,
and Burney.
Hydraulic Orgax, denotes a musical machine that
plays by water instead of wind. Of these there are se¬
veral in Italy, in the grottoes of vineyards. Ctesebes of
Alexandria, who lived in the time of Ptolemy Euerge-
tes, is said to have invented organs that played by com¬
pressing tbe air with water, as is still practised. Archi¬
medes
O R I
[ 454 J
O R I
metles and Vitruvius have left us descriptions of the
hydraulic organ.
In the cabinet of Queen Christina is a beautiful and
large medallion ol Valentinian, on the reverse whereof
is seen one ot these hydraulic organs j with two men,
one on the right, the other on the lelt, seeming to pump
the water which plays it, and to listen to its sound. It
has only eight pipes, placed on a round pedestal. The
inscription is placea spetri, if it be not wrong copied,
which we suspect to lie the case.
ORGASM, o^yxrftog, denoting violence or turgescen-
cy ; formed from o^yxa, turgeo, “ I swell,” an ecstasy or
impetuous desire of coition, occasioned by turgescency
of the seminal vessels, which are no longer able to re¬
strain their contents. The ancients also extend orgasm
to the other humours, and even excrements, which be-
ng accumulated, and coming to ferment, demand ex¬
cretion. Quincy uses orgasm for an impetuous or too
quick motion oi the blood or spirits j whereby the mus-,
cles are distended with an uncommon force.
ORGIA, feasts and sacrifices in honour of Bacchus,
field every third year, and chiefly celebrated by wild
distracted women, called Rnrc/iee. The chief solem¬
nities were performed in the night, to conceal, perhaps,
their shocking impurities j and a mountain was gene¬
rally chosen as the place of celebration. They were in¬
stituted by Orpheus j and from him are sometimes call
ed Orphica. Authors are not agreed as to the deri¬
vation of the word j but it we consider the frantic pro¬
ceedings of the Bacchanalians, ^yrt, furor, bids fair for
the true etymology. See Bacchanalia.
Oj^gidy according to Servius, was a common name for
all kinds of sacrifices among the Greeks, as ceremonies
was amongst the Romans.
ORGUES, in the military art, are thick long pieces
of wood, pointed at one end, and shod with. iron,
clear one of another; hanging each by a particular
rope or cord, over the gateway ot a strong place, per¬
pendicularly, to be let fall in case of the approach of an
enemy.
Orgues are preferable to herses, or portculuccs, be¬
cause these may be either broke by a petard, or they
may be stopped in their falling down : but a petard is
useless against an orgue ; for it it break one or two of
the pieces, they immediately fall down again and fill up
the vacancy ; or if they stop one or two of the pieces
from falling, it is no hindrance to the rest; for be¬
ing all separate, they have no dependence upon one an¬
other.
Orgues, is also used for a machine composed ot se¬
veral harquebuss or musket barrels bound together, by
means whereof several explosions are made at the same
time. It is used to defend breaches and other places
attacked.
ORGYA, c^yvix, an ancient Grecian measure con¬
taining six feet.
ORIBASIA, a genus of plants belonging to the pen-
tandria class, and in the natural method ranking under
the 47th order, Stellatce. See Botany Index.
ORIBASUS, a celebrated physician, greatly esteefn- Oribasi^
ed by the emperor Julian, in whose reign he flourished, ^'khal.
He abridged the works of Galen, and of all the most ,
respectable writers on physic. This was done at the re¬
quest of the emperor. Ele accompanied Julian into the
east, but his skill proved ineffectual in attempting to
-cure the fatal wound which his benefactor had received.
After Julian’s death he fell into the hands of the bar¬
barians.
ORICHALCUM, or Aurichalcum, a metallic
substance resembling gold in colour, but very inferior
in value. It was well known to the old Romans, who
often took advantage of its resemblance to gold : for
some sacrilegious characters, who could not resist the
temptation of taking gold from temples and other pub¬
lic places, chose to conceal their guilt by replacing it
with orichalcum. It was thus that Julius Csesar acted
when he robbed the capitol of 3000 pounds weight of
gold ; in which he was followed by Vitellius, who de¬
spoiled the temples of their gifts and ornaments, and
replaced them with this inferior metal. It has been a
matter of dispute with philosophers and others, what
th is metal could be, or bow it was procured or made ;
it is probable at least that it was greatly analogous to
our brass, if not wholly the same with it (See Brass}
  7 —   '  J \ ^ '
The value of our brass is much less than that of gold,
and the resemblance of brass to gold, in colour, is ob¬
vious at first sight. Both brass and gold, indeed, are
susceptible of a variety of shades of yellow' ; and, if
very pale brass be compared with gold, mixed with
much copper, such as the foreign goldsmiths, especial¬
ly, use in their toys, a disparity may be seen ; but the
nearness of the resemblance is sufficiently ascertained
in general, from observing that substances gilded with
brass, or as it is commonly called Hutch leaf, are not
easily distinguished from such as are gilded with gold
leaf.
The Romans were not only in possession of a metallic
substance, called by them orichalcum, and resembling
gold in colour, but they knew also the manner of making
it, and the materials from which they made it were the
very same from which we make brass. There are, in¬
deed, authors of great repute who think very different¬
ly ; and who consider the art of making brass as an in¬
vention wholly modern. Thus M. Cronstedt does not
think it just to conclude from old coins and other anti¬
quities, that it is evidently proved that the making of
brass was known in the most ancient times * ; and the* M™0
authors of the French Encyclopedic assure us, that our*1*21 1
brass is a very recent invention (a). It appears, how¬
ever, from Pliny’s Nat. Hist. lib. xxxiv. § 2. and from
the concurring testimony of other writers, that oiichal-
cum was not a pure or original metal ; but that its basis
wras copper, which the Romans changed into orichalcum
by means of cadmia, a species of earth which they threw
upon the copper, and which it absorbed. It has indeed
been contended, that the cadmia of Pliny was native
arsenic ; an opinion which scarcely merits confutation,
but which must appear extremely groundless, when we
(a) Art. Orichalque.—“ The vessels here called brazen, after ancient authors, cannot have been of the ma¬
terials our present brass is composed of; the art of making it is a modern discovery.” See Laughton's Hisloiy
* of Ancient Egypt, p* 58.
OKI
relltict that it is impossible to make either brass or cop¬
per from arsenic, and that Pliny expressly calls it a stone
from which brass was made. The testimony of Am¬
brose bishop of Milan, in the 4th century, and of Pri-
masius bishop of Adrumetum, in Africa, in the 6th, and
of Isidorus bishop of Seville in the 7th, all seem to con¬
firm Pliny’s account. We may therefore safely con¬
clude that the Romans knew the method of making
brass by mixing cadmia or calamine with copperyet it
is probable they were not the inventors of this art ^ but
that they borrowed it from some other country. It ap¬
pears from a variety of testimonies that brass was made
in Asia, in a manner very similar to that at Rome ; and
a variety of places are mentioned in that extensive coun¬
try where it was commonly made; and it is supposed by
some that in India, as well as in other parts of Asia, it
was made in the remotest ages.
With respect to orichalcum, it is generally supposed
that there were two sorts of it, one factitious, the
ether natural. The factitious, whether we consider its
qualities or composition, appears to have been the
same with our brass. As to the natural orichalcum,
there is no impossibility in supposing, that copper
ore may be so intimately blended with an ore of zinc,
or of some other metallic substance, that tlfe com¬
pound, when smelted, may yield a mixed metal of a
paler hue than copper, and resembling the colour of
either gold or silver. In Du Halde’s history of China,
we meet with the following account of the Chinese
white copper. “ rI he most extraordinary copper is
called de-tong, or white copper : it is white when dug
out of the mine, and still more white within than with¬
out. It appears by a vast number of experiments made
at Pekin, that its colour is owing to no mixture j on
the contrary all mixtures diminish its beauty 5 for, when
it is rightly managed, it looks exactly like silver: and
were there not a necessity of mixing a little tutenag, or
some such metal with it, to soften it and prevent its
brittleness, it would be so much the more extraordinary,
as this sort of copper is perhaps to be met with no-
^ where but in China, and that only in the province of
_„j_ Yun-nan*Notwithstanding what is here said, of the
i. p. 16. col°ur °f this copper being owing to no mixture, it is
certain that the Chinese white copper, as brought to
us, is a mixed metal j so that the ore from which
it is extracted must consist of various metallic substan¬
ces, and from some such ore it is possible that the natu¬
ral orichalcum, it ever it existed, may have been made.
Rut, notwithstanding that the existence of natural ori-
chalcura cannot be shown to be impossible, yet there is
some reason to doubt whether it ever had a real exist¬
ence or not.
We know of no country in which it is found at
present j nor was it anywhere found in the age of
Pliny} nor does he seem to have known the country
where it ever had been found. He admits, indeed,
its having been formerly dug out of the earthy but it
is remarkable, that in the very passage where he is
mentioning by name the countries most celebrated for
the production of different kinds of copper, he only
says in general concerning orichalcum, that it had
been found in other countries, without specifying any
particular, country. Plato acknowledges, that ori¬
chalcum was a thing only talked of even in his timej
it was nowhere then to be met with, though in the
[ 455 ]
O It I
island of Atlantis it had been formerly extracted from its
mine. The Greeks were in possession of a metallic sub¬
stance, called orichalcum, before the foundation of Rome j
for it is mentioned by Homer and by Hesiod j and by
both of them in such a manner as shows that it was then
held in great esteem, Other ancient writers have ex¬
pressed themselves in similar terms of commendation ;
and it is principally from the circumstance of the high
reputed value of orichalcum that authors are induced to
suppose the ancient orichalcum to have been a natural
substance, and very different from the factitious one in
use at Rome, and probably in Asia, and which it has
been shown was nothing different from our brass.
Rut this conclusion cannot be validly drawn from their
encomiums upon it; for at whatever time the method
of making it was first discovered, both its novelty and
scarceness, joined to its utility, would enhance its value,
at least there can be no absurdity in supposing, that
when first introduced it w'as greatly prized, even though
it he granted that it possessed no other properties than
such as appertain to brass.
Respecting the etymology of the word there is great
diversity of opinions. Those who write it aurichalcum
think it is composed of the Latin word eiurum, “gold,”
and the Greek “brass or copper.” The most ge¬
neral opinion is, however, that it is composed of ’ogej, “a
mountain”, and ^aAxos, alluding perhaps to its being
found in mountains or mountainous countries. The
above account is chiefly extracted from a paper in the
second volume of Memoirs of the Literary and Philo¬
sophical Society of Manchester, written by the present
bishop of Landaff, Dr M atson, and communicated bv
Dr Percival. To this paper then we refer our readers
wTbo desire a more copious account of it. To the above
two etymological meanings of the word we shall subjoin
the following, mentioned by the learned bishop, and
which, in our opinion, is equally' w'ell founded, and cer¬
tainly as ingenious, as the other two.
The Hebrew word Or, Aur, signifies light, fire, flame;
the Latin terms uro, “ to burn,” and aurum, “ gold,”
are derived from it, in as much as gold resembles the
colour of flame : and hence it is not improbable, that
orichalcum may be composed of an Hebrew and Greek
term, and that it is rightly rendered, flame-coloured
topper. In confirmation of this, it may be observed,
that the Latin epithet lucidum, and the Greek one (pa-
uvov, are both applied to orichalcum by the ancients.
See also Beckmann, Hist, of Invent, iii. 71.
ORIFICE, the mouth or aperture of a tube, pipe,
or other cavity.
ORIGANUM, Origany or Marjoram, a genus
of plants belonging to the didynamia class, and in the
natural method ranking under the 42d order, Verticil-
latce. See Rotany Index.
ORIENT, a towrn and harbour of Fi ance, in the
department of Morbihan, in the bottom of the bay of
St Louis. Since the year 1720, a handsome town has
been built here, where the French East India Company
had large magazines. It was formerly a free port.
The number of inhabitants in 1800 was 19,922. The
English attempted to become masters of it in 1746, but
miscarried. W. Long. 3. 16. N. Lat. 47. 45.
ORIENTAL Philosophy. See Philosophy.
ORIGEN, one of the most celebrated ecclesiastical
writers, greatest geniuses, and most learned men of
A- ' ths
Otiflia"-
cum
II
Oriiren.
O R I
[ 456 ]
O R I
the primitive church, during the third century, \va
born at Alexandria in the year 185: and was sur-
named Adamant 11$, either from his indefatigable applica¬
tion to study, or from the firmness he discovered amidst
the torments he suffered for the faith. Leonidas, his
father, trained him at home with great care, and made
him apply to the study of the Holy Scriptures from
his infancy, in which he made surprising progress.
The son’s inclination and turn suited exactly with the
father’s design; for he pursued his studies with a most
extraordinary zeal and ardour: and, being endued
with a quick apprehension and a strong imagination,
did not content himself with that sense which at first
presented itself, but farther endeavoured to dive into
mysterious and allegorical explications of the sacred
books. He would sometimes even puzzle his father,
by too much soliciting him for recondite meanings ;
which obliged the good man to reprehend him a little,
and withal to advise him not to attempt to penetrate
too far in the study of the Holy Scriptures, but to
content himself with their most clear, obvious, .a.pd ,
natural sense. Hence it appears, how early he was
seized with that furor allegoricus, as a learned modern
calls it, that rage of expounding the Scriptures alle¬
gorically, which grew afterwards to be even a distem¬
per, and carried him to excesses which can never be
excused (a). He had afterwards in philosophy Am-
monius the celebrated Christian philosopher, and St
Clement of Alexandria for his master itt-diyinity. At 18
years of age he succeeded that great man in the office
of catechist; an important employment, which consisted
in teaching divinity, and expounding the Scriptures.
Leonidas his father had suffered martyrdom the year
before, during the persecution of Severus in 202; and
Origen had shown such eagerness^ to follow his father
to martyrdom, that his mother was obliged to hide
his clothes to prevent his going abroad. Origen had
a great concourse of auditors who attended his school,
some of whom were of the faithful, and the others pa¬
gans. He confirmed and strengthened the,.first in their
faiths, and converted most of the others; am} there were
such a number of martyrs amongst his disciples, that it
might be said, that he kept rather a school of martyr¬
dom than of divinity. He taught the doctrines of Chri¬
stianity to the girls and women as well as to the men ;
and taking in a too literal sense what Christ says of be¬
coming voluntary eunuchs, castrated, himself to prevent
his deserving or suffering scandal. He took a voyage
to Rome in 211, in the beginning of Caracalla’s reign,
under the pontificate of Zepkerinus. At his return he
published many works, by which he acquired an extra¬
ordinary reputation, that drew to him a great number of
auditors. Rut Demetrius, bishop ef Alexandria, con- Grigcn.
ceiving a jealousy of him, endeavoured by various pre-' —
tences to injure him. At length Origen went to An¬
tioch, whether the empress Mamnaeea had sent for him
to hear him discourse on the Christian religion. He did
not however stay long there, but returned to Alexandria,
where he continued to teach till the year 228, when
he left that city, .and travelled into Achaia. In that
journey he went into Palestine, and was ordained by
the bishops of that.province at 42 years of age. His
being ordained by foreign bishops, without the per¬
mission of Demetrius, renewed that prelate’s resent¬
ment against him; on which Origen hastily returned
to Alexandria, to endeavour to mollify him: but De¬
metrius drove him from thence in 231, and caused
him to be excommunicated, and even deposed in a
council held in Egypt. Origen then retired to Cscsa-
rea in Palestine, where he raised a celebrated school,
and had St Gregory Thaumaturgus, and a great
number of other persons-who were illustrious for their
virtue and learning, for his disciples. He alteiwards
travelled to Athens ; and then, at the desire of Firmi-
lianus, staid some time at Caesarea in Cappadocia ;
whence he was invited into Arabia, to convince and
bring back to the truth Beryllus bishop of Rostra; who
maintained that the Word had no existence before his
incarnation. Origen had the happiness to make him
sensible of his mistake; and some years after w’as sent
for into Arabia by an assembly of bishops, to dispute
against the Arabians, who maintained that the souls
of the dead remained in a state ol insensibility till the
general resurrection. At length the seven persecu¬
tions of the Christians began in the reign of Deems,
and none were used with greater severity than Origen.
He supported with incredible constancy the dreadful
torments which the persecutors of the Christians in¬
vented against them; torments that were the more
insupportable, as they were made to continue a long
time, and as they took the greatest care to prevent his
expiring in the midst of his tortures: but in the midst
of the most excruciating torments, he discovered an
heroic courage, and suffered nothing to escape him
■that was unworthy a disciple ol Jesus Christ. He
died at Tyre in 254, aged 69. He was the author of
a great number of excellent works. J he principal of
those which have been handed down to us are,. I. A
Treatise against Celsus, of which Spencer has given a
good edition in Greek and Latin, with notes: this
learned treatise has been translated into French by Elias
Bouhereau, a protestant minister, born at Rochelle.
2. A great number of Homilies, with Commentaries
on the Holy Scriptures. 3. Philocaliai and several
(a) He is the first Christian (whose notions on this subject have come down to us) who believed ir t e re
stitution of all things. This is his sixth distinguishing tenet; to which is added this singular notion, t at as
Christ had been crucified in this world to save mankind, he is to he crucified in the next to save the evi s*
The other obnoxious tenets of Origen are these five : viz. I. That in the Trinity the lather is greater tian
the Son, and the Son than the Holy Ghost. 2. The pre-existence of souls, which Origen consideie as sen
into mortal bodies for the punishment of sins committed in a former state of being. 3. I hat the soul 01 ris was
united to the word before the incarnation. 4. That the sun, moon, and stars, &c. were animate an en
dowed with rational souls. 5. That after the resurrection, all bodies will be .of a round figure. t is pro a e
that the mystic theology of the modern Quakers and other such sects is derived from Origen. bee os mm*
Eccl. Hist. vol. 1st.
Origen
'.hi Aid.
;cles.
a. i.
° R 1 t 457 ] O R I
Fragments of hts Hexaples, col- the study of pliilosophy and of all polite literature. He Origen
was humble, modest, and patient, under great injuries |'
and cruel treatment, which he received from Christians Original,
and Pagans : for though he ever had a considerable 7 
■ft in's
R':arks,
t*Vi.
I’m, 238,
, other treatises. 4   __    
lected by Father Montfaycon, in two volumes folio.
Of all Oiigen s books, the loss of the Hexaples is most
to be regretted. This work was thus named from its
containing six columns 3 in the first of which was the
Hebrew text of the Bible 3 in the second, the same
text in Greek characters -7 in the third, the Greek
version of the Septuagint; in the fourth, that of A-
quilaj in the fifth, that of Symmachus ; and in the
sixth Theodosian’s Greek version This admirable
work gave the first hint for our Polyglot Bibles.
5. The book of Principles; of which we have only an
incorrect Latin version. In all his writings he disco¬
vers a surprising degree of modesty, candour, and humi¬
lity ; a noble and sublime genius, profound learning,
and vast erudition. His manners were extremely pure,
and he had a warm zeal for spreading the truths and
morals of the Gospel.
Much has been written both for and against this
celebrated father, both by his contemporaries and
others : he has indeed suffered great abuse, which he
did not deserve, and which we shall not retail; con¬
tenting ourselves with the following account of his
character by Hupin, and some remarks on it by Dr
Jortin. “ Origen (says Dupin) had very quick parts,
a very strong and enlarged imagination ; but he relied
too much on the vivacity of his genius, and often lost
himself, out of too great earnestness to fathom and
subtilise every thing. He had a very happy inven¬
tion, and a more happy delivery of what he invented :
but he had not that exactness in his inventions, nor
that gracefulness of delivery as might he wished. He
carried on his works with so great ease, that he is said
to have dictated to seven or eight persons at a time;
and he was so ready in expressing himself, that he
made the greatest part of his homilies extempore : upon
which account his style was not very correct or coherent.
He had a vast memory, but often trusted too much to it.
He was a person of most profound learning: he parti¬
cularly sudied Plato’s philosophy, and was indeed too
much addicted to it for a Christian. He understood
likewise the doctrines of other philosophers. He ap¬
plied himself mightily to the study of human learning.
He was neither ignorant of history nor mythology ; and
he had as great a knowledge in all the profane sciences,
as those who studied nothing else. But he particularly
excelled in the knowledge of the Holy Scriptures,
which he learned all by heart; and that he might
neglect nothing for attaining a right understanding of
the letter thereof, he carefully examined all the versions
of the Bible, and compared them all together with the
Hebrew text, subjoining a literal commentary upon the
most difficult places. He was not very well skilled in
the Hebrew ; yet he knew enough of it to understand
it, and to observe the difference of the text and the
translations. Nevertheless, he did not adhere to the li¬
teral explication of the Bible, but thought it necessary,
for the sake of gaining it credit with the heathens, who
despised its plainness and simplicity, and of rendering
it more useful to the world, to give mystical and allego¬
rical interpretations of every thing in it.”
Dr Jortin tells us, “ That Origen was very learned
a,nd ingenious, and indefatigably industrious. His whole
life from his early years was spent in examining, teach-
mg, and explaining the Scriptures; to which he joined
Vol. XV. Part II. J f
^     
number of friends and admirers, on account of his ami¬
able qualities and useful accomplishments, he was per¬
secuted and calumniated by men, who had neither his
learning nor his virtue, degraded from the order of
presbyters, driven from his home, and excommunicated
by one Demetrius bishop of Alexandria, who envied
him, says Eusebius, for the reputation which he had
gained. His inquisitive genius, and his mixing philo-
sophy with Christianity, led him perhaps into some
learned singularities and ingenious reveries; but he was
by temper far from dogmatizing in such points, from
fomenting schisms, and setting up himself for the head
of a party. He lived in times when Christians were
not so shackled with systems and determinations as they
weie afterwards, nor so much exposed to disingenuous
and illiberal objections ; and had more liberty to pursue
their inquiries and to speak their mind.—He was ever
extremely sober and exemplary, practising what he
preached to others ; and he lived and died poor, and
destitute even of common conveniences.”—The most
complete edition of his works is that of Father Delarue,
a Benedictine, in Greek and Latin. The celebrated
Montfaucon likewise published, in 2 vols folio, some re¬
mains and fragments of his He.vapla.
He ought not to be confounded with another Ori¬
gen, a Platonic philosopher, and the disciple and friend
of Porphyry, who studied philosophy' under Ammo-
nius: perhaps this Origen was the founder of the Ori-
GENIANS.
ORIGENIANS ( Orrgeniani), ancient heretics, who
even surpassed the abominations of the Gnostics.
Epiphanus speaks of them as subsisting in his time ;
but their numbers, he says, were inconsiderable. He
seems to fix their rise about the time of the great Orz-
ge?i i but does not say that they derived their name from
him. On the contrary, he distinguishes them from the
OrigenistSy whom he derives from Origen Adamantius;
adding, indeed, that they first took their name from one
Origen; by which he intimates, that it was not the great
Origen. And St Augustine expressly asserts, that it was
another. Their doctrines were shameful: they reject¬
ed marriage ; they used several apocryphal books, as
the acts of St Andrew, &c. and endeavoured to excuse
their open crimes, by saying, that the Catholics did the
same in private.
ORIGENISTS, in church-history, a Christian sect
in the fourth century, so called from their drawing their
opinions from the writings of Origen. The Origenists
maintained, that the souls of men had a pre-existent
state : that they were holy intelligences, and had sin¬
ned in heaven before the body was created: that Christ
is only the Son of God by adoption ; that he has been
successively united with all the angelical natures, and
has been a cherub, a seraph, and all the celestial vir¬
tues one after another; that, in future ages, he will be
crucified for the salvation of the devils, as he has al¬
ready been for that of men ; and that their punishment,
and that of the damned, will continue only'Tor a certain
limited time.
ORIGINAL, a first draught or design of anything,
which serves as a model to be imitated or copied.
3 M Original
O R I
[ 458 ]
OKI
OriginaV
Sin
II
Orior.
Original Sin, the crime of eating the forbidden
fruit, of which, it is said, all mankind are guilty at
their conception, by the imputation ot Adam s trans-
. gression which is accounted for by supposing, that
Adam, as he was to be the father, was also the federal
head and representative, of the whole human race •, and
that, on his sinning, all that were to spring from him
partook of his crimes. See Theology, &c.
ORIGUELA, a town of Valentia in Spain, it is
seated between the mountains, on the banks of the river
Segura, in a place fortified by nature, and in a fertile
plain abounding in all things, especially corn. It con¬
tains 21,000 inhabitants, and has a university and a
bishop’s see. It is defended by an old castle 5 and is the
capital of a government independent of ’S alentia, whose
jurisdiction extends 30 miles in length and 15 in breadth.
W. Long. o. 56. N Lat. 38. 22.
ORILLON, in Fortification, is a small rounding ot
earth, faced with a wall j raised on the shoulder of those
bastions that have casemates, to cover the cannon in the
retired flank, and prevent their being dismounted by the
enemy. See Fortification.
ORIOLUS, or Oriole, a genus of birds belonging
to the order of picm. See Ornithology Index.
ORION, in fabulous history, was the son of Jupi¬
ter, Neptune, and Mercury. For as these gods were
visiting the earth, they entered the house of Hyneus
a native of Tanagra, in Roeotia, under the character of
benighted travellers, on account of his being famed
for hospitality to strangers. Hyneus treated them in
the best manner in his power •, and even killed an ox,
the only one he had, for their entertainment. At
•which the gods ivere so pleased, that they offered the
old man whatever he would ask ; who letting them
know that he desired nothing so much as a son, they,
to gratify his wish, caused the ox’s hide to be brought
before them, in which, having deposited their urine,
they bade him keep it under ground for nine months.
He then dug for the skin, and found it in a beautiful
child, whom he called Urion, ab arina. The name was
afterwards changed into Orion bv the corruption ot
one letter, as Ovid observes : Perdidit antiquum htera
‘prima sonum. Orion soon became conspicuous; and
.Diana took him among her attendants, and even be¬
came deeply enamoured of him. His gigantic stature,
however, displeased Oenopion king of Chios, whose
daughter Hero or Merope he requested in marriage.
The king, not willing to deny him openly, promised
to make him his soh-in law as soon as he delivered his
island from wild beasts. This task, which Oenopion
supposed to be impracticable, was soon performed by
Orion, who eagerly demanded his reward. Oenopion,
on pretence of complying, intoxicated his illustrious
guest, and put out his eyes on the sea-shore, where he
had laid himself down to sleep. Orion found himself
blind when he awoke. He went, directed by the sound,
to a neighbouring forge, where he placed one of the
Workmen on his back, and by his directions went to a
place where the rising sun rvas seen with the greatest
advantage. Here he turned bis face towards the lumi¬
nary ; and, according to report, he immediately recover¬
ed his eye-sight, and hastened to punish the perfidious
cruelty of Ocnopion. Orion was reported to be an ex¬
cellent workman in iron, and to have fabricated a sub¬
terraneous palace for Vulcan.
Aurora, whom Venus had inspired witn love, car- Oiion,
ried him away into the island of Delos, that she might Oristagni,
enjoy his company with greater security, but Diana,' 'r'w
who was jealous of this, destroyed him with her ar¬
rows. Some say, that Orion had provoked Diana’s
resentment, by offering violence to Opis, one of her
female attendants; or, as others say, because he had
attempted the virtue of the goddess herself. Accord¬
ing to Ovid, Orion died of the bite of a scorpion,
which the earth produced to punish his vanity, in
boasting that no animal on earth could conquer him.
Some say that Orion was son of Neptune and Euryale,
and that he had received from his father the privilege
and power of walking over the sea without wetting his
feet. Others assert, that he was a son of Terra, like
the rest of the giants. He had married a nymph call¬
ed Sida, before his connection -with the family of Oeno-
pion : but Sida was the cause of her own death, by
boasting herself fairer than Juno. Diodorus says, that
Orion was a celebrated hunter, superior to the rest ot
mankind, by his strength and uncommon stature. He
built the port of Zancle, and fortified the coast of Sicily
against the frequent inundations of the sea, by heaping
a mound of earth called Pelorum, on which he built a
temple to the gods of the sea. After death Orion was
placed in heaven, where one of the constellations still
bears his name. The constellation of Orion was placed
near the feet of the bull. It was composed of 17 stars
in the form of a man, holding a sword ; for which rea¬
son the poets often speak of Orion’s sword. As the
constellation of Orion, which rises about the 9th day ot
March, and sets about the 21st of June, is generally
supposed to be accompanied at its rising with great rains
and storms, it has acquired the epithet of aquosus, given
it by Virgil. Orion was buried in the island of Delos;
and the monument which the people of Janagra in Boe-
otia showed, as containing his remains, was nothing but
a cenotaph. The daughters of Orion distinguished them¬
selves as much as their father ; and when the oracle had
declared that Bceotia should not be delivered from a
dreadful pestilence before two of Jupiter’s children were
immolated on the altars, they joyfully accepted the of¬
fer, and voluntarily sacrificed themselves for the good
of their country. Their names were Menippe and Me-
tioche. They had been carefully educated by Diana ;
and Venus and Minerva had made them very rich and
valuable presents. The deities of hell were struck at
the patriotism of these two females ; and instantly tvyo
stars were observed to arise from the earth, which still
smoked with their blood, and they were placed in the
heavens in the form of a crown. According to Ovid,
their bodies were burned by the Thebans, and from
their ashes arose two persons, whom the gods soon after
changed into constellations.
Orion, in Astronomy, one of the constellations ot
the southern hemisphere. The word is formed from
the Greek “ to make water the ancients sup¬
posing that it raised tempests at its rising and setting.
The stars in the constellation Orion, in Ptolemy’s ca¬
talogue are 37, in Tycho’s 62, in the Britannie cata¬
logue 80. • 1 j r
ORISTAGNI, an ancient town of the island ot
Sardinia, with an archbishop’s see. It is pretty large
and well fortified; but thinly inhabited, on account
of the unhealthy air; it is seated on the western coast,
O R K
jurist a goi in a bay of die same name, in E. Long. 8. 58. N. Lat.
. J' . 39- 55-
l,'ney' ■ OltlXA or Orissa, a province of the Deccan in
flimlostan, extending from the i6tli to the 2^d degree
of north latitude, on the west side of the bay of Ben¬
gal. Its length from S. W. to N. E. is about 530
miles, its average breadth 90. The interior is wild,
rugged, and uncultivated 5 but the coast is generally
fertile and well inhabited. The Ooreas who live with¬
in the company’s jurisdiction are a quiet and inoffen¬
sive people j but those who inhabit the interior are
fierce and warlike. The population of the province is
supposed to be lour millions and a half, but is very un¬
equally spread over the surface of the country. Three
fourths of the territory are possessed by the British,
the remainder by various petty native chiefs. The
temple of Juggernaut is in this province.
Orix a, a genus of plants belonging to the tetran-
dria class. See Botany index.
1 459 1
O R K
. ORKNEY ISLANDS, called Or cades by the an- Orkuer.
cients, certain islands on the north of Scotland (a), —y—1
from which they are separated by a frith 20 miles in
length and 10 in breadth.
As writing seems to have been unknown in the
northern islands, during those periods which the an¬
tiquarian would call the most curious and important,
the chief part of our information resptct.ng the an¬
cient state of the Orkneys must be derived from tradi¬
tion and conjecture. Their mountainous situation, and
natural jealousy of strangers, obstructed the progress
both of knowledge and religion: for instead of receiving
either fro 1 their southern neighbours, we are certain
that they derived their knowledge of Christianity from
Norway, during the expeditions undertaken by thai na¬
tion (in the end of the 10th or beginning of the iitlt
century) to make settlements in the Orkneys and on the
coast of Caithness (b). The best (because it is in ali
3 2 probability
(a) I he northern isles of Scotland have been often mentioned by ancient authors, and called bv different
names from those they now go by 5 so that it is sometimes difficult to know which of them are meant The
ancient name, however, of the islands which are the subject of this article, has never been disputed. The EbucUe
it is agreed, arc the modern Hebrides j and there is no doubt of the ancient Orcades being the same with the
Orkneys. Of Thule however, we are not so certain ; and whether it means the Shetland i les, or Iceland,
remains undetermined. Pythias, a Massilian, pretends to have visited these islands, and particularly Thule;
l . d°eS n°f rncntion the Orcades. The geographer Mela, who was contemporary with the emperor Clau¬
dius, is the next writer who describes the northern islands. Of the Orkneys he gives a remarkably just account
and says they were thirty in number, with narrow channels between them; but he is less accurate with respect
to the lest. Pliny the Elder is the third who mentions the northern islands. He makes the number of the
Orkneys tube forty, and of the Hebrides to be thirty. Solinus, the supposed contemporary with Agricola, is
the next after i liny. In his time, and according to his account, these islands had not a single inhabitant, and
were overgrown with rushy grass. It seems on the whole to be pretty generally allowed, thut Julius Agricola,
who first sailed round Britain discovered the Orcades, till then unknown, and subdued them. The Romans,
never that we know, visited these islands again but once, which was probably after Honorius had defeated the
taxons in the seas of Orkney. Claudius was so far from reducing them (as is asserted by Jerome in his Chro¬
nicle), that Juvenal has these lines in Hadrian’s time:
Arina quid ultra
Littora Juvernce promovimus et modo capias
Orcades, et minima contentos node Britannos. Sat. IT. 160.
In vain, O Rome, thou dost this conquest boast
Beyond the Orcades’ short-nighted coast. Dryden.
Tacitus Informs us, that before the completion of the first century, the Roman fleets sailed round Scotland and
landed in the Orcades to refresh.
(B) It has been asserted that the Orkneys, as well as the isles of Shetland, were originally peopled from
Norway, in the ninth, tenth, or eleventh century. Others again imagine, with as much probability that the
ricts were the original inhabitants, and call Orkney the ancient kingdom of the Piets. Certain singular houses
now overgrown with earth, are called Piets houses ; and the Pentland frith ^formerly Pightland or Pictland) is sup¬
posed to retain their name. Claudian’s lines, cited by Mr Camden, prove, that the Piets, with some other Ger¬
man colony, particularly the Saxons, were at that time in possession of these isles ; and so Ninnius expressly says
Many of the present inhabitants use the Norse language, which differs but little from the Teutonic or Pictish lan¬
guage, and was m general use to the last century ; but except in Foula, where a few words are still known by the
aged people, it is quite lost. The English tongue, with a Norwegian accent, is that of these islands ; but the ap¬
pearance of the people, in their manners and genius, evidently shows their northern origin. Ninnius. c. c. puts
their arrival at Orkney not less than 900 years after the coming of Brutus into Britain, which he says was in the
t‘me ot t,e Je\vlsJ h,brh priest. The ancient surnames are of German original. Some date the first settlement
oi the Piets here A M. 4867 ; when, emigrating from their native country, they planted a colony in Orkney
and thence crossing Pictland frith, and traversing Caithness, Ross, Murray, Mar, and Angus, settled in Fife and
-Lothian ; thence called by our writers Pictlandia. Others think they did not settle here till the time of Reutber
king of Scotland, when the Piets, joining with a party of the Scots, were repulsed, with the loss of their king
vjethus, and many of the Piets and Scottish nobility, with great slaughter ; but the invasions of the Britons, at the
-ame time, constrained the Piets to fly to Orkney, where they chose for king Gothus their deceased sovereign’s
brother,
O R K
[ 460 ]
O R K
Orkney, probability the most, authentic) account that we have
——v11 of this early part of the history ot the Orkneys, seems
to be in Torfseus. See ToiiFiEUS. His history must,
doubtless, have been compiled chiefly from tradition,
which is far from being the surest mode of information.
During the time of Gregory the Great, when by his
policy the Piets were driven from other parts of Scot¬
land, they came to the Orcades as an asylum ; but it
does not appear, and is far from being probable, that
they received a favourable reception, tor many ot them
migrated to Shetland, and from thence to the opposite
coasts of Norway. A particular history ot these islands,
durinri- those early ages, would aftbrd little entertain¬
ment,0 because its authenticity is at least doubttul.
These islands were at various times harassed and plun¬
dered by adventurers from Scandinavia ; and the Nor¬
wegian princes frequently laid the inhabitants under
tribute.
We have said that the Christian religion was trans¬
ported to the Orkneys from Norway, and that this
happened in the beginning of the nth century. A-
bout which time Sigurd is possessed the entire dominion
of those isles, and for many years exercised all the
powers of a monarch in the north. At the same time
Christianity had dawned on Scandinavia, and had be¬
come the established religion in the seat of government
in Norway. Its doctrines interwove themselves with
the pci icy of the nation •, its principles, so nearly in¬
teresting to human happiness, made their farther publi¬
cation an object of much moment to the adventurous
princes, and gave a new law to their enterprises.
While the power of these principles was acting with
original force upon the minds of the people, and their
zeal rendered them ambitious of any exploit, whereby
they could diffuse their influence j Olaus prince of
Norway equipped a squadron destined to carry the
knowledge of the gospel to other shores. On this
pious adventure he was accompanied not only by num¬
bers of all ranks, whom, as usual, a love of enterprise
invited 5 but by many persons of distinguished know¬
ledge and abilities, men. of sincere piety, who had be¬
come particularly well acquainted with the Christian
doctrines, and entertained a deep, sense of their infi¬
nite importance. These entered into- the fleet, joyful
in the prospect of spreading the truths which they re¬
vered through yet unenlightened countries j and the
squadron soon appeared ofl the Orcades. Olaus got
Sigurdis, on board of his fleet, with his son, and but
a few attendants, and, as the heir of Harold, he claim¬
ed all the provinces over which Sigurdis reigned; and
at the same time he ordered him to renounce and abjure
the religion of his fathers, and to embrace Christianity.
Delay was not permitted j Christianity was forced upon Orkney,
him and his subjects j and on the departure of Olaus, he y—«.
carried the son of Sigurdis as an hostage for what he had
engaged", which was to give honourable protection to all
those holy men who might choose to reside in those parts
for the purpose of instructing the people in the nature
of the Christian doctrines ; for many of the more intel¬
ligent and religious men who had come from Norway
with Olaus, remained in the Orcades and in the north
of Scotland, to fulfil their pious resolution of spread¬
ing the light of the gospel there. Olaus, with the rest
of his followers, sailed on another expedition towards
the frith of Moray. The death of Kindius his son,
which happened soon after Olaus’s return to Norway,
released Sigurdis from his engagements with him j
and he entered into one with Malcolm II. one of whose
daughters he had in marriage, and by whom he had a
son, Torphinus. Torphinus’s bravery, magnificence,
generosity, and hospitality, endeared him to the inha¬
bitants j and he ruled without controul for many years,,
till Ronald, a grandson of Sigurdis, who had lived
in Norway, and who was esteemed the rightful heir of
the earldom of Orkney, made a successful descent up¬
on it. Torphinus wished to give him battle ; and in
a sea-fight, with- the assistance of some ships from Ar-
ninus, a man who had filled some ol the first places in
Norway, he totally defeated him. By courting the
friendship of that court, his dominions remained quiet
for the greater part of his hie j the latter part ol which
was no less eminent for establishing salutary laws, and
encouraging the arts of industry, than the lormer
had been distinguished for military fame and success in
the exploits of war. He lived to an advanced age,,
until after Malcolm III. hid ascended the throne ot
Scotland. Torphinus had built a sumptuous church
in Byrsa, where the first bishops of Orkney resided.
In the decline of life he retired to that island, and,
finishing his days with exemplary piety, was with much
solemnity interred in the temple which he had raised.
His country long lamented the loss of so celebrated a
ruler, who had established security in it, through the
influence of his law’s, and had taught it to enjoy the
ai’ts and blessings of peace. He left two sons, Paul
and Erl and, who through the whole of their lives
amicably shared both in the honours and administra¬
tion of their father’s extensive domain. During this
period, the northern counties are said to have arrived
at a very superior degree of cultivation and improve¬
ment, which became equally conspicuous in the rich¬
ness of their lands, and in the mildness of their dispo¬
sitions. Their sons, however, did not both inherit their
father’s virtues. Magnus, the son of Erland, was pious
brother till they were able to return to Lothian, and drive out the Britons After this they flourished here and
* ere governed by kings of their own. There still remains a place called Cunnmgsga, the dwelling place of the
minister of Sandwick, whose name and form bespeak it the res.dence ol some of hem. But no ^5 of the
history remain, except tire name of Belus, in ancient characters, on a stone m the church of Birsa w-heres ih s to
be seen one of the principal palaces. This government probably subsisted til! the subversion of the ^ictl?h
dom in Scotland, A. D. 839, by Kenneth II. king of Scotland. On the whole, however, the time of the discovery
and population of the Orkneys is certainly unknown. Probably it was very early j for we are told that they 0
their name to the Greeks.
Claudian.
Orcadcs has memorant dictas a nomine Greece.
O R K [ 461 1 O R K
Orkney, and peaceable j a great promoter of religion, and an-
1 xious in patronizing the Roman missionaries, and in
protecting the establishments of Christianity : but Ha-
con, the heir of Paul, was vehement, wild, and im¬
patient of restraint. He saw how Magnus was revered,
and envy drove him to revenge 5 for, by the most de¬
liberate and deceitful villany, he got Magnus into his
power, and murdered him without mercy. The latter
part of his life was spent in penance, and in improving
his dominions.
Magnus’s singular piety, and the manner of his un¬
fortunate death, were so well represented at the court
of Rome, that he was canonized. Hacon left two
sons, Paul the Silent, and Harold the Orator. Caith¬
ness came to Harold, amd the Orkneys were governed
by Paul.
Ronald, a descendant of St Magnus, an elegant and
accomplished youth, appeared at the court of Norway,
and was supported in a claim upon the Orkneys, as the
heir of the canonized martyr. He sent messengers to
Paul, and offered to share the government with him 5
but this proposal was refused, and the ambassadors were
treated with great contempt. They, however, found
persons of power disposed to second their master’s views j
who soon after their return set out, and vowed, if he
succeeded, to build a magnificent church, and to de¬
dicate it to St Magnus. All seemed satisfied with the
enterprise ; and, full of hope, the fleet set sail. Paul
in the mean time put himself in a state of defence. By
very artful manoeuvres, however, Ronald obtained his
purpose, and willingly shared his sovereignty with Ha¬
rold, the legal heir of Paul. They lived amicably to¬
gether ; and on the assassination of Ronald, which was
accomplished by a proud chieftain, who thought himself
insulted, he was buried with great pomp. Harold now
fully possessed the unrivalled sovereignty of the north,
and lived long to enjoy it. We find that in 1196 he
was able to bring 7000 men to the field, and a body of
cavalry, against the army of William king of Scotland,
but was immediately defeated. In the next year, the
Caithnesiaus rebelled again, headed by one Roderick,
and Torphinus, son to Harold. The king met and
defeated them near Inverness. Roderick was slain ;
and William seizing on Harold in the extremity of
Caithness, detained him till Torphinus surrendered
himself as an hostage; but on some new treasons of the
father, the king, according to the barbarity of the times,
caused the eyes of the unhappy youth to be put out y
and had him emasculated, of which he soon perished
in prison. Harold died in the 73d year of his age ;
and with him ended, in its earls, the independent so¬
vereignty of the north of Scotland. The Norwegians
seem to have been in possession of these isles as late as
1266 ; for then Magnus IV. king of Norway, being
worsted in war with the Scots, yielded them to Alex¬
ander III. king of Scotland by treaty, and Haquin
king of Norway confirmed the possession of -them to
King Robert Bruce in the year 1312. Lastly, in 1464,
Christian I. king of Norway and Denmark, Avhen he
gave his daughter in marriage to James III. king of
Scotland, transferred all his right to them to his son-
in-law and his successors ; to make which more binding
the Pope’s confirmation was obtained. We are told
by some, that Magnus sold them to Alexander for the
sum of 4000 merks sterling, and a yearly acknowledge- Orkney,
ment of 100 merks. L—y—
They are about 30 in number ; but many of them
are uninhabited, the greater part being small, and pro¬
ducing only pasturage for cattle. The principal islands
are denominated by the names of Mainland, South
Ronalds ha, S ivinna,Flotta, Copinsha, Strupensha, Stron-
sa, Sanda, Sfc. the terminations in a, or ha, being ge¬
nerally given in the Teutonic to such places as are sur¬
rounded by water. The currents and tides flowing be¬
tween the islands are extremely rapid and dangerous.
Near an island called Swinna, are two great whirlpools,
called the ivells of Swinna, which are counted dangerous
by mariners, especially in a calm. W hen sailors find
themselves sucked into the vortex, it is said they throw
out a barrel, or some bulky substance, which smooths
the water till it is sucked down and thrown up at a con¬
siderable distance, during which time the ship passes over
in safety. But when there is a breeze of wind, these
whirlpools may be crossed without any danger. The
largest of these islands is called Pomona, in length 33,
and in breadth 9 miles, containing 9 parish-churches,
and 4 excellent harbours.
The air of these islands is moist, on account of the
neighbourhood of the sea ; and frost and snow do not
continue long. In some plaices the soil is bare and
mountainous, and in others Sandy and barren ; how¬
ever, many of the islands produce large crops of barley
and oats, but no wheat or other grain excepting what
is inclosed in gardens. These, when duly cultivated,
produce all kinds of kitchen herbs and roots, bring¬
ing even fruit-trees to maturity; but out of them, in
the open country, there is scarce a tree or shrub to be
seen, except juniper, wild myrtle, heath, and the cy-
ur-hodon : yet this deficiency cannot be imputed to
the poverty of the soil, or the nature of the climate :
for the trunks of large oaks are frequently dug up in
the marshes. This is likewise the case in the most
barren parts of the Highlands of Scotland, where not
a shrub is to be seen above the surface of the earth :
nay, the inhabitants frequently find, deep in the earth,
the roots of large trees, evidently exhibiting marks of
the axe by which they were felled ; so that these north¬
ern parts must have undergone some strange revolu¬
tions. The Orkneys produce great variety of herbs
and berries, grass and corn, which last is exported as
far as Edinburgh. In some of the islands, the natives
have discovered mines of tin, lead, and silver, though
none of them are wrought to any advantage; in others,
we find abundance of maid, gray and red slate, quar¬
ries of freestone, and even of marble and alabaster.
When the wind rages to any violence^ the sea throws
in plenty of timber, torn from other countries ; and,
not unfrequently, the people find large pieces of am¬
bergrease. The fresh water in these islands is very
pure and limpid; and though there are no large ri¬
vers in the Orkneys, the ground is well watered with
lakes and pleasant rivulets, that not only serve to
turn their mills, but also abound with trout of the most
delicate flavour.
Besides the abundance of little horses, black catfle,
sheep, swine, and rabbits, the inhabitants of the Ork¬
neys rear all sorts of domestic animals and tame poul¬
try. Their heaths and commons yield plenty of red
deeij
O R K
[ 462 ]
O R K
Orkney, deer, and all sorts of game , partridges, grouse, beath-
-"■—v”-* cocks, plover, duck, teal, and widgeon : the sea-coasts
teem with seals and otters; and are visited by whales,
cod, ling, tusk, herrings, and all manner ot fish : on
the shore they find spermaceti, os sepioe, and a great
variety of shells and corallines, with a multitude ot
oysters, remarkably large muscles, crabs, and cockles.
The rocks are covered with sea-fowl, wild geese, solan
geese, barnacles, eagles, hawks, and kites. With re¬
spect to the barnacles, or, as the natives call them, the
deck geese, they are said to be found in shells sticking
bv the bills to trees, in several islands. Martin affirms
he has seen them in this situation, but could not per¬
ceive them alive 5 and indeed the whole account of
their generation and production, exhibited by the
northern naturalist, is absurd and unphilosophical.
The Orkney eagles are so strong, that according to the
reports of the country, they have been known to carry
away young children in their talons. Certain it is,
they make such havock among the lambs, that he who
kills an eagle is entitled by law to a hen from every
house in the parish where it was killed. The king’s
falconer visits these islands every year, in order to fetch
away the young hawks and falcons from their nests
among the precipices : he enjoys a yearly salary of 20I.
and may claim a hen or a dog from every house in the
country, except those that are expressly exempted from
this imposition.
The gentry of the Orkneys are civilized, polite,
and hospitable } and live like those of Scotland, from
whom they are chiefly descended. They live com¬
fortably, are remarkably courteous to strangers, and
drink a great quantity of wine, with which their cel¬
lars are generally well stored. Indeed the inhabitants
of the Orkneys may be now justly deemed a Scotch
colony. They speak the language, profess the religion,
follow the fashions, and are subject to the laws, of that
people. They are frugal, sagacious, circumspect, reli¬
gions, and hospitable. The mariners are remarkably
bold, active, dexterous, and hardy. Many surprising
instances of longevity occur here, as well as in Shetland,
of persons living to the age of 140. The Orkney wo¬
men are generally handsome, and well shaped, and bring
forth children at a very advanced age. In the Orkneys,
some particular lands are held by a tenure called Udal
Right, from Ulcius, or Olaus, king of Norway, who
farmed the lands, on condition of receiving one-third of
the produce ; and this right devolved in succession, with¬
out anv charter granted by the sovereign. The inhabi¬
tants of Orkney, instead of measuring their corn, weigh
it in pismores or pundlers. Their least denomination
is a mark, consisting of x 8 ounces, and 24 marks make
a lispound, which is a Danish quantity. The poorer
sort of people in the Orkneys appear veay meanly ha¬
bited, with a piece of seal skin, instead of shoes •, and
living chiefly on salt fish, are subject to the scurvy.
They are much addicted to superstitious rites j in parti¬
cular, interpreting dreams and omens, and believing in
the force of idle charms. The islands of Orkney, we
have already observed, produce very bold, able, and
hardy mariners. The common people, in general, are
inured to fatigue, and remarkably adventurous, both in
fishing during rough weather, and in climbing the rocks
for the flesh, eggs, and down of sea-fowl. Formerly,
while they were exposed to the invasions of the Nor-
xvegians, or wesfern islanders, every village was obliged Orkney,
to equip a large boat well manned •, and all the fenci y-—
ble men appeared in arms, when the alarm was given
by the beacons lighted on the tops of the rocks and
highest mountains. These beacons, known by the name
of ward-hills, are still to be seen in every island. Their
corn land they inclose with mud or stone walls, to pre¬
serve it from the ravages of their sheep, swine, and cat¬
tle, which wander about at random, without being at¬
tended by herdsmen : their ordinary manure, especial¬
ly near the sea-coast, is sea-weed, which they care¬
fully gather and divide into equal portions. Their
sheep are marked on the ears and nose •, hut so wild,
that when they have occasion to shear them in the
month of May, they are obliged to hunt every indi¬
vidual, with dogs trained for that purpose. Their
manner of catching sea-fowl is curious and particular.
Under the rock where these fowls build they row
their boat, provided with a large net, to the upper
corners of which are fastened two ropes, lowered down
from the top of the mountain by men placed in that
station. These hoisting up the net, until it be spread
opposite to the clift's in which the iowls are sitting, the
boatmen below make a noise with a rattle, by which
the fowls being frightened, fly forwards into the bo¬
som of the net, in which they are immediately en¬
closed and lowered down into the boat 5 others prac¬
tise the method used in Iceland and Norway, and are
lowered down by a single rope from the summit of the
mountain j this is the constant way of robbing the
hawk’s nest. See BiKD-Catching. In these islands
some strange ell’ects are produced by thunder and light¬
ning. In the year 1680, the lightning entered a cow¬
house, in which 12 cows stood in a row, and killed
every second beast as she stood, and left the rest un¬
touched. The distempers that prevail mostly in the
Orkneys are agues, consumptions, scurvy, and itch.
The agues, which abound in the spring, the natives
cure with a diet drink of bitters and antiscorbutics in¬
fused in ale : for phthisical complaints they use the plant
arby, and the caryophyllus marinus boiled with sweet
milk.
The isles of Orkney and Shetland compo'-e one stew-
artry, and send one member to the imperial parliament.
The right of superiority to the Orkneys was di*niember-
ed from the crown by the union parliament, and grant¬
ed for a certain yearly consideration to the earl of
Morton, by Queen Anne, who appointed him heredi¬
tary steward and justiciary. This nobleman possesses
the power of creating certa n judges, called bailiffs.
There is one of these established in every island and pa¬
rish, with power to superintend the manners of the in¬
habitants, to hold courts, and determine civil causes, ac¬
cording to the laws of Scotland, to the value of ten
pounds Scots money, amounting to 16s. 8d : but all
contests of higher import are referred to the decision of
the steward or Ins deputy, who resides at Kirkwall,
which is the seat of justice. Subservient to the baxlifis
are six or seven of the most reputable and intelligent
inhabitants, who oversee the conduct of their fellows,
acting as constables, and make report ol all enormities
to the bailiff J who causes the delinquent to he appre¬
hended and punished ; if the crime be within the extent
of Ins judicial power otherwise he transmits him to
Kirkwall, where he is tried by the steward. The Pro¬
testant
o K [ 463 ] O R K
(ikney. testant religion prevails in the isles of Orkney, accord-
—v hig to the rites and discipline of the kirk 5 these, and
the isles of Shetland, constituting one presbytery, which
assembles at Kirkwall. The country is divided into
18 parishes, containing 31 churches, and above 100
chapels.
The trade of the Orkneys is not very considerable,
though it might be extended to great advantage. They
supply with fresh provisions, for ready money, the ships
and vessels that touch upon the coast in the course of
northern voyages, or in their passage from the East In¬
dies, when they go north about Ireland and Scotland,
in time of war, to avoid the privateers of the enemy.
They are also visited by those engaged in the herring-
fishery, though there is not such a resort on this account
to these islands as to the isles of Shetland. Neverthe¬
less a good number of boats from the western parts of
Scotland, as well as from Londonderry, Belfast, and
other parts of Ireland, fish for herring as far north as
the Leuze, and supply the Orkneys with tobacco, wdne,
brandy, and other spirituous liquors, cloths, and divers
manufactures. These they change for fish, and oil
extracted from porpoises, seals, and other sea animals.
The people of Orkney export annually great numbers
of black cattle, swine, and sheep •, together with large
quantities of corn, butter, tallow, salt, and stuffs made
in the country, over and above the skins of seals, ot¬
ters, lambs, and rabbits, down, feathers, writing-quills,
hams, and wool ; yet all these articles would, in point
of profit, fall infinitely short of their herring fishery,
were it prosecuted with industry, economy, and vi¬
gour.
The most valuable of their manufactures is kelp, and
indeed the staple commodity was first introduced in
1722, by a Mr James Fea, of Whitehall, in Stronsay,
since which period it has been gradually on the increase.
From 1763 to 1778, there wras manufactured, on an
average, 1800 tons annually at four guineas per ton j
from 1778 I792, the annual average produce was
3000 at 61. per ton ; from 1792 to 1794, above 4000
tons. Thus, from 1722 to 1794, a period of 72 years,
the produce of the kelp w'as 291,976!. sterling, or more
than the value of all the Orkney islands, even at the
rate of 36 years purchase •, the annual rent, exclusive
of the kelp and fisheries, not exceeding 8000I. sterling.
As there are no merchants in the Orkneys at present
who export fish on their own account, what herrings are
taken they used to sell to the Dutch or Scotch dealers
in and about Inverness. They generally fish for herring
on the west side of the Orkneys; and are therefore more
remote from markets than those who are employed in
the same manner on the coast of Shetland. In the Ork¬
ney islands they see to read at midnight in June and Ju¬
ly ; and during four of the summer months they have
frequent communications, both for business and curio¬
sity, with each other, and with the continent: the rest
of the year, however, they are almost inaccessible,
through fogs, darkness, and storms. It is a certain fact,
that a Scotcli fisherman was imprisoned in May for pu¬
blishing the account of the prince and princess of O-
range being raised to the throne of England the prece¬
ding November; and he would probably have been
hanged, had not the news been confirmed by the arrival
of a ship.
We may reckon among the curiosity of the Ork¬
neys, the P/tascoli, commonly known by the name of Orkney
MAucca beans, and sometimes they are called Orkney 1
beans. They are a sort of fruit found on the shore of
the Orkney islands, being thrown on them by storms of
westerly wind. They are of several distinct species, and
are none of them the produce of those islands, nor of
any places thereabout, but are probably of American
origin, many of them being plainly natives of Jamaica,
and other islands of the Indies.
They are found principally on those coasts which arc
most exposed to the waves of the great ocean, and are
on these so plentiful, that they might be gathered in
large quantities, if of any value ; but the only use they
are put to is the making of snuff-boxes out of them,
bir Robert Sibbald, and Mr Wallace, in their accounts
ol Scotland, have both named them Molucca Beans.
Many strange fishes and curious shells are also frequent¬
ly cast up by the ocean ; ot these last a vast variety are
preserved for adorning the cabinets of modern natural¬
ists. Sometimes exotic fowls are driven upon the Ork¬
neys by tempestuous weather: fish, as large as whitings,
have been thrown ashore to a considerable distance with¬
in the land. At Cantick-head, in the island Waes, and
some other places, huge stones are often heaved up by
the violence of the sea and wind, and cast over high
rocks upon the land. A single Laplander has been seen
more than once upon this coast, in his slender canoe, co¬
vered with skins, being driven hither by adverse winds
and storms. The Orkneys are not altogether destitute
of ancient monuments and curiosities of art. In Hoy
we find an entire stone, 36 feet long, 18 in breadth, and
9 in thickness, lying between two hills, and known by
the name of dwarfie strme. It is hollowed within by
the tools of a mason, the marks of which are still appa¬
rent. The entrance is a square hole about two feet
high, with a stone, by way of door, standing before it.
Within we find a bed with a pillow cut out of the stone ;
at the other end is a couch of the same kind ; and in
the middle a hearth, above which there is a hole or
vent for the exit of the smoke. This curiosity is found
in the midst of a desolate heath, and is supposed to have
been the residence of a hermit. In the very neighbour¬
hood of this stone there is a very high and steep moun¬
tain, called the ward-hill of Hoy, near the summit of
which, in the months of May, June, and July, some¬
thing at noon-day is seen to shine and sparkle with re¬
markable lustre, supposed by the common people to be
an enchanted carbuncle ; many persons have clambered
up the bill in quest of it, but found nothing. Perhaps
this splendour is produced by the reflection of the sun
on a small stream of water sliding over the face of a
smooth rock. At Stennis, in Mainland, there is a
causeway of stones over a loch or lake, at the south end
of which we observe a circle of stones rising about 20
feet above the ground, each being six feet in breadth, and
from one or two feet in thickness : between this circle
and the causeway two stones of the same dimensions
stand by themselves, and one of them is perforated in
the middle. At the distance of half a mile from the
other end of the causeway appears a lax’ger circle of the
same kind of stones, the diameter of which may amount
to 11 o paces ; some of these stones are fallen ; and to
the east and west of the larger circle are two artificial
green mounts. Both rounds are surrounded with a
ditch ; and one cannot view them without admiration,
considering-
O R K
[ 4^4 1
O R K
Orkney.
'considering the art that must have been used to bring
* such unwieldy masses together in this order. I hey
were probably temples and places of sacrifice used in
times of pagan superstition 5 and seem to bear a great
affinity with the celebrated monument called Stonehenge
on Salisbury Plain in England. In one of the mounts,
at the north end of the causeway, the natives found nine
jibulce, or clasps of silver, formed into a circle, and re¬
sembling a horse-shoe. In many different places of the
Orkneys we find rude obelisks or single stones of a great
height, set up either as a memorial of battles, treaties,
or the decease of remarkable personages. In Rousay, be¬
tween two high mountains, there is a place which the
natives distinguish by the appellation of the camp of
Jupiter Fring: but the meaning of this name, handed
down by tradition, is not yet known. At the west end
of the Mainland, near Skeal, we find a surprising cause¬
way, above a quarter of a mile in length, on the summit
of high hills, composed of reddish stones of different
magnitudes, impressed with various figures both on the
under and upper surface. Some gentlemen in the neigh¬
bourhood have carried off the most beautiful of these
stones, to be set in their chimneys by way of ornament,
like the painted tiles of Holland. This country pro¬
duces many sepulchres of different nations. In the plains
or links of Skeal, the sand being blown away from the
surface of the ground, several square catacombs appear,
built of stones well cemented together, containing some
parcels of black earth, and each secured by a large stone
at the mouth. Sepulchres of the same kind are found
at Rousum in Stronsa •, which is likewise remarkable for
a different kind of monument, consisting of one entire
stone cylinder hollowed, with a bottom like that of a
barrel, and a round stone to fill up the entrance; above,
the stone was sharpened into an edge; within were found
some burnt bones and red clay, and over it was placed
a large flat stone for the preservation of the whole.
These, in all probability, were Roman catacombs. In
Westra divers Danish graves have been discovered : in
one of these appeared the skeleton of a man, with a
sword on one side and a Danish axe on the other. Some
have been found buried with dogs, combs, knives, and
other utensils. In many places of the country we find
round hillocks or barrows, here known by the name of
brogh, signifying, in the Teutonic language, burying
place, supposed to have been the cemeteries of the an¬
cient Saxons. In different parts of these islands we see
the remains of great buildings, believed to have been
fortresses erected by the Danes or Norwegians when
they possessed the country. One of these, in the isle of
Wyre, called the castle of Coppi row, signifying a town
of security, is surrounded by a fosse, and the first floor
still remains above ground, a perfect square of stone
wall, very thick, strongly built, and cemented with lime,
the area within not exceeding ten feet in length. Of
this Coppi-row the common people relate many idle
fables. In the chapel of Clet, in the isle of Sanda, there
is a grave 19 feet long, in which was found part of a
man’s back bone larger than that of a horse. Human
bones of nearly the same size, have been dug up in
Westra ; and indeed this country is remarkable for pro¬
ducing men of a gigantic stature. Within the ancient
fabric of Lady Kirk in South Ranalshaw, there is a
stone four feet long and two feet broad, on which the
prints of two feet are engraven, supposed to be the place
3
where, in times of popery, penitents stood to do public
penance. The cathedral of Kirkwall, the capital of the '■
Orkneys, is a fine Gothic building, dedicated to St
Magnus, but now converted into a parish church. Its
roof is supported by 14 pillars on each side *, and its
steeple, in which is a good ring ol bells, by tour large
pillars. The three gates of the church are chequered
with red and white polished stones, embossed and ele¬
gantly flowered.
Campbell, in his Political Survey, suggests two im¬
provements in the Orkneys : 1. The erecting an uni¬
versity ; of which he recapitulates the probable advan¬
tages arising from their centrical situation : And, 2.
Allowing the East India Company to erect a spacious
magazine in one of these islands ; where also a collect¬
or, and a sufficient number of king’s officers, should re-
'side, to receive the duties of such East. India commodi¬
ties as might be taken off by British subjects. These
he proposes for the Orkneys in particular, and in addi¬
tion to improvements proposed for the whole islands in
general.
The following table exhibits a view of the population
of the parishes of Orkney and Shetland, at two periods.
Population in
1755-
1250
1650
1798
II08
Parishes.
Orkney.
Cross, Burness, &c.
Dearness and St Andrews
Evie and Rendall
Firth and Stenness
Harray and Birsay
Holm
Hoy and Grsemsay
Kirkwall
Ladykirk
Orphir
Rousay and Eglishay
Shapinshay
South Ronaldshay, &c.
Stromness and Sandwick
15 Stronsay and Eday
Walls and Flota
Westray and PapaWestray 1290
Total, Orkney 23,381
10
2200
1185
520
1089
750
855
978
642
1996
2677
I493
1000
1335
i564
1186
2013
702
410
2550
803
826
1072
73°
1954
3012
887
991
1629
23>°53
20
Shetland.
Bressay and Burray
Delting
Dunrossness
Fitlar and North Yell
Lerwick
Nesting
Northmaving
25 Sandsting
South and Mid Yell
Tingwall
Unst
29 Walls and Sandness
Total, Shetland
Orkney
Total
1098
1221
2295
1098
1193
1196
1009
911
986
1412
1368
__L45?
15,210
23>38i
38,591
1225
i5°4
3327
i346
1259
1535
1786
1285
1422
1786
1988
1723
20,186
23,°53
43,239
37,591
Orkaej-.
Papulation in
1790—1798.
Increase
4648
But
° R L [ 465 ]
In 1801, according to^the returns made to Parlia- of the Virgin.
ment, the population of Orkney was 24,445, an^ that
of Shetland was 22,379> in 1811 the population of
both was 46,153. For a fuller account of Orkney, see
Barry’s History of the Orkney Islands, 4to. 1805.
ORLE, Ori.ET, or O7/0, in Architecture, a fillet un-
der the ovolo, or quarter round, of a capital. When
it is at the top or bottom of a shaft, it is called cincture.
Palladio uses the word orlo for the plenith of the basis
of the columns.
Orle, in Heraldry. See Heraldry.
ORLEANOIS, a province ol France, now forming
the three departments of Loiret, Loire et Cher, Eure et
Loire.
ORLEANS, the chief town of the department of
Loiret, and formerly the capital of the government of
Orleanois. It was anciently called Genabum, or €e-
nabum ; and afterwards denominated Aurdia, Aitrdice,
and Aurdianum, by tbe emperor Aurelian, who consi¬
derably enlarged it. In Julius Caesar’s time it was the
capital of the Carnutes. It stands about 20 leagues
south of Paris, on the northern bank of tbe Loire j a-
cross which Mr Wraxall says there is an elegant bridge
of nine arches, the entrance by which is exceedingly
noble and striking, the street which leads from it being
composed of most elegant modern buildings. In gene¬
ral, however, excepting this street, it is very meanly
built; the streets are narrow, and the inhabitants in
general poor. It is surrounded with walls, and forti¬
fied with 40 towers. The streets almost all terminate
at the quay for the convenience of trade. It is the
seat of several courts of justice, and in 1800 contained
36,000 inhabitants. It is a bishop’s see j and the
cathedral is a most superb Gothic structure, and had
the finest steeple in France till it was damaged in the
time of the civil wars. There were 22 parishes in it,
and a great number of churches. There are manufac¬
tures of cloths, serges, coverlets, printed calicoes, cot¬
ton thread, painted paper, refined sugar, &c. By the
canal of the Loire it carries on a considerable trade in
corn, wines, brandies, vinegar, timber, fire-wood, wools,
&c. The canal begins about two miles above the city j
is near 18 leagues in length; and terminates on the
Loing, which falls into the Seine. The environs of
Orleans, more especially in the province of Sologne, to
the south of the Loire, are very agreeable. It is in
general a level country, covered with corn and vines.
Jo the north of the city is a forest, the largest in the
whole kingdom. Before the revolution it belonged to
the duke of Orleans : to whom the timber felled in it,
one year with another, brought about 100,000 livres.
Louis XIV. gave the dukedom of Orleans to his own
brother Philip, who began and finished the canal ;
which, by the duties paid by vessels going up and down,
brought in, one year with another, 150,000 livres. The
bishop was suffragan to the archbishop of Paris, and had
a revenue of 24,000 livres, out of which his tax to Rome
was 2000 florins. A new bishop, it is said, on the first
day of his entering, had the privilege of releasing all the
prisoners in it, except those committed for treason. In
the street leading from the bridge stands the celebrated
monument where Charles VII. and Joan of Arc the
Maid of Orleans, are represented on their knees before
the body of our Saviour, who lies extended on the lap
VOL. XV. Part II.
O ft L
It was erected by order of that mo¬
narch in 1458, to perpetuate his victories over the
English, and their expulsion from his dominions. All
the figures are in iron. Tbe king appears bareheaded,
and by him lies his helmet surmounted with a crown.
Opposite to him is the Maid herself in the same atti¬
tude of grateful devotion to Pleaven. It is a most
precious and invaluable historical monument.
“ In the Hotel de Ville (says Wraxall) is a portrait
of the same immortal woman, which I studied long and
attentively. Though it was not done till 1581, which
was near 130 years after her decease, it is yet the
oldest and best picture of her now existing. The
painter seems undoubtedly to have drawn a flattering
resemblance of her, and to have given his heroine
imaginary charms. Her face, though long, is of ex¬
ceeding beauty, heightened by an expression of intel¬
ligence and grandeur rarely united. Her hair falls
loosely down her back, and she wears on her head a
sort of bonnet enriched with pearls, and shaded with
white plumes, tied under her chin with a string. About
her neck is a little collar, and lower down, upon her bo¬
som, a necklace composed of small links. Her dress,
which is that of a woman, I find it difficult exactly to
describe. It sits close to the body, and is cut or slashed
at the arms and elbows. Round her waist is an embroi- '
dered girdle, and in her right hand she holds the sword
with which she expelled tbe enemies of her sovereign
and her country* I am not surprised at the animated
and enthusiastic attachment which the French still che¬
rish for her memory. The critical and desperate emer¬
gency in which she appeared ; her sex, youth, and even
the obscurity of her birth ; the unparalleled success
which crowned her enterprise ; the cruel and detestable
sentence by which she was put to death ; the air of the
marvellous spread over the whole narration, increased
and strengthened by that veneration which time affixes
to every great event—all these united causes conspired
to place her above mortality. Rome and Athens would
undoubtedly have ranked her among their tutelary dei¬
ties, and have erected temples to her honour; nor can
I help being amazed, that amidst the almost infinite
number of modern saints who crowd and disgrace their
churches, no altar has yet been dedicated to the Maid
of Orleans.” See France, N° ioi. . .
The bridge was new built in the i8tb century, and
opened in 1760; and the French esteem it the finest in.
the world. E. Long. 1. 59. N. Lat. 47. 54.
Orleans, Hciv, the capital of the state of Louisi¬
ana in North America. It is situated on the left side
of the Mississippi river, 105 miles from its mouth.
This place was founded by the French in 1720; and
since it was ceded to the United States with the rest of.
Louisiana in 1803, its growth has been rapid beyond,
example. In 1817 it was estimated to contain 30,000
inhabitants, about one third only of whom speak Eng¬
lish. It is the great depot of trade for all the countries
watered by the Mississippi, Missouri, and Ohio, and
must in progress of time become one of the first trad¬
ing cities in the world. The exports in 1817 amount¬
ed to 9,024,812 dollars. The low situation of the
town exposes it sometimes to inundation, though it is
protected by an embankment ; and the extensive
marshes all round render it unhealthy. The streets
+ 3 N are
Orleaii ■,
O R M
[ 4<56 ]
O R N
_ , are strai'*iit, wide, and run at right angles with another,
r.eins .j,0!Tses are generally ot wood, and built low } but
©rmskirk. some of them are very handsonie and splendidly tur-
'   ' nished. The inhabitants arc a mixture of all nations,
but the French and Spaniards are the most numerous
classes. The style of living is luxurious and expensive.
About six miles below this town a battle was fought
between the British and Americans, on the 8th Janu¬
ary 1815, in which the former were defeated with great
loss *
ORLEANS, Peter Joseph, a French Jesuit, and author
of Histoire des Revolutions d'Anglcterrc, was born at
Bourges in 1641. He taught belles lettres for some
time in his society, but afterwards devoted himself to
the writing of history. This pursuit he continued till
his death, which happened in 1698. He wrote also a
history of the Revolutions of Spain ; a History of 1 wo
conquering Tartars, Chunchi and Camhi *, the Life of
Father Cotqn, &c. His History of the Revolutions in
England, under thq family of the Stuarts, from the
year 1603 to 1690, was translated into English, and
published at London 1711, in one vol. 8vo. : t° uduch
is prefixed an Introduction, by Laurence Echard,M. A.
who i(Bays, that “ the great varieties and wonderful
chanoes in these reigns are here judiciously comprised in
a moderate volume with no less perspicuity than strict¬
ness 5 and with a beautiful mixture of short characters,
nice reflections, and noble sentences, which render the
whole agreeable and instructive. But while the reader
is entertained with so much skill and fineness, we ought
to caution him with relation to the education and reli¬
gion of the author j for though he has great marks of a
generous candour, and a laudable deference to all su¬
periors', yet he is to be considered, in all places, as one in
favour with the French king, and not only a true papist,
but a complete Jesuit.”
ORLOP E, in the sea language, the uppermost space
or deck in a great ship, reaching from the main to the
mizen mast. In three deck ships, the second and lowest
decks are sometimes called orlopes.^
ORMOND, the northern division of the county of
Tipperary, in the province of Munster in Ireland. For
a long time it gave the title of earl, and afterwards
of marquis and duke, to the noble family of Butler, de¬
scended from a sister of Thomas a Becket archbishop of
Canterbury ; till, at the accession of George I. the last
duke was attainted of high treason, and died abroad.
In that part of the country the family had great prero¬
gatives and privileges granted by Edward III.
ORMSIDE, a small town of England, near Apple¬
by, in Westmoreland. A great number of vessels of
brass, some of which seemed to have been guilt, were
discovered near the manor-house, by the water washing
away the soil. , ,
ORMSKIRK, in Lancashire, in England, is a hand¬
some town, with a good inland trade, and a population
of 3064 in 1811. By the late inland navigation it
has an extensive communication with the rivers Mer¬
sey, Dee, Ribble, Ouse, Trent, &c. There is a bitu- Ormskirk
mmous earth about this place, from which oil of amber ||
is extracted, that preserves raw flesh, and serves the 0rn],^°Sal-
poor people instead of candles. Not far from it is
Latham House, which was gallantly defended in the
civil wars by Charlotte countess of Derby, who held it
to the last extremity against the parliament forces, till
she was relieved by Prince Rupert. It was, however,
ruined in a second siege } and sold by the family to Sir
Thomas Bootle, who built a very magnificent house
upon it. .iir
ORMUS, a small island of Asia, at the bottom of
the gulf of the same name, at the entrance of the
gulf of Persia. It is about two leagues from the
main land, and about six leagues in circuit.. They
catch excellent oysters about the island and it yields
plenty of fine white salt 5 also a kind of shining black
sand, which is used for dusting writings, and is trans¬
ported in considerable quantity to Europe. There is
neither sweet water nor grass upon it, the soil being of
a salt sulphureous nature. It was taken by the Por-
tuo-uese in 1507, who fortified it 5 and it was after¬
wards frequented by a vast number of merchants, who
w'ere extremely rich. In 1622 the Persians, by the
assistance of the English, conquered this place, and
demolished the houses, which were 4000 in number,
containing 40,000 inhabitants. Some time alter, the
Persians rebuilt the fort, and placed a garrison in it •,
but they could never bring it to be a place of trade
as before : however, it is the key of the Persian gulf,
as well on account of the importance of the place, as
the commodiousness of the harbour. It is now almost
deserted, for it produces nothing but salt, which some¬
times is two inches deep upon the surface of the earth.
E. Long. 56. 25. N. Lat. 27. 20.
ORNE, a department of France, including part ot
ci devant Normandy and Perche. The soil is low and
moist, but being well adapted for pasture, great num¬
bers of cattle and horses are raised. There are some
considerable woods, and some productive mines of iron.
The trade consists chiefly in grain, cyder, cattle, horses,
hemp, and in serge, woollen cloths, lace, and linens, of
which there are manufactures. The territorial extent
of this department is 1,265,000 arpents, or 2400 square
English miles. The population in 1800 was 397,931
persons. The contributions for the year 1802 amount¬
ed to 3,666,903 francs. Alen^on is the chief town.
ORNITHINE, a name given by the ancients to
certain winds, which usually blew in the spring, at the
time when the birds of passage came over to them.
Pliny says, that these winds Flew from the West, and
that by some the Etesian winds were called by this
name. Others suppose that they blew from the north,
or north-west.
ORNITHOGALLUM, Star of Bethlehemj a
genus of plants belonging to the hexandria class j and m
the natural method ranking under the 10th order, t-a-
ronarice. See Botany Index.
ORNITHOLOGY.
C 467 ]
ORNITHOLOGY.
Tiitholo-
al wri-
istotle
11 PJiny.
INTRODUCTION.
1
icfiaition. HE term Ornithology is derived from the Greek
a bird, and Aoy«f, discourse, and denotes that
part of Zoology which treats of birds.
Birds are two footed animals, covered with feathers,
and furnished with wings. Like quadrupeds and the
cetaceous tribe, they have warm blood, a heart with two
ventricles, and two auricles, and lungs for the purpose
of respiration ; but they are distinguished from both by
their feet, feathers, wings, and horny bill, as well
as by the circumstance of their females being ovipa¬
rous.
The elegant and beautiful colouring of many of the
feathered race, the graceful ease of their flight, their
various music, their tender solicitude for their offspring,
their engaging instincts, their susceptibility of domesti¬
cation, and their subservience to the sustenance of man,
have, in all ages, contributed to interest the latter in
the study of their history.
Of the naturalists, however, whose writings have de¬
scended to us from antiquity, Aristotle and Pliny are
the only two who appear to have entered into any de¬
tails on a subject so inviting and important. Though
the former composed no particular treatise on birds, he
brings them under review in different parts of his Hi¬
story of Animals. In the third chapter of the eighth
book, for example, he enumerates the different sorts of
nourishment adapted' to different species, and their va¬
rious modes of feeding. The ninth book contains his
very imperfect nomenclature, his remarks on the diversi¬
fied modes of nidification, and some valuable observa¬
tions on the family of eagles. His notion of the orga¬
nization and habitudes of birds are interspersed in the
body of the work, and introduced in the way of com¬
parative reference to the structure and manners of other
animals. Pliny’s enumeration of the feathered species,
is extended over most part of his tenth book, but is de¬
stitute of precise description, and encumbered with ab¬
surdity and fable.
Of the numerous ornithologists of more modern date,
some have chiefly directed their labours to method and
classification, others have been more solicitous to de¬
scribe and delineate •, some have treated of the whole
class, others of particular portions of it; while, lastly,
some have been contented to define and describe, and
others have illustrated and enhanced their text by more
or less accurate designs from living or prepared speci¬
mens. This combination of the pen and the pencil,
which has so eminently contributed, in our day, to the
acquisition and diffusion of knowledge, seems to have
been unknown to the ancients.
Although the unavoidable limitation of our plan pre¬
cludes a minute and critical report of the works to
which we have just alluded, we shall briefly advert to a
few of the most conspicuous. Among the first who ex¬
cited, on the continent, a taste for the study of ornitho-
logy, and for a methodical distribution of that portion
of science, we may mention Belon. Aware that nature Belou.
is most successfully contemplated in her own works, he
travelled from the laudable desire of collecting informa¬
tion, and communicated to the world the results of his
enquiries. His History of Birds, a thin folio volume,
divided into seven books, or parts, and illustrated by
wooden cuts, was published at Paris, in 1555. His
principle of classification being chiefly founded on the
circumstances of habitation and food, and only occasion¬
ally on external forms and characters, is obviously very
defective •, his descriptions, though tolerably accurate,
are, for the most part, too concise ; and many of his
plates are very inadequate representations of their ori¬
ginals. It must, at the same time, be allowed, that he
frequently suggests judicious views of his subject; that
he notes with ingenuity, the points of resemblance be¬
tween the human skeleton and that of birds 5 that he has
penned several passages which may still he perused with
interest and instruction j that the naivete'o{ his manner
is always pleasing, and that when we reflect on the pe¬
riod in which he flourished, he is entitled to no ordinary
praise. ^
The celebrated Conrad Gesner, physician and profes-Gesner
sor at Zurich, and contemporary with Belon, has devo¬
ted the third volume of his History of Animals to the
department of ornithology. It is an erudite, but pon¬
derous tome, exhibiting alphabetical tables of the names
of birds, in Hebrew, Chaldee, Arabic, Greek, Latin,
and most of the spoken languages of Europe. His de¬
scriptions are compiled abridgements j but his referen¬
ces, at the close, of each article, are very numerous ; for
if any author of his acquaintance happen to mention a
bird, his name and the passage are duly commemorated.
Gesner’s arrangement differs in no respect from that of
any common dictionary 5 and few of his engravings are
executed with correctness. The curious reader will
probably he gratified with the perusal of his account of
the art of rearing birds for falconry, the diseases to
which they are liable, and the remedies which the learn¬
ed doctor prescribes. g
The same topics are discussed by Aldrovandus, a phy- AMrovsa-
sician of Bologna, who availing himself of the writingsdus.
of the two preceding naturalists, added to their indi¬
gested stores, and compiled three folios, divided into 20
books, and illustrated by wooden plates. His catalogue,
however, scarcely comprises any birds but such as are
natives of Europe, and by no means all even of these.
He too implicitly adopts the vague distinctions of Belon
and on various occasions, not only copies Aristotle with
servility, but overlays his borrowed materials with a
mass of dark commentary. The motley complexion of
the whole production, in fact, betrays the desire of ac¬
cumulation rather than the exercise of taste and judge¬
ment. 7
Johnston, who published in 1657 a folio volume of JohasWu.
j 6o pages, did little else than greatly condense the hea¬
vy compilements of Gesner and Aldrovandus. He di¬
vides the whole class into land and water birds, and dei
duces his subordinate divisions from the nature of their
3 N 2 ' aliments.
O R N I T H
"Willough¬
by.
Kay.
10
Baircvc.
xx
K.lei».
aliments. His descriptions are generally correct, but
scanty ", and even his figures, though traced with more
character than those of his predecessors, bespeak a par¬
simony of engraving.
The next writer of eminence in this department, who
merits particular quotation, is Francis Willoughby,
Esq. an Englishman gentleman, who laid the foundation
of a more accurate arrangement. His work, which ap¬
peared in 1676, was revised and edited by his friend
the celebrated Rav. It is divided into three books, of
which the first is allotted to general views of the sub-
ject, and an explanation of the author’s method. The
first chapter treats of the form and external structure
of birds, the second of their organization and internal
structure. The sixth includes 24 queries, the answers
to which, if founded on fact, would greatly contribute
to the advancement of ornithology. Mr Willoughby
formal!) recognizes the grand division of terrestrial
and aquatic, comprising under the former those who live
at a distance from water, and under the second, those
which live on the margin or surface of that element.
He then institutes his leading distinctions from the form
of the bill and feet, and would doubtless have accom¬
plished a more complete arrangement, had he uniform¬
ly adhered to the same principle $ but in compliance
with the prejudices of his time, he assumes the different,
kinds of food, the varieties of size, the nature of the flesh,
and even moral qualities, as the grounds of subdivisions.
At all events, however, he has the credit of having
opened a career, which others have successfully pursued.
His second and third books contain the description and
history of the species, distributed according to the rules
laid down in the first. To the exposition of each genus
are prefixed two chapters of general observations j the
first including the vague or fabulous accounts of the
ancients, and the second such common properties as ap¬
pertain to the genus. The author then proceeds to the
specific details, stating the most important particulars
with precision and neatness, and concluding with an ac¬
count of peculiar habits.
Ray, in his Synopsis Avium, follows, with a few ex¬
ceptions, the method of his friend, referring at the same
time to the tail feathers, and some parts of the internal
conformation. The latter, we need scarcely remark,
cannot with any propriety be adopted as generic or spe¬
cific characters.
The new method of classing birds proposed by Mon¬
sieur Barrere in 1745, implies either a total ignorance
or blameable neglect of the writings of Willoughby
and Ray. As its only tendency was to confuse and per¬
plex, we forbear noticing its details. Suffice it to re¬
mark, that it includes the peacock and man of war bird
in the same family, and ranks the yellow hammer be¬
tween the bustard and the ostrich. In his Essay on the
^Natural History of Guiana, the same author enume¬
rates the birds in alphabetical order j but his catalogue
has been more than doubled by subsequent travellers.
Jacob Theodore Klein, member of several learned
academies, published at Lubeck in 1750 a quarto vo¬
lume, enttitled, Historice Avium Prodromus, cum pree-
j'atione de ordine animalium in gen ere. In this work
he divides birds Into families, orders, and tribes. His
eight families are distinguished by the conformation of
the feet, his orders by the form of the bill, and his
tribes, sometimes by the form and proportions of the
O L O G Y.
head, sometimes by accidental differences of the bill, Introduc.
and sometimes by the author’s own fanciful ideas, tion.
From loo great an anxiety to simplify, this naturalist is' "
generally too brief, and adds to his obscurity by an af¬
fectation of learned phraseology. l2
This last-mentioned quality likewise disfigures theMsekring,
scientific catalogue of Meehring, physician to the prince
of Anhalt, which appeared in I7J2, classes> or¬
ders, and genera, are founded on the formation of the
feet and bill; and his descriptions of birds examined by
himself, are usually accurate 5 but he is often misled by
the errors of others, and the method which he proposes
is complex and incommodious. 13
In this summary of celebrated systematic ornitholo-Linnseus.
gists, we may assign to Linnaeus the date of 1766,
when he published the 1 2th edition of his Systema ISa-
turce. In so far as that astonishing body of arrange¬
ment respects the feathered tribes, it certainly manifests
at once the extent and minuteness of the author’s dis¬
criminating powers. As the same nomenclature and
divisions are still the most familiar to British natural¬
ists, we purpose to be chiefly regulated by them in the
sequel, and consequently shall, for the present, wave
any explanation of the Linnaean arrangement. 14
M. Salerne physician at Orleans, left behind him aSaleme.
MS. treatise on Ornithology, which was published by
his friends in 1767. His method is that of Ray. The
historical part is from the pen of Salerne himself } but
the body of the text is a promiscuous and clumsy com¬
pilation. The typography is executed with neatness
and elegance, and the plates, which are 31 in number,
are engraved with uncommon skill 3 though the larger
birds are for the most part represented on too small a
scale. _
M. Brisson of the Royal Academy of Sciences, pub-bris ou.
lished, in 1 760, A System of Ornithology, in Latin and
French, in six quarto volumes. He distributes birds
into 26 orders, instituted from the form of the feet, bill,
&c. 115 genera, which are determined by the peculia¬
rities of the bill or mandibles, and about 1300 species.
Each article is preceded by a numerous and accurate
list of leferences and figures 3 many species, till then
undescribed, are particularized 3 and the work is illus¬
trated by upwards of 2 20 excellent engravings. The
principal merit of Brisson’s plan consists in the adoption
of external and permanent characters, which enable the
student to assign the name and station of a bird which
he sees for the first time. The descriptions are equal¬
ly accurate with those of Willoughby, and more co¬
pious. Though not exempt from errors and defects, this
work still holds a respectable rank in the library of the
ornithologist.
The Natural History of Birds, by the Gomte de Buf-
fon and his learned associates, is too generally known to
require our analysis or criticism. Its great defect is want
of scientific arrangement, a want which is scarcely re¬
deemed even by the popular, luminous and elegant style
of the descriptions, combined with the highly finished
execution of the coloured plates. W7ith the exception,
however, to which we have just alluded, we feel no he¬
sitation. in adopting the language of the English transla¬
tor. “ The history of birds possesses every quality that
could recommend it to the public: it exhibits a clear and
comprehensive view of the knowledge acquired in orni¬
thology, scattered through a multiplicity of volumes, and
16
Buffon.
ORNITHOLOGY.
, i;
‘iduyt.
in various languages, it discusses and elucidates with cri¬
tical accuracy, the numerous controverted points ; it re¬
duces the whole to simplicity, order, and elegance j and,
by large additions of valuable matter, it greatly extends
the bounds of the science.”—“ M. de Buffon was not to
be deterred by the difficulty and extent of the undertak¬
ing. The correspondents of the king’s cabinet continued
to transmit numerous communications, and specimens
from all parts of the world. Above eighty artists were,
under the direction of the younger M. Daubenton, em¬
ployed five years in the drawing, engraving, and colour¬
ing, of upwards of a thousand birds. But the com¬
mencement of the work which these were intended to
illustrate was delayed two years, by reason of a severe
and tedious indisposition, which during that space afflict¬
ed the excellent naturalist. And after be had recovered
his health, he reflected that at his advanced period of
life he could not reasonably expect to be able to accom¬
plish the history of birds, and also that of mineials, in
which he had already made some advances. He judged
it expedient therefore to have recourse to the assistance
of his friends; and he was peculiarly fortunate in the
choice of the learned and eloquent M. Gueneau de
Montbeillard, who cheerfully undertook the laborious
task, and composed the greatest part of the two first vo¬
lumes of the History of Birds, which appeared in 1771,
under the name however of M. de Buffon. In his com¬
plexion of thought and mode of expression, M. de Mont¬
beillard followed so closely his illustrious associate, that
the public could not perceive any change. It was now
proper to throw off the mask 5 and in the publication of
the four subsequent volumes, each author prefixed his
name to his own articles. The third volume was nearly
printed when new assistance was received from the com¬
munications of James Bruce, Esq. of Kinnaird. That
accomplished and adventurous traveller, in bis return
from Abyssinia, passed some days with M. de Buffon at
Paris. The count was filled with admiration on seeing
the numerous and elegant drawings which Mr Bruce had
made of natural objects •, and on several occasions he
mentions the explorer of the source of the Nile in terms
the most flattering and respectful. After the publica¬
tion of the sixth volume in 1781, M. de Montbeillard was
desirous of devoting the whole of his leisure in composing
the History of Insects, which had become his favourite
study. The three remaining volumes were therefore
written by M. de Buffon himself j though he acknow¬
ledges that the Abbe Bexton had collected the nomen¬
clature, formed most of the descriptions, and communi¬
cated several important hints. The work was completed
in 1783 j and as only a few copies of the illumined
plates were on sale, and these extremely costly, a small
set of engravings were made, to accommodate ordinary
purchasers.”
Sonnini’s recent edition of Buffon’s Natural History
contains many valuable additions j and forms, perhaps,
one of the most complete works of the kind that has yet
appeared. In the department of ornithology, it presents
us with descriptions and figures of every bird to which
the editors could have access, either in the living or
preserved state, or of which they could be favoured with
drawings.
Mauduyt’s Dictionary of Ornithology, which makes
part of the Encyclopedic Methodiyuc, deserves to be par¬
ticularly quoted, on account of the preliminary discour-
4
469
ses, the accuracy of the descriptions and references, and Introduc¬
tion.
the correct execution of the plates. The whole forms
an excellent collection of the most important particulars
which lay within the author’s reach ; and we have oc¬
casionally availed ourselves of his labours in the compile-
nient of the present article. s
A series of splendid plates was executed at Florence, Gerini.
in illustration ol Gerini’s Ornithology j but they betray,
in general, a disregard of nature, and are, in many in¬
stances, merely copied from imperfect drawings or in¬
accurate engravings. Gerini’s nomenclature is like¬
wise very faulty, and too frequently confounds species
and varieties. T„
In 1773, the ingenious and indefatigable Mr Pennant Pennant,
published a small volume, entitled Genera of Birds.
In bis preface, he enters into a minute account of the
external parts of birds, their feathers, flight, nidifica,-
tion, &.c. In his selection ol systematic arrangement,
he gives the preference to that of Ray, whose plan ap¬
pears to him to be so judicious, that it is scarcely pos¬
sible to make any change in it for the better. At the
same time* he admits, that latter discoveries bad made a
lew improvements on his labours. “ My candid friend,
Linnseus,” adds Mr Pennant, “ will not take it amiss,
that I in part, neglect his example ; for I permit the
land fowl to follow one another, undivided by the>
waterfowl with pinnated feet, placing them between
the waders or clovenfooted water-fowl, and the web-
footed. I he ostrich, and land-birds with wings useless
for flight, I place as a distinct order. The trumpeter
( Psophia Limuei) and the bustards, I place at the end
ot the gallinaceous tribe. All are land-birds. The first
multiparous, like the generality of the gallinaceous
tribe; the last granivorous, swift runners, avoiders of
wet places ; and both have bills somewhat arched. It
must be confessed, that both have legs naked above the
knees, and the last, like the leaders, lay but few eggs.
They seem ambiguous birds* that have affinity with each
order •, and it is hoped, that each naturalist may be in¬
dulged the toleration of placing them as suits his own
opinion.” Mr Pennant’s grand divisions, then, are
into land-birds and waterfowl. The first he distributes
into the six following orders. 1. Rapacious, 2. Pies,
3. Gallinaceous, 4. Columbine, 5. Passerine, and 6.Stru-
thious. The second comprehends, 7. Cloven-footed, or
IPiders, 8. those with Pinnated feet, and 9. the JEeb-
f00te(l- - aa
In 1781, Dr Latham commenced bis Geraern/SV/motj-Lathau*
sis of Birds, a work of much accurate detail, and ex¬
tending to three double quarto volumes, with two of
supplement. Admitting the primary division of Ray, he
adheres, with a few exceptions, to the Linnsean genera,
which, as well as the species, his opportunities of re¬
search enabled him to multiply to a very considerable
amount. Each genus is illustrated by one coloured cop¬
perplate at least, usually of some rare species. Of these
plates, however, the execution is sometimes coarse or
meagre 5 and candour will not permit us to compliment
the author on the purity or correctness of bis style. His
volumes, nevertheless, constitute a precious repository
of descriptions and facts, and must always hold a dis¬
tinguished place in the library of the ornithologist. Dr
Latham is likewise the author of an Index Ornitholo-
gicus, which forms a convenient compend of his farger
work, being comprised in two qbarto volumes.
About
Cerardin.
O R N I T H
Abotit two years ago, Sebastian Gerardin de Mire-
court published an “ Elementary View of Ornithology,
or the Natural History of those Birds^which usually occur
in France,” &e. This gentleman appears to have been
born and bred in the department of the Voges, in which
he discharged the duties of professor of natural history,
and which is known to contain a greater diversity of the
feathered race than almost any province in Europe. His
preliminary discourse explains the general topics ot or¬
nithology in language at once succinct and perspicuous.
The five chapters of which it consists were submitted to
the revision of the estimable Uaudin, whose premature
death his friends and science will long deplore. Ihe ar¬
rangement of the work, which is limited to two octavo
volumes, and a thin quarto volume ot plates, has been
chiefly regulated by that of Cuvier, in his Sketch of the
Natural History of Animals j but M. Gerardin has ven¬
tured to introduce a few occasional alterations, which
were suggested in the course of his teaching in the cen¬
tral school, and which he conceived would facilitate the
progress of his pupils. His synonymy is that of Linnaeus
and Brisson *, and his descriptions are generally minute,
distinct, and accurate. On the whole, however, the
reader is entitled to expect more copious infoimation re¬
lative to the manners and habits of many ot the species,
than will be found in these results of thirty years appli¬
cation to the subject, combined with many favourable
opportunities. We have also remarked a want ot uni¬
formity and precision in some of the author’s statements.
The engravings are chiefly valuable on account ot the
2Z correctness of their outlines.
TIernandez. Of the numerous writers wbo have treated of the birds
of particular countries, we may observe, that Hernan¬
dez,, a Spanish physician, has ■described those of Mexico.
His work consists of 229 chapters, each of which,
generally, treats of a single species. As they are, how¬
ever, designed only by their Mexican names, and de¬
scribed with too much brevity, their precise stations in
the Linnaean arrangement are with difficulty ascertained.
Similar objections apply to the work ot Nieremberg,
who has described the birds of the same country. From
both we may infer, that the feathered tribes in Mexico
are numerous, and diversified with the most brilliant co¬
louring ; and that the natives had made considerable
progress in the study of their history.
Brazil presents a still more rich and splendid field to
23
Nierem-
berg.
24
Marcgravc.
25
Sloane.
29
Catesby.
the researches of the ornithologist j but Marcgrave, who
professes to delineate its natural history, and allots his
fifth hook to the birds, is not less defective than the two
writers whom we have just mentioned. His plates are
not only wretchedly executed ; but frequently do not
correspond with the descriptions.
Sir Hans Sloane, in his History of Jamaica, has re¬
presented 44 species of birds, in 18 plates, annexed to
the second volume ; but it is seldom that the reader can
rely on the accuracy of his delineations.
To Mr Catesby of the Royal Society, we are indebt¬
ed for an excellent account of the birds of Carolina,
Florida, and the Bahama islands, in two volumes impe¬
rial folio, in French and English. The first volume, and
part of the appendix in the second, are devoted to the
birds. The descriptions are concise and perspicuous, and
accompanied with some interesting not.ces relative to the
manners and habits of the species describe d 1 he plates,
which are numerous, are generally faithlu! representa-
O L O G Y.
tions of the originals, and admirably well coloured. The Jntrodnc
method followed in these splendid volumes, approaches
somewhat to that of Willoughby.
Schwenckfel a physician, who published in 1603 aSchw2£7nd
natural history of Siberia, in two quarto volumes, in-fei.
eludes the birds in his fourth book. His enumeration
and description of the parts which belong to birds in
conrtmon with other animals, and of the appropriate parts
of the organization of the former, are neat and accurate.
H is differences, founded on habitation, food, &c. are
less valuable. The introduction is followed by the enu¬
meration of birds, in alphabetical order, according to
their Latin names. The descriptions, though accurate,
are, for the most part, too short; and though adequate
to recall a bird already known, are not sufficient to con¬
vey a precise notion of those which are described for the
first time. The historical portion is too much con¬
densed ; and with facts which are calculated to excite
interest, the author often blends such as are superfluous,
or improbable. 2!
M. Brunnich published in 1764, an account of theBrunnich.
birds of Denmark, and the neighbouring islands and
provinces. In most instances he follows the Linnsean
nomenclature, and sometimes the synonymy of Brisson.
He chiefly dwells on the rare and non-descript species,
but even then seldom enters sufficiently into detail, to
enable the student to ascertain the species in question. Z9
M. Sonnerat, corresponding member of the Royal Sonnerat.
Academy of Sciences of Paris, published, in i77^> an
account of his voyage to New Guinea, the Molucca and
Philippine islands, the isle of Franee, and some other
islands, in the Indian ocean $ and in 1783, he favoured
the world with a relation of his second voyage, to several
parts of the East Indies and China. Though this zeal¬
ous and learned naturalist was prevented by Rant of
time, from forming very extensive collections, his de¬
scriptions and designs manifest both accuracy ana taste.
Besides correcting the errors of former travellers and
voyagers, he has noticed a considerable number of birds
for the first time, and most of them remarkable either
for their singularity or beauty. His account of the wild
cock and hen, the origin of our common domestic fowl,
will be perused with peculiar interest. _
The splendid work of Frisch, a German naturalist, Frisch,
chit fly consists of coloured plates of the birds of Europe,
arranged in 1 2 classes according to distinctions which are
sometimes vague and incommodious. T.he figures are,
for the most part, accurate and lively representations from
nature, though in some instances, they are larger than
the life. The author has bestowed particular attention
on the different colourings of the trvo sexes of the same
species. r 31
M. le Vaillar.t, author of a voyage to the Cape ofLevaii)aiit.
Good Hope, and of the natural history of the birds of
Africa, is eminently distinguished by the ardour and
acuteness with wbieii he has prosecuted his ornithologi¬
cal researches, and has availed himself with laudable di¬
ligence of his rare opportunities of collecting accurate
details relative to every species which he undertakes to
illustrate. His natural history of the birds of paradise,
rollers, promeropes, toucans, and arbets, is perhaps
the most highly finished and sumptuous publication that
has appeared in anv of the departments of ornithology.
The figures, about one hundred m number, are engraved
by Eeiee, from the drawings of Barraband, coloured by -
J ' Langlois,
O R N I T H
Aroduc- ^finglois, and retouched by the pencil of the original
tion. designer; while the elder Didot has executed the.tvpo-
"'V—' graphy, in his best style, on vellum paper. Each figure
is as large as life, and is usually drawn from a specimen
in the highest state of preservation ; and in many cases,
an exact representation of the female bird has also been
obtained. Though the pre-eminent merit of the work
consists in the figures and descriptions, it is in a few
instances agreeably diversified by traits of character,
which the author remarked in the living bird, and by
some interesting hints of a more general complexion,
which his accurate and extensive observation enabled
him to collect. We cannot, however, refrain from ex¬
pressing a wish, that he had been more liberal of his sy¬
nonyms and references, and that he had treated syste¬
matic writers with a little more respect. We should
not forget, that methodical nomenclature, though the
result of art, and liable to many errors, is entitled at
least to subordinate regard, and as an unspeakable aid
to the memory. Even if we should concede to our in¬
novating author the propriety of those mere fanciful ar¬
rangements to which he manifests a predilection, it
would still admit of doubt, whether, on the whole, they
would more accord with gradations unequivocally indi¬
cated by nature. Are we certain that, amid her count¬
less productions, nature recognizes a single line of de¬
marcation ? or, that the study of ornithology would be
essentially promoted by classing the sifilet with the jays,
or every individual furnished with parade feathers among
birds of paradise ?
Ilmarest. The natural history of tanagers, todies, and mana-
kins by Anseline Gaetan Desmarest, with coloured en ¬
gravings, from drawings by Paulina de Courcelles, pu¬
pil of Barraband, is another of those recent and splendid
productions of the Parisian press, which reflect so much
honour on the zeal, industry, and taste of the French
naturalists. The paper, type, and figures, all bespeak
the excellence of the respective artists who have produ¬
ced them, as well as the love of chaste and elegant em¬
bellishment which has presided over the undertaking.
The ornamental style of the work, however, is not its
sole passport to our favourable notice. The exposition
of the three genera mentioned in the title, is a subject
which calls for much critical research and laborious in¬
vestigation. M. Desmarest, without presuming to ex¬
tricate the whole nomenclature, lays down many impor¬
tant distinctions, and proceeds with circumspection, so
far as his opportunities have enabled him to advance.
“ Before we enter,” says he, “ on the details of the
species, it may be-proper to mention, that we shall li¬
mit our descriptions to those which we have seen, and
of which we have been enabled to exhibit figures. We
shall, moreover, endeavour to analyse, and, if possible,
to unravel the references of authors. Should success
thus far attend us, we conceive that we shall have duly
performed the part of zealous naturalists.” Besides de¬
scriptions and plates of the male, the author has also,
not unfrequently, represented the female, or young of
the same species, or an individual as it appears in the
moulting state. His pages will afford least entertain¬
ment to those, who delight to observe the instincts and
economy of the feathered race ; and who shrink from
the minute adjustment of classification and synonymy*
It ought, however, to lie remembered that few authentic
facts have been collected relative to the history of these
5
O L O G Y. 47I
foreign birds ; and that though future travellers may Introduc-
inciease the scanty stock ot interesting notices, the ex- tion.
ertions of the present author may not a little contribute ' v—
to systematize and facilitate their observations.
The Natural History of Birds, by George Edwards, Edwalds
in four quarto volumes, without any reference to coun¬
try or method, contains many excellent coloured designs
and correct descriptions; and the same remark applies
to his Gleanings of Natural History, the most consider¬
able portion of which relates to birds.
Several of his countrymen have expounded or deli- British or-
neated the buds of our own island with more or less fe- nitholo-
licity of manner. The ornithological part of Pennant’s £ists*
British Zoology, Hayes’s Natural History of British
Birds, with their portraits accurately drawn, and beau¬
tifully coloured from nature; Lard’s Natural History
of British Birds, Lewin’s Birds of Great Britain, with
their eggs, in three volumes quarto, Walcott’s Synopsis
of British Birds, two volumes 4to, Bewick’s History of
British Birds, with figures engraved on wood, &c. tkc.
aie all entitled to critical notice; but the limitation of
our plan forbids us to dwell on them. We shall, there-
foie, close this portion of our introduction by pointing
to a work which seems not yet to have procured its due
share of the public favour; we mean the Ornithological MoaUgo,
Dictionary, or Alphabetical Synopsis of British Birds,
by George Montagu, F. L. S. &c. in two small octavo
volumes. We are acquainted with few publications of
the kind that contain a larger quantity of accurate and
important information within such a narrow compass.
As a book of reference and consultation, it is well cal¬
culated to suit the occasions of ordinary readers, and
even to convey instruction to the learned student. The
synopsis and specific descriptions evince much diligence
and accuracy ; and various articles are enriched by
the result of personal observation and extensive travel..
Sufficiently aware of the fallible indications of plumage,
the writer is more solicitous to reduce than to multiply
distinctions; and in doubtful cases, has sometimes had re¬
course to the unequivocal test of dissection. A few of the
articles, however, are dismissed with too much brevity,
and the style is very deficient in polish and correctness!
If any of our readers are desirous of procuring a more
complete catalogue of works published on ornithology
prior to the year 1760, they will find it in Gronovius’s
Bibliotheca regni animalis atque lapidei, ac recensio
auctorvm et librorvm qui cle regno animali ct lapidco,
methodice, physice, &c. tractant.
. T,le structure of the feathered tribes, and their ha-General ©b-
hits of life, are wonderfully adapted to the various nervations
functions which they are destined to perform. The on birds‘
pointed beak, the long and pliant neck, the gently swel- Suitable
ling shoulder, the expansive wings, the tapering tai^cinf™,
the light and bony feet, are all wisely calculated to as- don.
sist anti accelerate their motion through the yielding air.
Every part of their frame is formed for tightness and
buoyancy ; their bodies are covered with a soft and de¬
licate plumage, so disposed as to protect them from the
intense cold of the atmosphere through which they pass ;
their wings are made of the lightest materials, and yet
the force with which they strike the air is so great, as
to impel their bodies forward with astonishing rapidity,
while the tail serves the purpose of a rudder to direct
them to the different objects of their pursuit. The in¬
ternal structure of birds is no less wisely adapted to the-
same
47 2
Introduc¬
tion.
38
Nutrition.
O R N I T H
same purposes all tiie hones are light ami thin, and all
the muscles, except those, which are appropriated to the
movements of the wings, are extremely light and deli¬
cate. The lungs are placed close to the backbone and
ribs. The air, entering into them by a communication
from the windpipe, passes through, and is conveyed in¬
to a number of membranous cells which lie on the sides
of the pericardium, and communicate with those ot the
sternum. In some birds, these cells are continued down
the wings, and extended even to tlie pinions, thigh
bones, and other parts of the body, which can be filled
and distended with air at the pleasure of the animal.
The feathers, too, and particularly those of the wings,
contain a great quantity of air. The almost universal
diffusion of this fluid in the bodies of birds is of infinite
use to them, not only in their long and laborious flights,
but likewise in preventing their respiration from being
stopped or interrupted by the rapidity ot their motion
through a resisting medium. Were it possible for man
to move with the swiftness of a swallow, the actual it-
sistance of tlie air, as he is not provided with internal
reservoirs similar to those of birds, ivould soon suffocate
him. . . , .
Birds, like quadrupeds, may be divided into granivo-
rous and carnivorous. '! he former are furnished with
larger intestines than those of the latter. .Their food,
which consists of grain of various sorts, is conveyed en¬
tire into the first stomach, or craw, where it undergoes
a partial dilution by a liquor secreted from the glands,
and spread over its surface. It is then received into an¬
other species of stomach, where it is farther diluted, af¬
ter which it is transmitted into the gizzard, or true sto¬
mach, consisting of two very strong muscles, externally
covered with a tendinous substance, and lined with .1
thick membrane of prodigious power and strength, in
which organ the food is completely triturated, and pre¬
pared for the operation of the gastric juices. In order
to ascertain the strength of these stomachs, Spallanzani
had recourse to a great variety of ingenious experiments.
Tin tubes, full of grain were forced into the stomachs
of turkeys, and, after remaining 20 hours, were found
to be broken, compressed, and distorted in the most ir¬
regular manner. In the space ot 24 hours, the stomach
of a cock broke off the angles of a piece of rough jag¬
ged glass, though, on examining the gizzard, no
wound or laceration appeared. In a ball of lead,/were
fixed 12 strong needles, with the points projecting about
a quarter of an inch from the surface. I bus armed,
the ball was covered with a case of paper, and forced
down the throat of a turkey. The bird retained it a
day and a half without manifesting any symptoms of
uneasiness, and the points ot all the needles weic bio-
ken off close to the surface of the ball, except two or
three, of which the stumps projected a little. The
same interesting observer relates, that he fixed 12 small
and very sharp lancets, in a similar hall of lead, which
was given in the same manner to a turkey cock, and
left eight hours in the stomach, at the expiration of
which the organ was opened ; but nothing appeared ex¬
cept the naked ball, the lancets having been broken to
pieces, and the stomach remaining sound and entire.
Hence we may infer, that the stones so often found in
the stomachs of many of the feathered tribes, may
powerfully contribute to the comminution of grain and
other hard substances which constitute their food.
O L O G Y.
Granivorous birds partake much ot the nature and Introdnc.
disposition of herbivorous quadrupeds, agreeing with lion,
them in the number of their stomachs, the comparative
length and capacity of their intestines, the quality of
their food, and the gentleness of their manners. Con¬
tented with the seeds of plants, with fruits, insects, and
worms, their principal attention is directed to procuring
food, hatching and rearing their offspring, and eluding
the snares of men and the attacks of predaceous ani¬
mals. As they are generally tractable and easily do¬
mesticated, man has selected lor his own advantage
those which arc most prolific and profitable. Of these
the hen, goose, turkey, and duck, are the most consi¬
derable, and form a valuable store of rich, wholesome, #
and nutritious food.
Carnivorous birds are provided with wings of great
length, the muscles which move them being proportion¬
ally large and strong, so that they are enabled to keep
long on the wing, in search of their prey. Ihey are,
besides, armed with strong hooked bills, and sharp and
formidable claws. They have large heads, short necks,
strong and brawny thighs, and a sight so acute and
piercing, as to enable them to view their prey from the
greatest heights in the air, and to dart down on it with
incredible swiftness and undeviating aim. Their sto¬
machs are smaller than those of the granivorons kinds,
and their intestines are much shorter. The analogy
between carnivorous birds and quadrupeds, is too ob¬
vious to escape the notice ot even the superficial obser¬
ver. Both of them are provided with weapons which
indicate destruction and rapine, their manners are fierce
and unsocial, and they seldom congregate, like the in¬
offensive granivorous tribes; but when not on the
wing, retire to the tops of sequestered rocks, or to the
depths of extensive forests, where they conceal them¬
selves in sullen and gloomy solitude. Such of them as
feed on carrion, have the sense of smelling so acute,
that they can scent carcases at astonishing distances. 39^
Without the means of conveying themselves with
great swiftness from one place to another, birds could
not easily subsist, the food which nature has provided
for them being so irregularly distributed, that they are
obliged to take long journeys to distant parts in order
to procure the necessary supplies. Hence one cause of
those migrations which are so peculiar to the feathered
race. Besides the want of food, however, two' other
causes may be assigned, namely, the want ol a proper
temperature of air, and of a convenient situation for the
important work of breeding and rearing their young.
Such birds as migrate to great distances, are alone de¬
nominated birds of passage; but most species are more
or less so, although they do not move to places remote
from their former habitations. At particular periods of
the year, most birds remove from one country to an¬
other, or from the more inland districts towards the
shores, or vice versa. 'I he seasons of these migrations
are observed with the most astonishing order and punc¬
tuality j but the secrecy with which immense flocks
take their departure, and the suddenness with which
they reappear, are not easily explained. We are also
apt to suppose, that, during long flights over immense
tracts of water, the means of subsistence would inevita¬
bly fail, without reflecting on the superior velocity with
which birds are carried forward in the air, and the ease
with which they continue their exertions for a much
longer
troduc- longer time than can be clone by the strongest quadru-
tion. ped. Our swiftest horses are supposed to go at the rate
of a mile in somewhat less than two minutes j and there
is one instance on record of a horse that went at the rate
of nearly a mile in one minute, hut only for one second
of time. In such cases an uncommon degree of exertion
has been attended with its usual consequences, debility,
and a total want of power to continue that exertion j
hut the motions ot birds are not impeded by similar
causes, and they not only glide through the air with a
quickness superior to that of the swiftest quadrupeds,
but can continue on the wing with equal speed for a
considerable length ot time. Now, if we can suppose
a bird to go at ihe rate of only half a mile in a minute,
for the space of 24 hours, it will, in that time, have
gone over an extent of more than 700 miles; which is
sufficient to account for almost the longest migration ;
and, if aided by a favourable current of air, there is
reason to believe, that it will perform the same journey
in a much shorter space of time.
The wings of birds are so constructed, that, in stri¬
king downwards, they expand very considerably, and,
except that they are somewhat hollow on the under side,
they form, in this act, almost two planes. The muscles
that move the wings downwards are very large, and
have been estimated, in some instances, at not less than
the sixth part of the weight of the whole body. When
a bird is on the ground, and intends to fly, it takes a
leap, stretches its wings from the body, and strikes them
downwards with great force. By this stroke, they are
put into an oblique direction, partly upwards, and part¬
ly horizontally forwards. That part of the force which
tends upwards is destroyed by the weight of the bird,
while the horizontal impulse serves to carry it forwards.
.The stroke being completed, it moves its wings; and
they, being contracted, and having their edges turned
upwards, meet with very little resistance from the air.
When they are sufficiently elevated, it makes a second
stroke downwards, and the impulse of the air again
moves it forward. These successive strokes act as so
many leaps taken in the air. When the bird wants to
turn to the right or left, it strikes strongly with the op¬
posite wing, so as to impel the body to the proper side.
If it wants to rise, it raises its tail, and if to fall, de¬
presses it. When in a horizontal position, the tail
keeps the body steady. A bird, bv spreading its
wings, can continue to move horizontally in the air for
some time, without striking, because it has acquired a
sufficient velocity $ and the wings, being parallel to the
horizon, meet with hut small resistance. On alighting,
it expands its wings and tail full against the air, that
they may meet with all possible resistance. The centre
of gravity in birds is somewhat behind the wings *, and,
to counterbalance it, most of them may be observed to
thrust out their head and neck in flying. This is very
apparent in the flight of ducks, geese, and several spe¬
cies ot water-fowl, whose centre of gravity is farther
backwards than in the land birds. In the heron, on the
contrary, whose long head and neck, although folded
up in flight, overbalance the rest of the body, the long
legs are extended, in order to give the proper counter¬
poise, and to supply what is wanting in the shortness of
the tail.
e fea ~ ^eat^ers birds would constantly imbibe the
moisture of the atmosphere; and, during rain absorb
Vol. XV. Part II. f
ORNITHOLOGY. 47,
so ^uch wet, as would almost, it not wholly, impede Introduc-
their flight, had not the wise economy of nature obvi¬
ated this bv a mast rri  r
lion.
4° .
ication
ated this by a most effectual expedient. They are fur¬
nished on the rump with two glands, in which a quan¬
tity of unctuous matter is constantly secreting. This is
occasionally pressed out by means of the bill, and used
foi the lubiication ot the feathers. The birds which
share, as it were, the habitations of man, and live prin¬
cipally under cover, do not require so large a supply of
this fluid, and, consequently, are not provided with such
a large stock of it as those that rove abroad, and reside
m the open element. Hence poultry, when wet, as¬
sume a ruffled and uncomfortable appearance.
Aa biids are continually passing among hedges and Nictitating
thickets, their eyes are protected from external injuries, membrane,
as well as from too much light, when flying in opposition
to the sun’s rays, by a nictitating or winking mem¬
brane, which can at pleasure be drawn over the whole
eye like a curtain. This covering is neither opaque,
nor wholly pellucid, but somewhat transparent. By
means of it the eagle is said to gaze at the sun.
It appears from observations, founded on numerous Song4
experiments, that the peculiar notes, or song, of the
different Species of birds, are altogether acquired, and
are no more innate than language is in man. The at¬
tempt ot a nestling to sing, may he compared with the
imperfect endeavour of a child to talk. The first essay
seems not to possess the slightest rudiments of the future
songbut, as the bird grows older and stronger, it is
not difficult to perceive its aim. While the scholar is
thus endeavouring to form his song, when he is once
sure of a passage, he commonly raises his tone, which
he drops again when he is not equal to what he is at¬
tempting. A common sparrow, taken from the nest
when very young, and placed near a linnet and gold¬
finch, though in a wild state it would only have chirp¬
ed, adopted a song that was a mixture of these two.
Three nestling linnets were educated, one under a sky¬
lark, another under a wood-lark, and a third under a
tit-lark 5 and, instead of the song peculiar to their own
species, they adhered entirely to that of their respective
instructors. A linnet, taken from the nest, when but
two or three days old, and brought up in the house of
an apothecary at Kensington, from want of other sounds
to imitate, almost articulated the words “ pretty boy,”
as well as some other short sentences. These and other
well-authenticated facts seem to prove, that birds have
no innate notes, but that the language of those to whose
care they are committed at birth, will be the language
which they adopt in after life. It may, however, ap¬
pear somewhat unaccountable why, in a wild state they
adhere so steadily to the song of their own species only,
when so many others are to be heard around them.
This arises from the attention paid by the nestling bird
to the instructions of its own parent only, generally dis¬
regarding the notes of all the rest. Persons, however,
who have an accurate ear, and have studied the notes of
different birds, can very often distinguish some that have
a song mixed with those of another species 5 but these
are in general so trifling as scarcely to be reckoned any'
tiring more than mere varieties of provincial dialects.
All birds are oviparous, or produce eggs, from Eggl
which, alter the process of incubation, the young are
extruded. T hese eggs differ in different species, in re¬
spect of number, figure and colour. They contain the
3 0 rudiments
474
ORNITHOLOGY.
Inlroduc-
tion.
44
N«t9.
Ace.
45
. 4®
Diseases.
rudiments of the future young, for the maturation of
which a bubble of air is always placed at the large end,
betwixt the shell and the inside skin. It is supposed,
that, from the warmth communicated by the sitting
bird to this conftned air, its spring is increased beyond
its natural tenor, and at the same time its parts are put
into motion by the gentle rarefaction. Hence pressure
and motion are communicated to the parts of the egg,
and seem, in some unknown way, gradually to promote
the growth of the young till the appointed time ot ex¬
clusion. Housewives, when they suspect an egg is not
.rood, put their tongue to the great end, to feel it it be
warm. If that is not the case, it is considered a certain
proof, that the air, having by degrees effected its
escape, the egg is at length become putrid or ad-
dled. . ,
The nests of birds are, in general, constructed with
astonishing art, and with a degree of skill and neatness
that often defies the efforts of the human hands. Both
the male and female generally assist in this interesting
concern. They each bring materials to the place, as
sticks, moss, straws, &c. for the foundation and exte¬
rior *, and hair, wool, or the down of animals or plants,
to form a soft and commodious bed for their eggs, and
for the tender bodies of their young when hatched.
The outside of the nest usually bears so great a resem¬
blance in colour to the surrounding foliage or branches,
as not easily to be discovered even by persons who are
in search of them. _
The term of life varies greatly in birds, and does not
seem to bea# the same proportion to the time of acquir¬
ing their growth as has been remarked with regaid to
quadrupeds. Most birds acquire their full dimensions
in a few months, and are capable of propagation the
first summer after they are hatched. In proportion to
the size of their bodies, they possess more vitality, and
live longer, than either man or quadrupeds. Notwith¬
standing the difficulties which arise in ascertaining the
ages of birds, there are instances of great longevity in
many of them, particularly geese, swans, ravens, and
eagles, which have been known to attain the age ot
seventy, fourscore, or even a century. Pigeons usually
live more than 20 years, and even linnets and other
small birds have been kept in cages for nearly the same
period. ...
The diseases to which birds, in their natural state, are
incident, are probably neither numerous nor formidable;
at least we seldom meet with individuals of the feather¬
ed race which seem to labour under sickness or infirmi¬
ty. In our northern latitudes they are indeed frequent¬
ly subjected to the pressure of cold and hunger ; but
ihe debility and other symptoms attendant on these ex¬
ternal accidents, hardly deserve to be noticed in a noso¬
logical point of view. Seclusion from the open air, and
a total change of habits, induced by confinement and
domestication, are usually accompanied by appropriate
disorders, such as the pip, or swelling on the extremity
of the tongue, a softening of the bill, a gradual decay
of the feet, convulsions, and general pining.. The
moulting process, from which none of the species are
exempted, may also be regarded, in some measure, as a
diseased state'of the animal. All birds moult, or cast
their feathers once, and some twice, in the course of a
vear. This change takes place in autumn, or in the
season which corresponds to it in different climates, and
uniformly after the breeding season. Those which
moult twice a year, also change their feathers in spring.
Most of the young males, which bear originally the '
plumage ot the mother, assume, at their first moulting,
the colouring which they aitervvards retain; but some
species do not put on their characteristic garbs till the
end of the second, or even of the third year. Among
those which moult twice a-year, both males and females
change their plumage ; but the latter retain the same
markings, while the former exhibit a more gaudy co¬
vering in the season which precedes their pairing, and a
more sober one, often similar to that of the female, al¬
ter the period of breeding. In most cases, the feathers
fall off in gradual succession ; but in some species nearly
the whole plumage comes oft’ at once, and is speedily
replaced. This periodical affection is always attended
with more or less languor and depression.
For the anatomy of birds, we beg leave to refer to the
article Comparative Anatomy ; and shall close this in¬
troduction by a brief' explanation of some of the most
important technical terms in ornithology, employed by
Pennant and Linnseus.
Fig. i. Cere {Cera, Lin.),—the naked skin which
covers the base ol the bill in the hank kind.
2. Capistrum,—a word used by Linnseus to express
the short leathers on the forehead just above the bill.
In seme birds, these feathers fall forward over the no¬
strils: they quite cover those ol the crow-
3. Lore {Lorum, Lin.),—the space between the bill
and the eye, generally covered with feathers ; hut, in
some birds, as in the black and white grebe, naked.
4. Orbits ( Orbita, Lin.),—the skin that surrounds
the eve, which is generally bare, particularly in the he¬
ron and parrot.
9. Emarginaled {Emarginatum),—said of a bill
which has a small notch near the end, as that of the
butcher bird, thrush, &c.
6. Vibrissa} pectinatce,—stiff hairs which grow on
each side of the mouth, formed like a double comb, as
in the goatsucker, flycatcher, &c.
7. Alula spuria. Spurious or bastard wing,—a small
joint rising at the end of the middle part ol the wing,
or the cubitus, on which there are three or five fea¬
thers. ,
8. Tevtrices primer, Lesser wing-coverts,—the small
feathers which lie in several rows on the bones of the
wings. The under coverts are those that line the in¬
side of the wings.
9. Tectrices secundee, Greater coverts,—the feathers,
which lie immediately over the quill-feathers and the
secondaries^
i o. Primorcs, Quill-Jcathers or Pi'inuii'us,—\.he lar¬
gest feathers of the wings, or those that rise from the
first bone.
11. Secundariee, Secondary feathers or Secondaries,—
those that rise from the second bone.
12. Tail-coverts {Uropygium),—those which cover
the base of the tail on the upper side.
' 13. Vent-feathers {Crissvm),—those which lie from
the vent to the tail underneath.
14. lice trices. Tail-feathers.
15. Scapulares, or Scapular feathers,—those which
take their rise from the shoulders, and cover the sides
of the hack.
16. Nucha.—the hind part of the head
Introduc.
tion.
47
Anatomy.
48
Technical
terms.
Plate
CCCXCIL
fig. 1.
ORNITHOLOGY.
utrbJuc- 17. Suhulatum, Subulated or awl-shaped,—applied to
tion. a bill that is straight and slender, in the form of an awl.
18. Pes ambulatorius,-—2\\ the toes divided to the
bottom.
19. Pesgressbrius,^the outer toe more or less united
to the middle one, particularly conspicuous in the feet
of the king’s fisher.
20. Pes scansorius,—formed for climbing, like the
foot of the woodpecker.
21. Pes lobatus,—finned, or lobed, like those of the
grebes.
22. Pes pinnatus,—pinnated, or scolloped. The webs
indented in the sides, as in coots and sandpipers.
23. Pes tridactylus, or cursorius,—wanting the back
toe.
24. Pes didactylus,—composed of only two toes, as
in the ostrich.
25. Pes semi-palmatvs, Semi-pabnated,—when the
webs reach only half the length of the toes.
26. Untrue postico sessili,—when the hind claw ad¬
heres to the leg without any toe, as in the petrels.
27. Digitis quatuor omnibuspalmatis,—all the four
toes connected by webs, as in the corvorant.
Postrum cultratum,—when the edges of the bill are
very sharp, as in that of the crow.
28. Unguiculatum,—said of a bill furnished with a
nail at the end, as those of ducks and goosanders.
29. Lingua ciliata,—a tongue edged with fine bristles,
like that of the duck.
30. Integra,—plain, or even.
31. Lumbriciformis,—when the tongue is long,
rotmd, and slender, like a worm, as that of the wood¬
pecker.
Pedes compedes,—when the legs are placed so far be*
hind as to make the bird walk with difficulty, or as if
in fetters, of which we have examples in the auks,
grebes, and divers.
32. Nares lineares,—when the nostrils are very nar¬
row, as in sea gulls.
33* Pmarginatce,—with a rim apund the nostrils, as
in the stare. 4
Iris, is that part which surrounds the pupil of the
eye.
Mandibles, denote the upper and under parts of the
bill.
Compressed,—vertically flattened at the sides.
Depressed,—horizontally flattened.
Caruncula,—a fleshy excrescence on the head.
Hypochondria,—the hinder sides of the breast and
abdomen.
Oce//ata/,—with roundish concentric spots, of diffet
ent colours. ,
Phalanges,—the articulations of the toes.
475
Introduc¬
tion.
SYSTEMATIC EXPOSITION OF THE CLASS.
t iers. ACCORDING to the Linnsean method, the class of
Aves, or Birds, is distributed into six Orders, denomi¬
nated Accipitres, Piece, Anseres, Grallce, Gallince, and
Passcres.
5°
ilfcipi-
'I'ES.
1 V
Y.tcre.
!52
U-rac-
Gii
J3
Ordt.r I. ACCIPITRES.
This natural order includes birds of prey, that have
the bill somewhat hooked downwards, the upper man¬
dible dilated near the point, or armed with a tooth, the
nostrils wide, the feet short and strong, with four toes,
three of which are placed forwards, and one behind ;
toes warty under the joints; claws hooked and sharp-
pointed. They live on other animals alive or dead, and
are themselves not eatable. They are monogamous, or
live in pairs. The females are larger and more beauti¬
ful than the males, and generally lay about four eggs.
This order includes vultur, Jalco, strix, and lanius.
Gen. 1. Vultur, Vulture*
Bill straight, hooked at the point *, head bare of feathers.
Birds of this genus are distinguished from eagles and
baAvks, by being gregarious, by the comparative heavi¬
ness of their flight, and by their living on carrion. The
females, too, are hardly larger than the males. Unless
pressed by hunger, they seldom attack living animals ;
they fly slowly, unless when very high in the air, and
have an exquisite sense of smell. The tongue is large
and fleshy ; the legs and feet are strong, and mostly
covered with scales j and the wings are lined, on the
inside, with down.
Condor, condur, or cunlur.—Very large, with a ca¬
runcle on the crown of the head, the whole of its length j
the throat naked. Quills of the wings two feet and a
half long, and an inch and a half thick; body black,
back white ; neck ruffed with long white feathers ;
throat red ; head brown, and woolly $ eyes black, irides
chesnut; bill black, but tipt with white j feet black ^
claws straightish j tail small.**—The female differs from
the male, in having a tuft on the neck, in its brown co¬
lour, and in having no ruff. Brisson, however, has pro¬
perly remarked, that the plumage of this species varies "
in colour, a circumstance which will, in some measure*
account for the discordant descriptions of different au¬
thors. At the same time, We must regret, that the hi¬
story of this enormous bird is so imperfectly known. Its
extent of wing is variously stated, from nine to eightee*
feet •, and, while Fresier ascribes to it sufficient strength
to carry off sheep, and boys of ten years old, Marca
Paolo sturdily affirms, that it can lift an elephant from
the ground high enough to kill it by the fall. Though
very rare, Buffon suspects that it is not confined ta
South America, and that it does not essentially differ
from the roc of the eastern nations, so famous in the A-
rabian tales ; nor from the laemmer geyer of the Ger¬
man Alps. A preserved specimen in the Leverian Mu¬
seum measured ten feet, from the tip of one wing to that
of the other. It is described and figured in the second
supplement to Latham’s Synopsis. In Chili, the con¬
dors make their nests among the most inaccessible rocks,
and lay two white eggs bigger than those of a turkey.
They feed on dead carcases, and sometimes prey on sheep,
goats, or even young calves, when they stray far from
their dams, falling on them in flocks, plucking out their
eyes, and tearing them in pieces. The country people
3 O 2 us4
476
Accipitre'
54
Papa.
ORNITHOLOGY.
55
Aura*
$6
Leucoce
■phalus.
use every means to destroy sueh formidable invaders oi
1 their property, and seem to have succeeded in expelling
them from the populous districts of both continents.
King vulture, or king oj the vultures.—Caruncles on
the nostrils *, crown of the head and neck bare of fea¬
thers. The extreme length of the body does not ex¬
ceed two feet three inches, and it is not thicker than
the hen turkey. Its wings are short in proportion to
the other vultures. The bill is thick and short, and be¬
gins its curvature only at the point", in some individuals
it is entirely red, in others only red at the extremity,
and black in the middle. In the cere, which is broad
and orange-coloured, are. placed the nostrils $ and be¬
tween them the skin projects like a loose jagged comb,
falling indifferently on either side, according as the bird
moves its head. Under the naked part of the neck is a^
collar, or ruff, composed ol pretty long solt feathers of
a deep ash colour, and so broad, that when the biid
contracts itself, it can conceal the neck and part of the
head like a cowl, whence some naturalists have given it
the name of monk. rlhe feathers on the breast, belly,
thighs, legs, and under the surface of the tail, are
white, slightly tinged with yellowthose of the rump
and upper surface of the tail, are black in some indivi¬
duals, and white in others. rl he other feathers of the
tail are always black, and so are the great feathers of
the wings, which are commonly edged with grey. T he
king of the vultures is a native of South America and
the West Indies, and lives on carrion, rats, lizards,
snakes, and excrements of all kinds, from which cir¬
cumstance it has a most offensive odour.
Carrion vulture, or turkey hu%%ard (carrion crow of
Jamaica) .—Body gray brown} quill feathers black j bill
white; the sides of the head waited; legs flesh-coloured.
  Common in the W. Indies, and in N. and S. America.
Somewhat larger than the black eagle. Is protected in
America for its use in devouring dead carcases and ser¬
pents, which it does, along with dogs, in the greatest
harmony. It will seize meat from the shambles, breathes
a most fetid odour, and, when taken, vomits up an in¬
tolerably stinking matter. Roosts by night, in flocks,
on the highest branches of trees. They are generally
very tame in their wild state, probably owing to their
being more caressed than molested by man.
White, ash-coloured, or Angola vulture.—Body snowy;
quill and tail feathers black ; collar white ; head and
lower part of the neck covered with white down; middle
toe covered with i x distinct scales; claws black. About
the size of a female turkey. The female exceeds the
male in size, and differs chiefly in being less tinged with
reddish. The young have the whole oi the naked parts
about the head covered with a grayish down.—This spe¬
cies is usually seen in pairs, and not in large flocks, like
many of the genus ; or, if xo or 12 alight on one car¬
case, they are accidentally allured by the smell, which
acts on their delicate organs at inconceivable distances.
They feed on all manner of carrion, and on lizards,
snakes, frog's, and even excrements. They build among
the rocks, and lay lour eggs. In some parts of Africa
they are very common, and in others more rare. The
natives tame and respect them, as they contribute to rid
their grounds of nuisances. They likewise occur in
Norway and Sardinia. Mr Latham supposes that this
species is the vautour de Norvege ol Buffon ; the sucre
Egypte of the same author, perhaps the Angola vul¬
ture of Pennant, and the rachamah of Bruce. “ 'When, Accipitm.
however (adds this celebrated ornithologist), the divi- 1 y—^
sion of the vulture genus into real species may take
place, is not for us to determine; the variety among in¬
dividuals, from different periods of life, as well as the
different appearances of those in a state of confinement,
to what the plumage has, when at large, cannot fail to
create no small difficulty; added to that, very few tra¬
vellers are naturalists in a sufficient degree to discrimi¬
nate one part of nature from another; besides, the sub¬
jects in question being mostly extra European, we can¬
not wonder at being so long in the dark.'’ ^
Aquiline ax Alpine vulture.—The male of this species Percmptc-
is almost wholly white; quill feathers black, with ^I0ary? iSpjate
edges, except the two outermost, which are wholly cccxcin,
black. The female is all over brown, with the four figi
outer quills black. In both the bill is black; cere yel¬
low ; nostrils constantly dripping moisture ; feet naked.
Inhabits Egypt, Palestine, Syria, and Persia. They
fly in large troops, and are extremely useful in destroy¬
ing mice, with which some countries, of which they are
natives, are infested, sueh as Palestine, ffhe same spe¬
cies, it is said, inhabits the Swiss Alps, where they are
of an immense size. Some have been measured exceed¬
ing twelve feet from tip to tip of the wings.
Gen. 2. Falco, Falcon.
Bill hooked, and furnished with a cere at the base;
head covered with close-set feathers; tongue bifid.
„ 58
Falco.
Though the birds of this genus are all carnivorous, Character,
they seldom feed on carrion, except when pressed by
hunger, which they can endure for a long time. . They
have a very acute sight, and pounce down on their prey
with astonishing swiftness and force. From their great
strength, they are capable of carrying birds nearly as
heavy as themselves, to a great distance, for provision
to their young. Their middle toe is slightly connected
with the outermost.
A. Bill hooked only at the point, bearded at the base
with extended bristles. ^
Snake-eater, or secretary vulture.—Body black; hind- Serpentan-
head crested ; tail feathers white at the tips, the twows-
middle ones longest ; legs very long. Bill black, cere
white ; orbits orange, and naked; irides pale cinereous;
tail rounded ; legs brownish ; claws short, black, (look¬
ed, not very sharp ; crest capable of being erected or
depressed.—In seizing its prey, this bird makes use of
its wings, with which it inflicts violent Hows by means
of a bony protuberance at the bend of the wing. It *s
also by its wings that it defends itself against the bites of
venomous snakes, urttil the latter, tired with their ef¬
forts, or nearly bruised to death, are easily dispatched.
This species likewise preys on turtles, lizards, and even
grasshopers and other insects. When in a domesticated
state scarcely any kind of food comes amiss to it ; and,
if young birds are presented to it, it will take them by
the bilT foremost, and swallow them whole.t One of
those which Le Vaillant killed, had 21 young turtles,
11 small lizards, and three snakes, in his stomach. Like
other birds of prey, it is observed to bring up the undi¬
gested parts of its food, in the form of round pellets.
In pairing time, two males will often be found engaged
in a violent contest for a female. The secretary vulture
o R N I T H
61
rpeyia.
62
, Sicilia.
•eipitrev is three teet high, remarkable for the length of its legs,
—V—-'ami inhabits interior Africa and the Philippine islands.
These birds make a flat nest, like that of the eagle, full
three feet in diameter, lined with wool and feathers, in
some high tuft of trees, and usually concealed from ob¬
servation.
Crested or Oroonoko eagle.—Head crested with long
feathers ; body beneath variegated ; eyes with a nicti-
tant membrane. Under the crop, white feathers, which,
when the bird is irritated, fall to* the ground. Erects
the crest in the form of a coronet; is said to be able to
cleave a man’s skull at a stroke. Inhabits Mexico,
Brazil, and other parts of South America, and is as
large as a sheep.
Cinereousov white-tailed eagle: erne of the Scots.—
Cere and feet yellow ; tail feathers white, the middle
ones tipt with black ; head and neck pale cinereous;
irides and bill pale yellow ; nostrils, and the space be¬
tween the eyes, bluish, with a few bristles; body and
wings cinereous, mixed with brown ; tail white ; legs,
below the knees, downv, glossy yellow ; claws black.
—Size of a turkey, feeds on birds and fish. Inhabits
Europe, and frequently occurs in Scotland and the Ork¬
ney islands.
B. Feet generally feathered, of a large size.
Flack eagle.—Cere yellow ; feet yellow, and some¬
what downy ; body rusty black, with yellow streaks;
bill horn colour, verging on blue ; h ides chesnut ; exte¬
rior part of the tail white, with blackish spots, tipt whit¬
ish ; legs dirty white ; toes yellow, claws black. Two
feet ten inches long. Inhabits Europe and America.
Osprey or sea eagle.—Cere and legs yellow; feet
half covered with down ; body of a rusty colour; inner
vanes of tiie tail feathers white.——It is distinguished by
the colour and figure of its nails, which are of a shining
black, and form an entire semicircle ; by its legs, which
are naked below, and covered with small yellow scales ;
and by the beard of feathers which hangs from the chin,
and which has occasioned its receiving the name of the
bearded eagle. It measures from the end of the bill to the
point of the nails, three feet and a half, and its wings ex¬
pand to betwixt six and seven feet. It loves to haunt the
sea shore, and often frequents inland tracts, near lakes,
marshes, or rivers that are stocked with fish ; but,
though it preys on the finny tribe, it also attacks game,
and, being large and strong, seizes and carries off geese
and hares, and sometimes even lambs and kids. It
catches fish even duringftbe night, when the noise of its
plunging into the water is heard at a great distance. In
attempting to lay hold of overgrown fish, it is sometimes
dragged under water, being unable to disengage its ta¬
lons. It inhabits Europe and North America, and was
found by Captain Cook, in Botany island. It is not un¬
common in Scotland and Ireland. “ From the astonish¬
ing height (says Mr Montagu), these and some other
birds fly, we are led to believe they are capable of liv¬
ing in a much lighter air than other animals. From the
top of some of the highest mountains in Scotland we
have seen several soaring together at so great a distance
as to appear scarcely larger than a swallow.” The fe¬
male sea eagle seldom lays more than two eggs, and
^ sometimes produces only a single young one.
Sf/scrtos. Golden eagle—Cere yellow ; feet downy, and rusty-
coloured ; body dark brown, irregularly barred; tail
*3
j lancE-
t
Plate
tlCXCIII.
iS- 2.
f>4
(I'i/ra-
*5
o L O G Y. 47;
black, and covered with ash-coloured bars. It greatly Accipitres
resembles the preceding, but is distinguished from it1 
chiefly by its legs, which are yellow, short, strong, and
covered with feathers to the feet. The general length
of tins species is about three feet and a half; the breadth
eight feet; and it usually weighs about twelve pounds.
It breeds in the most inaccessible rocks, and lays three
or four white eggs. It inhabits Europe and Siberia,
and is said to be not unfrequent in the meunlainous parts
of Scotland, Ireland and Wales, though it has been fre¬
quently confounded with the sea eagle. It feeds on
lambs, kids, and all kinds of game, and has been known
to carry oft infants to its nest. It is remarkable for its
longevity and abstinence from food ; some having been
kept m menageries for upwards of a century ; and Pen¬
nant iccords an instance of one which lived twenty-one
days without any sustenance whatever. It flies high,
dm mg serene weather, and descends nearer the earth
in storms.
Ring-tailed, white-tailed, black, or common eagle. Fulvus.
Cere yellow ; feet downy, and of a rusty brown colour ;
hack brown; tail with a white transverse band. In the
bill, cere, irides, and legs, it resembles the preceding,
to which it is also nearly equal in size ; but the plu¬
mage is lather darker, and the tail is white for two-
thirds of its length. It inhabits Europe,-Asia, and
America; and is trained by the Tartars to hunt hares, an¬
telopes, and foxes. In Scotland, it is very destructive to
deer, which it will seize between the horns; and, by in¬
cessantly heating it with its wings, soon makes a prey
of the harassed animal. It likewise makes great havock
among the white hares and ptarmigans. It builds in
high precipices and cliffs ; and the nest of a pair has
been observed in the same spot, in the Orkney islands,
beyond the memory of man. Willoughby describes a
nest of this species found in the Peak of Derbyshire, as
composed of large sticks, lined with two layers of rushes*
between which was one of heath. It contained one
young, and an addle egg, and by them a lamb, a hare,
and three heath pouts.—There is a variety, with a white
tail, tipt with brown.
White eagle.—Entirely white. Inhabits the Alps ; of AlhuP
the size of the golden eagle. ^
Fierce eagle.—Cere green ; body brown above; back, Fmu:,
belly, and tail coverts snowy, variegated with chesnut
spots ; tail feathers equal, brown, with four paler bands;
bill leaden black; eyelids blue; irides yellow ; head
and neck ferruginous, mixed with whitish ; quill feathers
tweuty-six, black above, white beneath, tipt with gray ;
tail feathers twelve, white beneath ; claws sharp; up¬
wards of two feet long; very rapacious; inhabits Russia;
was found frequent near Astracan .in the winter of
1769 ; will not touch dead animals. ^
Kite.—Cere yellow; tail forked ; body brown; head
whitish or grey ; back and wing coverts dusky, edged
with ferruginous, the under parts more or less ferrugi¬
nous, streaked with dusky, and lightest in the breast ;
quill feathers dusky black, with bars more or lessobscure;
tail bright ferruginous; legs yellow ; claws black. But
there are several varieties. The female is somewhat
larger than the male, measuring in length two feet four
inches, and five feet six inches of outstretched wing..
It is readily distinguished from its congeners by the re¬
markable forking of its tail, and by its smooth and even
flight, which resembles a sailing or gliding through the
air.
47*
ORNITHOLOGY.
Accipitres. air, without any apparent motion of its wings. It fi e-
Vi---v" 1' quently, however, soars very high, and, though beyond
the reach of human vision, will distinctly perceive its
prey, and dart down on it with irresistible force. Its
• attacks are confined to such animals as are found on the
ground, such as young rabbits, hares, game of all kinds,
poultry, and young birds incapable ot flying. It will
also destroy young lambs, and feed greedily on carrion ;
but in default of these, will readily devour mice, rats
worms, and even snakes.—The kite occurs as far north
as Greenland, and as far south as Guinea and Senegal.
It is common in England, where it continues the whole
year } but from the more northerly latitudes, it retires
to Egypt before winter, and is said to breed there, and
returns in April to Europe, where it breeds a second
time, contrary to the nature of rapacious birds in gene¬
ral. The nest is composed of sticks, and lined with wool,
the inner bark of a tree, hair, and other soft materia s,
and is usually made in the fork of some large tree. I he
eggs are generally three, rarely four, somewhat larger
than those of a hen, of a dirty white, with a few rusty
70 spots at the larger end. # * .
Ifaliatos, Bald bu%%ard, osprey, fishing hawk) otc. Lere ani
feet blue ", body brownish above, white below ”, head
whitish ; a brown bar descends from each eye by the
sides of the neck to the wings j legs naked, short,
strong 5 claws remarkably long, hooked, and black.
Inhabits Europe, Siberia, and America, frequenting
marshy places, and the neighbourhood of large rivets
and lakes, pouncing on fish with great rapidity and al¬
terity, and carrying them olF in its talons to a small di¬
stance to feed on them. It builds its nest on the ground
among reeds, and lays three or four eggs of an elliptical
form, rather less than those of a hen. Mr Montagu
-found the nest of this bird, on the top of a chimney of a
ruin in one of the islands of Loch Lomond. Ihe usual
length of the bald buzzard is two feet, and its extent of
wing five. The species is now rarely met with in Eng¬
land, but may be frequently seen near the lake of Kil-
larney in Ireland. There are several varieties, among
which may be included those of Carolina and Cayenne.
Some of the ancient writers, and even Linnaeus, have
very erroneously alleged, that the left loot ot the bald
buzzard is subpalmated.
Hutto.
C. Legs naked, of a smaller size.
Buzzard,*or Buttock.—Cere and feet yellow 5 body
brown •, belly^ pale, with brown spots. Scarcely any
two individuals of this well-known species are precisely
alike. The ordinary length of the body is twenty
inches, and the extent of wing four feet and a half. The
•buzzard-is one of our most common species ot falcon.
It is remarkable for its sluggish, inactive disposition, sel¬
dom remaining long on wing, except in the breeding sea¬
son, when it ascends spirally to a great height. It makes
its nest in the fork of a tree, of large sticks, and lines
it with wool, hair and other substances, and sometimes
takes possession of a deserted crow’s nest, which it ac¬
commodates to its purposes. The eggs are two or three,
rather larger than a hen’s, of a dirty white, and, for the
most part, with rust-coloured spots at the larger end.
It feeds and tends its young with great assiduity *, and
Ray affirms, that, if the female be killed, the male takes
charge of them, and patiently rears them till they are
able to provide for themselves. This bird will con-
2
tinue for many hours perched on a tree or eminence, Accipitres,
whence it darts on such birds, small quadiupeds, rep-' r—'
tiles, or insects, as come within its reach. 72
Honey buzzard.*—Cere black ; feet half naked, and Apivorus,
yellow ; head ash-coloured ; tail with cinereous bands,
and tipt with white j of nearly the same size as the pre¬
ceding, and, like it, subject to considerable varieties in
its markings. Its nest in respect of form and materials,
is similar to that of the buzzard, and it sometimes oc¬
cupies that of other birds. Its eggs are of an ash-co¬
lour, with small brown spots. Mr White of Selborne
found only one egg in the nest, smaller, and not so
round as that of the buzzard. T-he name seems to
have been given it from its feeding on the larvae of wasps ;
but it is also fond of various other insects and of field
mice, frogs, and lizards. It occurs in all the northern
parts of Europe, and in the open tracts of Russia and
Siberia, but is far from common in England. Bufl'on
observes, that it is frequently caught in the winter, when
it is fat and delicious eating. ^
Moor buzzard, duck hawk, or white-headed harpy.—* Mrugnr-
Cere green ; body brownish j crown of the head, throat,sws-
axillae, and feet, yellow. The colouring, however, is
subject to considerable variety. Length twenty-one
inches j weight twenty ounces. Preys on rabbits, young
wild ducks, and other water fowl j and likewise feeds
on fish, frogs, reptiles, and even insects ; making its
haunts in hedges and bushes near pools, marshes, and
rivers. The nest is most frequently made on the ground,
among short wood, furze, or fern, and sometimes though
rarely, in the fork of a tree. It is composed of sticks and
rushes, or coarse grass. The moor buzzard is not a
bird of rapid flight, but pounces its prey on the ground,
and is generally seen skimming over the surface j but,
in the breeding season, the male will sometimes soar to
a considerable height, and remain suspended on wing for
a great length of time. Inhabits Europe. ^
Goshawk.—Cere black j feet yellow} bodybrown palmnba-
tail feathers barred wuth pale bands, a white line over mi.
the eye } bill blue, black at the tip; irides yellow;
head brown ; body beneath white, w'aved with black ;
tail long, cinereous, and white at the tip; claws black.
The wing, when closed, does not reach near the end
of the tail ; of an elegant slender shape, twenty-two
inches long. Inhabits Europe, Tartary, and America;
is rarely found in England, but is not uncommon in the
more woody districts of Scotland, where it breeds, and
is a great destroyer of game. It feeds on small birds
and mice, and eagerly devours raw flesh. It tears birds
to pieces before it eats them, but swallows the pieces en¬
tire, and frequently disgorges the hair and feathers, rolled
up in small pellets. This species was formerly much
prized in the sports of falconry, being used not only for
partridge and pheasant, but also larger fowl, as geese
aud cranes, and sometimes for rabbits. 75
Gentil falcon.—Cere and feet yellow ; body ash-co- Gentile
loured, with brown spots ; tail with four blackish bands ;
somewhat larger than the preceding, though some or¬
nithologists reckon it only a variety. It inhabits the
Alps of Europe and North America. “ In the days
of falconry,” observes the author of Elements of Natu¬
ral History, “ this species was in high esteem as a bold
and spirited bird. It inhabits the north of Scotland.
The king’s falconer was anciently obliged to supply the
court with hawks ; and to this day the office is kept
in
•ipitres
I6.
I'grinw
77
1 sicolor.
78
( !fi«.
79
hdicans.
So
Ct innans.
I Sl
Ur-MJ.
h
as.
O R N I T H
in Scotland J a ne»t of young birds being annually pre¬
sented by the falconer to the barons of exchequer, who
generally give them away in presents.”
Peregrine falcon.—Cere and feet yellow j body ash-
coloured above with brownish bands, reddish white be¬
neath, with blackish bands j tail spotted with white.
Weighs between two and three pounds, is a bold and
powerful bird, and inhabits Europe, and the north of
Asia and America. It is not uncommon on most of our
rocky coasts, usually frequenting such high cliffs as the
guillemot and razorbill resort to for breeding. One
that eloped from its master in the county of Forfar, on
the 24th September 1772, with four heavy bells on its
feet, was killed on the morning of the 26th of the same
month, at Mostyn in Flintshire.
Spotted falcon.—Cere yellow j head and body above,
white, with pale reddish spots, white beneath j breast
a little spotted with ferruginous. Size of the buzzard.
Inhabits England $ but its history is little known.
Gray falcon.—Cere and legs yellow; body dusky
gray above, white with oblong black spots beneath 5 tail
feathers long, the two middle ones uniform, the rest
spotted. Bill blueish •, irides red j head dusky brown
before, white behind j sides and chin buff'; quill-feathers
spotted with white. Inhabits England ; but is very
rare, and by some esteemed only a variety.
Jerfalcon, gyrfalcon, Icelandfalcon, whiteJer fal¬
con, &c.—Cere and feet of a greenish ash-colour $ body
white, spotted with brown. Bill blueish-ash, black at
the tip •, claws lead colour. Larger than the goshawk,
and subject to variety, from age, sex, and climate,
some in the northern latitudes being found quite white,
others brown above, white beneath, spotted with brown,
and the tail gray, with transverse brown lines. Inha¬
bits Iceland and the north of Scotland, is a very bold
bird, and in the days of falconry, was used for the
larger species of game, as cranes and herons.
Laughing falcon.—Cere and legs yellow ; eyebrows
white; body varied with brown and whitish \ crown
white, with a black ring. Back, wings, and rump
brown j neck, chin, breast, belly, and under parts
of the wings white ; tail with yellow and black bands.
Inhabits South America, and is said to laugh, when
looked at.
Lanner.—Cere dull yellow ; bill and feet blue ; body
marked with black longitudinal spots underneath. A
white stripe over each eye ; breast yellowish white, with
brown spots j legs short $ primary quill-feathers and tail
dusky, with rusty oval spots : but there are two or three
varieties. Rather less than the buzzard, has its name
from tearing its prey into small pieces with its bill.
The lanner is very bold, and was formerly used in fal¬
conry. It is found in many parts of Europe j inhabits
Iceland and the Ferroe isles, Denmark, Sweden, and
the Tartarian deserts. It is rare in England, but is
said to breed in Ireland, and among the low trees and
shrubs in the deserts about Astracan.
Hen-harrier.—Cere white j legs tawny ; body hoary
blue; edges of the eye-lids yellow, with an arched line
surrounding the throat j bill black ; irides yellow;
bind part of the head white, with pale brown spots $
breast and belly white, the former streaked with dusky \
two middle tail-feathers gray on both sides, the rest gray
above, white beneath, and all streaked with dusky.
These characters, however, are far from constantr
O L O G Y.
479
This species, in its most perfect state, weighs about Aocipitres.
thirteen ounces, and is eighteen inches and a half in —y—^
length. It feeds on birds, lizards, and other reptiles,
and is particularly destructive to poultry. It flies low,'
skimming along the surface in quest of prey. The
female nestles on the ground, and lays four eggs of a -
reddish colour, with a few white spots. Inhabits Europe
and Africa. Wallis, in his Natural History of Northum¬
berland, remarks, that it breeds annually on the Cheviot
hills, and on the shady precipices under the Roman wall,
near Craglake. Dr Latham and other eminent ornitho.
legists have supposed that this and the following are
male and female j but the repeated instances of hen¬
harriers of both sexes having been seen, leave it beyond
all doubt that they constitute two distinct species.
Ring-tail, ring-tail hawk, white-rumped bay falcon, Py gar gar,
&c.—Cere and legs yellow j body cinereous ; belly
pale, with oblong rufous spots j orbits of the eyes white.
Bill pale j irides yellow; tail longish, banded with
dusky, and dotted with white, the male marked with
transverse, and the female with longitudinal, spots
beneath. Length 18 or 20 inches. Inhabits Europe,
and the temperate parts of Siberia. Flies higher than
the preceding, and sometimes perches on trees. Its
eggs are white, much freckled with red.
Kestril, kestral, stonegall, &c.—Cere and legs yel- Tinnmcu-
low j back purplish-red, with black spots j breast with^s*
brown streaks j tail rounded. Crown of the head of a
fine cinereous gray ; greater quill-feathers black, very
slightly tipped with whitish. Bill lead colour, irides
dusky and large. The male weighs about seven ounces,
and measures 13 inches in length. The female is con¬
siderably larger, and distinguished from the other sex by
the head and tail being of the same colour as the back,
which is not so bright a red brown as the male. Feeds
principally on mice, in search of which it is frequently
seen hovering in the air and stationary for a great length
of time. Preys also on small birds and insects, and was;
formerly used for catching game. Inhabits Europe,
Siberia, and the more temperate parts of North America.
One of our most common birds of prey, especially among
the rocks and cliff’s of the coast, which favour its breed¬
ing. The nest is of sticks, and lined with wool and
other soft materials; but it sometimes builds on trees, or
is contented with the deserted nest of a magpie or crow.'
The eggs are usually four or five, of a dirty white, blot¬
ched with rust colour, of various shades.—It is a hand¬
some bird, whose sight is acute, and whose flight is easy
and graceful. It includes two or three varieties. 85
Fishing falcon.—Legs brown; bead ferruginous, with Piscatm.
long feathers ; body cinereous above, pale yellowish
white beneath; tail pale brown above, blueish-ash be-‘
neath. Bill and irides yellow ; margin of the upper fea¬
thers rusty brown, the under spotted in the middle with
brown. Inhabits Senegal, where it is called tanas,*
preying chiefly on fish, which it takes out of the water,
and retires to a convenient place to eat them piecemeal.- so
Sparrow hawk.—Cere green; feet yellow; belly
white, waved with grey; tail with black bands. The
weight of the male of this species is about five ounces,
that of the female nine : the former measures in length
about 12 inches, the latter 15. The male is inclined
to rust colour on the breast, the female to whitish. On
the back of the head, in both sexes, is an obscure bro-
keo patch of white* The quill feathers are dusky, bar¬
red
480
Accipitres.
87
Subbuteo.
88
fiLsalon.
. 89
Mwtutus.
90
Pumilus.
O R N I T H
red with black on the outer webs, and spotted with
white at the base of the inner. The legs are long, slen¬
der, and yellow. In some the back is spotted with
white, and others have the body entirely of that colour.
The sparrow-hawk is very common in our wooded and
inclosed districts, but is less frequent in the more cham¬
paign parts. The female sometimes builds her nest in
hollow trees, high rocks, or lofty ruins, but more fre¬
quently takes possession of that which has been deserted
by a crow, laving four or five eggs, of a dirty white or
blueish tinge, blotched at one ol the ends with rust co¬
lour. It is very widely diftused over the world, from
Russia to the Cape of Good Hope. It is bold and spi¬
rited, making great destruction among pigeons, young
poultry, and small birds of all kinds, which it will at¬
tack and carry off in the most daring manner j at the
same time, that it is obedient and docile, and can be
easily trained to hunt partridges, quails, larks, &c.
Hobbi/.—Cere and feet yellow j back brown j neck
white ; belly pale, with oblong brown spots. Bill blue ;
orbits yellow ; irides generally cbesnut j lateral tail-fea¬
thers with blackish bars 5 primary quill-feathers with
oval reddish spots j claws black. The male weighs
about seven ounces, and the female nine, or more. In¬
habits Europe and Siberia, breeds in Britain, but leaves
us the latter end of October. It build in trees, and
sometimes takes possession of a deserted crow’s nest,
laying three or four eggs, which are said to be white.
Though small, it is inferior te none of the falcon tribe
in courage, and will frequently pounce a partridge } but
its favourite prey is the lark, which it terrifies to such a
degree, that it sometimes flies to man for protection, and
will allow a net to be thrown over it.
Merlin.—Cere and feet yellow : head rusty ; body
above, of a blueish ash, w'ith spots and rusty streaks ;
beneath, yellowish-white, with oblong spots. Bill blue¬
ish ; irides dusky j tail alternately streaked with dusky
and reddish •, claws black j eggs brown red. There are
several varieties. The merlin is a small species of fal¬
con, being scarcely larger than the blackbird, but is
very rapid on wing, and was esteemed for its courage in
hawking. It flies low, and is generally seen skimming
along the side of a hedge, or over the surface of the
ground, in pursuit of small birds. Inhabits Europe j
visits the south of England in October, about the time
the hobby retires, but has never been observed to breed
farther south than Cumberland, where it has been ionnd
more than once, with four youngones, placed on the ground.
Minute falcon.—Cere brown *, legs yellow ; body
white beneath j tail feathers brown, branded with black,
About 11 inches long. Inhabits Malta j and occurs,
though rarely, in England.
Tiny falcon.—Legs yellow, body brown-ash j beneath
whitish, with blackish bars j crown whitish. Hardly
six inches long. Inhabits Cayenne.
Gen. 3. Strix, Owl.
O L O G Y.
move the outermost toe either backwards or forwards. Aceipitres.
They feed on carrion, living small birds, hares, mice,
field-mice, lizards, &c. "When they venture abroad in
day light, they are chaced, and insulted by smaller birds,
especially by the crow. In their manner of life, round
head, &c. they have some affinity to cats. During the
winter, they live retired, fasting, or sleeping in towers
and old walls.
91
Strxx. ' . .
92 Bill hooked •, no cere 5 nostrils oblong, covered with
Characters, bristly recumbent feathers $ head, eyes, and ears large $
tongue bifid.
These are nocturnal birds, with the organs of vision
so constructed as to see in the dark. Their sense of
hearing is very acute, by means of a particular mem¬
brane at the opening of the external ear. They can
3
A. Eared.
95
94
Great owl, great eared owl, great horned owl, &c.— Bubo.
Body of a reddish or tawney colour j irides yellow j
head" and body variegated with black, brown, ash, and
rusty spots and lines j claws large, much hooked, and
dusky. Liable to considerable varieties. Nearly the
size of an eagle, and very strong, preying on hares, rab¬
bits, moles, rats, mice, and sometimes bats and reptiles.
It inhabits Europe, Calmuc Tartary, and South Ameri¬
ca, haunting mountainous rocks and caverns. Its nest
is nearly three feet in diameter, and composed of sticks
bound together by fibrous roots, and lined with leaves.
It generally lays two eggs, somewhat larger than those
of a hen, and variegated, like the bird itself. The
young are very voracious, and are plentilully supplied
with food by the parents. This bird is by no means
common in Great Britain, though it has been occasion¬
ally shot both in England and Scotland. It endures
day light better than most of the genus, flies low in
the day, but sometimes soars very high during the night.
Virginian eagle owl.—Size of the common eagle owl; Virginiam
ear feathers large, rise above the base of the bill which
is black*, irides golden yellow, upper part of the body ^
brown, variegated with slender rufous and cinereous
lines } under part pale-ash, transversely stripped with
brown j throat white j lower part ol the neck and sides
of the breast orange brown, spotted with darker brown j
quills and tail banded with brown ; legs and hall the
toes covered with cinereous feathers j claws horn co¬
lour. Inhabits America, Kamtschaka, and Astracan.
Is a little smaller than the great horned owl, and is
supposed by some to be only a variety. 95
Ceylonese eagle owl.—Bill horn colour ”, irides yellow; Zeylonen-
upper part of the body pale reddish brown, under partSiS'
yellowish white j ears short, pointed j first quills and tail^cxciH
barred with black, white, and pale red ; legs naked to fig,3.
the knees. Length 23 inches ; weight two pounds and
near 10 ounces. Native of Ceylon. ^
Long-eared or hoi'n owl.—Ears with six feathers. Ears
black and yellow 5 irides yellow j back and wing coverts
dusky brown, gray, and yellowish-rusty 3 breast and belly
pale yellow, with brown longitudinal lines ; tail barred
w'ith ash-colour, and dusky legs and feet feathered to
the claws. About 14 inches long} but there is a variety
that is much smaller, and another which is distinguished
by the greater darkness of the body. Diffused over the
four quarters of the globe, frequenting forests and wood¬
ed tracts, and manifesting a partiality to fir, box, or
holly plantations, where it more readily conceals itself
by day among the ever-green toliage. Its principal food
is mice, and sometimes small birds taken at roost. It
remains with us the whole year, and is frequently taken}
yet little is known of its habits. 97
Short-eared owl, hawk owl, mouse hawk, Sac.— ^ ^
Ears short} body above brown, feathers-edged with
yellow} beneath pale yellow, with longitudinal dusky
ornithology.
cipitrcs. streaks j head small and hawk-like j hill dusky ^ irides
*-v ' yellow. Length 14 inches, stretch of wing three feet.
Inhabits Europe, Siberia, and America, chiefly in moun¬
tainous or wooded countries, and feeds principally on
field-mice. Visits England in the latter part of the
year, and disappears in spring. It flies by day, and is
sometimes observed in companies. It is supposed to
breed in the Orkneys, and probably in Norway, mak¬
ing its nest of dry grass, on the ground, and laying
98 three or four white eggs.
>jw. Little horned owl.—Ears of one feather each. Gray,
rufous, brown or blackish, according to age; legs spot¬
ted with brown; toes and claws brown. Between seven
and eight inches long. Inhabits Europe, and preys on
field mice.
B. Earless.
99 o
: dea. Snowy or great white owl.—Body whitish, with a
few brown lunated spots. Bill black, and almost hid
in the feathers ; irides yellow; legs covered with white
feathers to the toes ; claws black. This species is some¬
times quite white, and sometimes varies with very nu¬
merous spots. About two feet long; flies abroad by day ;
preys on herons, hares, mice, and sometimes carrion,
but is particularly fond of ptarmigans. Makes a howl¬
ing noise. Inhabits the northern parts of Europe and
America, particularly Sweden, Iceland, and Hudson’s
I I0Q Bay, and sometimes, though rarely, Pennsylvania.
1 'ulosa. t*rvy or barred owl.—Head, neck, breast, back,
and wing coverts brown, spotted with white ; belly and
vent dirty white, streaked with brown; tail with brown
and whitish bands, tipt with whitish. Weighs about
three pounds, is two feet long, and four in extent of
wing. Feeds on hares, mice, and cranes. Inhabits
Hudson’s Bay and New York, and rarely occurs in
101 England.
i nmea. White or common owl.—Body pale yellow, with white
spots , beneath whitish, with black spots. Bill white ;
irides dusky ; tail feathers white within, with dusky
lines on the outside ; 14 inches long, and weighs about.
11 ounces. This species is so well known, that we need
not more minutely describe it. It inhabits Europe,
America, and Northern Asia, and is by far the most
common of British owls, being distinguished by various
provincial appellations, as barn owl, gillihowlet, howlet,
madge-howlet, church owl, hissing owl, screech owl,
&c. It is partial to the habitations of man, and is
rarely found in woods. Its ordinary haunts are barns,
churches, old houses, and other uninhabited buildings,
in which it continues during the day, but which it leaves
in the evening, in quest of prey. Its flight is accom¬
panied with loud and frightful cries, and its repose with
a blowing noise, like the snoring of a man ; when
alarmed, it snaps its bill with great force. It makes
scarcely any nest, but deposits five or six whitish eggs in
the holes of walls. It feeds on mice, and small birds,
which ;t swallows whole, and afterwards discharges the
bones, feathers, and other indigestible parts at its mouth,
m the form of small round cakes, which are called cast-
wgs, and some bushels of which are sometimes found in
the hollows ofdecayed trees, nearfarm-houses or villages,
in barns, eut-houses, &c. When a pair have young
ones, theyr sally out alternately in quest of food for
them, and generally return every five minutes, with a
live mouse Dr Latham mentions, that he received a
Vol. XV. Part II. f
481
specimen from Jamaica, which differed In no respect Accipitres.
front our common owl.—The white owl is very suscep- -v- 
tible of domestication, when taken yountr.
rry j . 1 G . 103
1 awney or brown owl, common brown or ivy owl, ^iridula
black owl, howlet, wood owl, &c.—Body ash-coioured,
the third flag-feather the longest; plumage marked above
with dusky spots and points ; breast and belly yellowish,
mixed with white ; beneatli with dusky streaks ; irides
dusky ; tail with pale brown and black spots and lines.
Fourteen inches long; stretch of wing two feet eight
inches ; weight of the female 19 ounces. Inhabits Eu¬
rope and I artary. 1 bis is another very common species.
It resides chiefly in woods and plantations of fir ; con¬
cealing itself in the thickest recesses; sometimes it settles
on the ground, but if molested, takes shelter in a neigh¬
bouring tree. It is rarely seen on wing by day, except
forced from its haunts, the light dazzling it to such a
degree that boys bunt it down with sticks and stones. It
breeds in the hollows of trees, and sometimes in barns,
where it is protected by the farmer, as it is an excellent
mouser. It lays two or three eggs of a roundish form,
and dull white colour. It is the only species known to
hoot, besides which, it makes a disagreeable screaming
noise. It is a great enemy to young pigeons, leverets,
young rats, &c„ but chiefly subsists on mice.—“ We
have taken this bird,” says Mr Montagu, “ ih its ma¬
ture state, as well as young, and found no difficulty in
either case of preserving them alive. They were never
observed to drink ; and indeed for many months together
had no water offered them.”—The ulula of Linnaeus is
now esteemed only a smaller variety of the stvhhda. IO,
Little owl.—With white spots arranged in five rows Passerhid.'
on the flag-feathers ; bill whitish brown ; irides pale
yellow; head, back, and Aving coverts pale broAvn, with
Avhite spots ; breast Avhitisb, variegated Avith rusty.
Scarcely larger than a blackbird, but varies consider¬
ably both in respect of size and markings. Inhabits
Europe, North America, and the West Indies. Is very
rare in England, though it has .sometimes been found
in Yorkshire, Flintshire, and the neighbourhood of Lon¬
don. It is said to frequent ruined edifices in France^
and to build in chimneys, in Carniola: but it frequent¬
ly nestles in the boles of rocks and walls, and lays five
or six eggs, spotted Avith yelloAvish and white. It can
fly by day, and give chase to SAvalloAvs and other small
bh’ds on Aving, but mice are its principal food.
White-fronted owl.—Body rusty broAvn, paler be- Albifrons*
neath ; forehead Avhite ; quill feathers barred Avith black
and A*hite. Only five inches long. Native of North
America.
Gen. 4. Lanius, Shrike. Lanujs.
Bill nearly straight, w ith a dent on each mandible, characters,
near the end, naked at the base ; tongue jagged at
the point.
The birds of this genus form a connecting link be-
tween the falcons and pies, and have been differently
classed by different ornithologists. Though compara¬
tively small, they are very courageous, Avill attack birds
much larger than themselves, and are called butcher
birds, because they frequently kill several, before they
begin to feed. They fix on their victims Avith theii'
talons, split the skull Avith their bill, and then feed on
them at leisure.
3 P Collared
482
Accipitres.
107
Collaris.
108
ExcubHor
109
Collurio.
110
Tyrannus
Collared shrike% canary liter, ax fiscal.—Tail wedg¬
ed ; body black, white beneath $ first quill feathers
white at the base j bill and head blackish } tail feathers,
except the four middle ones, white at the tips. .Very
common at the Cape of Good Hope, also found in Se¬
negal, and in the interior parts ot Africa. Twelve
inches long. Tweeds on beetles, grashoppers, and other
insects, which it not only catches with great dexterity ;
but when it cannot consume them all, will stick them
on the pales of farm yards, till it has occasion ioi tlu m.
It also seizes on sparrows and canary birds, of which
it devours only the brains.
Cinereous shrike, great cinereous shrike, greater but¬
cher bird, mattagess, night jar, &.c.—Tail somewhat
cuneiform, white on the edges*, back grav *, wings
black, with a white spot j bill black, with bristles at
the base *, upper parts of the plumage of a pale blue ash,
the under parts white j legs black. The female differs
chiefly in the under parts, which are of a dirty white,
marked with numerous semicircular brown lines. 1 here
is a variety, with the body white, legs yellowish, and
bill and claws blackish ; and another with lesser wing
coverts and reddish shoulders. Inhabits Europe and
North America. Is rather a scarce bird in England,
but is said to breed among some of our mountainous si¬
tuations $ coming in May, and departing in September.
It makes i nest of heath and moss, lined with wool and
gossamer, and lays six eggs, of a dull olive green, spot¬
ted with black at the larger end. According to Buf-
fon, it is common in France, where it continues all the
year; it kills rats, mice, and small birds, affixing its
prey to a sharp thorn, and tearing it in pieces with its
bill *, it is also said to imitate the notes of some other
birds, by way of decoying them to their destruction.
Mr Pennant observes, that when kept in a cage, it sticks
its food against the wires before it will eat it.
Red-backed shrike, lesser butcher-bird, or slasher.—
Tail somewhat wedged 5 back hoary *, four innermost
tail-feathers of one colour *, bill of a leaden hue. Irides
hazel; head and lower part of the back of a light gray,
upper part of the back and wing-coverts of a bright
rusty red *, breast, belly, and sides, of a fine pale rose, or
bloom colour; a black streak passes from the bill through
the eyes ; legs black. Length about seven inches *,
weight eight drams. The female weighs two drams
more, and has all the upper parts of a ferruginous
brown. The manners of this species are similar to those
of the last. It kills small birds by piercing the skull
with its bill, and insects by transfixing them on the
thorn of the sloe-bush. It tears off the body of the
chaffer, and leaves the elytra, wings, and head behind.
It imitates the song of many of the sparrow tribe, and
thus entices them within its reach. It chiefly haunts
inclosed moist situations, makes its nest in some thick
hedge, composing it very skilfully of moss and fibrous
roots put together with wool and lined with hair, and
lays five or six eggs of a bluish-white colour, with a
circle of brown near the broad end. It inhabits Europe
and Africa, visits Britain in May, and departs to some
warmer climate in September. Among its varieties
Gmelin includes lamas rutilus of Latham, or woodchat,
which is very rare in this country.
Tyrant shrike.—Body cinereous, white beneath *,
crown of the head black, with a longitudinal tawney
streak. Eight inches long. There are several varie-
O R N I T H O L O G Y.
ties, all natives of America and the West Indies, and pic*,
all of a fierce and audacious disposition, fixing on the v—
backs of other predaceous birds, and making a continual
chattering noise, till they force them to retix*e.
Order II. PICiE.
in
PlCJE,
The distinguishing marks of this order are, a bill Character,
somewhat compressed, more or less crooked, and always
convex j toes divided, and adapted either tor climbing
(scansortal) or, for stepping, (gressorial). borne feed
on insects, worms, and the flesh and offal of other ani¬
mals, and some on the seeds and juices of plants. Du¬
ring the breeding season, they are monogamous, and
make their nests on trees ; and during incubation, the
female is often fed by the male. There are a few ge¬
nera, however, which do not exactly correspond with
these characters.
Gen. 5. Psittacus, Parrot.
113
PSITTA-
n5
Bill hooked*, upper mandible moveable, and, for the 114
most part, covered with a case *, nostrils rounded, and Characters,
placed in the base ot the bill j tongue fleshy, obtuse,
entire j feet scansorial.
This very numerous genus, which contains upwards
of 140 species, is peculiar to the warmer regions of both
worlds. The birds which belong to it, resemble the
accipitres in the form of the bill, but in their manners
coincide with the other genera of this order. They feed
on the seeds and fruits of various plants j aie veiy do¬
cile, and by means of their obtuse tongue, may be
taught to imitate human speech. They climb easily,
assisting themselves with their bill. They associate in
pairs, and attain to a great age. Some species equal
the domestic fowl in size, while others are no larger
than a sparrow. In Europe, they sometimes lay eggs,
but seldom sit on them. In their native climates, the
male and female sit on them alternately.
A. Tail long, and wedge-shaped.
Red and blue maccaw.—Quill-feathers blue above, Mam,
rufous beneath, scapulars varied with blue and green
cheek naked, wrinkled. Body scarlet; upper mandible
white, lower black ; temples white j wing-coverts ge¬
nerally yellow *, tail long and red *, feathers blue at the
sides. Two feet seven inches in length, size of a capon.
Inhabits Brasil, Guiana, and other regions of South
America, affecting moist palm woods, and living on the
fruit of the trees. When driven by hunger to feed on
the manchineel apple, its flesh is poisonous, though the
bird itself receives no injury. Makes its nest in decay¬
ed trees, enlarging the hole, if necessary, with its bill,
and lining the inside with feathers. The female lays
two eggs at a time, about the size of those of a pigeon,
and spotted like those of a partridge. Breeds twice a
year, the male and female sitting on the nest alternate¬
ly, and reciprocally nursing and feeding the young buds.
The latter are tamed with great ease, and may even be
taught to speak, but the old birds are clamorous and
unmanageable. Though the flesh is hard, black, and
unsavoury, it makes good soup, and furnishes a great
part of the food of the inhabitants of Cayenne, as well
as other parts of South America. Like other parrots
it is subject to fits when kept tame. The strength of
Pic®.
U7
ibuensis.
118
i-gans.
119
nnantii.
no
i nos«s.
m
* latus.
122
rims.
U3
tynuti®.
symosus
O R N I T H
its bill is sufficient to break a peach-stone with great
ease.
Red and yellow maccaw.—Pale scarlet ; scapulars
yellow, tipt with green ; quill-feathers blue above, ru¬
fous beneath j cheeks naked and wrinkled. Size of the
preceding. Inhabits Guiana, Brasil, and Jamaica.
Tabnan parrot.—Head, neck, breast, and belly, pur-
ple j back and wing-coverts green 5 crown terminated
by a lunular blue mark 5 first quill-feathers and greater
part of the tail blue. Length, 19 inches. A beautiful
species, found at Tonga Taboo, and the other Friendly
isles in the South seas. The green variety, with the
head, neck, breast, and belly, scarlet, occurs in New
South Wales.
Beautiful parrot.—Head, neck, and body, red be¬
neath, broivn above; interscapulars pale blue, mixed
with red ; tail greenish-brown, tipt with white. Varies,
with the wings, tail, and body green above. From 12
to 15 inches long. Inhabits the Molucca islands.
Pennantian parrot.—Scarlet; fore part of the back
black, waved with scarlet; sides and throat blue 5 quill-
feathers each with a white spot. There is a variety
with a pale band in the middle of each wing. The fe¬
male has the upper parts of the neck and body green¬
ish, top of the head red, and a patch of the same colour
under each eye ; chin and throat blue ; lower part of the
neck and breast, as also the rump and vent, red •, mid¬
dle of the belly dusky green ; tail dark blue, fringed
with chesnut j shoulders blue, and the rest of the wing
the same, but darker. Fifteen inches long. Inhabits
New South Wales.
Splendid parrot.—Bright blood-red j back feathers
edged with black ; chin, wing, and tail blue. Sixteen
inches long. Inhabits New Holland.
Orange-billed parrot, or long parrakeet.—Of a yel¬
lowish green colour; the hind part of the head, the
throat, and breast red; crown of the head and ears
blue, with ash coloured orbits. Eight inches long. In¬
habits India. Like other small species with long tails,
is not easily taught to speak.
Gray-brcasted parrakeei.—Olive ; face, chin, and
breast mouse-colour, quill-feathers green. Bill and legs
gray; tail five inches long. About the size of a thrush.
Tame and gentle, and easily taught to articulate. Com¬
mon at Monte Video.
Horned parrot.—Green ; head scarlet, with two long
feathers standing out like horns ; collar and rump straw-
colour ; outer edge of the quill and tail feathers blue.
Bill and legs black blue ; temples orange ; irides gol¬
den ; wing-coverts at the tips and within dusky ; tail
black beneath. Length 11 inches, size of a small
dove. Inhabits New Caledonia. Figured in Latham’s
Synopsis.
Ground parrot, New Wales parrot, or black-spotfcd
parrakeet of Van Diemen's Land. Green ; four middle
tail feathers barred with green and black, the rest with
black and yellow; bill and legs black ; tail much
wedged. This is a most elegant and beautiful species,
about 12 inches long, inhabiting New South M ales,
and other parts of New Holland, where it is known by
the name of goolingnang. It is rarely seen, except on
the ground, particularly in moist places. It is not
known to perch on trees like other parrots, but rises
ii’oai among the grass, and immediately alights in it
O L O G Y.
again. The legs and toes are more slender than usual
in this genus, and the claws more straight.
Otaheite parrakeet.—Blue; feathers of the head
Ioiir ; chin and throat white ; bill and legs red. Tongue
fringed at the end ; only five inches long; inhabits
Otaheite, and feeds on the fruit of the banana.
Taitianus.
B. Tails shoi't, and even at the ends.
126
Banksian cockatoo.—Splendid black ; crest small ; Banksii.
head and wing coverts dotted with buff; outer tail-
feathers scarlet in the middle, bam d and tipt with
black. Nearly three feet long, but varies both in size
and markings. Inhabits New Holland, and was
brought to England by Sir Joseph Banks. Figured in
Latham’s first Supplement. I2^
Great white cockatoo, or yellow-crested cockatoo.— CrktatuH
White; crest folding, and yellow. Bill, cere, irides,
legs and claws black; orbits naked and white ; quill
and lateral fail feathers, from the base to the middle,
sulphureous on the inside ; feathers of the neck loosely
flowing ; crest five inches long, and erectable. Length
18 inches; size of a domestic ordinary fowl. This, and
several other species, frequently repeat the word cocka¬
too. Inhabits the Molucca islands. Ijg
Ash-coloured or hoary parrot.—Bluish-gray ; tem- Erythaeus.
pies naked and white ; tail scarlet. Bill black ; cere
white ; irides yellowish white; legs cinereous ; claws
black. Subject to several varieties. About 20 inches
long. Loquacious, and easily taught to speak. In¬
habits Africa, and is sometimes called jaco from the
sound which it commonly utters. I20
Ceram or purple parrot, Ceram lory, &c.—Red ; or- GamUus.
bits ash-coloured ; cheeks and wings green ; hinder
parts of the tail-feathers blue. There are three or four
varieties. Size of a dove. Inhabits Ceram and the
other Molucca islands. 130
Purple or blue-cap lory.— Red; cap violet; wings Bomicellu.
green ; shoulders and cheeks blue ; orbits brown. There
is a variety with a blue cap, black orbits, and yellow
collar. According to some writers, these are male and
female. They inhabit the East Indies, and are remark¬
able for speaking distinctly, and quickly learning their
lesson. They are in general scarce, and fetch a high
price. 131
Violet cap, or black-capped lory.—Purple; cap violet; Lory.
wings green ; breast, cheeks, and tail blue ; orbits pale
flesh-colour. Upwards of xo inches long; inhabits the
Philippine isles, particularly Yolo. It is so familiar
and playful, that it is much to be regretted that its
duration of life proves so short in these colder re¬
gions. 133
Yellow-winged parrot, or yellow-headed creatine.— Ochro-
Green ; front and orbits whitish; crown, cheeks, c\unftcrus'
throat, and remoter wing-coverts, yellow. Thirteen
inches long. Inhabits South America. A friend of
the count de Buffon had one of this species alive, which
seemed much attached to its master, and yet of a very
capricious temper, expecting a return for every demon¬
stration of civility. In its wantonness, it would some¬
times bite a little too hard, and laugh heartily, as if
pleased with the act; but if chastised for the offence, it
became the more refractory, and could be reclaimed on-
ly by gentle treatment. It took great delight in tear¬
ing every thing to pieces, was dull and silent if confined
3 P 2 it
13.1
Fasserinus.
*34
Ci/anoly-
seos.
*35
Melanocc-
phahis.
i.3<>
Sene gains.
137.
Pul lari ns.
ORNITHOLOGY.
in its cage but when at large, chattered almost inces¬
santly, and repeated every thing that was said to it.
It was also, contrary to the disposition of many parrots,
very fond of children. During the moulting season, it
appeared dejected and uneasy for nearly three successive
months. It was for the most part fed on hemp seed,
nuts, fruits of all kinds, and bread soaked in wine, but
preferred meat, if it could get it. It was observed, that
if it fed on this last, it became dull and heavy, and soon
lost its feathers. It was also remarked, that it kept its
food for some time in its cheeks, whence it was gra¬
dually protruded by a sort of rumination.
Passerine parrot, or blue and green purrakcet.-^—Y e\-
lowish green, with a blue spot on the wings, which are
blue below. Bill, cere, orbits, legs and claws, orange j
primary wing-coverts blue. Inhabits Brasil and Gui¬
ana, and is the smallest of the genus, being only four
inches in length, and of the size of the house sparrow.
Phte-rolhtred parrot.——Yel 1 owish-green, collar blue,
rump red. Larger than a pigeon. Inhabits Chili,
where it is called thecau, and where it often does much
injury to the com, flying in great flocks. When the
troop settles, one of them acts as sentinel on a tree, and
gives the alarm if any person approaches, from which
circumstance it is difficult to shoot them. This species
breeds in the holes of rocks, laying two white eggs in
the most inaccessible and craggy parts. From the tops
of the cliff, the inhabitants let themselves down by
ropes to take the eggs and young birds, which are
reckone d delicate eating. If robbed of its young, this
parrot will lay a second, and even a third, but rarely
a fourth time. It is easily tamed, and learns to speak
well.
White breasted parrot —Green, yellow beneath, cap
black, breast white, orbits flesh colour. Length nine
inches and a half. Inhabits Mexico, Guiana, and the
Caraccas in South America. Frequents woods, and sel¬
dom approaches inhabited districts. Its call is a shrill
whistle, which it often repeats in its fbght, nor docs it
learn to talk. “ These birds, says Dr Latham, fly in
small numbers together, but are perpetually quarrelling
with one another j and, if any one is taken, it refuses
all food, till at last it is starved to death. Parrots of
the most stubborn nature are often subdued by means of
the smoke of tobacco •, but this bird is only put into bad
humour by the attempt. Whoever, therefore, would
have these parrots must train them up young; and this
would scarce be worth while, were it not for the sake
of variety.” Buffon has observed, that it is thicker
and shorter-necked than most parrots, that its feathers
are more stiffly set on, and that it is of a more dull and
sluggis!) disposition.
Senegal parrot.—Green, yellow beneath, head cine¬
reous, orbits black and naked. Bill cinereous, cere
blackish, irides yellow, legs reddish ash. Size of a
blackbird; length eight inches and a quarter. Plen¬
tiful in Senegal, where it flies in companies of five or
six, and perches cn the tops of the trees which are
scattered in the sandy plains. Its cry is sharp and
dissonant.
Ethiopian parrot, or red-headed Guinea parrakeet.—
Green ; front red; tail tawney, with a black hand, or¬
bits cinereous. Size of a lark ; length five inches and
a half. Very common in Guinea, and also occurs in
Ethiopia, the East Indies, and the island of Java.
Pie®.-
Sapphire parrot, or sapphire-crowned parrakeet.—
Green ; rump and breast scarlet, crown (of the male) -v—
blue. It sometimes occurs with the head yellowish blue, ,X3S
a transverse orange bar behind, and the front and under l"
part of the throat and tail-coverts red. Five inches long.
Inhabits the Philippine islands. Sleeps suspended by
one foot, and is very fond of the fresh juice of the co¬
coa-nut tree. “ If this is put in a cage (says Osbeck),
it whistles very seldom, and commonly grows quite sul¬
len ; it hangs itself with its feet so, that the back is tur¬
ned towards the earth, and seldom changes this situa¬
tion : it is fed with boiled rice; in which manner in the
year 1752, one was brought to Gottenburg.—*—We
observed that their nests were remarkable for their ex¬
ceeding fine texture ; but we did not see the birds. If
they had a different construction, the monkeys would
be very mischievous to them; but now, before they can
get to the opening, the lowest part, as the weakest,
breaks in pieces, and the visitor falls to the ground,
without any danger to the birds.”
n
j>
Gen. 6. Ramphastos, Toucan.
_ *39
-ItAMPHAS*
Bill large, hollow, convex, and serrated at the margins; 140
both mandibles incurvated at the tips; nostrils be-CllaracU:rs•
hind the base of the bill long and narrow ; tongue
feathered at the edges; feet mostly scansorial.
The birds of this genus seem to be limited to the tro¬
pical regions of South America, and are very impatient
of cold. They feed on fruit, especially that of the
palm trees. They are generally met with in small
flocks of eight or ten, moving from place to place in
quest of food, and advancing northward or southward
as the fruits ripen, though they are not properly migra¬
tory. They make their nests in the hollows of trees
abandoned by the woodpeckers, and not formed by
themselves, the structure of their bill not allowing of
the eftorts necessary to make, or even enlarge a hole in
the most tender wood, as it yields to the least pres¬
sure of the finger. They lay two eggs, and probably
breed more than once in the year, as they are pretty
numerous. IF brought up young they are easily tamed,
and become very familiar. 141
Green toucan.—Green, belly yellow, rump red. Up- VirUix.
per mandible yellow, with red sides and a black line in
the middle, the lower black ; the base and space round
the nostrils red, the teeth in both white, irides and orbits
yellow, legs lead colour, claws black, tail wedged and
inclining to ash beneath ; head, chin, and throat in the
male, black, in the female, hay, terminated by a black,
narrow, transverse band. Fourteen inches long. Inha¬
bits Cayenne. Its extraordinary large bill gives it a
verv singular appearance. r42.
Pavonine toucan.—Green, feathers sprinkled with red Pavomn .
spots. Bill variegated with yellow and black, legs and
claws black. Seventeen inches long. Inhabits the sea-
coasts of New Spain, and is said to feed on fish. This
last circumstance, however, may admit of doubt. Most
of the species will eat fish, and even flesh, in a state of
confinement; but their frequent proximity to the water
in their natural state, is probably occasioned by the si¬
tuation of their favourite fruit. _ . .p-JJL*
Brasil toucan, or Brasilian pie.—Blackish, abdominal
band and vent red, rump white. Tiventy-one inches
long.
ORNITHOLOGY.
long. Inhabits South America. The propriety of its
Linnaean designation is somewhat doubtful.
Yellow-breasted toucan—Blackish; abdominal band,
vent, and rump yellow. Nineteen inches long. Inha¬
bits South America.
White toucan.—Entirely white. No other particu¬
lars are known of this species.
48s
Gen. 9. Buceros, Horn-bill.
Picas.
152
Bill convex, curved, sharp-edged, large, serrated at the -BlJC^os-
145
J tIOTUS,
'47
margins, with a horny protuberance on the upper Q]jafaCters<
mandible near the base ; nostrils behind the base of
the bill; tongue short, sharp-pointed; feet gresso¬
rial.
Gen. 7. Momotus, Motmot.
148
{ nlicn-
m
Plate
( racters. Bill strong, slightly curved, serrated at the edges; nos¬
trils feathered, tongue feathered, tail wedged, feet
gressorial.
Brasilian motmot, or Brasilian saw-billed roller.—
Green, front bluish green, hind part of the head violet,
crown black. Variegated with green, tawney, blue and
( CXCV. cinereous. Body olive-green above, rusty beneath; head
s ^ large, bill black, legs black, claws hooked. About a
foot and a half in length, and nearly equal to a magpie
in size. Inhabits Brasil, Cayenne, Mexico, and other
parts of South Amer ica. It is a solitary bird, frequent¬
ing thick forests ; chiefly seen on the ground, or on
some low branch of a tree, taking short flights when di¬
sturbed, and pronouncing the word hontOu. It makes a
nest of dry grass and stalks on the ground, frequently in
some hole deserted by an armadillo or other quadruped,
and laying for the most part two eggs It feeds on in¬
sects and raw flesh, the fragments of which it macerates
in water. When taken, it strikes violently with its
bid. Its voice is extremely harsh, weak, and tremu¬
lous.
5°
t aclers.
5i
aceus.
Gen. 8. Scythrops, Channel-bill.
Bill large, convex, cultrated, furrowed or channel¬
led on the sides, with the tip bent ; nostrils round,
naked, placed at the base of the bill ; tongue
cartilaginous and bifid at the end ; toes placed two
before and two behind ; tail consisting of ten fea¬
thers.
New Holland channel-bill psittaceoas or anomalous
horn-bill.— Bill palebrowm, tipt with yellowish, convex,
keeled; nostrils surrounded with a red wrinkled skin ;
orbits naked ; bead, neck, and under parts of the body
pale bluish-gray; back, wings, and tail cinereous, the
feathers mostly with dusky blackish tips ; tail long,
wedged, its feathers barred with black near the end,
and tipt with white ; legs short, scaly, and with the
hooked claws black. Size nearly that of a crow, and
the total length 27 inches. Inhabits New Holland,
though not plentifully, and is Seldom seen unless in the
morning and evening, sometimes in small groups of eight
or ten, but frequently in pairs, appearing about Port
Jackson in October, and departing in January, but to
what country is not known. Both on the wing, and
when perched, they make a strange, loud, screaming
noise, not unlike that of the common cock and hen
when they perceive a hawk or other bird of prey ho¬
vering over them. They are supposed to feed princi¬
pally on the seeds of the red gum and p; ppermint trees,
wmcli they swallow whole. The tail is sometimes dis¬
played like a fan, which gives the bird a majestic ap¬
pearance.
£
The birds of this genus are all inhabitants of the
warmer regions of Asia and Africa, and seem te corre¬
spond to the toucans of the New World. According
to Latham, the circumstance of theif feeding Oft fish re¬
quires confirmation.
Philippine horn-bill.—Front bony, flat, afld two- JJuorrm.
horned at the fore part. Varies with a vermilion bill,
black belly, and the back and rump brown ash. Body
black above, white beneath; quill feathers with a white
spot; tail longish and black ; legs greenish. Size of a
common fowl; inhabits the Philippine islands, and has
a cry like the grunting of a hog It lives in the woods,
and feeds on fruits, such as the Indian fig, pistachio, &c.
which it swallows entire; and after digesting the pulp,
brings up the stones whole, and still fit for vegetation.
The Gentoos rank it among their gods.
Abyssinian /zwvz-/;?//.—Black ; bony protuberance se- Abyssini-
mrcircniar on the fore part; orbits, chin, and part of the cm.
throat naked, and irides brown. Greater quill feathers
white. Total length, three feet ten inches; extent of
wing, six feet. On the neck are several protuberances,
as in the turkey cock, of a light blue colour, changing
to red on various occasions. Occurs in Abyssinia, ge¬
nerally among the fields of taff, feeding on green beetles,
which frequent that plant. It has a putrid smell, whrcfl
has occasioned a supposition of its feeding on carrion.
It has been seen with eighteen young ones, and Usually
runs on the ground ; but when raised, flies both strong
and far. It builds in large thick trees, and when it
can, near churches; has a covered nest, like that of a
magpie, but four times as large as an eagle’s, placed
firm on the trunk, at no great height from the ground,
and the entry always oil the east side.
Indian horn-bill—Protuberance flattened forwards, jjv^cc
belly tawney, neck with a white collar. Two feet fourraa-.
inches long, rather bigger than a cock. Inhabits the
Moluccas, and feeds ehicfh on nutmegs, from which
circumstance its fl -sh is very delicate, and has a fine
aromatic flavour- In its native places, it is frequently
tamed for the purposes of destroying rats and mice. 1
Rhinoceros horn- bill, rhinoeeros-bird, or horned Indian Rhinoceros*
raven.—The horny process on the upper mandible re¬
curved. Inhabits India. Three feet long, and nearly
as big as a turkey. Feeds on flesh and carrion, and fol¬
lows the hunters tor the purpose of feeding on the en¬
trails of the beasts which they kill. It is also said to
feed on rats and mice, and after pressing them flat with
its bill, to toss them up in the air, and swallow them
whole, immediately on their descent I£.s
Panayan horn-bill.—Greenish black ; under part ofParulycmis,
the body dusky red ; the prominence of the upper man- Hate
dihie acute above and plane at the sides ; hill very long, CCGXCV.
arched, dusky, having the sides marked transversely
with orange-coloured furrows. Size of the raven. Na¬
tive of the isle of Panay.
Gen.
4&6
O R N I T H
Picae.
Gen. io. Buphaga, Bccf-eater.
Bupheca straight, squarish j mandible gibbous, entire, more
60 gibbous at the margins : feet gressorial.
(^lictr&ctcrs
,6 * African beef-eater.—Upper parts of the body gray-
Africana. brown, under parts and rump yellowish j bill hardly
an inch long, sometimes yellowish, tipt with red, some¬
times black j tail wedged *, legs and claws black. Eight
inches and a half long. Inhabits Senegal, and other
districts of Africa. Resembles the starling in its man¬
ners, appearing in small troops of a dozen or more.
Alights on the backs of oxen, antelopes, and other qua¬
drupeds, and by pressing the elevated part of the ani¬
mal’s hide, which contains the larva of the oestrus, for¬
ces it out, and regales on it. It is also said to feed on
various kinds of insects. It has a sharp kind of cry,
in no respect approaching to a song.
Crotopha- Gen. 11. Crotophaga,
163 Bill compressed, semi-oval, arched, carinated on the
Characters. back upper mandible angular at each edge $ nostrils
pervious, or going from one side of the bill to the
. other.
Lesser ani.—Blackish-violet j feet scansorial. Body
black •, tail long, and wedged •, upper mandible incurved
at the tip; nostrils oval; tongue fleshy, and entire ; legs
black. Length thirteen inches and a half; size of a
blackbird ; and sometimes known by the names of the
ra^zor-billed blackbird, or great blackbird. Inhabits
South America and several of the West India islands.
This species is gregarious to such a degree, that many
females lay their eggs in the same nest, to make which
they all unite in concert, and after depositing their eggs,
sit on them close to each other, in order to hatch them,
each striving to do the most for the general good.
When the young are hatched, the parents exert them¬
selves to feed the whole flock. It is still more remark¬
able, that as soon as the female has laid her eggs, she
covers them with leaves, and repeats this operation as
often as she is obliged to leave the nest for food. It
generally breeds twice a-year j and the eggs are about
the size of those of a pigeon, of a sea-green colour, and
spotted at the ends. The lesser ani feeds on worms, in¬
sects, fruits, and grain, according to the season. The
other species resemble this in appearance and manners,
but vary somewhat in size and colouring.
Gen. 12. Musophaga, 'Plantain-eater.
Gen. 13. Glaucopis, JVattle-bird.
O L O G Y.
Its total length is nineteen inches, of which the tail is p;ts
six inches and one-third. It is described and figuredy—.1
in Latham’s second supplement.
168
Glalco.
PIS.
Bill incurvated, arched, the lower mandible shortest,
with a caruncle below at the base •, nostrils depressed, Character!,
and half covered with a membrane nearly cartilagin¬
ous, cut at the point, and fringed $ feet gressorial.
170
Cinereous wattle-bird.—Body, bill, and legs black ; Cinera,
caruncle first blue, then orange ; irides blue, and very
large j tail long and wedged j legs long; hind claws
longer than the rest. Fifteen inches long ; about the
size of a jay. Inhabits New Zealand, where it is often
seen walking on the ground, and sometimes, though
more rarelv, perching on treets. It feeds on various
kinds of berries and insects, and even, according to
some, on small birds. Its note approaches o whistling,
and sometimes to a sort of murmuring that is not un¬
pleasant. Its flesh is eatable, and by some esteemed
savoury.
Gen. 14. Corvus, Ci'ow.
171
Corvcs.
Mcsopha-
r A r65 strong, triangular, the upper mandible at the base
4'haractcrs. elevated above the crown, both mandibles dentated on
edges ; nostrils in the middle of the bill; tongue en¬
tire and stout; toes placed three before and one be¬
hind.
Violacea. Violet plantain-eater.—Bill one inch and a half; the
upper mandible nearly triangular, losing its attachment
at the back part, and hanging over the crown ; colour
of the bill yellow, and reddish towards the end; irides
brown ; top of the head purple ; neck, breast, body
and wings violet; legs dusky-black, and very strong.
This beautiful and rare bird is found on plains near the
borders of rivers, in the province of Acra, in Guinea,
.and is said to live principally on the fruit of the plantain.
1 /
Bill strong, upper mandible a little convex, edges cul- Character
trated, and in most species, slightly notched near the
tip ; nostrils covered with bristles reflected over them;
tongue divided at the end ; toes, three forward, one
backward, the middle one joined to the outer as far
as the first joint.
The greater number of this tribe are found in every
climate. They are prolific, social, and clamoious ;
building on trees ; laying six eggs ; and living on grain,
seeds, insects, &c. Some of them are apparently hurt¬
ful to agriculture ; but their use in diminishing noxious
vermin more than counterbalances the waste which they
occasion. 173
Haven.—Black ; back of a blueish-black ; tail near- CoraXi
ly rounded. Two feet two inches long. ^ aries with a
few scattered white feathers, or is black and white, or
entirely white. A well-known bird, a native of Eu¬
rope, Asia, and America. Is hardy, cunning, voraci¬
ous, and yet patient of hunger. Preys on young ducks
and chickens, and even destroys young lambs and sick¬
ly sheep, by first picking out their eyes. Smells carrion
at a great distance ; gluts itself when an opportunity
offers, retires to digest, and returns again to feed.
Though easily domesticated, and taught to speak, it has
a mischievous trick of purloining any thing glittering,
and concealing it. “ We have been assured (says Mr
Montagu), by a gentleman of veracity, that his butler
having missed a great many silver spoons and other ar¬
ticles, without being able to detect the thief for some
time, at last observed a tame raven with one in his
mouth, and watched him to his hiding place, where he
found more than a dozen.” The raven usually makes
choice of the forks of the largest trees to build in ; but
many of them likewise breed on rocky coasts, and nestle
in the most inaccessible parts of them. At this time
they are very bold, and will not allow even the falcon
to approach their nest with impunity. The male,
and female pair for life, and drive their young from
their haunt, as soon as they are able to provide tor
themselves. The female lays five or six eggs of a blu¬
ish-green
!7S
Fi -f/fn-MS
0 R N I T H
ish-green colour, blctclied anti spotted with brown and
ash-colour, and somewhat larger than those of a crow.
Carrion crow.—Bluish-black ; tail rounded j tail
feathers acute. Varied with spottings of white, or en¬
tirely white; bill black, irides dusky, legs black. Di¬
stinguished from the rook by the bill, which is rather
more convex towards the end, and by the reflected
bristles at the base being always perfect. rl hese marks,
however, are obvious only in adults, and in young birds’
the note is the only criterion, which in this is much
more hoarse than that ol the rook. Tins S'pecies weighs
about nineteen ounces, and is eighteen inches long.
It feeds on flesh, insects, and gram, but is particularly
fond of carrion. It frequently attacks the eyes of dy¬
ing animals, destroys weakly lambs, and when pressed
with hunger, will even pursue birds on wing. It like¬
wise makes havock among young game and poultry. It
will frequently hide its food till hunger becomes more
urgent. With the lesser species of hawks it wages con¬
stant war; nor will it sufier the kite, the buzzard, or
the raven, to approach its nest with impunity. Carrion
ciowa keep in pairs all the year, and seldom congregate
but to regale on some carcase, or to roost in winter.
They build in woods, on the branches of trees, making
a nest of sticks, plastered with earth, and lined with
some soft materials, as wool and hair. The eggs are
four or five in number, of a greenish colour, spotted
with dusky and ash.
Hook. Black ; fore part of the head cinereous; tail
somewhat rounded. Very like the preceding; but dif¬
fers in its manners, being content with feeding on the
insect tribe and grain. It is particularly fond of what
is commonly called the grub-worm, which is the larva
of the chaffer. 1 he rook is gregarious at all seasons,
resorting every spring to breed on the same trees, where
then nests may be seen croyvded one over another, on
the upper branches. It lays four or five eggs, much
like those of the crow. After their young have taken
wing, they all forsake their nest-trees, but return tothem
again in October, to roost. On the approach of winter,
they usually seek some more sheltered situation at night’
but generally assemble first in the usual place, and then
fly off together. Rookeries are sometimes the scene of
violent contests between the old and new inhabitants
An unfortunate couple of strangers will sometimes have
their half-built nests torn in pieces, and be compelled
to begin their work anew in some more undisturbed situ¬
ation. “ Of this (says Mr Bewick) we had a re¬
markable instance in Newcastle. In the year 1783, a
pair of rooks, after an unsuccessful attempt to establ’ish
themselves in a rookery at no great distance from the
exchange, were compelled to abandon the attempt.
I hey took refuge on the spire of that building, and al¬
though constantly interrupted by other rooks, built their
nest on the top of the vane, and brought forth their
young, undisturbed by the noise of the populace below
them; the nest and its inh abitants turning about with
every change of the wind • They returned and built
their n st every ye;ar on the same place till 1793, soon
alter which the spire was taken down.” In England,
rooks remain dmimr the whole year; but both in
France and S— es a they migrate. It is a singular cir¬
cumstance, that the island of Jersey should be entirely
without rooks ; particularly when we know that they
frequently fly over from Britain to France. The youn g
O L O G Y.
487
birds, when skinned, and made into pyes, are much ill Picai
ir quest at some tables, but are nevertheless coarse eat- *■ — v *
inS- , 176
Hooded crow, or royston crow.— Ash-coloured; head, Cornice.
tin oat, wings, and tail black. Length twenty-one
inches. Visits the south of England in October, and
retires north to breed, in the beginning af April. In
the Hebrides, and some parts of Scotland and Ireland,
it is icsident throughout the year. In open champaign
districts, it feeds on grain, worms, and carrion; but it
often icsorts to the neighbourhood of the sea coast,
where the various animal matters thrown up by the tide,
affoid a constant supply of food. It not only jiicks out
the eyes of lambs and diseased sheep, but of horses,
when entangled in bogs. The nest and eggs are simi¬
lar to those of the common crow. It is not uncommon
in many parts of Europe and Siberia.
Jackdaw. Brownish black ; hind part of the head Monedula.
hoary; front, wings, and tail, black. Its varieties are,
a white collar round the nack ; white, with a yellowish
bill ; bright black, and eyes surrounded with white
dots ; black, with bill and legs red ; wings white, bill
somewhat curved; brownish, with white shoulders, &c.
Weighs about nine ounces; length near thirteen inches.
I his very7 common bird frequents old towers, ruined
buildings, and high cliffs, where it builds, as well as in
holes of trees. The nest is made of sticks, and lined
with wool and other soft materials ; the eggs are five or
six, and bluish, spotted with black. The jackdaw is
gregarious, frequently flocks with rooks, and like the
latter, feeds on grain and insects, is fond of cherries, and
will devour carrion in severe weather. It is frequently
seen to perch on the back of sheep, not only to rob that
animal of its wool, as a lining to its nest, but also to
pick out the ticks with which it is infested. Though
easily made tame, and taught to speak, it is mischievous,
and full of tricks.
^ay-\ ^ ing-coverts blue, with white and black trails- Glandariw.
verse lines; body variegated with purple and gray. This
beautiful bird is very common in Great Britain, and in
various parts of Europe and Siberia ; frequenting wood¬
ed tracts, but not in flocks. It weighs seven ounces,
and measures nearly thirteen inches in length. The
nest, which is commonly built in high coppice wood, or
hedges, and sometimes against the sides of a scrubby tree,
is formed of sticks, lined with fibrous roots, and contains
five or six eggs, of a light brown colour, not very un¬
like those of the partridge, but smaller, and obscurely
marked with a darker shade of brown. T he jay is a
great devourer of fruit and grain, particularly acorns,
peas, and cherries ; will frequently plunder the nests of
smaller birds of their eggs and young, and sometimes
pounce on the old birds, on which it preys, as well as on
mice. Its common notes are various, but harsh, and
manifest a singular propensity to imitation and mimicry,
counterfeiting the bleating of a lamb, the mewing of a
cat, the cry of a kite or buzzard, the hooting of an owl,
the neighing of a horse, &c. It has even been known
to imitate very exactly the sound made by the action of
a saw. _ . 179
Blue jay.—Blue; collar black; wing-coverts with Crhtatm,
transverse black lines ; crest blue ; cheeks, chin, and
belly, white ; breast pale red ; back pale purple ; tail
long, wedged, with black and blue lines, and tipt
with white; legs black. Eleven inches long; inhabits
North
a88
ORNITHOLOGY.
Picte.
180
Caryoca-
tactes.
1S1
Pica.
North America-, Is gregarious-, builds in marshy
places -, has a pleasant note ) feeds on worms, serpents,
chcsnuts, &c. and is particularly destructive to the
maize fields. .
Nut-cracker.—Brown, dotted with white $ wings and
tail black -, tail feathers black at the tip, the middle ones
as if worn. Body with triangular white spots} vent
white -, crown and tail feathers without spots-, feathers
of the nostrils sometimes wanting j tongue bicuspidate.
Length thirteen inches $ size of a magpie. Inhabits
Europe and Siberia, but is very rare in England. Its
favourite food seems to be the kernels ot nuts, winch it
hacks or splits with its bill. _
Magpie*—Variegated black and white -, tail wedged.
Subject to considerable varieties. About eighteen inches
loniG and weighs between eight and nine ounces. 1 oo
well known to require particular description, being a
common inhabitant of many parts of Europe, Asia, and
America. Generally continues in pairs through the
vear j is mischievous and clamorous, and has a very in¬
discriminate appetite, rejecting hardly any species ot ani¬
mal food, or fruits, and devouring grain, when nothing
else can be got. Is crafty and familiar •, may be taught
to pronounce words, and even short sentences, and wi
imitate any particular noise winch it hears. lake other
birds of its kind, is addicted to pilfering, and will hoard
its provisions. The female builds her nest with great
art, leaving a hole in the side tor her admittance, and
covering all the upper part with thorny branches, close¬
ly entangled, so as to secure her retreat from the rude
attacks of other birds. The inside is furnished with a
sort of mattress composed of wool, and other soil mate¬
rials. She lays seven or eight eggs, of a pale green
colour, spotted with black. During winter nights,
magpies assemble in great numbers in some coppice or
To, thicket, to roost, but separate again in the day.
Mcvican’is Mexican crow.—Entirely bluish black. Bill, egs,
and claws black. Size of the jackdaw. Inhabits .New
Spain, frequenting the neighbourhood of towns, and
perpetually chattering with a strong and sounding voice.
Alpine ow—Blackishbill pale yellow, legs black.
Size of the jackdaw j length fifteen inches. Inhabits
the Alps and Pyrenees ; has a sharp, disagreeable voice;
lives on seeds and grain, and is injurious to corn fields.
Its flesh is good eating.
Red-legged crow, or Cornish chough.—\mlet blackish -,
bill and tegs red. Weighs about fourteen ounces-,
length nearly seventeen inches. Inhabits the Alps,
Norway, England, Egypt, and Persia. In this island,
it seems to be chiefly confined to Devonshire, Cornwall,
and Wales. Mr Pennant observes, that it is also found
in some parts of Scotland and the Hebrides. It is sel¬
dom seen at any great distance from the sea coast, where
it breeds in the rocks and caverns, and not (.infrequently
in rmned towers. The nest is composed of sticks, and
lined with a great quantity of wool and hair. 1 he
egffs are generally five, of a dull white, sprinkled with
light brown and ash-coloured spots, mostly at the larger
end. The note of the Cornish chough is somewhat like
that of the jackdaw, hut more shrill. Its food is grain
and insects, though, in a state of confinement, it will
<rreedilv feed on flesh. It is easily tamed, but evuity,
and will hide not only part of its fbod, but things of
value It is even alleged, that houses have been set on
fire by its carrying off lighted sticks in its bill.
183
Pyrrho-
corax.
184
Graculus.
Gen. 15. Coracias, Roller.
Rica;.
Bill sharp-edged, bent in at the point, base naked of Coracias ,
feathers j tongue cartilaginous, and bifid} legs short-, IS6
feet gressorial 3 toes three before, and one behind, di-Character;
lS7
vided to their origin.
This genus is not confined to any particular region of
the globe, as one or other of the different species may
be met with in each of the four quarters of the vvoild. (
Common or garrulous roller .—Blue 3 back red 3 Hag- Cnvnda,
feathers black.—The only species that has ever been met
with in England, and that very rarely. Length twelve
inches and a half 3 size of a jay. Vies with some of the
parrots, in its shades of blue and green, mixed with
white, heightened by the contrast of graver colours. It
is wilder than the jay 3 frequents the thickest woods,
and builds its nest chiefly on birch trees. It is plenti¬
ful in Germany, Sicily, and Malta, where they are sold,
in the markets and poulterers shops. It feeds on frogs,
beetles, acorns, grain, and fruit, and in cases of neces¬
sity will even eat carrion. It is remarkable for making
a chattering kind of noise. Its flesh tastes like that of
‘l 1 Long-tailed 7 oiler.—Bi\\ blackish, one inch and a half
long-, hind parts of the head green 3 upper parts of the cccxtR
back and scapulars fulvous glossed with green 3 lower fig. j,
part of the hack, rump, and wing coverts, fine blue 3
upper tail coverts blue green 3 two middle leathers of
the tail deep green, rest blue green 3 outer ones on each
side twice the length ot the others, ana the projecting
part deep blue 3 the shafts of all black 3 legs giay}
claws blackish. Inhabits Angola. .
Docile or tame roller.—White, interspersed with Doom.
reddish, bay beneath 3 legs yellow 3 tail feathers black,
tipt with white 3 bill yellow 3 claws flesh-colour. _ bize ot
a jackdaw. Inhabits Persia 3 and has obtained its
name from imitating the words and actions of those a-
round it. , . , _ 150
Noisy roller.—Black 3 patch on the wings 3 vent,
base, and tip of the tail white. This species is very
numerous at Norfolk island 3 and is very clamorous,
especially at night. It is a very foolish bird 3 running
after any person, and allowing itself to be knocked
down with a stick. It is about nineteen inches long,
and rather bigger than a jackdaw.
- 00 191
Gen. 16. ORIOLUS, Oriole. Orious
192
Bill conical, convex, very acute and straight; upper Charade:
manible somewhat longer than the under, and slight¬
ly emargmated; tongue bifid and acute 3 feet gresso
rial.
The birds of this genus are gregarious, noisy, numer¬
ous, voracious, and great devourers of corn, iney
chiefly inliabit America, and often build pendulous
nests. The only European species, which also inhabits ^
Asia and Africa, is the nalbul«‘
Golden oriole, or golden thrush—Pale yellow 3 lore,
and limbs black; outer tail feathers yellow on the h.nU
part; bill and irides yellow 3 legs plumbeous. Nine inches
and a half long. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and Africa; an
is incident to several varieties. It is by no .< cans 1
common n France, where t summers and breeds. _
»<*»»f»imrse’ r“-tcne‘1
Ifi#
b
Pic;**.
194
Vlts.
»95
rus.
196
97
ica.
tliv ai icat,oii3 of llie outmost twigs of tall trees, and com-
1 posed of fibres of hemp, or straw, mixed with fine dry
stalks of grass, and lined within with moss and lichens,
i he female lays four or five eggs of a dirty white,
marked with small brown spots. She sits three weeks
and will not unfrequently suffer herself to be taken with
the eggs and nest, and continue to sit on them in g cage,
till she dies. The golden oriole is partial to grapes, figs,
cherries, berries, and insects. It has a loud cry. Its
flesh is reckoned good eating.
Climbing' orfo/e.—•-T awney j head, neck, and breast
spotted with white ; tail rounded ; bill yellowish gray ;
legs blackish. Seven inches long. Inhabits Guiana,
among trees, which it climbs like a pie, and picks out
insects from under the bark.
Icteric oriole.—Tawneyj head, throat, back, quill and
tail feathers, black $ wings with a white spot j bill most¬
ly black, Avith a brown base; irides yellowish; legs
sometimes black and sometimes lead coloured, or gray
White. Nine inches and a half long. Inhabits the
warmer parts of America and the Carribee islands.
Domesticated for the purpose of killing insects. In its
Wild state it is very agile and bold, "it builds a large
cylindrical nest, suspended to the end of a twig of a tree*
with a view to defend its young from the attacks of
snakes and other animals. Of these nests several may
sometimes be seen near to one another, and not far from
hotises.
Red-winged oriole.—Black j wing coverts tawney.
Size of a starling •, length from eight to nine inches. Oc¬
curs in Mexico, the Carolinas, Virginia, and as far as
New York. Builds a thick pensile nest among reeds, ot
between the forks of trees, three or four feet from the
ground, along with other birds, in the swamps, Which
are seldom accessible by man. In Louisiana these birds
appear only in winter, and sometimes in such immense
flocks, that three hundred or more are taken at one
draught of the net. These nets are spread oil some bare
smooth path, at the side of a wood, with rice Strewed to
decoy the birds. Lo secure the multitudes that are
caught, it is often necessary to knock most of them on
the head upon the spot. Their common name in Ame¬
rica is maine-t/iiefl which they have acquire*! from the
circumstance of their pecking a hole in the plant wheif
green, and so destroying it.
Red-breasted oriole, or mocking-bird of Guiana.—
Black j chin, throat, breast, and upper corner of the
wings red. Seven inches long, less than a blackbird.
Inhabits Guiana and Cayenne ; sings pleasantly, and
imitates the notes of many other birds. The nest, which
is built of hay, &c. is long, cylindrical, twelve or fif¬
teen inches in circumference, and hangs from the high
branches of the tallest trees.
Black and yellow oriole.—Black j hind part of the
back, spot on the wing-coverts, and base of the tail
feathers, yellow. There are, however, several varieties*
Bigger than a blackbird. Inhabits South America ;
forms a pendent nest, shaped like an alembic : four
hundred of which may sometimes he seen together, hang¬
ing from the extreme branches of trees. The eggs are
dirty white, with small pale brown spots.
Baltimore oriole, or Baltimore bird.—Blackish ; the
under parts of the body, and band on the wings
tawney $ bill lead colour ; greater rving coverts black,
Vol. XV. Part IL f
ORNlTHOLOGf.
. 489
tipt with white ; first quill feathers dirty tvhite, edged Picse,
with white ; two middle tail feathers black, the rest'  
black on the lower part, and orange above. These
birds are found in many parts of America, the northern
regions of which they occupy in summer, advancing
even to Montreal in May, and returning southward in
winter, which accounts for their appearance in Mary¬
land and \ irginia at that time. They make their nest
of a soft downy matter, in the shape of a purse, tying it
With threads to the extreme forks of the twigs of the
tulip, plane, and hiccory trees. The country people
call \\\em fire-birds ; and indeed, when in high plumage,
their motions from branch to branch not unaptly re¬
semble a flash of fire.
Jf eaver oriole.—Yellow j head brown, with a shade Te.xtor
of golden ; quill and tail feathers blackish, edged wdth
orange. Inhabits near the Senegal ; size of the golden
oriole. “ In the cage where these birds were kept
(says Dr Latham), it was observed, that they entwined
some of the stalks of the pimpernel, with which they
were fed, in the wires ; as this seeined to shew a dispo-
sition of making a nest, Some rush-stalks were put into
the cage 5 on which they presently made a nest large
enough to hide one of them at least j but it was as often
deranged as made, the work of one day being spoiled
the next ; serving to shew that the fabrication of the
nest iii a state of hatute was the Work of both male and
female, and in all probability is finished by the last.
They had a sharp but lively note*
“ A friend Of mine described a bird to me, which
he saw at the house of an acquaintance, which seemed
to be this very bird. By accident having got a bit of
sewing silk, it wove it among the Wires of the caijc.
On which, more being pilt to it, it interlaced the whole
very confusedly, so as to hinder most part of that side
of the cage from being seen through. It was found to
prefer green and yellow to any other coloured silk.” 2J1
Banana oriole.—Tawney } head and breast chesnut; Banatnt,
back, quill, and tail feathers, black. Seven inches long.
Inhabits South America and the West India islands.
Makes a nest of a curious construction, composed of
fibres and leaves, exactly in the shape of the fourth part
of a globe, sewed with great art under a leaf of a bana¬
na tree, in such a manner that the leaf forms one side of
the nCst. ,
Hang-nest oriole, American hang-nest, Spanish night- Nidipof-
ingale, &c.—Frontlet and wreath black ; crown, neck, dulus-
back, and tail, reddish-brown j breast and belly tawney
yellow. Inhabits the AVoods in Jamaica j sings sweetly ;
and builds a pendulous nest of stalks or thready moss,
on the extreme branch of a high tree.
Gen* 17. Gracula, Graklc. CracclA.
Bill convex, sharp-edged, someAvhat naked at the base 4 characters,
tongue entire, somewhat sharp, fleshy j feet formed
for Avalking.
All the species are extra-European ; have a thick hill,
compressed at the sides, Avith small nostrils at the base,
and sharp hooked claAvs 5 the middle toe of the fore-feet
connected at the base to the outer. 20J.
Minor, or religious grakle.—Violet black ; spot on Religios*.
the wings Avhite ; hind-head with a yelloAV naked band.
Size of a blackbird ; length ten inches and a half. In-
3 Q - • habits
'ZQI
Quiscala.
G R N I T H
habits various parts oi tke Kast Indies } is very fond of
cherries and grapes j and can be easily trained to whistle,
sing, or speak.
Boat-tailed grakle.—Grayish*, shoulders blue 3 quill
feathers green on the outside. Size ot a cuckoo, nearly
thirteen inches long. The folding up of the tail leathers,
instead of forming a plane surface at top, sinks into a
hollow, like a deep gutter, which singularity is manifest
only when the bird is flying, or perched, lor when on
the ground, it always carries its tail expanded. It in¬
habits Jamaica and North America, keeping company
with the maize-thief and red-winged oriole. It feeds
on maize, the fruit ol the banana, &c. as well as on
beetles and other insects. ;
Purple grakle.—"Violet black j tail rounded. Up¬
wards of thirteen inches long, though the female mea¬
sures only eleven and a halt. Inhabits Mexico, the
warm parts of America, and Jamaica 3 sings sweetly 3
feeds on all kinds of grain, and makes great havock in
the maize plantations. It lays five or six bluish eggs,
with black stripes and spots.
Gen. 18. Paradisea, Bird of Paradise.
208
Faradi-
■ “A2 Bill covered with a belt of downy feathers at the base 3
Characters. feathers of the sides very long 3 two of the tail
feathers naked. Legs and feet very large and strong 3
three toes forward, one backward, the middle con¬
nected to the outer one as far as the first joint.
The birds of this genus, till lately, were very imper¬
fectly known, and had given rise to various idle tales,
such as their never alighting on the ground from their
birth to their death 3 their living entirely on dew 3 their
being produced without legs, &c. The circumstance
which led to the last-mentioned error, was merely acci¬
dental 3 the legs and coarser parts of the wings having
been pulled off in the course of preparing the birds for
an ornamental article of dress. Though the biids of
paradise occur in Japan, China, Persia, and various parts
of India, they are believed to be properly natives of
New Guinea, where they breed. Ihe Dutch get them
chiefly from Banda, where the story of their want of
legs has been propagated, in order to enhance their va-
2X0 lue. .
Apoda. Great bird of Paradise.—Feathersof the hypochondria
longer than the body3 the two intermediate tail featheis
long and setaceous 3 the size of the body scarcely ex¬
ceeds that of a thrush, though the plumage would in¬
dicate a bird as large as a pigeon 3 the length fiom the
end of the bill to that of the tail is twelve inches and a
half 3 the bill is greenish yellow, and an inch and a half
long 3 the eyes are very small 3 the head, which is also
small in proportion to the bird, as well as the thioat and
neck are covered with very short, dense, still feathers,
of which those on the head and hind part of the neck
are of a pale gold colour 3 the base of the bill is sur¬
rounded with black feathers, appearing like velvet, and
changing in different lights to green 3 the fore part of
the neck is golden green 3 the lower part of the neck
behind the back, wings, and tail, are chesnut 3 the breast
is of a deep chesnut, verging to purple 3 from under the
wings proceeds a great quantity o,f feathers, with the
webs so loose, as to appear like a herring-bone, some
of them nearly eighteen inches long, some chesnut and
purplish, others yellowish, and a few almost white 3 from
O L O G Y.
the rump arise two feathers without W'ebs, except tor rica*.
four inches next the base, and the same at the tips 3y—.
the legs are stout and of a brown colour. These birds
are found in the Molucca islands, and those surround¬
ing New Guinea, particularly in Aroo, where they ar¬
rive with the westerly or dry monsoon, and whence
they return to New Guinea, when the easterly or wet
monsoon sets in. They are seen going and returning
in flights of thirty or forty, conducted by a leader,
which flies higher than the rest. During this flignt they
cry like starlings. By a sudden shifting of the wind,
their long scapular feathers are sometimes so dishevelled
as to preclude flying, when they fall to the ground, Gl¬
are lost in the water. In the former case they cannot
rise again into the air, without gaining an eminence,
and are secured by the natives, and killed on the spot,
as they cannot be preserved alive by art. They are
likewise caught with bird-lime, or shot with blunt ar¬
rows, or intoxicated with the berries of menispermum
cocculus put into the water which they are accustomed
to drink. Their r^al food is not known with certain¬
ty. According to some, they feed on the red berries of
the waringa tree fficus benjammaJ, according to others,
they are particularly fond of nutmegs 3 some assert that
they live on large butterflies, and others, that they chase
and devour small birds. It is only for ornament that
they are coveted by such of the inhabitants ot the east
as are able to purchase them, the chiefs of the country
wearing them constantly in their turbans. The gran¬
dees of Persia, Surat, and the East Indies, use them as
aigrettes, and even adorn their horses with them. There
is a lesser variety of this species, found in the Papua
islands. n*
King's bird of Paradise, or king's bird.—Chesnut .Regia,
purple^ whitish beneath 3 two middle tail-feathers fili¬
form, feathered, and semilunar at the tips 3 breast blu¬
ish 3 cirri of the tail very long 3 feathers under the
w'ings longer than the rest 3 tail short, truncate 3 fiom
five to seven inches long, and about the size of a lark.
It is said not to associate with any others of the bird of
paradise, but shifts solitary from bush to bush in quest
of red berries, and never gets on tall trees. It occurs
in the islands of the Indian ocean, and returns to New
Guinea in the rainy season, but is much more scarce
than the preceding. 2I?
Magnificent bird of Paradise.—Chesnut brown above; Mapnjic<i>
chin green, with golden lunules 3 crown with a tuft of
yellow feathers 3 first quill-feathers brown, secondary
deep yellow 3 middle tail-feathers very long, with a very
short fringe 3 legs and bill yellow, and the latter black
at the tip and base. A singular and beautiful species,
figured in Latham’s Synopsis. 215
‘ Gorget bird of Paradise.—Black, slight green be-
neath 3 hind head, nape, crown, and band on the mid¬
dle of the belly fine green, a splendid gold-coloured
crescent under the chin 3 tail feathers 12, unequal, the
outer ones five inches long, and the two in the middle
22. Twenty-eight inches long. Figured in Latham’s
Synopsis. 2I4
Superb bird of Paradise.—Crested ; head, crown, andft/^rR
belly green 3 chin violet, silky ; wings black 3 tail with
a shade of green 3 bill black 3 legs brown 3 under the
wings a tuft of loose, black, silky feathers, as long as
the wings when folded. Eight inches and eight lines
long. Native of the northern parts of New Guinea.
Picoe.
ORNITHOLOGY.
JFhite hird oj j. aradise.-—Entirely white. Inhabits low, the latter spotted with red
491
218
irucui.
the Papuan islands, and is very rare.
Gen. 19. Trogqn, Curucui.
Bill shorter than the head, sharp-edged, hooked j man¬
dibles serrated at the edge; feet scansorial; body
long; nostrils covered with bristles j feet short, wool¬
ly j tail very long, consisting of 12 feathers.
The birds of this genus are all inhabitants of the tro¬
pical regions, and mostly inhabit South America. They
live solitary, in the thickest recesses of moist woods, sit¬
ting and building on the lower branches of trees. They
take but a short flight, and feed on insects and fruit. As
they differ much in appearance, in different stages of
life, a considerable degree of confusion has prevailed in
the illustration of the species. They have the name of
curucui from their note.
Red-bellied curucui.—Of a greenish-gold colour, taw-
ney beneath ; throat black j lateral tail feathers, w'ith
white and black bars, the middle ones tipt with black.
Somewhat less than a magpie ; length 10 inches and a
half. Inhabits Mexico, Brazil, and Peru. There are
two or three varieties. At pairing time, only two or
three are found together j and the male has a kind of
melancholy note, by which their haunts are discovered.
They begin to pair in April, and build in the hole of a
belly yellow, spotted
with green ; bill, legs, and claws cinereous, the latter '
tipt with yellow •, a blue streak on each side of the
mouth *, tail wedged ; quill feathers edged with green.
Size of a sparrow, nearly six inches long. Inhabits the
country of Maynas, on the borders of the Amazons, and
is the most beautiful and active of the tribe.
Geil. 21. Cuculus, Cuckoo.
Bill smooth, weak, a little curved; nostrils-bounded by
a small rim ; tongue arrowed, short, and pointed ;
feet scansorial.
Of upwards ol 50 species belonging to this genus, the
first mentioned only is a native of Great Britain ; and
very few of the others are natives of Europe.
Common cuckoo.—Cinereous, whitish beneath, trans¬
versely streaked with brown ; tail rounded, blackish,
dotted with white ; edges ot the eyelids, opening of the
mouth and palate saffron ; when young, the whole body
is brownish, the feathers edged with white ; the upper
part of the body is sometimes varied with reddish. It
likewise occurs with wavings of gray; a double row of
white dots on the middle tail feathers, and the bill, or¬
bits, and legs of a sulphur colour. Size of the turtle
dove ; 14 inches long, and weighs about four ounces and
a half. The female i-s rather less, and,
Picle.
-■‘j
CcecLOS.
224
Characters
225
Canorm.
'"'V “~a— 7 r;   —7 “• a nan. j ne remare is rather less, and, in general, dif-
rotten tree, laying three or four white eggs, about as fers from the other sex, in the neck and breast beiim of
big as those of a pigeon, on the bare rotten dust. Du- a tawneyish brown, barred with dusky, and the wing¬
ring the incubation of the female, the male takes care to  "  1 > * • •• * -* • - - --&
provide food for her, and to beguile the time by his
song. The parents feed the young with small worms,
caterpillars, and insects; and, when their nurslings are
able to shift for themselves, they forsake them, and re¬
turn to their solitary haunts, till nature prompts them
to produce their second brood in August or September.
Various attempts have been made, hut without effect,
to domesticate this species, as it obstinately refuses food,
when in confinement.
n9
cco.
220
221
’natia.
Gen. 20. Bucco, Barbet.
aracters. Bill cultrated, compressed laterally; apex emarginated
on both sides, and incurved, gape reaching below the
eyes ;.nostrils covered with recumbent feathers; feet
scansorial; hill strong, somewhat straight, almost co¬
vered with bristles; tail feathers usually ten.
The birds of this genus are all inhabitants of Africa,
and the warmer parts of Asia and America, and arc a
dull and stupid race.
Spotted-hellied barbet.-—Tawney broy/n, tawney white,
spotted with black beneath; chin tawiney; neck with a
tawney lunule varied with black, a black spot behind
the eyes ; head very large ; hill black; crown agd
front tawneyish; legs black. This bird occurs both at
Cayenne and Brazil. It is clumsy, solitary, silent, and
pensive, affecting only such places as are farthest from
habitations, generally in the woods, where it chooses
some low branch, well covered with twigs and foliage,
on which it perches, with its large head resting between
its shoulders for a long time together, allowing itself to
he shot at several times before it makes its escape. It
feeds on insects, particularly large beetles.
Beautiful barbet.—Green, head and chin red, edged
with blue; quill feathers brown, throat and breast yel-
coverts marked with light ferruginous spots. Inhabits
Europe, Asia, and Africa.—This well-known hird
comes to us early in the spring, and almost invariably
leaves us by the first of July, though the females may
sometimes remain a little later, till they have deposited
all their eggs. Such as are seen about the latter end of
September or beginning of October, are the young of
that year, or stragglers which have been wounded.
The singular note of the male has given rise to the napre
of this bird, in most languages; the female is either si¬
lent, or makes only a chattering noise. Cuckoos build
no nest, and what is more extraordinary, the female de¬
posits her solitary egg in the nest of another bird, by
which k is hatched. The nest which she selects for this
purpose is .ysually that of the hedge sparrow, though
sometimes also that of the water wagtail, tit-lark, yel¬
low hammer, green linnet, &c. Dr .Tenner, in his va¬
luable communication to the Boyal Society, published
in the second part of the 78th volume of their Transac¬
tions, observes, that while the hedge sparrow is laying
her eggs, which generally takes up four or five days,
the cuckoo contrives to deposit her egg among the rest,
leaving the future care of it entirely to the hedge spar¬
row. This intrusion often occasions some discomposure,
for the old hedge sparrow at intervals, while she is sit¬
ting, not only throws out some of her own eggs, but
sometimes injures them in such a way, that they become
addle; so that it frequently happens that not more than
two or three of the parent bird’s eggs are hatched with
that ot the cuckoo : and, what is very remarkable, it
has never been observed, that the hedge sparrow has ei¬
ther thrown out or injured the egg of the cuckoo. When
the hedge sparrow has sat her usual time, and has disen¬
gaged the young cuckoo and some of her own offspring
from the shell, her own young ones, and any of her
eggs that remain unhatched, are soon turned out; the
3 Q 2 young
49 2
ORNITHOLOGY.
PicOR.
226
Vctula.
227
Vluvialis.
22S
Ridibim-
dum
229
Melanoleu-
cos.
Plate
CCCXC1V
fig. 4.
230
Pisanus.
231
Indicator.
young cuckoo then remains in full possession of the nest,
and is the sole object of the future care of its foster-pa¬
rent. “ The mode of accomplishing this (says the in¬
genious and interesting inquirer, in reporting his obser¬
vations on a particular case), was curious ; the little ani¬
mal, with the assistance of its rump and wings, contrived
to get the bird upon its back, and making a lodgement
for its burden, by elevating its elbows, clambered back¬
wards with it up the side of the nest till it reached the
top, where, resting for a moment, it threw oft its load
with a jerk, and quite disengaged it from the nest.
After remaining a short time in this situation, and feel¬
ing about with the extremities of its wings, as if to be
convinced that the business was properly executed, it
dropped into the nest again.” Dr Jenner made several
experiments in different nests, by repeatedly putting in
an egg to the young cuckoo, which he always found to
be disposed of in the same manner. But we are reluct¬
antly compelled to withhold various other interesting
details relative to this subject, and to refer our readers
to the original communication. The young birds are
observed to be helpless and foolish for a great length of
time, but are capable of being tamed, and, when in
confinement, will eat bread and milk, fruits, insects,
eggs, and flesh, either cooked or raw 5 but, in a state of
nature, they live chiefly on caterpillars and insects.
Long-billed rain cuckoo.—Tail wedged ; body brown¬
ish, testaceous beneath •, eyelids red. Rather bigger
than a blackbird. Inhabits woods and shrubberies in
Jamaica, is easily tamed, flies short, sings before rain,
and feeds on grains, insects, worms, small serpents, frogs,
lizards, and small birds.
'Rain cuckoo.—Olive ash, rufous beneath } chin and
throat white} outer tail-feathers edged with white.
From 16 to 17 inches long, like the preceding. Inha¬
bits Jamaica, and sings before rain. Both species are
familiarly known by the names of old man, and rain
bird.
Laughing cuckoo.—Tavvney} chin, throat, and breast
cinereous} belly, thighs, and lower tail-coverts black }
hill bluish black } irides white } tail half as long as the
body. Sixteen inches long. Inhabits New Spain } has
a voice like a man laughing, on which account it is
dreaded by the Indians as ominous.
Coromandel crested cuckoo.—Upper parts of the body
black ; under part white } a white spot on the edge of
the wing } tail wedge-shaped and tipped with white }
head crested } bill black } legs brown. Length eleven
inches. Inhabits the coast of Coromandel.
Pisan cuckoo.—Tail wedged } body above varied with
white and black, white beneath ; head black and crest¬
ed } chin and breast rufous. Rather larger than the
common species, and has its name from having been
once caught in Pisa.
Rec cuckoo, honey-guide, moi'oc, &c.—Rusty gray,
white beneath } eyelids naked, black } shoulders with a
yellow spot} tail wedged, rusty} bill brown at the base,
and surrounded with bristles, yellow at the tip } feathers
of the thighs white, with a longitudinal black streak}
quill-feathers brown above, gray brown beneath } first
tail-feathers very narrow!, rusty ; the next sooty, the in¬
ner edge whitish } the r^st brown at the tip on the inner
web. Somewhat larger than the common sparrow.
Native of the interior parts of Africa. This bird is
’•gory fond of honey and bee maggots 5 but being unable,
2
by its own efforts, to procure them from the hollow of piciE
trees, it points out to man and to the animal called ra-v-.
tel, the nests of wild bees. The morning and the even¬
ing are its principal meal times } at least it is then that it
shews the greatest inclination to come forth, and with a
grating cry of chcrr, chcrr, cherr, to excite the atten¬
tion of the ratel, as well as of the Hottentots and colo¬
nists. Somebody then generally repairs to the place
whence the sound proceeds, when the bird, continually
repeating its cry, flies on slowly and by degrees to the
quarter where the bees have taken up their abode. The
persons thus invited, follow accordingly, taking great
care, at the same time, not to frighten their guide by
any unusual noise } but rather to answer it now and then
with a very soft and gentle whistle, by way of letting
the bird know, that its call is attended to. When the
bees nest is at some distance, the bird often makes long
stages, or flights, waiting for its sporting companions
between each flight, and calling to them again to come
on} but it flies to shorter distances, and repeats its cry
more frequently, and with greater earnestness, in pro¬
portion as they approach nearer the nest. When the
bird has sometimes, in consequence of its impatience,
got too far a-head of its companions, but particularly
when, on account of the unevenness of the ground, they
have not been able to keep pace with it, it will fly
back to meet them, and, with redoubled cries, denoting
still greater impatience, upbraid them, as it were, for
being so tardy. When it arrives at the nest, whether
the latter is built in the cleft of a rock, or in a hollow
tree, or in some cavity of the earth, it hovers over the
spot for a few seconds, then sits in silence, and for the
most part concealed, in some neighbouring tree or bush,
in expectation of the result, and with a view of receiv¬
ing its share of the bootv. Nor is it disappointed } the
hunters, by way of acknowledgement, leaving it a con¬
siderable portion of that part of the comb in which the
bees are hatching. Mr Barrow corroborates these de¬
tails, and adds, that the moroc intimates to the inhabi¬
tants, with equal certainty, the dens of lions, tigers, hy¬
aenas, and other beasts of prey, and noxious animals.
Le Yaillant mentions that the Hottentots are very par¬
tial to this bird on account of its services, and that once
when he was on the point of shooting one, they intreat-
ed him to spare its life. Mr Bruce, by confounding
this species with another peculiar to Abyssinia, has in¬
dulged in some very misplaced strictures on the accounts
of Sparrman and Lobo.
232
Gen. 22. Yunx. Yunx.
... . . 233
Bill smoothish, cylindrical, pointed, a little curved, Characters
weak ; nostrils concave, naked } tongue very long,
smooth, worm-shaped, armed at the point; tail fea¬
thers 10, flexible} feet scansorlaj.
This genus consists of only one species, and has, by
most authors, been held distinct } for, though allied to
some other genera, it perfectly coincides with none.
The tongue and disposition of the toes correspond to
those of the woodpecker; but the weakness of the bill
distinguishes it from that family. It seems also to be
nearly related to the cuckoo, did not its length ot
tongue form a marked distinction. 234
Wryneck.—Gray, varied with brown, and blackish • ToryuM*'
belly reddish, with blackish spots; tail-feathers waved
with
O B N I T H
IPicse. 'vitfi buck spats, stre-ak.fi, aiid bars. Description, Iiow-
ever, is ver^ inadequate to convey an accurate idea of
the elegant markings of this little bird. Its name seems
to have been given it from the singular manner of turn¬
ing its head over its shoulder and perpetually looking
about, when the black list on the back of the neck gives
it a twisted appearance. The weight of this beautiful
bird is about ten drams, and its length seven inches. It
inhabits Europe, Asia, and Africa, appearing in Britain
about the same time with the cuckoo, and chiefly fre-
quenting woods, or thickly inclosed countries, where
trees or orchards abound. Its food principally consists
of ants and other insects, of which it finds great abun¬
dance lodged in the bark and crevices of trees and
which it secures by a horny substance at the end of its
long tongue. It likewise frequents ant hills, into which
it darts its tongue and draws out its prey. It is never
seen with any other society than that of its female, and
as soon as the domestic union is dissolved, which is in
September, they retire and migrate by themselves. It
makes an artless nest of dry grass, on dusty rotten wood,
in holes of trees, and lays nine or ten eggs, which are
white and transparent. If surprised in its nest, it
stretches itself at full length ; and erecting the feathers
on the crown of its head, suddenly rises, making, at the
same time, a short hissing noise, like that of a turkey
cock. In the beginning of spring, it very frequently re¬
peats a noise like that of the smaller species of hawks.
49;
PieoT'.
'S
ffs.
56
Aider*,
\‘oce-
11
Cen. 23. Ficus, Woodpecker.
Bill angular, straight, wedged at the tip ; nostrils co¬
vered with recumbent setaceous feathers j tongue
round, worm-shaped, very long, bony, missile, dag¬
gered, beset at the point with reflexed bristles ; tail
feathers ten, hard, rigid, pointed 5 feet scansorial.
^ The birds of this genus climb trees, particularly those
tnat are decaying or dead, in search of insects and their
larva;, Phe bone of their tongue terminates in two
long slender cartilages, which proceed from below up¬
wards, and from behind forwards, over the whole skull
under the skin, and are attached to the forehead near
the base of the bill. By means of those elastic cartila¬
ges, the woodpeckers thrust out their filiform tongue to
catch insects. rlhe feet are formed for climbing, their
tail is fitted for resistance and support, and their sharp-
pointed and barbed tongue enables them to extract in¬
sects from their lurking places in trees. They are there¬
fore unjustly persecuted and driven from plantations,
miey make their nests in hollows of trees. They have
a membranous stomach, and want the caecum.
Great black woodpecker.—Black, cap vermilion. In
the female the hind head only is red 5 length 17 inches
and a half. Size of a jackdaw ; bill nearly two inches
nnd a half long, of a dark ash colour, and whitish on the
sides j irides pale yellow. Has all the habits of the
green woodpecker, and is a great destroyer of bees.
Makes its nest deep in some tree, which it has excavat¬
ed for the purpose, and lays two or three white eggs ; a
circumstance which seems peculiar to most of the genus.
Occurs in Europe, Siberia, and Chili y but rarely visits
England.
Red-headed woodpecker.—Head wholly red j wings
and tail black j belly white. Eight inches and three
quarters long, and weighs two or three ounces. This
O L O G Y.
species inhabits Virginia, Carolina, Canada; &c. ; but
on the approach of winter, migrates more or Jess to the  y—
southward, according to the severity of the season, from-
which circumstance the North Americans foretel the
rigour or clemency of the ensuing winter. The red¬
headed woodpeckers are very destructive to maize fields
and orchards, and are fond of acorns. During the win¬
ter, they are very tame, and sometimes come into houses,
as the redbreast with us. They are found chiefly in old
trees ; and the noise that they make with their bills may
sometimes be heard at a mile’s distance.
Gold- wiiigcd woodpeckcr.—Striated transversely with Auvltl
black and gray ; chin and breast black ; nape* red;
rump white. Chin of the female cinereous ; length 11
inches ; weight five ounces. Inhabits North America 1
is almost continually on the ground ; feeds on worms
a'ml insects; and, in default of these, on berries and
grass. When fat, is esteemed good eating. 2
Green woodpecker.—Green; crown of the head dim- Viriiis.
son ; bill dusky, two inehes long ; inner circle of the
Hides reddish ; outer white ; temples blackish ; quilt
leathers dusky, with whitish spots ; tail blackish, ob¬
scurely barred with green, and tipt with white ; legs
greenish ash. Weighs about six ounces, and is thirteen
inches long. Inhabits Europe, and is by no means un¬
common in the wooded parts of England. It feeds on in¬
sects, and is particularly fond of bees. It is frequently
seen climbing up a tree, or on the ground, in the neigh¬
bourhood of an ant hill. The hole which they make is
as perfect a circle as if it had been described by a pair
of compasses. It is curious to observe them try every
part of a dead limb of a tree, till they have discovered
the most sonorous, and then the strokes are reiterated
with such velocity, that the head is scarcely perceived
to move. The softer wood, Such as the elm, ash, and
asp, are, for the most part, attacked, for the purpose
of nidification, and are perforated only where they ex¬
hibit symptoms of decay. The excavations are often
deep, to give security to the eggs, which are generally
four or five, and placed on the rottdn wood without any
nest. '
Downy woodpecker.—Back longitudinally downy ; Pubeilns.
outer tail feathers white, with four black spots. Weighs
an ounce and a half, and measures only five inches and
a half in length. Inhabits Carolina, Virginia, New
Jersey, etc. and is a daring bird, and dangerous to orch-
ai ds. As soon as it has peeked one hole in a tree, it
makes another close to the first, in a horizontal direc¬
tion, proceeding till it has made a circle of holes
quite round the trunk, so that the tree frequently dries
up and decays.
Hairy woodpecker.—Back somewhat downy, in a vilbSx
longitudinal diiection; outer tail feathers entirely white.
From nine to twelve inches long. Like the former, is
the pest of orchards. Inhabits North America, from
Hudson s Bay to Carolina; and likewise occurs in the
north of England.
Greater spotted woodpecker.—Variegated with black Major?
and white ; hind head and vent red. Female, without
red on the hind head. The weight of this species is -
about two ounces and three quarters, and the length
nine inches. 1 he bill is dusky, and an inch and a quar¬
ter long ; the irides are reddish brown. Inhabits Eu¬
rope, North America and Siberia. It is less frequent in
England than the green species, to which it is nearly
allied
49+
ORNITHOLOGY.
Pic®.
244
Medius.
245
Minor.
24(f
Minutus,
247
Cardinalis.
Plate
CCCXCIV,
fig 3-
a+S
SlTTA.
allied in manners amt habits, except that it rarely des¬
cends to the ground in search of food. Lays four or five
white and glossy eggs on the decayed wood, without any
formal preparation of a nest.
Middle spotted woodpecker.—Variegated with white
and black vent and cap red j cheeks white •, three la¬
teral tail feathers, tipt with white, Supposed by some
to be only the young of the preceding species.
Lesser spotted woodpecker.—Variegated with white
and black j crown red j vent testaceous or brick-colour¬
ed. There are two or three varieties. The weight of
this small species is not quite five drams ; and the length
is about five inches and a half. Inhabits Europe and
Asia, and has the habits of the major; but is of more
rare occurrence.
Minute woodpecker.—Chesnut gray whitish, waved
with brown beneath ; crown red j hind head black,
spotted with white. Only three inches and a half long,
the least of its tribe. Inhabits Cayenne.
Cardinal woodpecker.—Black \ under part of the bo¬
dy white, spotted with black •, crown and back part of
the head red; wings spotted with white; legs and bill
blackish. Inhabits the fele of Luzonia.
PicsJ
ken nut shells, the work of this bird, which repeatedly
returns to the same spot for this purpose. When it has
fixed the nut firm in a chink, it turns on all sides, to
strike it with most advantage. This, with the common
hazel-nut, is a work of some labour ; but it breaks a
filbert with ease. In default of nuts, this bird searches
for insects and their larvae among the moss on trees and
old thatched buildings. It is commonly met with among
orchards, and is sometimes seen, in the cyder season,
picking the seeds from the refuse of the pressed apples.
In spring it has a remarkably loud, shrill whistle, which
ceases after incubation, and gives place, in autumn, to
a double reiterated cry. It deserves to be remarked,
that the singular jarring noise produced by sonic species
of woodpeckers, by repeated strokes of the bill against
the decayed limb of a tree, has been erroneously ascribed
to the nuthatch. _
Surinam nuthatch.—Reddish chesnut, dirty white be-Smam
neath ; middle of the back white ; wings and tail black ; sw
wing and tail coverts tipt, and secondary quill feathers
edged, with white. Only three inches and a half long.
Inhabits Surinam.
249
Characters.
Gen. 24. Sitta, Nuthatch.
Bill subulated, roundish, unbent, projecting straight for¬
wards, and entire ; the upper mandible somewhat
longer than the under, compressed at the point;
tongue notched, short, and horny at the apex ; no¬
strils small, covered with bristles ; feet gressorial.
253
Europwa.
s5t
The general manners of the whole of this genus are
supposed to correspond with those of the ensuing species,
which is the only one that is found in Britain.
.European nuthatch.—Cinereous, reddish beneath ;
tail feathers black, the four lateral ones beneath tipt with
white. A black line through the eyes and ears ; rump
white, varied with rusty ; the first tail feather with a
white bar, two with a white spot, three or four t:pt
with white, five colour of the back. Inhabits Europe
and Asia. Remains in England the whole year ; but is
local, and chiefly affects wooded and inclosed situations,
selecting the deserted habitation of a woodpecker for its
nest. The hole is first contracted by a plaster of clay,
leaving only sufficient room for the bird to pass in and
out. The nest is made of dead leaves, especially of
those of the oak, which are heaped together without
much order. The number of eggs is six or seven, and
they are scarcely to be distinguished from those of the
great titmouse, in size and markings. If the plaster at
the entrance be destroyed when there are eggs in the
nest, it is speedily replaced, to prevent the intrusion of
the woodpecker and other birds of superior size which
build in the same situation. No persecution will force
this little bird from its habitation when sitting. It de¬
fends its nest to the last extremity, strikes the invader
with its bill and wings, makes a hissing noise; and, af¬
ter every effort of defence has been practised in vain,
will suffer itself to be taken in the hand rather than de¬
sert its charge. The nuthatch is more expert in climb¬
ing than the woodpecker; for it runs in all directions
up and down a tree. When employed in breaking a
nut, its favourite position is with the head downwards.
In the autumn it is no uncommon thing to find, in the
crevices of the bark of an old tree, a great many bro-
Gen. 25. Todus, Tody.
25*
Toduf.
253
Bill subulate, somewhat depressed, obtuse, straight, co-Cliaracb
vered at the base with bristles ; nostrils small, oval;
feet gressorial.
These mostly inhabit the warmer regions of America,
and are nearly related to the family of fly-catchers ; but
are distinguished from them by having the middle and
outer toe much connected, which, in the fly-catchers,
axe divided to the base. 254 I
Green tody.—Green ; yellowish rosy beneath ; breast Viriih.
red; upper mandible brown, lower orange ; irides ches¬
nut ; cheeks with a red spot; legs and claws gray. The
male, according to Buffon, has the upper part of the
body of a pale blue, the belly white, the breast and
sides rose colour. This pretty species, which is about
the size of a wren, and four inches long, occurs not on¬
ly in the warmer parts of the American continent, but
also in St Domingo, Jamaica, and other islands of the
West Indies. The females are not uncommon in Ja¬
maica. It is supposed to feed on soft insects, and is of
a shy solitary disposition, frequenting the lonely parts
of moist tracts of country, where it is observed to sit
all of a heap, its head drawn in between its shoulders,
and so stupid as almost to allow itself to he taken by
the hand.
White-headed —Black ; subcrested head a«(1
chin white ; bill blackish ; the lower mandible white/
tipt with blackish ; wings short; tail even. Less than
the redstart. Inhabits America. Figured in Latham’s
Synopsis. _ , f .
' Obscure tody.—Olive brown, yellowish-white be-Ow
neath ; crown, quill, and tail feathers blackish. Size
of the hedge sparrow. Inhabits North America, where
it feeds on insects. Frequents the decayed parts of
trees, and has all the actions of the fly catcher. It has
an agreeable note, two or three times repeated, but not ^
what can be called a song. Regius-
King tody.—Blackish brown, reddish beneath; crest
chesnut, spotted with white at the tip; chin and eyelids
white ; bill dusky brown ; breast with transverse black¬
ish lines ; legs flesh colour. This singular and beautiful
4 species
'icas-
y-
} ms.
!59
iatus.
Hate
:;xcv.
g- 3‘
260
i EDO.
261
( raeterf,
: 262
'aia.
'late
(;xcv.
O R N I T
species measures seven inches in length. Inhabits Cay
enne, and is very rare.
Broad-billed todij.—Yellowish-brown, yellow be¬
neath ; chin and spot on the crown white j wings and
tail brown 3 bill very large and broad. Size of the
nightingale. Figured by Latham.
Crested tody.—Crest scarlet 3 body brown, spotted
with white 5 wing coverts spotted with white 3 feathers
of the crest tipped with black. Native of Guinea.
Gen. 26. Aixedo, King's-Jisher.
Bill triangular, thick, straight, long, and acuminated 3
the tongue fleshy, very short, flat, and acute 3 feet,
for the most part, gressorial.
The birds of this genus are dispersed over the whole
globe 3 though it is supposed that only one species inha¬
bits Europe. Most of them frequent rivers and the vi¬
cinity of waters, and live on fish, which they catch with
singular art and dexterity. Sometimes they hover over
the water, where a shoal of small fishes is seen playing
near the surface ; at other times, they wait with atten¬
tion on some low branch, hanging over the water, for
the approach of a single one, which is so unlucky as to
swim that way. In either case they drop like a stone,
or rather dart with rapidity on their prey. They seize
the latter cross-ways in their bill, retire to a resting
place to feed on it, devour it piecemeal, bones and all 3
and afterwards bring up the indigestible parts in pellets.
The wings of most of this genus are very short 3 yet the
birds fly rapidly, and with great strength. In their co¬
lours, blue of difi’erent shades predominates. Their
nostrils are small, and generally covered.
Crested king's-fisher.—Bill black 3 an inch and a half
long 3 crown feathers long, forming a crest, of a green¬
ish colour, and barred with black 3 a fine blue stripe on
each side of the neck 3 upper part of the body bright
blue 3 upper wing coverts violet, and each feather tip¬
ped with a bright blue spot 3 legs and claws reddish 3.
length nearly five inches. Inhabits Amboyna and the
Philippine islands.
Splendid king’s-Jisher.-.—Tail short 3 body yellowish-
green 3 shoulders, throat, and rump yellow 3 wings and
crown of the head blue 3 bill yellowish-horn colour 3
head with a bright yellow stripe on each side 3 smaller
wing coverts edged with yellow 3 legs reddish-brown.
A beautiful species, which inhabits South America.
Common king's fisher.—Tail short; body blue above,
orange-coloured beneath 3 lores red 3 bill black 3 crown
and wing coverts green, with blue spots 3 tail of a beau¬
tiful blue 3 irides and legs red. In the lemale the
bill is not so long as in the other sex. Frequents run¬
ning streams and rivers, in the banks of which it gene¬
rally takes possession of a rat’s hole to deposit its eggs.
This hole is ascending, and generally two or three feet
in the bank 3 at the end is scooped a hollow, at the bot¬
tom of which' is a quantity of small fish-bones, nearly
halt an inch thick, mixed with the earth, and which
are probably the castings of the parent bird, as they
are found even before they have eggs. On this disgor¬
ged matter the female lays to the number ol seven eggs,
which are perfectly white and transparent, and of a short
oval form. Before the young are able to fly, the hole
becomes extremely fetid by the fieces ot the brood,
H O L O G Y.
which cannot be carried away by tlie parent birds, as is
common with most of the smaller species. As the old 1
birds have nothing in their bill, when they go in to
feed their young, it has been inferred, that they eject
from the stomach for that purpose. When the young
are nearly full feathered, they are extremely voracious,
and may be discovered by their constant chirping. This
species is reckoned the most beautiful of all the British
birds, weighs one ounce and a quarter, and measures
seven inches in length. It inhabits Europe, Asia, and
Africa. It was formerly believed, that if the body of
this bird was suspended by a thread, some magnetic in¬
fluence always turned its breast to the north. This,
horvever, is as fabulous as the tradition, that its stuffed
skin will preserve woollen cloth from the depredations
ol moths. There is a variety found in Senegal, about
six inches and a half long, blue green varied with brown
above, tawney beneath, and chin yellowish.
Belted king's-f slier.—Tail long, crested, bluish ; Alcyon.
belly white 3 breast ferruginous 3 a white spot before
and behind the eyes 3 bill black 3 chin white; breast
with a ferruginous band on the fore part; thighs rusty;
shanks very short 3 legs brown ; outer toe connected with
the middle toe. Eleven inches long. Inhabits Carolina,
and feeds on lizards and fish. It is subject to several
permanent varieties, which occur in different parts of
America.
Amazonian king's fisher.—Glossy green 3 under parts Amaxona.
of the body and lunule on the neck white 3 sides varie¬
gated with green 3 tail spotted with white 3 bill and legs
black. Thirteen inches long. Inhabits Cayenne.
Respected king's fisher.—Tail long; body olive above, Tut a.
white beneath ; eyebrows white 3 collar greenish black.
Bill black 3 lower mandible white. Legs black. Eight
inches and a half long. Native of the Society islands,
where it is held sacred by the inhabitants, as are the
species denominate ! venerata and sacm. 2(JS
Great brown king's fisher—Crested, olive above, Fitsea.
whitish and obscurely striated beneath; temples and
hind head dirty white ; tail rounded with rusty and steel-
blue lines, and tipt with white. The female has no
crest. Eighteen inches long. Inhabits New Guinea. ,
Crab-eating king'sfisher.—Tail long; body blue-green, Cancro-
yellowish-tawney beneath; band through the eyes 3 wing^Aaga.
coverts and tips of the quill-feathers black. Twelve
inches long. Inhabits Senegal, and feeds on crabs. 2^0
Egyptian king's fisher.—Brown, with rusty spots ‘}Egyptia.
whitish, with cinereous spots beneath. Size of the Roy-
ston crow. Inhabits Lower Egypt, about Cairo 3 builds
in sycamore and date trees, and feeds on frogs, insects,
and small fish, which last it meets with in the fields
when they are flooded. Its cry approaches to that of
the common crow.
Gen. 27. Galbula, Jacamar.
271
Galbula.
272
Bill straight, very long, quadrangular, pointed ; nostrils Characters,
oval, at the base of the bill ; tongue short, sharp-
pointed ; thighs downy on the fore paid ; feet scan-
sorial.
This is much allied to the preceding; but the toes are
differently placed, namely, two before and two behind.
The food of the jacamar is likewise-different, as it feeds
on insects alone j and, for that purpose, frequents moist
woods,
*9<5
Picas.
G’ramlis.
0 It N I T H O LOG!
wootls. Only four species liave been described, and
scarcely any information has hitherto been obtained re¬
lative to their economy and manners.
Great jacamar.—Copper gold above, ferruginous be¬
neath ; head and limbs green gold*, tail wedged, and
Gen. 28. Merops, Bcc-eater.
longer than the body. Size of tho green woodpecker.
274 Native country unknown.
Paradtsea. Paradise jacamar.—Two middle tail feathers very
long 5 body golden green j throat and wings white be¬
neath *, bill and legs black 5 head violet broWn 5 tail
much wedged. Inhabits Cayenne and Surinam j is 11
inches and a half long; flies in pairs ; is less solitary
than its congeners, and feeds on insects.
275
Merops.
276
Characters. BJ]] curved, quadrangular; compressed, carinated, point¬
ed ; nostrils small, at the base of the bill ; tongue
slender, the tip generally jagged ; feet gressorial.
The birds of this genus, with a few exceptions, inha¬
bit the old continent. Their general food is insects,
and they are particularly fond of bees and wasps. They
have no note beyond a whistle, and that far from agree¬
able. Like the king’s-fisher, they breed in holes in the
277 banks of rivers.
Ajiiastcr. Common bee-eater.—Back ferruginous; belly and tail
bluish-green ; two of the tail feathers longer than the
others; chin pale yellow ; bill black; iridesred; front
blue green; crown, hind head, and neck, bay ; a black
streak from the bill to the hind head ; tail wedged, the
feathers edged inwardly with cinereous; legs chesnut;
claws reddish black. A variety sometimes occurs with
the bill convex and uncarinated, and the toes uncon¬
nected at the last joint. The common bee-eater mea¬
sures 10 inches from bill to tail. It inhabits various
parts of Europe, Asia, and Africa ; and is very plenti¬
ful in the southern parts of Bussia, p. rticularly about the
rivers Don and Wolga. In the third volume of the
Linmeau Transactions an account is given of one of this
species having been shot, for the first time* in Britain,
near Mattishal, in Norfolk, in July 1794. A flight of
about 20 was seen in June; and the same flight, as was
supposed, much diminished in number, was Observed
passing over the same spot in October following. They
feed, on the wing, upon bees, grtats, flies, and other
insects ; or, in defect of these, upon seeds. Their nest
is composed of moss, and the eggs, from five to seven,
are perfectly white, and about the size of those of a
stare. They are gregarious and migatory, quitting the
colder latitudes, in great flocks, in autumn. When the
sun shines on them, in their flight, they are a pleasing
object, as they appear gilded. Kolben remarks, that
they guide the Hottentots to the honey, which the bees
lay up in the clefts of the rocks.
v~Viridis, Indian bee-eater.—Green; band on the breast black;
< chin and tail blue; two of the tail feathers longer than
the others ; bill and band across the eyes black ; legs
brown. There are several varieties. Eight inches and
2?9 a half long. Inhabits India.
Superbus. Superb bee-eater.—Bed ; front, throat, and rump,
blue ; two middle tail feathers longer than the others.
Nine inches long.
2S0 Wattled or New Holland bee-eater.—Brown ; belly
^“rimcula- ye]]ow. wattles carunculated ; tail wedged, tipt with
white ; bill black ; ftostrils pervious, and half covered
with a membrane ; crown blackish ; a silvery stripe at PiCiE
the angle of the mouth ; a long, orange, pendent ca- '““"■v'-'
runcle behind the base of the lower mandible; legs
brownish, the outer toe connected at the base to the
middle one. Fourteen inches and a half long. Inha¬
bits New Holland ; is pretty numerous on the sea shores
of that country ; chatters incessantly ; is very bold ;
feeds on insects, and sucks the honey from the different
sorts of Banskia. 281
Horned or knob-fronted bee eater.—Brown; head^w'mcw“
somewhat naked ; under parts of the body and tips of
the tail feathers whitish ; a blunt short eminence, like
the rudiment of a horn, on the fore head. Size of a mis¬
sel thrush. This singular species also inhabits New
Holland, and is well figured in White’s Journal.
Red-winged bee-eater.—Under part of the body of an
olive or dirty-white colour; throat yellow ; wings and^*^^
tail red, tipt with black ; bill Otre inch long, black ; CGCXC i
legs black. Six inches long. Inhabits Senegal. fijr. i,
283
Gen. 29. UfUPA, Hoop, or Hoopoe. kpm.
284
Bill arched, long, slender, convex, a little compressed,Character
somewhat obtuse ; nostrils small, at the base of the
bill; tongue obtuse, entire, triangular, very short;
feet gressorial.
Of the species included under this genus, the first on¬
ly is found in Britain. They feed on insects, haunt
dunghills, and are, in general, uncleanly in their man-
nerSi 285
Comnion boop.—Variegated with blackish and rufousPpp'
white, beneath; crest pale orange, tipt with black; tail
black, With a white band ; bill and legs black ; irides
hazel ; back and wings with black and white lines j
neck reddish-brown ; cfest of a double row of feathers;
tail feathers 10. The Weight of this beautiful bird is
about three ounces, and the length 12 inches. Inhabits
Europe, Asia, and Africa ; but Only visits this country,
occasionally, in autumn, and is very seldom known to
breed with us. The female is said to have two or three
broods in the year. Seldom makes a nest ; but lays her
Cggs, which are generally four or five, bluish-white,
and marked with pale brown spots, in the hollow of a
tree, and sometimes in a hole of a wall, or even on thfe
ground. Its food consists chiefly of insects of the beetle
tribe. It is a solitary bird, two of them being seldom
seen together. In Egypt, where they abound, they are
seen only in small flocks. Its crest usually falls behind
on its neck, except when it is surprised or irritated, and
then it stands erect ; the tail, too, being, in that case,
usually erected, and spread like a fan. 28(j
Grand hoop,or grand promerops.—Black; head, neck, Mcgnu,
and breast, glossy green; scapular and lateral tail fea¬
thers falcated ; tail very long. “ This most extraordi¬
nary and beautiful bird (observes Dr Latham), is near
four feet in length, from the top of the bill to the end
of the tail; the body is the size only of a middling pi¬
geon, though much elongated in shape. The bill is
three inches long, pretty much curved, and black ; the
head, hind part of the neck, and upper part of the bel¬
ly, are of a shining green ; the fore part of the neck,
and lower part of the belly, without gloss; the scapu¬
lar feathers are of a singular construction; the webs on
one side of the shaft being exceeding short, and on the
other of a great length; the shape of them falciform :
they
O R N I T H
J?ic88>
JS7
■ylhro-
ynchos.
iS8
IRTHU.
jSy
aracters,
they are of a purplish black colour, with the ends, for
' three quarters of an inch, of a most brilliant gilded glos¬
sy green, though some of them, in a different light, re¬
flect a blue gloss $ beneath each wing arises a thick tuft
of feathers, eight inches and a half in length, and of
a texture resembling the herring-bone ones in the great¬
er bird of Puradise} and, besides these, on each side of
the tail are five or six falciform feathers, with unequal
webs, as the scapulars, though not half so much curved;
the colour half dusky, half greenish brown ; the last di¬
vided from the other colour, on each feather, in an ob¬
lique manner-, the tail consists of 12 feathers, and is of
an enormous length, the middle ones measuring no less
than 28 inches j but each of the others shortens as it
proceeds outwards, to the outer one of all, which is on¬
ly five inches in length j the colour of all of them is
blue black, with a polished steel gloss in some lights ;
the legs are black.” Dr Latham has annexed a colour¬
ed figure. Little else is known of this remarkable spe¬
cies, except that it inhabits New Guinea.
Red-billed hoop.—Black green ; belly black ; tail
wedged ; six first quill and lateral tail feathers spotted
with white $ bill and legs red ; feathers of the head and
neck silky, and somewhat downy. Fifteen inches long.
Inhabits Asia and Africa. Figured by Latham.
Gen. 30. Certhia, Creeper.
Bill arched, slender, somewdiat triangular, pointed j
tongue various, though generally pointed ; feet form¬
ed for walking.
290
tiilwris
The birds of this genus are spread over the globe.
They live chiefly on insects j their nostrils are small;
their tail is composed of 12 feathers; their feet are large,
with a large back toe; their claws are long and hooked.
Most of them have an acute tongue; though in some it
is flattened at the point, in others ciliated, in a few tu¬
bular. There are a considerable number of species, of
which only one is a native of Britain.
Common creeper.—Gray; white beneath ; quill fea¬
thers brown, ten of them with a white spot ; head and
neck brow-n, with black streaks ; rump tawney ; wing
coverts varied brown and black ; quill feathers dusky,
tipt with white, edged and barred with tawney ; breast
and belly silvery; tail long, tawney, the feathers sloping
oil to a point. Weighs about twro drams ; length five
inches. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and America. Runs
with great facility on all sides of small branches of trees,
in search of insects and their eggs, which constitute its
food. Except the crested wren, it is the smallest of
British birds; and though pretty common, is not seen
without difficulty, from the ease with which on the ap¬
pearance of any one, it escapes to the opposite side of
the tree. Its nest is composed of dry grass and the in¬
ner bark of wood, loosely put together, and lined with
small feathers ; and it is usually constructed in some
hole, or behind the bark of a decayed tree. The eggs
are from six to eight, white, and minutely speckled with
bright rust colour. During incubation, the female is
fed by the other sex. The note of the common creeper
is weak, monotonous, and deliberately uttered, but rare¬
ly heard in winter.—In North America, is found a va¬
riety of a considerably larger size.
Hook-billed red creeper.—Scarlet ; wings and tail
black ; bill longer than the head, bent like a scimitar,
loL XV. Part II. t
O L O G Y.
legs and long claws blackish; tail feathers short, point¬
ed; edges of the wings, and roots of the throat feathers,
white. This beautiful species inhabits the Sandwich
islands, and is much used by the natives in their feather¬
ed dresses.
Mocking creeper—Olive ; crown inclining to violet; Sanrdl
spot on the cheeks white ; wings and subforked tail
brown. Seven inches long. Inhabits New Zealand ;
has a very imitative voice, and sips the sweet moisture
from the nectaries of flowers.
.. Cardinal creeper.—Black; head, neck, breast andCardinalis.
line down the middle of the back, red; tail even. Size
of the common species. Inhabits the island of Tanna,
and sucks the nectaries of flowers.
Wall creeper, or spider-catcher—Cinereous ; wings Mutlna.
with a tawney spot ; bill subulate, sharp edged, longer
than the head ; neck whitish beneath ; quill, feathers
black ; wings with a rosy spot ; tail feathers whitish;
claws strong, particularly the hind one. The chin and
throat of the female are white. Size of a sparrow,
length six inches eight lines. Inhabits southern Europe
and Asia. Is solitary ; feeds on insects, and has the
same manners as the common creeper, except that it
haunts ruined edifices, old walls, arches, &c. and is par¬
ticularly fond of spiders. According to Scopoli, it
migrates singly towards the end of autumn. Its flight
is vague and uncertain, and it climbs by leaps. Builds
frequently in holes of wTalls.
Little brown and white creeper.—Brown ; white be- PmUul
neath ; eyebrows white; tail feathers brown, the outer
ones white at the tip ; a black streak from the bill to
the eyes; quill feathers edged with a brassy hue. Three
inches and a half long. Inhabits India- Feeds on
flies, and is fond of honey.
Blue weeper, or certhia of Guiana.—Blue ; band Cceruta-.
across the eyes, chin, wings, and tail, black. Four
inches long, and somewhat burger than the common
creeper. Makes its nest of dried stalks or grass, in the
form of a retort, and open beneath, suspending it from
the slender and extreme branches of trees, and thus
securing it against the attacks of the monkey, snake,
and lizard.—Varies, in having the bill and legs some¬
times red.
Collared creeper.—Glossy green ; breast red, with a chalylea.
steel blue bar on the fore-part. Four inches and a half
long. Inhabits the Cape of Good Hope; feeds on in¬
sects and the nectar of flowers, and sings sweetly.
Black and yellow creeper, yellow-bellied creeper, &c. Fluveol*.
—Black ; pale yellow beneath ; eyebrows whitish ;
outer tail feathers tipt with white. The markings,
how'ever, vary considerably. From four to five inches
long. Inhabits the West Indies, and feeds principally
on the juice of the sugar cane, which it draws out by
insinuating its bill into any crevice or crack of the
stalk.
Braceletted creeper.—Green ; wings, when folded, ArmiUata.
black above ; beneath yellow; shoulders, bracelets on I iate
the thighs, and spots on the rump, sapphire blue ; bill * <
black ; legs, yellowish ; body beneath whitish-green ; fig I*
vent yellowish ; quill feathers black, inner edge yel¬
low. Length five inches. Native of Surinam.
Orange-backed creeper.—Bluish-gray ; spot on the CantiSami
back, and under parts of the body yellow ; bill and legs
black; irides red. Three inches long. Inhabits China,
aud is remarkable for the sweetness of its song.
3 R Beautiful
498
Piece,
O R N I T H
5®4
Tbochi-
LUS
Beautiful creeper.—Two middle tail feathers very
long 5 body glossy green ; breast red *, bill, legs, and
501 tail feathers, blackish, the latter edged with gold j belly
Pulchdla wi1jtjs|1 . wi0gs and greater coverts brown. beven
inches long. Inhabits Senegal.
Vnmnsa, Famous creeper.—Two middle tail feathers veiy
lone; body glossy green •, armpits yellow j lores black j
bill, legs, claws, and tail black; a black line between
the bill and eyes. Female green brown ; yellowish be¬
neath ; breast green ; two middle tail feathers shorter
than in the male. Nine inches long. Inhabits the
t Cape of Good Hope. ., ,
h0Jnia. Loten's creeper—Blue ; bar on the breast gold-red;
lores black; bill subulate, black, twice as long as the
head; tongue compressed at the tip; head, neck, back,
rump, and upper tail coverts, sometimes blue, sometimes
gold-green; breast, belly, and vent glossy black; in
the female dirty white, spotted with black; wings
black; lesser coverts violet; middle green; greater
black; tail even. Upwards of five inches long. In¬
habits Madagascar and Ceylon. Makes a cup shaped
nest, like that of a chaffinch, of the down ol plants.
The’female generally lays five or six eggs. This spe¬
cies is sometimes chased by a very voracious spider, as
large as itself, which seizes on the whole brood, and
sucks the blood of the young birds.
Gen. 31. Trochilus, Humming bird.
Bill subulate, filiform, tubular at the tip, longer than
u 305 tiie head • upper mandible sheathing the lower; tongue
Characters. fitiform, the tvv0 threads coalescing, and tubular; feet
gressorial.
The birds of this species are very small, and, with a
very few exceptions, inhabit South America. Their
bill and feet are weak, their nostrils minute, and then-
tongue is capable of being darted far out. They fly
very rapidly, take their food on the wing, sucking the
honey juice of flowers, and sometimes also swallowing
insects, the fragments of which have been found in their
stomachs. They are bold, pugnacious, and gregarious,
and make a louder noise by the motion of their wings
than by their voice. They construct an elegant hemi¬
spherical nest of the down of a species of thapsus, and
suspend it from the branches of trees, where it is hid
by the leaves, the female laying two white eggs of the
size of peas, which are hatched by the alternate incu¬
bation of the male and female. These minute birds are
taken by aspersing them with water from a syphon, as
the finest shot would blow them to pieces. They are
said to hybernate. The brilliancy of their colouring
greatly exceeds the powers of painting and description.
The green, red, and blue of their diminutive plumage
is like beaten gold, and reflects the most beautifursplen-
dour in sunshine.
A. Bill curved.
3°,6 Paradise humming bird.—Red ; wings blue ; head
Pamdwsfws. cregted. m;ddle tail feathers very long; bill and legs
black ; wing coverts blue. Eight inches and a half
long Inhabits Mexico.
Little humming bird.—Greenish-brown, with a scar¬
let gloss; wings and tail black; crest green at the base,
tipt with gold ; bill black. One inch and a half long.
Inhabits Guiana.
307
JZxilis.
O L O G Y.
Topa% humming i/z-r/.—-Red; middle tail feathers p;ca;i
very long; head brown; chin gold-green; rump green;  ^
bill, head, and neck black ; breast rosy; back and wing 308
coverts orange red ; quill and middle tail feathers pur-
pie; the rest orange. Female almost entirely gieen
gold. Six inches long. Inhabits Surinam.
Mango humming bird.—Glossy green ; tail nearly
equal, and ferruginous ; belly black, bill and legs black;
a blue line dividing the colours of the back and belly ;
vent white; two middle tail feathers black. Four inches
long. Inhabits Mexico, Brazil, and St Domingo. Ac¬
cording to Albums, it is also found in Jamaica, build¬
ing its nest of cotton in the physic-nut-tree, and laying
two white eggs as big as peas. I here are several varie¬
ties. Under this species, Dr Eatham relates the followr
ing interesting particulars.
“ We have before related a circumstance of the pos¬
sibility of keeping humming birds alive for some time,
by means of sugar and water ; but this was in their own
country and climate. In addition to this, we have been
informed, on undoubted veracity, of the following fact.
A young gentleman, a few days before he set sail from
Jamaica to England, was fortunate enough to meet with
a female humming bird, sitting on the nest and eggs;
when, cutting off the twig, he brought all together on
board the ship ; the female became sufficiently tame, so
as to suffer itself to be fed with honey, and during the
passage hatched two young ones ; however, the mother
did not survive long, but the young were brought to
England, and continued alive for some time in the pos¬
session ot Lady Hammond. Sir H. Englefield, Baronet,
and Colonel Sloane, both witnesses of the circumstance,
informed me that these little creatures readily took ho-
jiey from the lips of Lady Hammond, with their bills,
one of them did not live long, but the other survived at
least two months from the time of its arrival.”
B. Bill straight.
Bed-throated humming bird.—Green gold; tail fea-Co/4rk
thers black, the three lateral ones ferruginous, tipt with
white; chin flame colour; bill black; chin scarlet, with
a beautiful gold gloss. The female brown above, whit¬
ish beneath ; tail subequal, rusty at the base, and tipt
with white. Three inches and one-fourth long. In¬
habits America, as far north as Canada. This beauti¬
ful little creature flies so swiftly, that the eye is incapable
of pursuing it, and the motion of its wings is so rapid
as to be imperceptible to the nicest observer. It never
feeds but on the wing, suspended over the flower from
which it extracts its nourishment. Like the bee, having
exhausted the honeyed juice of one flower, it wanders
to the next, in search of new sweets. It is most partial
to those flowers which have the deepest nectaries: and,
in the countries which these birds inhabit, whoever sets
plants of this description before his window, may depend
on being visited by multitudes of them. It is very en¬
tertaining to see them swarming around the flowers, and
trying every tube by thrusting in their bills. If they
find that their companions have anticipated them, an4
robbed the flower of its honey, they will frequently, m
a fit of rage, pluck it off, and throw it on the ground,
or even tear it in pieces. Numbers will sometimes con¬
tend very fiercely for the possession of the same flower.
During the conflict, they frequently pursue the fugitives
into the apartments of those houses whose windows are
i’icae.
M hitm,
I !2
rvk
O R N I T H
left open, take a turn round the room as flies do with
us, and then suddenly regain the open air. When feed¬
ing, they will allow persons to come within two yards
of them ; but, on a nearer approach, they dart oft" with
wonderful swiftness. The red-throated humming bird
most frequently builds on the middle of a branch of a
tree, and the nest is so small, that it cannot be seen by
a person who stands on the ground. It is quite round j
the outside, for the most part, composed of the green
moss common on old pales and trees, and the inside of
the softest vegetable down which the birds can collect.
Sometimes, however, they vary the texture, using flax,
hemp, hairs, and other similar materials. They are
sometimes, likewise, known to fix it on some low bush,
on a stalk of the tobacco plant, or even on the side of a
pod of ocra (Hibiscus esculentus, Lin.). The female lays
two eggs, which are white, and equal in thickness at
both ends. When these birds observe any one climbing
the tree in which they have their nests, they attack him
in the face, attempting to strike him in the eyes, and
coming, going, and returning, with such swiftness, that
one would scarcely credit it who had not seen it him¬
self. This species, like the others of its genus, is seldom
caught alive. A friend of Monsieur du Pratz had,
however, this pleasure. He had observed one of them
enter into the bell of a convolvulus j and, as it had quite
buried itself to get at the bottom, he ran immediately
to the spot, shut the flower, cut it from the stalk, and
carried off the bird a prisoner. He could not, however,
prevail on it to eat; and it died in the course of two or
three days. Charlevoix informs us, that he had one of
them in Canada, for about twenty-four hours. It suffer¬
ed itself to be handled, and even counterfeited death,
that it might escape; but it fell a real sacrifice to a
slight frost during the night. “ My friend Captain
Davies informs me (says Dr Latham), that he kept
these birds alive for four months by the following me¬
thod :—He made an exact representation of some of the
tubular flowers, with paper fastened round a tobacco
pipe, and painted them of a proper colour. These were
placed in the order of nature, in the cage in which the
little creatures were confined : the bottoms of the tubes
were filled With a mixture of brown sugar and wrater as
often as emptied j and he had the pleasure of seeing them
perform every action ; for they soon grew familiar, and
took their nourishment in the same manner as when
ranging at large, though close under the eye.'’
Ruby-necked humming bird.—Green-gold ; tail even
and ferruginous, the two outer feathers tipt with brown j
wings black-, bill and legs blackish ; crown, hind head,
and neck ruby ; body brown beneath. Female whitish
gray beneath, with a gold spot on the breast and throat.
Upwards of three inches long. Inhabits Guiana, Bra¬
zil, and Surinam. Reputed the most beautiful of the
tribe.
White-bellied humming bird.—Tail feathers black,
the lateral ones white ; head blue; back green j belly
white. Above four inches long. Inhabits Surinam.
Edwards remarks, that the whole of the plumage, in
the sun, seems as if mixed with threads of gold.
Least humming iire?.-—Green; whitish beneath \ late¬
ral tail feathers white on the outer edge $ bill and legs
blackish; wings violet bi’own} tail feathers bluish-black,
the primary totally gray j secondary gray from the mid-
O L O G Y.
beneath. Inhabits South America, and some of the West
India islands. The least of all known birds j being hard¬
ly an inch and a quarter in length, and weighing front
twenty to forty-five grains ; thus being surpassed in
weight and dimensions by more than one species of bee.
The female is even less than the male.
3i4
Order III. ANSERES. AnSEBESt
... 315
Biel somewhat obtuse, covered with a skin, gibbous at Characters,
the base ; mouth toothed j tongue fleshy ; feet pal-
mated, and formed for swimming.
Most of the birds belonging to this order dwell much
in the water. Their feet and legs are short, concealed
under the feathers, and placed more behind than in other
birds. Their toes are short, and generally compressed,
so that they easily cleave the water, and by means of
their membranes or webs, form, as it were, broad oars.
Their plumage is thicker, closer, and better furnished
with down than that of other birds. The gland which
all birds have at the rump, and from which they express
an oily matter to preserve their feathers moist, is most
considerable in the anseres, and contributes to make
their plumage impermeable to water. They feed on
fish, aquatic animals, and plants. In general they are
polygamous, and make their nests among reeds, or in
moist places* The young are soon able to seek their
own food ; yet the mother leads and protects them for
some time, and the male frequently kills them. For the
most part they lay many eggs ; and the flesh of many
is eatable, though it frequently savours of oil, or of
fish.
3I6‘
Anas.
die to the tip. Female dirty greenish-brown, whitish one
Gen. 32. Anas.
Bill convex, obtuse, the edges divided into lamellated characters,
teeth ; tongue fringed and obtuse ; the three fore toes
connected, the hind one solitary.
This is a very numerous genus, and includes swans,
geese, and ducks.
A. Bill gibbous at the base. ,i g
Wild swan, hooper, elk, whistling swan, &c.—Bill Cygtm*.
semicylindrical, and black } cere yellow j body white }
eyelids naked, yellow ; legs black j ribs eleven. This
is obviously a distinct species from the common or mute
swan, being of a smaller size, and having the windpipe
differently constructed. It weighs from fifteen to twen¬
ty-five pounds, and measures nearly five feet in length.
It inhabits Europe, Asia, and America, affecting chiefly
the northern regions of the globe, and seldom appearing
in England, except in hard winters. On the approach
of spring, they quit their southern stations, and again
retire northward to breed. A few indeed drop short,
and perform that office by the way, halting in some of
the Hebrides, Orkneys, Shetland, or some solitary island.
But the great bodies of this species occur on the large
rivers and lakes near Hudson’s bay, and thooa of Kam-
tschatka, Lapland, and Iceland. They are said to re¬
turn to tire latter place in flocks of about a hundred at
a time, in springs and also to pour in on that island
from the north, in nearly the same manner, on their way
southward, toward the close of autumn, flying very high
in the air, and in such a compact body, that the bill ol
touches the tail of another. The young, which
2 R 2 are
50© 0 R N I T H
Anscres. are bretl there, remain throughout the first year ; and
~v'." in August, when they lose their feathers, and are unable
to fly, the natives kill them with clubs, shoot, and hunt
them down with dogs, by which they are easily caught.
. The flesh is highly esteemed, as are the eggs, which are
gathered in the spring. The Icelanders, Kamtschatka-
dales, and other inhabitants of the northern world, dress
their skins with the down on them, sew them together,
and convert them into various sorts of garments. The
, northern American Indians have recourse to the same
expedient for clothing themselves, and sometimes weave
the down as barbers do the cawls for wigs, and then
manufacture it into ornamental dresses for the women of
rank, while the larger feathers are formed into caps and
plumes, to decorate the heads of their chieftains and war¬
riors. They likewise gather the feathers and down in large
quantities, and barter or sell them to the inhabitants of
more civilized nations. Notwithstanding the fabulous
accounts and poetical descriptions ol the song ol the
dying swan, its voice is shrill, harsh, and piercing, not
unlike the sound of a clarionet, when blown by a novice
in music. It is asserted, however, by those who have
heard the united and varied voices ot a numerous assem¬
blage of them, that they produce a more harmonious
effect, particularly when softened by the murmur of the
waters. At the setting in of frosty weather, wild swans
are said to associate in prodigious multitudes, and, thus
united, to use every’ effort to prevent the water from
freezing j which they are enabled to accomplish for a
considerable length of time, by constantly stirring and
dashing it with their extended wings. The wild swan
has been styled “ the peaceful monarch of the lake,”
because, conscious of his superior strength, he fears no
enemy, nor suffers any bird, however powerful, to mo¬
lest him, at the same time that he preys on none of the
feathered tribe. His vigorous wing shields him against
/• the attacks even of the eagle, and his blows from it are
so powerful, as to stun or kill the fiercest of his foes.
His food consists of the grasses and weeds, and the seeds
and roots of plants which grow on the margins of the
water, and of the myriads of insects which skim over or
float on its surface occasionally, too, of the slimy inha¬
bitants within its bosom. The female makes her nest
of the withered leaves and stalks of reeds and rushes,
and commonly lays six or seven thick shelled, white
eggs. The incubation is said to last six weeks. Both
male and female are very attentive to their young, and
will suffer no enemy to approach them.
Tame swan.—V>\\\ semicylindrical, black 5 cere black j
body white. The plumage of this species is of the same
snowy whiteness as that of the preceding, and the bird is
covered next the body with the samekindof finesoftdown j
but itis of a larger size, and is furnished with a projecting,
callous, black tubercle, or knob, at the base of the upper
mandible. But the most remarkable distinction consists
in the conformation of the windpipe, which, in the pre¬
sent species, enters at once into the lungs, so that the ut¬
most noise the bird can utter, is a mere hiss: whereas, in
the wild species, the windpipe first enters the chest a
little way, is then reflected in the form of a trumpet •,
after which it enters a second time, when, dividing into
two branches, it goes on to join the lungs. The man¬
ners and habits of both species in the wild state are very
similar. The beauty, graceful motion, and majesty of
this bird, when it is wafted along a piece of water, at-
319
Olor.
O L O G Y.
tract the admiration of every beholder: but, out of the Ansere;
liquid element, the elegance of its form in a great mea-v—v—
sure disappears. While the male and female are em¬
ployed with the cares of the young brood, it is not safe
to approach them j for they will fly on a stranger, and
sometimes beat him to the ground by repeated blows. Notr
withstanding, however, their great strength ot wing, a
slight blow 011 the head will dispatch them. Multitudes
of this species are found in Russia and Siberia, as well
as farther southward, in a wild state. They occur, with¬
out an owner, on the Trent, on the inlet ot the sea near
Abbotsbury in Dorsetshire, and on some other rivers
and lakes, in different parts of the British isles. Those
on the Thames have, for ages, been protected as royal
property ; and it is still reckoned felony to steal their
eggs. In former times great numbers were reared for
the table : but they are now reckoned by most a coarse,
kind of food. A fattened cygnet, however, is still ac¬
counted a great delicacy, and usually fetches upwards of
a guinea in the poultry market. It is generally belie¬
ved that the swan lives to a great age, though the term
of three centuries, assigned to it by some authors, is cer¬
tainly much exaggerated. The temale nestles among
the rough herbage near the water’s edge, lays from six
to eight large white eggs, and sits on them about as ma¬
ny weeks before they are hatched. The young do not
acquire their full plumage till the second year. If kept
out of the water, and confined to a court-yard, the swan
soon becomes dirty, dull, and spiritless. Its usual food
consists of fish and water plants. 320
Black swan.—Black j wings edged with white j bill dtnrfs.
red 3 upper mandible blackish at the tip, a yellow spot
near the lip 3 legs black 3 leet paler. Tixtent ol wing
four feet eight inches. Inhabits various parts of New
Holland 3 but little is known respecting its man¬
ners. _ 321
Snoiv goose.—Body snow-white 3 front yellowish 3 ten Eyberk.
first quill feathers black 3 bill and legs red. Size of a.rca-
goose 3 length two feet eight inches 3 extent of wing three
feet and a half 3 weight between five and six pounds.
Great numbers of this species occur about Hudson’s bay;
visit Severn river in May, and stay a fortnight, but go
farther north to breed. They return to Severn Fort
about the beginning of September, and stay till the mid¬
dle of October, when they depart for the south, and
are observed in immense flocks attended by their young.
At this time many thousands are killed by the inhabi-
tants, who pluck and eviscerate them, and put them in¬
to holes in the earth, where they are preserved quite
sweet by frost, throughout the severe season. These
birds seem also to occupy the west side of America and
Kamtschatka. Iu the summer months they are plenti¬
ful on the arctic coast of Siberia 3 but never migrate be-
yound 1 30° of longitude. They are supposed to pass the
winter in more moderate climes, as they have been seen
flying over Silesia 3 probably on their passage to some
other country, as it does not appear that they continue
there. Those of America, in like manner, winter in
Carolina. The Siberians decoy them by a person cover¬
ed with a white skin, and crawling on all fours, whom
they are stupid enough to mistake for their leader,
and whom they follow, when driven by men in their
rear, till he entangles them in nets, or leads them into
a sort of pond prepared for the purpose.
Antarctic goose.— Snowy 3 bill black 3 legs yellow. Antarctic*
The
222
ORNITHOLOGY.
3-1
cap-
3*4
< erea.
•lseres. The female has the tail flesh-coloured, and the body
brown, with transverse white lines. From twenty four
to twenty-six inches long. Inhabits Falkland islands.
Bustard goose.—White*, two middle tail feathers,
jk primary quill feathers, and greater wing coverts, black 5
nape, and upper part of the back, with numerous black
lines 5 wings with a blunt spine at the flexure, and a
dusky green spot; greater wing coverts tipt with white j
secondary quill feathers half black, half white ; legs
black. This is the sea-goose of Clayton, and the white*
winged antarctic goose of Brown. It measures from
thirty-two to forty inches in length, stands pretty high
on its legs, walks and flies with great ease, and has not
that disagreeable cackling cry peculiar to the rest of
its kind. It generally lays six eggs *, and its flesh is
reckoned wholesome, nourishing, and palatable. Inha¬
bits the Falkland islands.
Loggerhead goose, or racehorse duck.—Cinereous;
dusky beneath ; vent white ; wings and tail short and
black; bill, irides, and tubercle on the wings and legs,
yellow. Length thirty-two inches ; weighs from twen¬
ty to thirty pounds. Observed on Falkland islands,
Staaten Land, &c.; mostly in pairs, though sometimes
in large flocks. From the shortness of their wings, they
were unable to fly, but they used them in the water as
oars, and swam so rapidly, that it was very difficult to
shoot them when on that element. In order to catch
them, the sailors would surround a flock with boats and
drive them on shore, where, unable to raise themselves
from the ground, they ran very fast; but soon growing
tired, and squating down to rest, were easily overtaken
and knocked on the head. Their flesh, however, was
325 not much relished, being rank and fishy.
orm. Sheldrake, or burrow duck.—BUI turning up at the
point; forehead compressed ; head greenish black ; body
white and variegated; bill and legs red; head and neck
violet; collar white; back white; breast brown ; belly
white, with a black line ; first quill feathers black, the
next violet, inner ones ferruginous, the last white; tail
white, tipt with black. The female has less vivid colours.
Thiselegant species of duck weighs about two pounds and
a half, and measures about two feet three inches. It in¬
habits Europe and Asia, and is not uncommon on many
parts of our coasts, remaining all the year. The female
makes choice of a rabbit burrow, wherein to deposit her
eggs, which are numerous, amounting sometimes to six¬
teen, and which she covers with down from her own
body. The nest is generally near the water, whither
the female leads her young soon after they are hatched.
This species is rarely met with remote from salt water ;
out if the eggs are taken and hatched under a hen, the
young become tame, and may be kept in ponds. They
very seldom breed when in a state of confinement.
Their principal food consists of sea-weeds, small shell-
25 fish, and marine insects. The flesh is rancid.
% Velvet duck.—Blackish; lower eyelid and spot on the
wings, white; bill yellow, black in the middle, gibbous
at the base ; legs red. Female without the gibbosity on
the bill, and body blackish. From 20 to 2 2 inches
long. Inhabits Europe and South America. It is
sometimes, though not often, seen on our coasts in win¬
ter. Frequents Hudson’s bay, where it breeds in sum¬
mer; and is not uncommon in Russia and Siberia. Lives
on fuci and shell-fish. The female makes its nest of
grass, and lays from four to 10 white eggs. The catch-
501
ing of this species is a favourite diversion of the Tun- Anseres.
gusi, who dwell on the river Ochota, and who chase *■■■ ■ y——
great numbers of these birds, during the moulting sea¬
son, into shallow water, and then knock them down
with clubs. They take many of them alive, and, thrust¬
ing a needle through their eyes, carry fifty or more on
a string. It is alleged that the birds, thus treated,
will live for two or even three days. ^
Scoter, or black diver.—Body quite black ; bill gib- TsUgra.
bous at the base ; head and neck sprinkled with purple ;
tail somewhat wedged. Female of a browner hue, and
without the protuberance at the base of the bill. Length
2 2 inches; feeds on grass and shell-fish, and tastes
rancid. These birds inhabit Europe and North Ame¬
rica, and mostly reside at sea, distant from the shore.
With us they are seen only in the winter season, when
they are plentiful on some parts of the coast of France.
They are great divers, and abound in most of the north¬
ern regions of the world. They want the horny nail
at the end of the bill, which is common to the rest of
the genus. As they taste strongly of fish, they are al¬
lowed by the Romish church to be eaten in Lent. ^2S
White fronted or laughing goose.—Brown; white, Albifrons.
spotted with black beneath ; front and rump white ; bill
and legs flame colour. Breast cinereous ; tail dusky,
edged with white. Two feet, four inches long. Inha¬
bits Europe, Asia, and America, and visits the fenny
parts of England, in small flocks in winter. During
severe weather it is killed on the coast as well as on
rivers, and not uncommonly brought to market and
sold for the common wild goose. It leaves us in the earli¬
est spring, none being seen after the middle of March.
B. Bill equal at the base.
Scaup duck.—Black ; shoulders waved with ash co- Mairla.
lour ; belly and spot on the wings white ; bill broad,
bluish ash; irides yellow; head and neck greenish black;
back and wing coverts waved with black, and cinereous;
legs and primary quill-feathers dusky; secondary white,
tipt with black ; tail coverts, and vent, black. Female
brown ; bill black, surrounded with a circle of white
feathers ; neck rusty ; belly, and bar on the wings,
white; legs black. From 18 to 20 inches long; feeds
on shell-fish, and inhabits Europe, northern Asia, and
America. It is found in Iceland, Lapland, Sweden,
Norway, Russia, and Siberia, and as high as Hudson’s
bay in America. In England, it appears in the winter
season, in small flocks, and is frequently observed in fresh
waters. In October it begins to emigrate southward in
flocks. It also frequently lives in holes under ground. ^
Gray lag goose, or wild goose.—Bill semicylindrical; Anser.
body cinereous above, paler beneath ; neck striated ;
bill flesh-coloured and tipt with white ; rump and vent
white ; legs flesh-coloured; claws black, wants the
wing spot. Weighs eight or nine pounds, and is about
33 inches long. Varies much in colour by domestica¬
tion, in which state it is our common tame goose. In¬
habits in flocks the northern parts of Europe, Asia, and
America ; resides the whole year in the Lincolnshire
fens, where it breeds, laying eight or nine eggs which
are hatched in 28 or 30 days. Frequents lakes and ri¬
vers, and lives to a great age. The domestic goose is
well known. It is bred in great multitudes in the fens
of Lincolnshire, both on account of its flesh and fea¬
thers. The geese are there attended by a person called
a
331
Rujicollis.
33^
Segelum.
333
Borealis.
334
Erylhro-
■pus.
535
JBemicla.
O R N I T H
a gozzard, who drives them to feed and water. They
are plucked five times a year, once for quills and fea¬
thers, and four times for feathers only. If the season
prove cold, many of them die by this cruel operation.
Tame geese have been known to live for 80 years.
They generally retain the white rump and vent feathers
of their original stock. They feed on water insects,
worms, and plants •, and by means of two rows of strong
sharp teeth within their bills, they crop the herbage in
meadows, and do much injury to young corn.
Red-bi'casted goose.—Black j white beneath j bil
small, conical-, neck rufous spot between the bill and
eyes white. Length 21 inches j weight about three
pounds. Inhabits Russia and the northern parts ot bi-
beria, but is very rarely found in England.. In winter
it migrates towards Persia. It is a beautiful specie^,
and its flesh is in high request. _
Rean goose.—-Cinereous , dirty white beneath 5 bill
compressed at the base; tail-coverts white ; legs saffron;
bill reddish in the middle, black at the base and tip;
head and neck inclined to ferruginous; quill-feathers
edged with black ; tail with white ; claws white. Mea¬
sures from two feet and a half to three feet in lengt 1,
and weighs from five to seven pounds. Inhabits Hud¬
son’s bay and the Hebrides, particularly the isle ot
Xewis, where it remains all summer and breeds . 1 hese
birds migrate to England in autumn, and leave it again
in May, lighting, on their passage, on corn fields, ana
feeding on the green wheat. In their migration they
fly at a great height, sometimes in a straight line, and
sometimes in the-form of a wedge, cackling as they a
vance. This species is often killed, and sold for the
common wild goose, with which it has been long con¬
founded.
Garland fl'wcA:.—Bill narrow; head green ; breast
and belly white. .Inhabits the fens of Iceland, but is
very rare.
Remade goose.—Ash-coloured ; front white ; body
waved 'with black and white above; neck black ; belly
white ; bill short, black, with a flesh-coloured spot on
each side, a black spot between the bill and eye; tail
white beneath ; legs blackish. Twenty-five inches
long. Inhabits the north of Europe and Hudson’s bay,
and appears in large flocks on the north-west coasts ot
Britain during winter. They are then very wild and
shy; but, on being taken, become quite familiar in a
few days. In February they quit our shores, and retire
as far as Lapland, Greenland, and even Spitsbergen, to
breed. In the darker ages this species was seriously
believed to be produced from the lepas anatifera, a shell
which is often found adhering by a pedicle to logs of
wood that have lain long in the sea, from which cir¬
cumstance it obtained the name of tree-goose and
clakis.
Brent or brand goose.—Brown ; head, neck, and
breast, black ; collar white ; bill, wings, tail and legs,
black *, broad spot on each side of the neck; tail-coverts
and vent white ; belly and shoulders cinereous; flanks
streaked with white ; considerably smaller than the pre¬
ceding. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and North America.
These birds appear on our coasts, particularly in the
west of England, during winter, and in Shetland are
called horra geese. But they are most plentiful in Ire¬
land, where they are taken in nets placed across the ri¬
vers,’ especially in those which empty themselves into
O L O G Y.
the northern parts of the Irish channel. Sometimes they Anseres.
appear in vast flocks on the coast of 1 icardy, destroying * *
all the com near the sea. They migrate northward in
summer, and return south in autumn, flying high in
wedge-shaped flocks. They feed on polyganvm yivipa-
rum, empetrum nigrum, and other plants, but chiefly on
aquatic plants and marine vermes. They are easily ta¬
med, and reckoned good for the table. < 336
Eider, edder, or Cutbbert duck.—Bill cylindrical; Mollissma
cere wrinkled, and bifid on the hind part; hills, legs,
front, ocular band, breast, lower part of the back and j.
belly black ; middle of the head, upper part of the
back, shoulders, and wing coverts white; a green blotch
beneath the hind head. The female almost wholly ob¬
scurely ferruginous, with black lines ; tail and primary
quill-feathers dusky. The young are not mature in
plumage till the third, or perhaps the fourth year. This
species is nearly double the size of the common duck,
and about 22 inches long. It inhabits the high lati¬
tudes of Europe, Asia, and America, and feeds chiefly
on testaceous animals. It is rarely, if ever, seen in the
south of England, but breeds in the north of Scotland,
particularly on the Western isles, as also on the Tarn
islands, on the coast of Northumberland, in June and
July. The nest is made on the ground, composed of
marine plants, and lined with down of exquisite fineness,
which the female plucks from her own body. The eggs
are usually five, and of a greenish colour. In Icelan
the eider ducks generally build their nests on small
islands not far from the shore, and sometimes even near
the dwellings of the natives, who treat them with so
much attention and kindness as to render them nearly
tame. Two females will sometimes lay their eggs us
the same nest, in which case they always agree remark¬
ably well. As long as the female is sitting, the male
continues on watch near the shore, but as soon as the
young are hatched, he leaves them. The mother, how¬
ever, remains with them a considerable time afterwards;
and it is curious to observe her attention in leading them
out of the nest almost as soon as they creep from the
eggs. Having conducted them to the water’s edge, she
takes them on her back and swims a few yards with
them, when she dives, and leaves them on the surface
to take care of themselves. They are seldom after¬
wards seen on land. When the natives come to the
nest, they carefully remove the female, and take away
the superfluous down and eggs. They then replace the
mother, and she begins to lay afresh, covering the eggs
with new down ; and when she can afford no more, the
male comes to her assistance, and covers the eggs with
his down, which is white. When the young ones leave
the nest, which is about an hour after they are hatched,
it is once more plundered. The best down, and most
eggs, are got during the first three weeks of their laying,
and it has generally been observed that they lay the
greatest number of eggs in rainy weather. One female,
during the time of laying, usually yields half a pound
of down, which, however, is reduced one half after it
is cleaned. When pure, it is sold in Lapland at the
rate of two rixdollars a pound. It is extremely soft
and warm, and so light and elastic, that a couple ot
handfuls, squeezed together, are sufficient to hit a co¬
vering like a feather bed, which is used m those cold
countries instead of a common quilt or blanket. 1 he
Iceland company at Copenhagen, generally export every
ORNITHOLOGY.
5°3
Anseres,
337
\foscata.
333
'ypeata.
339
Athens.
34°
Versa.
year from 1500 to 2000 pounds weight of down, clean¬
ed and uncleaned, exclusive of what is privately expor¬
ted by foreigners. The Greenlanders kill these birds
with darts, pursuing them in their little boats, watching
their course by the air-bubbles when they dive, and al-
w iys striking at them when they rise wearied to the
surface. Their flesh is valued as food, and their skins
are made into warm and comfortable under garments.
Muscovy duck.—Face naked, with red caruncles j legs
and orbits naked, and with the bill red ^ tip of the bill
and space round the nostrils black *, crown black j tem¬
ples, chin, and throat white, varied with black ; breast
and lower part of the belly brown, mixed with white 3
back and rump brown, with a green gold gloss $ upper
part of the belly white 3 three first quill feathers white,
the rest brown 3 tail feathers twenty, the outer white,
the rest green gold. Two feet long : native of Brazil,
and is domesticated in Europe. Has its name, not as
vulgarily alleged, from the country of Muscovy, but
from the circumstances of its smelling of musk, which
arises from the liquor secreted in the gland of the rump.
Hike other domesticated fowls they are subject to great
varieties. They are a thriving and prolific species, and
not only associate, but sometimes breed with the com¬
mon duck. Their flesh is much esteemed. Mr Pen¬
nant says they are met with wild about Lake Baikal in
Asia 3 Bay, that they are natives 9! Louisiana 3 Marc-
grave, that they reside in Brazil 3 and Buft’on, that they
occur in the overflowed savannas of Guiana, where they
feed in the day time on the wild rice, and return in the
evening to the sea. He adds, that they nestle on the
trunks of rotten trees, and that after the young are
hatched, the mother takes them, one after another, by
the bill, and throws them into the water. Great num¬
bers of the young brood are said to be destroyed by the
alligators.
Shoveler Extremity of the hill dilated, rounded,
with an incurved nail 3 bill black 3 irides yellow 3 head
and neck violet green 3 breast white, and lunulatedy
back, wings, and wedged tail brown; belly chesnut 3
vent white 3 first and second wing coverts pale blue,
greater brown, tipt with white, the rest edged with
white 3 legs tawney. The female has a considerable re¬
semblance to the common duck, but both sexes are very
apt to vary in their colourings. This species inhabits
Europe, Asia, and North America, but is by no means
common in Britain. A few remain in France during
the breeding season, making a nest of rushes, in which
they lay 10 or 12 rufous-coloured eggs.
Red-breasted shoveler.—Brown 3 chin and breast dies®
nut 3 wings tipt with gray, wing-spot purple, edged
with white 3 tail short, white3 bill broad, brownish yel¬
low 3 head large 3 eyes small 3 irides yellow 3 legs small,
slender and bay. Size of a tame duck. Sometimes
found in the fens of Lincolnshire, but is rare, and little
known.
Ural duck.—Waved with cinereous and yellowish, and
spotted with brown 3 brown, speckled with gray be¬
neath 3 throat brown-yellow, waved with blacky tail
long, black, wedged. Bather bigger than the common
teal. Is not unfrequent in the greater lakes of the
Ural mountains, and the rivers Oby and Irtisch. Is not
seen on the ground, being, from the situation of its legs,
unable to walk 3 but it swims well and quickly, with the
tail immersed in the water as far as the rump, and ser¬
ving as a rudder, contrary to the common method of a Anseres.
duck’s swimming. The nest is formed of reeds. _v...i. j
Gael 1 vail, ov gray.—Wing-spot rufous, black, and 341
white 3 bill flat, black 3 legs tawney 3 rump black 3 back ’ ' ^
brown, waved with paler 3 breast and belly gray, varied
with white. Nineteen inches long. Inhabits Europe
and Northern Asia. Visits Britain in winter, but not
in great numbers. Supposed to breed in Sweden, and
probably in Kussia and Siberia. It is said to be a great
diver, and to feed chiefly by night, concealing itself
among the reeds and rushes during the day. It makes
a noise not unlike that of the mallard, hut louder. Its
flesh is savoury. 343
Golden eye.—Black and white’j head turned 3 violet 3 Clangida, >
a large white spot at each corner of the mouth 3 bill
black 3 irides golden 3 lower part of the neck, breast,
and belly, white 5 back and rump black; legs red. The
markings of the female are, head red brown ; neck gray 3
breast and belly white; wing coverts varied with dusky
and cinereous ; middle quill-feathers white 3 the rest
and tail black ; legs dusky. About 19 inches in length.
Inhabits Europe, Asia, and North America.
Birds of this species do not assemble in large flocks,
nor are they numerous on the British shores or on the
lakes in the interior. They are late in taking their de¬
parture northward in the spring, and in their flight they
make the air whistle with the vigorous quick strokes of
their wings. They are excellent divers, and seldom set
foot on shore ; on which, it is said, they walk with great
apparent difliculty, and, except in the breeding season,
only repair to it for the purpose of taking their repose.
They build in the hollows of trees, and prey on shell¬
fish, mice, fish, and frogs.
The anas glaucion, or mosillon, seems to be only a
variety of the golden eye in one stage of its plumage,
before it arrives at maturity. ^
Bimaculated or clucking duck.—Subcrested 3 brown, Glocitans
waved with black 3 head green 3 a ferruginous spot be¬
fore and behind the eyes; breast with black spots; wing-
spot green, edged with white. Length 20 inches 3 oc¬
curs along the Lena, and about Lake Baikal, and has
been taken in a decoy in England. Has a singular
note, somewhat like clucking. ^
fFigeon, whewer, or whim.—Tail pointed 3 vent fea- Tenelopz. ~
there black 3 head bay 3 front white 3 back waved with
black and white 3 bill plumbeous, with a black nail 3
head and upper part of the neck red, with blackish spots;
breast claret 3 body above waved with cinereous and
blackish ; wing-spot blue green; black before and be¬
hind ; wing-coverts varied brown and white 3 belly
white 3 legs lead colour. Female waved with brown 3
breast paler. Twenty inches long. Inhabits Europe,
Asia, and Africa. Visits England in autumn, when
great numbers are taken in decoys, being esteemed an
excellent food. It likewise frequents our rivers and
salt-water inlets in fcmall flocks. Its is remarkable for
uttering a whistling or piping noise, which is frequently
heard as it flies during the night. It lives on frogs,
worms, insects, and water plants, and is sometimes do¬
mesticated. There is a variety with a silvery wing-spot,
and the throat waved with ash-coloUr.
Pin-tailduck.—Tail pointed,long, black beneath 3 hind 345
head with a white line on each side 3 back waved with Aci ‘h
cinereous; bill black, bluish at the sides; head ferrugi¬
nous 3 throat white, a little spotted 3 body white be¬
neath;
34s
Fermgi-
nca.'
347.
, Glacialis,
34s
Ferina.
o R N
neath j wings brown j wing spot violet, ferruginous on
the fore part, black and white on the hind part j tail
brown, edged with white, two middle feathers longer.
Female less ; wing-spot straw coloured, and edged with
white. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and America. J hese
birds are seldom numerous in England, but flocks o
them are sometimes abundantly spread along the isles
and shores of Scotland and Ireland, and on the interior
lakes of both these countries. This species measures
twenty-eight inches in length, and is esteemed excel-
k"rerra3nous ifedfc.—Heddisb-bnmn ; bill dilated and
rounded at the base; feet pale blue. Weight 20 ounces.
Inhabits Denmark and Sweden, but very rarely occuis
in this country. , , , t,.
Lone-tailed duck.—TzA pointed, long *, body black
white beneath j bill black, orange in the middle ; head
on the fore part and sides reddish-gray *, hind-part,
breast, and belly, white-, scapulars long and white; sides
of the neck with a black spot; lower part ol the breast,
back, wings, and tail, chocolate; lour middle tail-
feathers black, two middle ones longer, the rest win e ,
legs dusky-red, or blackish. The female has the tail
shorter and wedged; the body varied with blackish,
rufous, and gray ; the back black; collar and lower part
ot the belly white, Of the size of a wigeon. Inhabits
Europe, Asia, and America, frequenting both the inte¬
rior lakes and the sea shores of these quarters ol the
world. The birds of this species do not, in the winter,
like many of the other tribes, entirely quit their north¬
ern haunts, but considerable numbers remain there, en¬
during the rigours of the season, and enjoying, in sum¬
mer, the perpetual day of an unsetting sun. Numerous
flocks, however, spread themselves southward in the
winter, from Greenland and Hudson’s bay, as far as
New York in America, and from Iceland and bpitz-
bergen over Lapland, the Russian dominions bweden,
Norway, and the northern parts of the British isles in
Europe. The flocks which visit the Orkney isles ap¬
pear in October, and continue there till April. About
sunset they are seen in large companies gqing to and re¬
turning from the bays, in which they frequently pass
the night, making such a noise, as in frosty weather
may be heard some miles. They are rather scarce in
England, to which they resort only in very hard win¬
ters, and even then in small straggling parties. I hey
fly swiftly, but seldom to a great distance, making a
loud and singular cry. They are expert divers, and
supposed to live chiefly on shell-fish. The female makes
her nest among the grass near the water, and, like the
eider duck, lines it with the fine down of her own body.
According to Latham, she lays five eggs, which are ot
a bluish white colour, and about the size of those ot a
^ Pochard, or red-headed wigeon.—-Waved with ash-
colour; head brown; pectoral band; vent and rump
black ; bill broad, blue, tipt with black ; indes tawney ;
head and neck bay j breast and upper part of the back
black ; scapulars and inner wing-coverts undulated with
black and white; belly whitish, with dusky lines at the
sides; legs plumbeous. Female darker; head pale red¬
dish-brown ; wing-coverts and belly cinereous. Nine¬
teen inches long ; weight 28 ounces. Inhabits Europe,
Asia and America. This species is frequently caught
in the decoys in England, though it is not known to
I T H O L O G Y.
j 35®
anrt Cretcts*
breed there. In some counties it is called/w&er, auhbird, Anseres
or great-headed wigeon. It is of a plump round shape,
walks with a waddling and ungraceful step, but flies
rapidly, and in flocks of from 20 to 40, commonly in a
compact body. It is much in request for the table, but
is not easily domesticated. The male has a labyrinth,
or enlargement of the trachea, near the junction with
the lungs, a singular conformation peculiar to the male
of several species of the duck tribe, but the use of
which is still unknown. In winter the pochard migrates
southward, as far, it is said, as Egypt.
Garganaj.—Wing-spot green; a white line above
the eyes; bill lead colour; crown dusky, with oblongs
streaks ; cheeks and neck purple, with white streaks ;
breast light brown, with semicircular black bars; belly
white, lower part and vent speckled ; first quill-feathers
cinereous, outer webs of the middle ones green ; scapu¬
lars long, narrow, striped with white, ash colour and
black ; tail dusky ; legs lead-colour. I emale, with an
obscure white mark over the eye; plumage brownish-
ash ; wings without the green spot. Length 17 inches,
Inhabits Europe and Asia. By some called pied wi¬
geon, or summer teal. Frequents only the fresh waters,
feeding on seeds and aquatic plants. Is not common in
-Britain, and is said to be impatient of cold.
Teal.—AVing-spot green ; a white line above
-beneath the eyes; bill black; irides hazel; head and
neck bright bay ; a broad green band behind the eyes
to the nape, and terminating beneath in a white line ;
body whitish, with transverse blackish lines above ;
fore part of the neck and breast with round black spots ;
wing-spot green, edged beneath with white^ obliquely
black above; vent black in the middle. The female
is distinguished by the head and neck varied with whit¬
ish and brown, and the vent totally white. There are
two permanent varieties, of which the first is the wing-
spot varying in colour; the body brown-ash above, ru-
fous-white beneath, and black spots on the belly. The
second has the cheek, chin, and under parts of thebody
white-rufous, and the wing-spot without black. Weight
about 12 ounces; length 14 inches and a half. l ie
smallest of the duck tribe, and in high request at the
table. Inhabits Europe and Asia ; visits us in winter,
and frequents our fresh waters in sma 1 flocks. Many
are caught in the decoys, and a few breed in Wolmer
Forest, in the morasses about Carlisle, &c. 1 he female
makes a large nest composed of soft dried grasses lined
with feathers, and cunningly concealed in a ho.e among
the roots of reeds and bulrushes, near the edge of the
water. The eggs are of the size of those of a pigeon
from six to ten in number, and of a dull white colour
marked with small brownish spots. The male has a
bony labyrinth in the lower part of the windpipe. ^
Mallard, or wild cfoeE—-Cinereous ; middle tail tea- Bosclim
thers (of the male) recurved; bill straight; collar
white; bill greenish-yellow; head and neck glossy-green;
scapulars white, with waved brown lines; back brown ;
vent black-green ; breast chesnut; belly gray ; wing-
spot violet-green, edged above with a black and win e
line ; two middle tail feathers dark-green and recurved.
Female reddish-brown, spotted with black. \ ery sub¬
ject to vary, especially by domestication when it is our
common tame duck. About 23 inches long, height
about two pounds and a half. Inhabits Europe, Asia,
and America; is very common in marshy places m m
O R N I T H
ny parts of tins kingdom, but no where occurs in great-
1 er plenty than in Lincolnshire, where prodigious num-
bex-s are annually taken in the decoys. In only ten de¬
coys in the neighbourhood of Wainfleet, as many as
31,200 have been taken in one season. There is a pro¬
hibition, by act of parliament, against taking them be¬
tween the first of June and the first of October. They
do not always build their nest close to the water, but of¬
ten at a good distance from it, in which case the female
will take the young in her beak, or between her legs, to
the water. They have sometimes been known to lay
their eggs in a high tree, in the deserted nest of a mag¬
pie or crow 5 and an instance has likewise been recorded
of one found at Etchingham in Sussex, sitting on nine
eggs jn an oak, at the height of 25 feet from the ground,
the eggs being supported by some small twigs laid cross-
ways. Like many of the tribe, the mallards, in vast
numbers quit the north at the end of autumn, and mi¬
grating southward, arrive in the beginning of winter in
large flocks, and spread themselves over the lakes and
marshy wastes of the British isles. They pair in the
spring, when the greater number of them again retire
northward to breed, but many straggling pairs stay with
ns; and they, as well as preceding colonists, remain to
rear their young, which become natives, and remain
with us throughout the year. The common domestic
variety of this species assumes very different markings j
but the male, even in its tame state, retains the cui'ling
of the feathers at the tail. Habits of domestication,
however, have deprived the tame duck of that sprightly
look and shape which distinguish the mallard, and have
substituted a more dull and less elegant form and ap¬
pearance in their stead. It is also deserving of remark,
that ducks pair, and axe monogamous in the wild state,
but become polygamous when tame. The Chinese
make great use of ducks, but prefer the tame to the
wild. We are told that most of them in that country
are hatched by artificial heat. The eggs being laid in
boxes of sand, are placed on a brick hearth, to which is
communicated a proper degree of heat during the time
required for hatching. The ducklings ai'e fed with
ci'ay-fish and crabs, boiled and cut small, and afterwards
mixed with boiled rice j and in about a fortnight they
are able to shift for themselves. The proprietors then
provide them with an old step-mother, who leads them
where they are to find provender j being first put on
board a boat, which is destined for their habitation, and
from which the whole flock, amounting often to 300
or 400, go out to feed, and return at command. This
method is commonly practised during the nine warmest
months ol the year, and especially during rice harvest,
when the masters ot the duck boats row up and down
according to the opportunity of procuring food, which
is found in plenty at the tide of ebb, as the rice planta¬
tions are overflowed at high water. It is curious to ob¬
serve how these bii’ds obey their masters j for some
thousands belonging to different boats will feed at large
on the same spot, and on a signal given will follow their
leader to their respective boats without a single stranger
being found among them. No fewer than 40,000 such
boats are supposed to ply on the Tigris. When confined
to dry situations, ducks degenerate in strength, beauty,
and flavour. They feed on various animal and vegeta-*
hie substances, tor which they unceasingly search with
their curiously constructed bills, sifting and separating
Vol. XV. Part II. 5
O L O G Y.
505
every alimentary particle from the mud. When older, Anseres.
they also devour worms, spawn, water-insects, and some- v—
times frogs and small fishes, together with the various
seeds of bog and water plants.
Black-billed whistling duck.—Brown j head somewhat Ariorea.
crested j belly spotted with white and black. Smaller
than the preceding. Inhabits Guiana and Jamaica ;
winters in Carolina, and builds and sits on ti'ees.
Red-crested duck.—Black; head and upper part of Rujina,
the neck testaceous ; crown reddish, that of the male
crested ; wings beneath, and at the edges white ; tail
brown. Female brown, and wants the crest. Inhabits
the Caspian sea, and the lakes of the Tartarian de¬
serts ; is sometimes also found in Italy and Barbary. 354
Tufted duck.—Crest pendent; body black; belly and Fuligula.
wing-spot white ; bill broad, livid, tipt with black ;
irides golden; head greenish; shouldex-s blackish-brown,
with pale straw-coloux-ed dots ; legs dusky-blixe. Fe¬
male brownish, wants the ci’est. Sixteen inches long.
Inhabits Europe and Northern Asia. There ai-e several
varieties. It is not uncommon with us in winter, and is
frequently seen in our fresh waters as late as near the end
of March. It is often brought to market, and sold for
wigeon. It lives not only in fresh water, hut in the sea;
dives well, and feeds on small fishes, crabs and shellfish,
and likewise on the seeds of aquatic plants, particularly
those of the common rush.
Gen. 33. Mf.rgus.
3Ss
Mekgcs.
. . 356
Bill toothed, slender, cylindrical, hooked at the point ; Character^,
nostrils small, oval, in the middle of the bill ; feet
four-toed, outer toe longest.
The birds of this genus live on fish, and are very de¬
structive in ponds. ^
Crested merganser.—Crest globular, white on each Cucullatus.
side; body brown above, white beneath ; bill and legs
black; irides golden; crest larger than the head, edged
with black. Female brown ; crest less and ferruginous.
Length seventeen inches and a half; weight nearly 23
ounces. An elegant species, which inhabits North A-
merica, appearing at Hudson’s bay about the end of
May, and building, close to the lakes, a nest composed
of grass, lined with feathers from its own breast.
Goosander.—A longitudinal crest, somewhat erect; Merganser.
the breast white, without spots ; the tail feathers ash-co¬
loured ; shaft black; bill, legs, and irides red; greater
quill-feathers black ; lesser white. Weight about four
pounds ; length two feet four inches. Inhabits Europe,
Asia, and America. Sometimes visits our rivers and
lakes in severe winters, but retires to the more northern
latitudes to breed. It has been known to build on trees,
but more frequently among rocks or stones, and lays 14
eggs, which, with the bird itself, ai-e eagerly devoured
by the weasel. It swims with only the head above the
surface of the water; dives deep; remains a long time
below, and rises at a considei'able distance. Its flesh is
rancid and scarcely eatable. In quest of fish, it dives
with great celexity, and holds its slippery prey with
gi'eat security by means of its toothed bill, so admirably
adapted to the purpose.
Dim diver, or sparkling fowl.—Crested ; cinereous; Castor*
head and upper parts of the neck bay; chin, middle
quxll feathers, and belly white ; bill and irides red ;
belly sometimes flesh colour. Weighs about 38 ounces ;
’ 38 measures
5c6
Anseres.
360
Serrator.
Plate
CCCXCVI.
fig. a.
361
Albelhts.
36z
Ulinutm.
measures 25 inches in length.
1 tries with the preceding, and by some naturalists is rec¬
koned the female *, but the labyrinth, or enlargement at
the bottom of the windpipe, seems to prove it to be a
male, and consequently a distinct species.
Red-breasted merganser.—Crest pendent •, breast
reddish and variegated } collar white •, tail-feathers
brown, varied with cinereous ; under part of the bill and
legs red *, feathers of the sides of the breast large, white,
edged with black, covering the fore part of the folded
wings. Female with scarcely any crest; head and be¬
ginning of the neck rufous. Twenty-one inches long.
Inhabits the northern parts of Europe, Asia, and Ame¬
rica. Breeds in Greenland, Hudson’s bay, Newfound¬
land, Siberia, the north of Scotland, &c. Makes its
nest of withered grass, ami down torn from its own
breast, on dry land, and lays from eight to 13 white
evgs, equal in size to those ot a duck.
, Smew, or white nern.— Crest pendent } hind head
black ; body white •, back and temples black 5 wings
Variegated } bill and legs black •, wing-spot white J nape,
oval spot from the bill surrounding the eyes, back, and
two arched lines on each side, near the beginning of
the wings, black. Female has the head smooth and
gray ; band across the eyes black, and under the eyes
a white spot j body blackish brown above-, vvbite be¬
neath ; upper part of the head bay ; chin white. From
13 to 17 inches long. Inhabits Europe and America.
Breeds in the Arctic regions, and is driven to the south
only by severe weather.
Minute smeiu, or lough diver.—Brown ash j under
parts of the body and chin white ; head and upper part
of the neck ferruginous •, wing-spot white before and
behind. Very much resembles the female of the pre¬
ceding, but wants the black oval eye-spot. About 14
inches and a half long. Is rarely met with in the south
of England, and only in winter when the weather is
severe. It dives with great ease in pursuit of fish, and
remains long under water.
363
Alca.
3<4
Characters.
3*3
Arttica.
Gen. 34. Aixa, Auk.
Bill toothless, short, compressed, convex, often trans¬
versely furrowed : lower mandible gibbous near the
base 5 nostrils linear j legs (in most cases) three-toed.
The birds of this genus are mostly inhabitants of the
Arctic seas •, are accounted stupid, breed in holes, which
they themselves often dig, and in the caverns and fis¬
sures of rock, where they rest during the night. In re¬
spect of colour, they are generally uniform, being black
above, and white beneath. They are shaped like a
duck, with their feet placed behind the centre of gra¬
vity j their bills are large, having the surfaces crossed
with furrows, and ending in an acute point. They lay
but one egg, which is very large, considering the size
of the bird.
Puffin.—Bill compressed, two-edged with two grooves;
orbits and temples white j upper eyelid daggered or
furnished with a pointed callus; body black j cheeks,
breast, and belly white j bill red, with a black base j
legs red. Weighs between 12 and 13 ounces j length
upwards of 12 inches. Inhabits the northern seas of
Europe, Asia, and America, in vast flocks. Appears
on many parts of our rocky coast about the middle of
April, and begins to breed about the middle of May.
ORNITHOLOGY.
Inhabits the same conn- On the Dover cliffs, and other such places, they deposit Airare.
their single egg in the holes and crevices : in other places v—^
they burrow like rabbits, it the soil is light, but more
frequently take possession of rabbit burrows, and lay
their egg some feet under ground. On St Margaret s
island, off St David’s, the fishermen put their hands in¬
to the holes, and the puffins seize them so obstinately,
that they allow themselves to be drawn out. In other
places they are caught with ferrets, and the young are
taken and pickled. About the latter end of August
they retire from our coasts, and have all migrated by
the beginning of September. Their principal food is
small fish, particularly sprats, with which they feed
their young. , , , ,
Great auk, or penguin.—P\\\ compressed, edged ; anlmpemu.
oval spot on each side before the eyes. Bill black, with
eight or ten grooves wings short and imperfect j sexon-
dary quill feathers tipt with white j legs black. Three
feet long. Inhabits Europe and America; occurs in
the most northern parts of Britain, and breeds in the
isle of St Kilda, appearing about the beginning of May,
and retiring about the middle of June. The shortness
of its wings renders them useless for flight, but of singu¬
lar service in diving under water, where they act as fins,
and thus enable it to pursue its prey with great velocity.
It lays an egg six inches long, white and rnarked with
purple spots, close to the sea mark, being incapable of
flying, and almost of walking. _ . 367
Razorbill.—Bill with four grooves, and a white lineTonfo.
on each side as far as the eyes. Bill black j the largest
groove white bodv black above, the undei parts,
from the middle of the throat, white j secondary quill
feathers tipt with white •, legs black. In the young bird
the bill has but one groove, and, in the still younger,
there is no line from the bill to the eyes. Eighteen
inches long. Inhabits Europe and North America.
The birds of this species associate with the guillemots,
and also breed in the same places. About the begin¬
ning of May they take possession of the highest impend¬
ing rocks, for the purpose of incubation, and on the
ledges of these rocks they assemble in great numbers,
sitting closely together, and often in a series of rows one
above another. There they deposit their single large
egg on the bare rock, and notwithstanding the mul¬
titudes of them which are thus mixed together, yet
no confusion takes place ; for each bird knows her own
egg, and hatches it in that situation. The razorbill is
provincialiy called auk, murre,falk, marrot, and scout. 358
Musky auk —Size of the missel thrush j the length 11 Tdraeula.
inches. Upper mandible of the bill bent at the point;
colour yellow brown ; the ridge white 5 bides white, and fig 2
surrounded with a black circle •, forehead covered with
downy feathers, which are reflexed, halt one way, and
half the other : behind the eyes a stripe of white j head
and neck black \ upper parts of the body black •, legs
livid •, webs black. Inhabits Japan and Kamtschatka.
Is sometimes seen at a great distance from land, when
it is solitary, but on land is gregarious. ^
Perroquet 07/E—Bill compressed,with asingle groovePs»fec«/«
in each mandible j a white spot on the upper eyelid, be¬
tween and under the eyes. Inhabits the sea between
Japan and Kamtschatka, and often intimates approach-
ing land to mariners. Wate
Tufted auk.—Entirely black 5 bill with three trans- cccxevii
verse grooves, inch in length, scarlet; sides ofthe S*1’
Ansefes
371
Alee-
37*
fygmeea.
373
Apteno-
IiYTES.
374
Cliaracters.
r, 37S
I'hryso-
come.
Putachon-
'•ca.
ORNITHOLOGY.
beatl, space round the eyes, and the angle of the throat,
white 5 a yellow tuft of feathers rises from the upper
eyebrow, and stretches to the neck; legs brownish
orange j claws black ; length 19 inches j female less;
the tufts smaller, and the bill crossed only with two
grooves. Inhabits Kamtschatka and the neighbouring
islands.
Little auk, little black and white diver, Greenland
dove, sea turtle, &c.—-Bill without furrows and coni¬
cal; the whole abdomen and tips of the flag feathers
white; feet black. There is a variety that is totally
white, and another with a rufous breast. Niue inches
long. Inhabits Europe and America, particularly Spits¬
bergen, Greenland, and Newfoundland, where they are
called ice birds ; but they are rare visitants of the Bri¬
tish isles.
Pigmy auk.—Bill carinated, depressed at the base ;
body black above, cinereous beneath. Seven inches
long. Inhabits the islands between Asia and America.
Gen. 35. Aptenodytes, Penguin.
Bill straight, a little compressed and sharp-edged; upper
mandible longitudinally and obliquely grooved, the
lower truncated at the tip; tongue with reflected
prickles ; wings fin-shaped, without quill feathers ;
feet placed behind, four-toed, and palmated.
The birds of this genus resemble those of the preced¬
ing in colour, food, habit, and apparent stupidity, as also
in the situation of their feet, in their erect walk, in their
nests, and in their eggs. They differ from them, how¬
ever, in this, that they are all inhabitants of the South
seas, from the equator to the Antarctic circle. They
are quite incapable of flying, the feathers on their wings
being so short as to resemble scales. They are fortified
against cold by an abundance of fat; they swim very
swiftly; on land they sit erect, in a singular manner and
in vast multitudes, and they cackle like geese, only in a
hoarser tone. Their nostrils are linear, and hidden in a
furrow of the bill; their wings are covered with a strong
dilated membrane, and their tail-feathers very rigid.
Crested penguin.—Bill reddish brown; legs reddish;
frontal crest black, erect, auricular, sulphur colour, and
shed on each side ; body bluish black, white beneath ;
wings white beneath. Female with a yellowish stripe
on the eyebrow. Twenty-three inches long. Inhabits
the Falkland islands, and the southern parts of New
Holland. Called hopping penguin and jumping jack,
from its action of leaping quite out of the water, for
three or four feet at least, on meeting with the least
obstacle. Though more lively than its congeners, it is
so foolish as to allow itself to be knocked on the head
with a stick, or even to be taken by the hand. When
irritated, it erects its crest in a beautiful manner. These
birds make their nests among those of the pelican tribe,
with which they live in tolerable harmony, and seldom
lay more than one egg, which is white, and larger than
that of a duck.
Patagonian penguin.—Bill and legs black; ears with
a golden spot; lower mandible tawney at the base; irides
hazel; head and hind part of the neck brown; back
dark blue; breast, belly, and vent white. Four feet
three inches long. Inhabits Falkland islands and New
Guinea. M. Bougainville caught one, which soon be¬
came so tame as to follow and know the person who had
5°7
the care of it; at first it fed on flesh, fish, and bread, Anseres
but after some time, grew lean, pined and died. This '——v—"--''
species is not only the largest, but the fattest of its
genus; and its flesh, though not very unpalatable, is
black. 377
Cape penguin.—Bill and legs black ; eyebrows and Dmm«.
pectoral band white. Size of a large duck; length zi
inches. Inhabits the Atlantic and Antarctic seas,
chiefly round the Cape of Good Hope. Lays two
white eggs, which are reckoned delicious eating. Like
all of the genus, swims and dives well, but hops and
flutters in a strange awkward manner on land, and if
hurried stumbles perpetually, or makes use of its wings
instead of legs, till it can recover its upright posture,
crying at the same time like a goose, but with a hoarser
voice. There are two or three varieties. 37*
Little pe?iguin.—Bill black ; legs white. Fifteen Minor.
inches long. Inhabits New Zealand. Digs deep holes
in the earth, in which it lays its eggs.
37S>
Gen. 36. Procellaria, Petrel. Prsceiaa-
KIA.
Bill toothless, a little compressed, hooked at the point; 3S0
mandibles equal; nostrils cylindrical, tubular, trun-^laracters*
cated, lying on the base of the bill ; feet palmated,
hind claw sessile, and without a toe.
The birds of this genus all frequent the deep, w here
they endure the greatest storms, being hardly ever seen
on shore, except at breeding time. They are, however,
capable of walking, and their legs are bare of feathers
a little above the knee. They feed on the fat of dead
whales and fish, and have the faculty of spouting oil
from their nostrils.
Pacific petrel.—Black, dusky beneath; legs spotted Perci/ictf.
with black ; bill plumbeous and much hooked ; nostrils
elevated, oval, distinct, obliquely placed; legs pale.
Twenty-two inches long. Inhabits, in vast flocks, the
islands of the Pacific ocean. These flocks disappear at
once, dipping under water altogether, and then rise as
suddenly.
Divingpetrel.~\\ 1 ackish brown; white beneath; bn. TJPnatnx.
and chin black; legs blue green, without the spur be¬
hind. Eight inches and a half long. Inhabits New
Zealand in numerous flocks, and dives remarkably w'ell,
often rising at considerable distances, with surprising
agility. They croak like frogs, and sometimes make
a noise like the cackling of a hen. ^
Stormy petrel, stornijinch, Mother Cary's chicken, &c. pelagica.
—Black, with a white rump. This species is about the Plate
size of a swallow, and in its general appearance and cccxcvu,
flight, not unlike that bird. Length about six inches. 3*
The stormy petrel is rarely seen on our shores, except in
some of the northern islands, where it breeds in the holes
of rocks, or under loose stones, in the months of June
and July. At all other seasons it keeps far out at sea.
Multitudes of them are seen all over the vast Atlantic
ocean, especially before stormy wreather. They often
skim with incredible velocity along the hollows of the
waves, and sometimes on the summits, braving the ut¬
most fury of the tempest. As they appear to run on
the surface of the sea, they have their name from an
allusion to Peter's walking on the water. The inhabi¬
tants of the Faroe isles draw a wick through the body
of this bird, which is so fat as to burn when lighted, and
serve the purpose of a candle.—There is a variety with
3 S 2 the
ORNITHOLOGY.
334
Nivca.
3 S 5
Glacialis.
3S5
Ctigantea.
Gehda.
388
Capensis,
the body blackj head and sides bluish', scrag green,
and wing coverts and rump spotted with green. Jsoth
sorts are excellent divers, feed on small fishes, are mute
during the day, and clamorous in the night.
Snowy petrel.—Snow white j shafts of the leatheis
and bill black ; legs dusky blue. One loot long. In¬
habits the colder parts of the Southern sea, especially in
the neighbourhood of ice, the masses of which t icy
often haunt in considerable flocks.
Fulmar petrel, or fulmar.—Whitish j back hoary }
bill and legs yellowish j nostrils composed of two tubes,
lodged in one sheath. About the size of the common
gull, and 17 inches long. Inhabits the Northern and
Southern seas *, breeds in Greenland, Spitzbergen, St
Kilda, &c. laying one large white egg. It is a bold
and stupid bird, and very fat, living on fish, dead whales,
and other carcases and filth, in quest of which it often
follows ships for a great way. Its flesh, though rancid,
is eaten raw, dried or boiled, by the Kurile islanders, the
Greenlanders and St Kildians, and the oil when expres¬
sed is used both for food and lamps. The young are m
season about the beginning of August, when the inha¬
bitants of St Kilda endeavour to surprise them in their
nests, to prevent them from spouting out their oil, which
they do by way of defence. This oil is there valued as
a catholicon} and every young bird yields nearly an
English pint of it, which is carefully preserved. When
the thermometer is above 52 degrees, it is very pure,
but at a lower temperature becomes turbid.
Giant petrel, osprey petrel, or brcakbones.—Brownish,
spotted with white } white beneath ; shoulders, wings,
and tail brown ; bill and legs yellow *, a naked, wrink¬
led, yellow membrane at the angles of the mouth.
Bigger than a goose j length 40 inches ; expansion of
the wings seven feet. Common in the high southern
latitudes, and sometimes found, though more rare, in
the Northern seas. Is often seen sailing with the wings
expanded, close to the surface of the water, but without
appearing to move them. At Christmas harbour, Ker¬
guelen’s land, &c. they were so tame, that they suffered
themselves to be knocked on the head with a stick, by
our sailors, on the beach. Though their chief food is
fish, they also feed on the carcases of seals and birds.
Many of the sailors confound them with the albatross,
though such of them as are better informed, call them
Mother Cary's geese. They are reckoned to be very
good food. An individual of this species is figured in
Latham’s Synopsis.
Glacial petrel.—Bluish-ash j back blackish 5 chin,
throat, and breast, white; bill yellow ; legs blue. Nine¬
teen inches long. Inhabits the icy seas.
Pintado, or pintado petrel.—Variegated with white
and brown, and sometimes w ith yellowish and brown ;
bill and legs black; temples white and black. Size of
the kittiwake ; length 14 inches. This is i\\e. pintado
bird of Dampier, the white and black spotted petenl of
Edwards, and the Cape pigeon of our sailors. It is sel¬
dom seen much to the north of 30 degrees, and is most
frequent about the Cape of Good Hope, and the neigh¬
bouring regions It flies in very numerous flocks, which
almost sweep the surface of the water. Our voyagers
have traced them to New Zealand, Falkland islands, and
various regions of the southern hemisphere. The sailors
often catch them with some tarred string, or a bit of
laid on a fishing rod. Sometimes they appear in such
4
immense numbers, that 730 have been taken in one An sere*
night. They feed on fish, but more frequently on the' 
carcases of whales, &c. 389
Shearwater petrel, or shearwater.—Black above ;Pejlinwi
white beneath; legs rufous; bill yellow, tipt with
black ; hind head whitish-ash ; spurious wings spotted
with black; first quill and tail feathers brown without
and white within. Weight 17 ounces; is 15 inches
long, and nearly the size of a pigeon. Inhabits the
Southern and Arctic seas. Breeds in the isle ot Man,
and in the Orkneys, in the former of which it is called
manks puffin, and in the latter lyre. It takes possession
of a rabbit burrow or other hole, and lays one white
egg, blunt at each end, which is hatched in August.
Though the flesh is rank and fishy, it is much rt fished
by some. Great numbers are killed and barrelled with
salt. These the inhabitants boil, and eat with potatoes.
There is a variety that is cinereous above, white be¬
neath, and with a clear white tail.
Gen. 37. Diomedea, Albatross.
39°
Diomedea,
391
Bill straight, upper mandible hooked at the point, lowerCliaracters-
truncated ; nostrils oval, wide, prominent, lateral;
tongue very small ; toes three, all placed lorwards.
Only four species are known to belong to this genus. 392
Wandering Albatross, or man of war bird.—White ; Exulans.
back and wings with white lines; bill pale yellow ;
legs flesh colour; quill feathers black ; tail rounded, Plate
and lead coloured ; bill grooved, dirty yellow ; nostrils cccxcvi.
remote from the base, and rising out of the furrow ; tail
feathers fourteen ; thighs naked. From three feet and
a half to four feet long; bigger than a swan; weighs
from twelve to twenty-eight pounds : and extends its
wings from ten to thirteen feet. Inhabits most seas,
but chiefly occurs within the tropics. It is frequent
about the Cape of Good Hope, and towards the end of
July appears in great numbers in Kamtschatka, and the
seas which separate that part of Asia from America.
It is very voracious, feeding on the salmon, which are
found in shoals in the mouths of rivers, on the flying-
fish, when forced out of the water by the coryphoena,
and on other fishes, which it devours whole, and in such
quantities, as to be prevented by their weight from
rising, though in general it soars very high. It likewise
preys on mollusca, and is itself attacked by the sea-
eagles, and the larus cataractes. On the shore ot South
America, it builds about the end of September, a nest
of earth on the ground, from one to three leet high, ami
lays a number of eggs, which are four inches and a half
long, and eatable, though the white of them does not
coagulate with heat Its voice resembles the braying ot
an ass, and its flesh is dry and hard. 393
Chocolate albatross.—Bill whitish ; body deep dies-
nut-brown ; belly pale ; face and wings whitish beneath.
Three feet long. Inhabits the Pacific ocean. 394
Yellow-nosed albatross.—ViVxte ; bill black; keel oiChlororhy
the upper mandible and base of the lower yellow; body ^os-
above black-blue, white beneath. Three feet long.
Occurs in the Southern hemisphere, from 30° to 6o°,
all round the pole. Flies five or six feet above the
water. „ # , 895
Sooty albatross.—Brown; head, bill, tail, quill feathers J*
and claws sooty-brown; area of the eyes white. Three
feet long. Inhabits the Southern ocean within the ant¬
arctic
ORNITHOLOGY.
509
Aoseres.
:ELECA-
arctic circle. Called quaker by the sailors, on ac¬
count of its brown plumage.
Gen. 38. Pelecanus, Pelican.
'397 Bill straight, bent at the point, and furnished with a
Characters. nail : the nostrils form an almost obliterated slit;
face somewhat naked ; legs balancing the body equal¬
ly 5 the four toes connected by a membrane.
The pelicans are gregarious, fond of fish, and in ge¬
neral remarkable for their extreme voracity. For the
most part they keep out at sea, but some of them are
likewise found in the interior parts of continents.
They have all a long bill, in a lateral furrow of which
lie the nostrils. Several of the tribe are rendered use¬
ful to mankind by being taught to fish.
„ A. Bill without teeth.
39s
bnocrota- White or common pelican.—White $ gullet pouched ;
bill irom fifteen to sixteen inches long, red ; upper man¬
dible depressed and broad, the lower forked ; bag at the
throat flaccid, membranaceous, capable of great disten¬
sion irides hazel j gape of the mouth wide; head
naked at the sides, covered with a flesh-coloured skin ;
hind-head somewhat crested ; body faintly tinged with
flesh colour; spurious wings and first quill feathers
black j legs lead colour. Larger than a swan, and
about five feet long. Inhabits Asia, Africa, and South
America. In fishing, this bird docs not immediately
swallow its prey, but fills its bag, and returns to the
shore to devour at leisure the fruits of its industry. As
it quickly digests its food, it has generally to fish more
than once in the course of the day. At night it retires
a little way on the shore to rest, with its head resting
against its breast. In this attitude it remains almost
motionless, till hunger calls it to break off its repose.
It then flies from its resting-place, and raising itself
thirty or forty feet above the surface of the sea, turns its
head, with one eye downwards, and continues to fly in
that posture till it sees a fish sufficiently near the surface,
when it darts down with astonishing swiftness, seizes it
with unerring certainty, and stores it up in its pouch.
It then rises again, and continues the same manoeuvres,
till it has procured a competent stock. Clavigero in¬
forms us, that some of the Americans, to procure a
supply of fish without any trouble, cruelly break the
wing of a live pelican, and after tying the bird to a tree,
conceal themselves near the place. The screams of the
wounded and confined bird attract others of its kind,
which eject for it a portion of provisions from their
pouches. As soon as the men observe this, they rush to
the spot, and after leaving a small quantity for the bird,
carry oft the remainder. The female feeds her young
with fish macerated for some time in her bag. The pe¬
lican is susceptible of domestication, and may even be
trained to fish for its master. Faber mentions an indi¬
vidual of this species which was kept in the court of the
duke of Bavaria above forty years, and which seemed
to be fond of the company of mankind, and of vocal
and instrumental music. When a number of pelicans
and corvorants are together, they are said to practise a
singular method of taking fish. They spread into a
large circle, at some distance from land 5 the pelicans
flapping on the surface of the water with their extensive
wings, and the corvorants diving beneath, till the fish
contained within the circle, are driven before them to- Anseres.
wards the land 5 and as the circle contracts by the birds —v—“■
drawing closer together, the fish at last are brought into
a small compass, when their pursuers find no difficulty in
filling their bellies. In this exercise they are often at¬
tended by various species of gulls, which likewise ob¬
tain a share of the spoil. The pelican generally builds
in marshy and uncultivated places, particularly in islands
and lakes, making its nest, which is deep, and a foot
and a half in diameter, of carices, and lining it with
grass of a softer texture. It lays two or more white
eggs, which, when persecuted, it sometimes hides in the
water. When it builds in dry and desert places, it
brings water to its young in its bag. It walks slowly,
flies in flocks, and lives in society with other birds.
Bose-coloured pelican.—Rosy j gullet pouched; bill Rosem.
and legs black ; area of the eyes naked ; pouch yellow.
Size of a goose. Inhabits Manilla. 400
Frigate pelican, or frigate bird.—Tail forked ; body Aquilus.
and orbits black ; bill red ; belly of tbe female white.
Three feet long; extent of the wings fourteen feet.
Inhabits within the tropics. This is the frigate bird
of Dampier and other navigators. From its great ex¬
panse of wing, it is capable of flying very smoothly,
and so high as to be scarcely visible, remaining much
in the air, and remote from land. It feeds on fishes,
particularly flying fish, on which it darts with the
greatest velocity. It not unfrequently likewise preys
on other piscivorous animals. It builds in trees or on
rocks, and lays one or two eggs of a flesh colour, and
spotted with red. 401
Lesser frigate pelican.—Tail forked ; body ferrugi- Minor.
nous ; bill and orbits x’ed. Resembles, the last, but less.
Corvorant.—Tail rounded ; body black ; bead some- Qarbo.
what crested ; bill blackish ; the base of the lower man¬
dible covered with a yellowish skin, extending under the
chin, and forming a pouch ; irides green ; chin white,
surrounded with a yellowish areh ; tail long and lax,
consisting of fourteen feathers ; thighs with a white spot,
dotted with black ; legs black. Three feet long; size
of a goose, but more slender, and weighs about seven
pounds. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and America. Com¬
mon on many of our sea-coasts, building its nest on the
highest parts of cliffs that hang over the sea, and lay¬
ing three or more pale green eggs, about the size of
those of a goose. In winter these birds disperse along
the shores, and visit the fresh waters, where they com¬
mit great depredations among the fish. They are re¬
markably voracious, and have a very quick digestion.
Though naturally extremely shy and wary, they are stupid
and easily taken when glutted with food. Their smell,
when alive, is more rank and offensive than that of an\T
other bird, and their flesh is so disgusting, that even the
Greenlanders will hardly taste it. It is not uncommon to
see twenty of these birds together, on the rocks of the
sea coast, with extended wings, drying themselves in the
wind. In this attitude they sometimes remain for near¬
ly an hour, without once closing their wings; and as
soon as the latter are sufficiently dry to enable the
feathers to imbibe the oil, they press this liquor from
the receptacle on their rumps, and dress the feathers
with it. It is only in one particular state that tbe oily
matter can be spread on them, namely, when they are
somewhat damp; and the instinct of the birds teaches
them the proper moment. Corvorants were formerly
sometimes
ORNITHOLOGY.
4°3
Graculus.
404
Pygmaus.
. 4°5
Crist at us.
405
*Thagus.
407
Bassanus.
sometimes trained in this country, as they still are m
China, for the purpose of catching fish tor the table.
With this view they were kept with great care in the
house, and when taken out for fishing, they had a lea¬
thern thong tied round their neck, to prevent them trom
swallowing their prey.
Shag.—Tail rounded j body black, brown beneath j
tail feathers twelve j head and neck black, with a green
gloss } back and wing-coverts purple black, glossy at the
edges •, middle of the belly dusky ; legs black. Weighs
about four pounds. Length twenty-nine inches. The
female weighs about three pounds and a quarter } and
is only twenty-seven inches long. Inhabits the northern
seas of Europe* Swims with its head erect, and the body
under water. On perceiving the flash of a gun, dives
instantaneously, and rises at aconsiderabledistance. Has
the manners and habit of the preceding, and devours a
prodigious quantity of fish. Near the Cape of Good
Hope a variety occurs with a yellow chin, and wedged
tail. Another, which frequents the coasts of Cayenne
and the Carribbee islands, is blackish above, brown be¬
neath j and has the feathers above edged with black.
Dwarf shag.—Tail wedged ; feathers twelve j body
black, with a few scattered white spots. Female brown,
without spots. Size of the garganey. Inhabits the Cas¬
pian sea.
Crested s/wg.—Shining green, dusky beneath ; bill
and legs dusky 5 head crested. From two to three feet
long. Inhabits the northern seas of Europe, occurs on
our own coasts, and both in appearance and manners,
resembles the graculus.
B. .B/// serrated.
Saw-billed pelican.—Brown \ tail rounded j gullet
pouched, and covered with short cinereous feathers } bill
one foot long j each mandible hooked ; pouch very
large j legs black. Size of a turkey ; extent of wings
nine feet. Inhabits Chili.
Gajinet, or soland goose.—Tail wedged 5 body white ;
bill and quill feathers black ; face blue, j irides yellow¬
ish } tail feathers twelve ; eyes surrounded with a naked
skin of fine blue j legs black, and greenish on the fore
part. Three feet long. Weighs seven pounds •, and
inhabits Europe and America. This species of pelican
haunts the Bass island in the frith of Edinburgh, Ailsa,
on the coast of Ayrshire, the island of St Kilda, and
hardly any where else in Europe. It arrives at these
-spots in March, and continues till September. As it
must let itself fall before it takes wing, it requires a
steep and precipitous breeding station. It makes a rude
nest of sticks, grass, sea-plants, &c. and lays one egg.
While the female is occupied with incubation, the male
brings her food, which consists almost entirely of her¬
rings and sprats. In the bag under their bill they are
able to fetch four or five herrings at a time, and a great
number of sprats, which the young bird extracts from
the mouth of the old one, with its bill, as with pincers.
The young begin to be taken in August, and by some
are relished as an exquisite morsel ■, but the old ones are
tough and ranc'd. The fowler who seizes the young,
is let down bv a rope from the top of a cl ill', and is
sometimes stationed on the .slippery projection of a rock,
with the perpendicular precipice of four hundred fleeter
more beneath him. The young are of a dark-gray
colour, and continue so for a year or more, when they
gradually become white, except the tips of their wings, Anserci
which are always black. In September and October' r-
the old birds leave their breeding places, and migrate
southward, following, as is alleged, the shoals of her¬
rings. In December they are often seen off Lisbon
plunging for sardines j but after that period it is not
well known what becomes of them till March. They
are common on the coasts of Norway and Iceland, and
are said to be met with in great numbers about New
Holland and New Zealand. They also breed on the
coast of Newfoundland, and migrate southward along
the American shores as far as South Carolina. Of this
species there are two varieties. The first is brown,
spotted with white, and white beneath, with naked and
blackish. The second is brown, with triangular white
spots, whitish, and spotted with browm beneath ; the
bill, wungs, tail, and legs brown. *0$
Lesser gannet.—Tail wedged } body whitish } all the Piscator,
quill feathers black 5 face red. Two feet and a half
long. Inhabits the Chinese, Indian, and American
seas. 4°5
Booby.—Tail wedged : body whitish •, primary quill Sula‘
feathers tipt with blackish •, face red $ bill gray, brown¬
ish at the base ; irides pale ash ; chin bald, yellowish j
body white beneath ; tail brownish at the tip} legs
yellowish. Has its name from being so foolish as to
alight on one’s hand, if held out to it, when tired.
Builds in places bare of trees, making its nest on the
ground. Its flesh is black and rancid. 415
Fishing corvorant.—Tail rounded ; body brown, Sinensis.
whitish, and spotted with brown beneath } throat wrhite $
bill yellow ; irides blue. Inhabits China, where it is
tamed for the purpose of catching fish. 4n
T.esscr booby.—Black, white beneath j face downy. Fa-vm.
Eighteen inches long. Inhabits Cayenne.
Gen. 39. Plotus, Darter.
412
Plotijs.
Bill straight, pointed, toothed ; nostrils an oblong slit
near the base ; face and chin naked $ legs short 5 all
the toes connected.
The birds of this genus have a small head, and long
slender neck. They inhabit the southern and warmer
latitudes, and live chiefly on fish, which they take by
darting the head forwards, while the neck is contracted
like the body of a serpent.
White-bellied darter.—Head smooth •, belly white.
Inhabits Brazil. Two feet ten inches long. Builds on
trees, and is scarcely ever seen on the ground. When
at rest, it sits with the neck drawn in between the
shoulders. The flesh is oily and rancid.
Black-bellied darter.—Head smooth ; belly black.
About three feet long. Inhabits Ceylon, Java, &c.
There are several varieties.
Surinam darter.—Head crested j belly white. Thir¬
teen inches long. Inhabits Surinam. Is domesticated,
and feeds on fish and insects, especially flies, which it
catches with great dexterity.
Gen. 40. Phaeton, Tropic Bird,
Bill sharp-edged, straight, pointed, the gape extending chaiact ■
beyond the bill ) nostrils oblong j hind-toe turned
forwards.
The
414
Anhingtt
415
Melano-
gaster.
Plate
cccxci
fig. 4.
416
Surina-
mensis.
41?
Phaeto:
4x8
Inseres.
419
Ithereus.
Plate
cccxcvi.
%• 3*
420
'telano-
hynchos.
421
’uvnicu-
422
Folymbus.
423
aaracters.
424
'rillemot,
^5
icttolus
426
hlk.
O R N I T H
The species of this genus inhabit the South sea, espe-
' cially between the tropics. Their bill is compressed
and bent a little downwards 5 the lower mandible angu-
lated. The feet have four toes, which are palmated.
The tail is cuneiform, and distinguished by the great
length of the two intermediate feathers.
Common tropic bird.—White ; back, rump, and lesser
wing-coverts streaked with white; two middle tail
feathers black at the base j bill red. Two feet ten inches
long \ size of a wigeon. Flies very high, and at a great
distance from land ; feeds on young sharks, dolphins,
and albicores. On land, where it is rarely seen except
in the breeding season, it sits on trees, and builds on tbe
ground, in woods. It is well known to navigators, to
whom it generally announces their approach to the tro¬
pic, though this indication is by no means infallible, as
the bird sometimes wanders to the latitude of 47-r0. It
is subject to varieties. Its flesh is indifferent.
Black-billed tropic bird—Streaked black and white,
white beneath j bill black; quill feathers tipt with
white ; tail feathers with black. Nineteen inches and
a half long. Inhabits Palmerston and Turtle islands.
Red-tailed tropic bird.—Rosy flesh colour ; bill and
two middle tail-feathers red. Two feet ten inches long,
of which the two middle tail feathers measure one foot
nine inches. Builds in hollows in the ground, under
trees, and lays two yellowish-white eggs, with rufous
spots. Inhabits the Mauritius.
Gen. 41. Corymbus.
Bill toothless, subulate, straight, and pointed ; throat
toothed ; nostrils linear, at the base of the bill; feet
placed far behind.
The birds of this family walk on land with awkward¬
ness and difficulty, but swim and dive with great dexte¬
rity. The guillemots chiefly inhabit the sea ; have a
slender tongue, of the size of the bill. The latter is
compressed, and covered with short feathers at the base;
the upper mandible a little bent; flesh tough, and, like
the eggs, nauseous. The divers frequent also the
northern lakes, have a strong bill, less pointed, cylindri¬
cal, the edge of the mandible turned in, and the upper
longer than the under; the nostrils divided in the mid¬
dle by a membrane ; the tongue long, sharp, serrated at
the base on each side; legs slender, a black band be¬
tween the thighs; tail feathers twenty. These birds are
monogamous, fly with difficulty, and frequent fresh
water in the breeding season. The grebes have no tail,
a strong bill, lores naked, tongue a little cleft at the tip,
body depressed, thickly covered with short shining
plumage, wings short, and legs compressed. They are
frequently found about the fresh waters of southern Eu¬
rope.
A. Feet three- toed. Guillemot.
White guillemot.—Snowy ; bill and legs brownish
and flesh-coloured. Size of the garganey. Inhabits the
Netherlands.
Black guillemot, spotted guillemot, Greenland dove, sea
turtle, &c.—Body black ; wing-coverts white. But
these general markings are incident to great variety.
Jhe more special characteristics are; bill black; inside
of the mouth and legs red ; upper wing-coverts in the
middle, and lower part of the belly, white. Weighs
5
O L O G Y. 5111
fourteen ounces, and measures nearly the same number Anseres,
of inches in length. Inhabits Europe and America.J
Frequents the Faroe islands, the Bass, St Kilda, &c.
visiting these places in March, making its nest far un¬
der ground, and laying one egg of a dirty white, blotch¬
ed with pale rust colour. Except at breeding time, it
keeps always at sea, lives on fish, flies low, and generally
in pairs. It cannot, without much difficulty, rise from
the ground. In the Orkney islands, it is called tyste.
I he Greenlanders eat its flesh, and use its skin for
clothing, and its legs as a bait to their fishing lines. 427
Lesser guillemot.—Black, with a narrow stripe across Miraon
the wings, cheeks and under parts white. Weight
eighteen or nineteen ounces; length about sixteen inches.
Inhabits the northern seas of Europe, and in winter fre¬
quents the frith of Forth in vast flocks; where it feeds
on sprats, and is called marrot or morrot. Many doubts
have been entertained with regard to this bird, Dr
Latham and other ornithologists having considered it as
the young of the succeeding species. It is to be ob¬
served, however, that besides the difference in size and
plumage, tins bird is rarely met with in the south till
the month of November, whence it has been calle d the
winter guillemot, whereas the other species always leaves
us before September, and does not again appear till the
ensuing spring , and that its young, when they depart,
are exactly like the old ones. 4?$.
Foolish guillemot, or s out.— Body black ; breast and Trade..
belly snowy ; secondary quill feathers tipt with white;
bill black; inside of the mouth yellow ; legs and tail
blackish. Seventeen inches long. Inhabits the northern
seas of Europe, Asia, and America. This species is
likewise called marrot in Scotland, and lavie in St Kil¬
da. In that island it appears about the beginning of
February, and is hailed by the inhabitants as the har¬
binger of plenty. A St Kilda man descends in the
night, by the help of a rope, to the ledge of a precipice,
where he fixes himself, and tying round him a piece of
white linen, awaits the arrival of the bird, which, mis¬
taking the cloth for a piece of the rock, alights on it,
and is immediately dispatched. In this way 400 are
sometimes taken in one night, and at dawn the fowler
is drawn up The foolish guillemot lays but one egg-j
which is very large, unprotected by any nest, and has
such a slender hold of the rock, that when the birds are
surprised, and fly off suddenly, many of them tumbh down
into the sea. These birds seldom quit their eggs unless
disturbed, but are fed with sprats and other small fFh by
the male. In places where they are seldom molested, it
is with difficulty they are put to flight, and may some-
times be taken with the hand; others flutter into the
water, appearing not to have much use of their wings.
B. Four-toed, and palmated. Diver.
Red-throated diver or loon.—Aferruginous shield-like Septintrio*
spot beneath the neck ; body brown, with minute white nahs,
spots above, white beneath ;’ bill black ; head and chin
cinereous, spotted wish brown; neck with small white
and brown lines above ; legs dusky. Weighs about
three pounds. Length near two feet and a half. In¬
habits the north of Europe, Asia, and America, and is
seldom seen far southward,except in very severe winters.
In the breeding season it frequents the lakes, making a
nest among the reeds and flags, and lays two eggs of an
ash colour, marked with a few black snots. In Iceland
ik
.429
Diver.
431
Arcticus.
43*
Stellatus.
433
Glacialis.
434
Immer.
ORNITHOLOGY.
it is „i<t to make its nest of moss and grass, lined with suring twenty-one inckes in length,
down, among the grass of the shores contiguous to the
It breeds in the north of Scotland, but is sel-
An seres.
435
Grebe.
43^
Cristatiis-
waters. It breeds  
dom observed in the south of England. It lives on
marine vermes, crabs, and the smaller fishes, with which
it is sometimes taken in nets. It swims and flies swiftly,
and when it screams in its flight is said to presage a
storm. . ,
Black-throated diver.—Head hoary ; neck violet
black beneath, with an interrupted white band 5 bill
black ; body black above, white beneath 5 sides ot the
neck white, spotted with black •, shoulders and wing-
coverts with white spots, the former square, the latter
round j quill feathers dusky. Two feet long. Inhabits
the northern parts of Europe, Asia, and America, fre¬
quenting both the sea and lakes. Before rain, it is rest¬
less and clamorous j occurs in Scotland, but is not com¬
mon in England. . , , ,
Speckled diver or /cow.—White beneath j hind-head
and quill feathers dusky 5 throat pale ash j back, flanks,
rump, and tail, spotted with white ; bill horn colour j
legs brown. The weight of this species is about tour
pounds, and the length 27 inches. It inhabits the
north of Europe and America, and is among the most
common of the diver tribe found in this country, being
frequently seen in winter, in our bays and inlets, and
sometimes in fresh-water rivers and lakes. I rom its at¬
tending the sprats in the Thames, it is called loon
by the fishermen. In the northern regions it lays two
eggs, the size of those of a goose, dusky, and with a few
black spots, in the grass, on the borders of lakes.
Northern diver,ox greatest speckled diver. —Head and
neck purplish black*, chin and upper part of the neck
with a white interrupted band; upper part of the body,
bill, legs, and tail black ; back with square white spots
disposed in rows; wing-coverts with white dots. 1 he
largest of the genus ; sometimes weighing fifteen or six¬
teen pounds, and measuring nearly three feet and a half
in length. Inhabits the north seas, and breeds in the
fresh waters, in Iceland, Greenland, &c. frequents
the seas about the Orkneys, all the year round, without
breeding there. The skin, which is tough, and well
covered with soft down, is dressed in some parts of
Russia, &c. and used as clothing.
Immer, imber, ox ember goose, or diver.—Body black¬
ish and waved with white above, white beneath ; fea¬
thers of the back, wings, and tail edged with white.
Two feet long. Inhabits the Arctic ocean, and also, it
is said, the lakeof Constance, where it is calied/wder.
Unless in severe winters, it is rare in England, but is
more common on the Scottish and Orkney coasts. It
makes its nest on the water, among reeds and flags. _ It
feeds on fish, -after which it dives with great celerity,
and is sometimes taken under water by a baited hook.
C. Feet four-toed, lobed. G rebe.
Crested grebe, gray or ash-coloured loon, Sfc.—Head
rufous ; collar black ; secondary quill feathers white ;
bill flesh-coloured, brown at the tip; lores and irides
red ; body brown above, white beneath ; head tumid,
and varies in colour by age. During the first year,
this bird has a smooth head, and a white spot on the
wings ; and during the second, a long downy tuft on
each side of the throat. This is the largest of the
grebes, weighing about two pounds and a half, and mea-
437
  ^   ^ It occurs in al¬
most every lake in the northern parts of Europe, as far 1
as Iceland, and southward to the Mediterranean, and is
also found in various parts of America and Siberia.^ It
is common in the lens and lakes in various parts ol Eng¬
land, where it breeds. The female makes her nest of
various kinds of dried fibres, stalks and leaves of water-
plants, as of the nymphaea, potamogeton, hottonia, &c.
and the roots of menyanthes trifobata, and conceals it
among the flags and reeds which grow in the water, arid
where it is erroneously said to float. T he young are led
on small eels. In some countries, ladies muffs aird other
ornamental articles of dress are made of the skin ot the
belly of this species, which has a fine down of a dazzling-
whiteness. It requires five skins to make a muff, which
sells at four or five guineas. The tippet grebe is the
female or young of this species.
Eared grebe, ox dobchick.—Blackish-brown above,
white beneath ; head black ; ears crested, and ferrugi- €CCy‘^<j
nous ; bill and legs black ; irides and lores red ; pn- gg 4,
mary quill feathers dusky, secondary white. There is
a smaller variety with a double crest, and the neck
spotted with chesnut. This species is about twelve
inches long, and inhabits the northern lakes of Europe
and Siberia. It is also met with in southern climates,
but is not numerous in England. According to Pen¬
nant, it breeds in the fens near Spalding in Lincoln¬
shire, and the femalemakes a nest not unlike that of
the preceding, laying four or five small white eggs. 438
Horned grebe.—Head glossy-green ; a yellow tufted Cornutus
band through the eyes ; neck and breast tawney. Size
of the preceding. Inhabits North America. 439
Little grebe, or small dipper.—Of a reddish brown Minor.
above, white, with spots beneath ; head smooth ; fea¬
thers of the body edged with reddish ; lower part ot the
belly gray ; upper wing-coverts, and first and last quill
feathers blackish, rest of the quill feathers white ; bill
blackish ; base of the lower mandible reddish ; legs
blackish green. Inhabits Europe, North America, the
Philippine isles, and the Delta in Egypt. The least of
the grebe tribe, weighing only between six and seven
ounces, and measuring from the tip of the bill to the
rump, ten inches. It seldom quits the water, and is a
remarkable diver, feeding on fish, insects, and aquatic
plants ; constructing a large nest, a foot thick, of grass
and the stalks of aquatic plants, in the midst of the wa¬
ters which pervade it, and laying five or six whitish eggs,
which it covers wdien it leaves the nest. In several
parts of this country it is called didapper. 440
Bed-necked grebe.—Subcrested, brown; chin, cheeks, Rubricoi
and region of the ears cinereous ; under part ol the
neck and breast rusty-red; belly, and secondary quill
feathers white ; bill black, the sides tawney at the base;
irides tawney; legs dusky. Seventeen inches long ; and
weighs nearly nineteen ounces. Inhabits Europe, but
is very rare in Brit; in. niscans
Dusky grebe, or black and white dobchick.—Head
smooth ; body dark brown above ; front, under parts of
the body, and tips of the secondary quill feathers, white.
Eleven inches long. Inhabits Europe and America.
Breeds in the fens of Lincolnshire, and is found, in the
winter, in our inlets on the coast, particularly in De¬
vonshire, where it is by no means uncommon. 44^.
Black chin grebe.—Head smooth; body blackish;*^
chin black; throat ferruginous; belly cinereous, mixed
with
ORNITHOLOGY.
Aiiseres. with silvery. Somewhat larger than the little grebe,
—-v—Inhabits Tiree, one of the Hebrides.
443
,,ARt'S.
444
‘kracters.
Gen. 42. Larus, Gull.
Bill straight, sharp edged, a little hooked at the tip,
and without teeth j lower mandible gibbous below
the point; nostrils linear, broadest on the fore part,
and placed in the middle of the bill.
The birds of this genus have a light smooth body;
long wings $ a strong bill j the tongue somewhat cleft $
the feet short; bare of feathers above the knee •, with a
small hack toe. They inhabit the north *, feed chiefly on
fishes, and even on those that are dead. When harassed,
they throw up or discharge their food. As the young
are sometimes spotted to their third year, the extrication
of this species is attended with doubt and difficulty.
A. Nostrils without a cere.
443 . . . . '
"ridacty* Tarrock, or kittiwake.—Whitish j the back grayish j
w. tips of the tail feathers, except the outermost, black 5
three toes. In maturer age, the characters are j hack
whitish hoary ; quill feathers white ; hind toe unarmed.
Ornithologists, in fact, seem now to be agreed, that
L. tridactylus and L. rissa, are only varieties of the same
species. A third variety occurs, distinguished by an
oblique black band on the wings, and white chin.
About the size of a pigeon j about fourteen inches long.
Inhabits Europe, Asia, and America. Breeds on the
cliffs about Flamborough-head, the Bass, isle of May,
the rocks near Slains Castle, &c.; lays two eggs; feeds
on fishes, and seeks its food in company of seals and
whales. It swims and flies rapidly, and is often clamo¬
rous. Its flesh is much relished by the Greenlanders,
who also make clothing of its skin. One that was
. kept and tamed, knew its master’s voice at a distance,
and answered him with its hoarse piping note. It had
a voracious appetite, and though plentifully fed on
445 bread, would rob the poultry of their share.
mttus. Little Snowy; head and beginning of the neck
black ; back and wings russet; bill brown red ; legs
scarlet. Size of a thrush. Inhabits Russia and Siberia,
j ,m Common gull.—White ; back hoary ; primary quill
feathers black at the ends, the fourth and fifth with a
black spot at the tip, the outer one black without; bill
yellow; irides hazel ; legs greenish white. A variety
is met with that has the head spotted with brown ; neck
brown above, and tail feathers white, with a black band.
This is generally supposed to be the younger bird. In¬
habits Europe and America. Seventeen inches long;
of the size of a pigeon; and is seen in numerous flocks,
continually screaming. Lives on fishes, vermes, and the
larvae of insects ; builds among rocks and stones, and is
a foolish bird. The most common and numerous of all
the British gulls, breeding on rocky cliffs, and laying two
eggs, nearly the size of those of a common hen, of an
olive brown colour, marked with dark-reddish blotches.
At the mouths of the larger rivers they are seen in num¬
bers, picking up the animal substances which are cast on
shore, or come floating down with the ebbing tide. For
this kind of food they watch with a quick eye, and it
is curious to observe how such as are near the breakers
will mount up the surface of the water, and run splashing
towards the summit of the wave to catch the object of
their pursuit. At particular seasons, this species also
resorts to the inland parts of the country, to feed on
Vol. XV. Part IL f
worms, &c. Some persons who live near the sea, com¬
monly eat this, as well as various other kinds of gulls,
which they describe as being good food, when they have
undergone a certain sweetening process before cooking;
such as burying them in fresh mould for a day, or wash¬
ing them in vinegar. This species breeds on the ledges
of rocks, close to the sta shore, sometimes not far above
the water. This bird is frequently seen in winter, at a
considerable distance from the coast. It flocks with
rooks in severe weather, and will follow the plough for
the sake of the larvae of the chafl’er.
Hack-hacked gull, or great black and white gull.— Marinas.
White; back black; bill yellow; lower mandible with a
red spot near the tip and black in the middle ; irides yel¬
low; lower part of the back white; quill feathers black,
tipt with white; legs flesh-coloured. The markings, how¬
ever, vary considerably with the age of the bird. The
weight of this species is four pounds and three quarters ;
and the length near thirty inches. It inhabits Europe
and America. Though not very plentiful on our coasts,
it is occasionally seen in small flocks of eight or ten,
sometimes in pairs, but never associating with the other
gulls. It cackles like a goose, lives chiefly on fish, but
also infests the eider duck, and even lambs. It has been
known to tear and devour the largest fish on the hooks,
when left dry by the ebbing tide. It breeds on the
steep holmes, and Lundy island, in the Bristol channel,
makes a nest in the clefts of the highest rocks, and lays
three eggs of a blackish gray colour, with dark purple
spots,- and eatable. Its skin is used for clothing by the
Eskimaux and Greenlanders ; and the young not only
affords a fine down, but an article of food. 449
Herring gull.—White ; back brown ; legs yellow ; Tuscus.
bill yellow ; irides straw-coloured ; five first quill fea¬
thers black above. Weight about thirty-three ounces.
Length twenty-three inches. Inhabits Europe, Asia,
and North America, proceeding southward in winter
as far as the Black and Caspian seas, Jamaica, and the
islands on the shore of South Carolina. It lives on fish,
especially herrings, which it seizes with great boldness,
and the shoals of which it accompanies in flocks. It is
sometimes observed to trample the soft sand, by moving
its feet alternately in the same place, for the purpose, it
is supposed, of forcing up sand eels, or some bidden prey.
This species is very common on the British shores ;
makes its nest of dry grass on the projecting ledges of
the rocks, and lays three eggs of a dull whitish colour;
spotted with black. Fishermen describe it as the con¬
stant, bold, and intruding attendant on their nets, from
which they find it difficult to drive it away. 450
Black-headed gull.—Whitish; head blackish ; bill Atricilla.
red ; legs black. Eighteen inches long. Inhabits Eu¬
rope and America. Flies about the shores in flocks,
with a continual clamour; and builds in pine trees. 451
Laughing or black-headed gull.—Whitish; head black- Ridibm,
i«h ; bill and legs pale red. Eyelids red ; irides hazel;
head and chin dusky brown ; and in the full grown
bird black; first ten quill-feathers white-edged, and
tipt with black, the rest cinereous, tipt with white ;
claws black. This species has its name from its singular
cry, which resembles a horse laugh. It is fifteen inch¬
es long; inhabits Europe, America, and the Bahama
islands ; and breeds in the pools and fens of England,
making its nest on the ground, with rushes, dried grass,
&c. and laying three greenish brown eggs, spotted with
4 T tawttey.
Anseres.
44 8
5i +
ORNITHOLOGY.
Anscres. tawney. “ In former times (says Mr Bewick), these
——y—birds were looked upon as valuable property by the
owners of some of the tens and marshes in this kingdom,
who every autumn caused the little islets or hafts in those
wastes, to be cleared of the reeds and rushes, in order
properly to prepare the spots for the reception of the old
birds in the spring, to which places at that season they
regularly returned in great flocks to breed. The young
ones were then highly esteemed as excellent eating } and
on that account were caught in great numbers beloie
they were able to fly. Six or seven men, equipped for
this business, waded through the pools, and witli long
staves drove them to the land, against nets placed upon
the shores of these hafts, where they were easily caught
by the hand, and put into pens ready prepared for their
reception. The gentry assembled from all parts to see
the sport.” “ These were the sea-guiles of which we
read as being so plentifully provided at the great feasts
of the ancient nobility and bishops of this realm. Al¬
though the flesh of these birds is not now esteemed a
dainty, and they are seldom sought after as an article
of food, yet in the breeding season, where accommoda¬
tion and protection are afforded them, they still regular¬
ly resort to the same old haunts, which have been occu¬
pied by their kind for a long time past.”
B. Nostrils covered with a cere.
mvwticus. Arctic gull.—Two middle tail feathers very long ;
bill and legs dusky ; body black above 5 temples, front,
and under parts of the body white ; breast with a dusky
band. Female brown beneath-, twenty-one inches long.
Inhabits Europe, Asia, and America. Breeds in the
Hebrides and Orkneys, among the heath, making its
nest of grass and moss, in some marshy place, and laying
two eggs, the size of those of a hen, ash-coloured and
spotted with black. It is very rapacious, and pursues
the lesser gulls, not for their dung,as some have asserted,
hut to make them disgorge what they have lately eaten,
which it dexterously catches and devours before it reaches
the water. It is to be remarked, that all this tribe are
voracious, and if chased by a hawk, or other bud that
creates alarm, readily disgorge, in order to lighten them¬
selves, and thus escape by flight. It is no uncommon
thing to see them bring up a large quantity of half di¬
gested food, when slightly wounded by shot} and tam¬
ed gulls will do the same, if driven by a dog. It may
also be observed, that gulls float highly on the surface
of the water by reason of the quantity of feathers in pro¬
portion to their weight, and seem to be incapable of
diving. If they should he wounded ever so slightly, and
fall into the water, they never attempt to dive like other
aquatic birds.
Black-toed gull —.Varied with dirty white and brown,
paler beneath two middle tail feathers a little longer j
bill black ; breast and belly white, with numerous
dusky and yellowish lines 5 flanks and vent transversely
black and white; wing-coverts and tail black, edged
with white or brownish } legs bluish j toes and connect¬
ing membrane black. Weight about eleven ounces
length fifteen or sixteen inches. Inhabits Europe and
America, hut is not common on the British shores. Its
habits nearly coincide with those of the preceding spe¬
cies. Its excrement is said to be red, from the cir¬
cumstance of its feeding on the helixjanthiua.
Catarrac- Skm gw//.—Grayish j quill and tail feathers white
tes.
at the base *, tail nearly equal} bill dusky, much hook- Anseres.
ed, upper mandible coveted half way with a black cere j1
body brown above, rusty-ash beneath j legs blackish,
rough, warty 5 claws hooked, black 5 hind-toe short,
with a sharp-hooked claw} two feet long. Inhabits
Europe and America. These tierce birds are met with
by navigators in the high latitudes of both hemispheres,
where they are much more common than in the warm
or temperate parts of the globe. They are often men¬
tioned in Captain Cook’s Voyages, and, from their being
numerous about Falkland islands, the seamen call them
Port Egmont hens. They are also common in ^Norway,
Iceland, the Shetland and Faroe isles, &c. They prey
not only on fish, but also on the lesser sorts of water fowl,
and are so courageous in defence of their own young,
that they attack either man or beast, that dares to dis¬
turb their nest. They- make their nests among the dry
grass, and, when the young are reared, they dispeise
themselves commonly in pairs over the ocean. In the
island of Foula, in Shetland, the skua gull is called^
bonxie, and is a privileged bird, there being a fine of
10I. Scotch for destroying its eggs, because it keeps oft
the eagle during the whole breeding season.
Gen. 43. Sterna, Tern.
453
L'rcpidatus.
455
Stekka.
Bill subulate, somewhat straight, pointed, a little c®ra'c^cter
pressed, without teeth } nostrils linear; tongue point¬
ed ; wings very long ; tail generally forked.
The birds of this genus are mostly inhabitants of the
ocean, and feed on fishes. They are seldom afraid of
man. . , , , 457
Sooty tern.—Black above ; upper parts of the body, Fuligimsi
cheeks, front and shafts of the quill and tail feathers
white ; sixteen inches long. Inhabits the Atlantic and
Antarctic seas. .jg
Noddy.—Body black; front whitish; eye-brows black ) st(jMa_
bill and legs black ; hind-head cinereous; fifteen inches
long; found chiefly within the tropics ; is clamorous,
seldom goes far from shore, and always rests there du¬
ring the night. It builds on the rocks, and its eggs are
reckoned excellent food. . 459
Sandwich tern.—White; back and wings hoary ; Cantiaat.
cap black ; front with white spots ; quill feathers black¬
ish, with a white shaft; bill black, yellowish at the tip ;
legs black ; wings longer than the tail ; egg olive-
brown, with purplish and crowded spots ; eighteen
inches long. Inhabits the Kentish coast, generally ap¬
pearing about Romney, in the middle of April, and de¬
parting in the beginning of September. It is not un¬
common about Sandwich, where it was first particularly
noticed by Mr Boys. The circumstance of its breed¬
ing in England has not been perfectly ascertained. The
hcevia of some authors, or the Kamtschatkan tern of
Pennant, appears to be only a variety, which is black,
with paler colours above ; white beneath ; and bill and
legs black. 4s®
Common or greater tern.—Two outer tail feathers uirundt
half black, and half white ; bill and legs crimson ; the
former tipt with black ; crown and area of the eyes
black ; rest of the head, neck, tail, and body, white be¬
neath ; back and wings cinereous; outer tail feathers
black on the outer edge. There is a variety with black
legs, and the outer tail feathers entirely white. J he
weight of this species is about four ounces and a quarter ;
ORNITHOLOGY.
Ansercs.
461
Alba.
4<>3
Mmuta.
Plate
cccxcvn.
k- S'
and Its length fourteen Inches. Inhabits Europe, Asia,
and America. It frequents our flat, sandy, or shingly
shores, and lays three or four eggs, of the size of a pi¬
geon’s, of an olivacious brown, and spotted and blotch¬
ed with dusky, among stones, without making any nest.
It is noisy and restless, constantly on wing, in search of
insects and small fish; in pursuit of which it darts into
the water with great force, seizes its prey, and instantly
returns j for, though web-footed, it is not observed to
swim or dive. It is commonly known by the name of
the sea-swallow, and, in some parts, bv that of the gull
teaser, from its persecuting the smaller gulls, and obli¬
ging them to disgorge. In New England it is called
mackarel gull, and at Hudson’s bay it is known by
the name of black-head. The young birds are mottled
with brown and white, and are, most probably, the
brown tern described by Eay and other ornithologists.
White tern.—White bill and legs black ; length
between two and three inches. Inhabits the Cape of
Good Hope.
Black-headed tern.—Body hoary; head and hill black;
legs red ; size of the preceding. Inhabits Europe.
Lesser tern.—Body white ; back hoary ; front and
eye-brows white ; bill yellow, tipt with black ; irides
brown ; cap black ; a black band through the eyes ;
legs yellow ; eight inches and a half long. Inhabits
Europe and America. It has the habits of the com¬
mon species, but is far less numerous. It lays two eggs,
of a very pale brown, spotted all over with cinereous
and dusky, and placed in a small depression among the
shingle, without any nest.
Black tern.—Body black; back ash-coloured ; belly
white ; feet red ; bill black ; male with a white spot
on the chin ; wings and tail cinereous; vent and lower
tail coverts white ; length ten inches. Inhabits Europe
and America, and has all the actions and manners of
the other species, but seems to prefer fresh-water insects
and fish to marine. It feeds on the verge of pools, in
swampy places, and often remote from the sea. In the
fenny parts of Lincolnshire and Cambridgeshire it is
called car-swallow. Though veiy plentiful about the
reedy pools of the Romney marshes, it keeps to the
edges of the stagnant water, and is rarely seen on the ad¬
joining sea shore, till after the breeding season, and even
then not very commonly. It lays three or four eggs
about the size of those of a magpie, of an olive brown
colour, blotched and spotted with brown and black.
Uynchops. Gen. 44. Rynchops, Skimmer.
\ Characters straight ; upper mandible shorter than the under,
the latter truncated at the apex ; tail Forked and
shorter than the wings; nostrils linear, and the back
toe small.
467
J%ra. Black skimmer, or cut-water.—Blackish ; white be¬
neath ; bill red at the base; the lower mandible groov¬
ed ; front and chin white ; wings with a tx-ansverse
white band ; two middle tail feathers black, the next
edged with white ; legs red ; twenty inches long. In¬
habits Asia and America. This bird is ever on the
wing, sweeping the surface of the water, dipping in its
bill, or at least the under mandible, to scoop out the
smaller fishes on which it feeds. In stormy weather
it frequents the shores, and is contented with oysters and
‘Other shell-fish.
Order IV. GRALLiE.
G valla;.
468 •
Bill subcylindrical, and somewhat obtuse; tongue
entire and fleshy ; legs naked above the knees; the character*,
feet are commonly furnished with four toes, of which
three stand forwards, and one backwards, sometimes
wholly unconnected, and at other times half connec¬
ted by a web. Some species, too, have only three
toes ; their legs are long, that they may seek their
food in marshy and swampy places, for which reason
they have also a long neck, and, for the most part,
a long bill. Their bodies ax^e oval, and somewhat
compressed, and their tail is generally short. They
build chiefly on the ground and in mai’shy places, and
feed principally on fishes and water insects. They ai-e
all more or less migratory, and such as inhabit the more
northern countries of Europe, universally leave them
at the approach of winter.
Gen. 45. PHiENlGOPTEROS, Flamingo. Ph-enu-
Bill bare, toothed and bent as if broken; nostrils lx-COPTi:|iOS‘
near ; the feet four-toed and palmated, the mem-.Characters,
branes semicircular on the fore part; hind toe not
connected.
The birds of this genus combine the anseres with the
grallse. They have the neck and legs long ; the bill
strong and thick, the upper mandible carinated above,
and denticulated at the margin, the under one compressed
and transversely sulcated ; the nostrils above covered
with a thin membrane, and communicating with each
other; the back toe very small, and the web which con¬
nects the fore-toes reaching to the nails.
Bed flamingo.-—Flag feather black. This singular
bird is scarcely so big as a goose, but has the neck and " Plate
legs in a greater disproportion to the body than any 'cccxcvxn.
other bird ; the length from the end of the bill to that l’
of the tail being four feet and two or thx-ee inches ; but
to the end of the claws, sometimes more than six feet;
the bill is four inches and a quarter long, and of a struc¬
ture different from that of any other bird, the upper
mandible being very thin and flat, and somewhat move-
able, the under thick, and both bending downwards
from the middle ; the end, as far as the curvature, is
black, and the rest reddish-yellow; a flesh coloured cere
extends round the base of the bill to the eye ; the neck
is slender and of an immoderate length ; the tongue,
which is large and fleshy, fills the cavity of the bill, has
a sharp cartilaginous tip, and is furnished with twelve
or more hooked papillae on each side, which bend back¬
wards. The bird, when in full plumage, which it does
not acquire till the third year, is of a most beautiful deep
scarlet, except the quills, which are black. The fla¬
mingo affects the warmer latitudes; and,in the old con¬
tinent, is not often met with beyond the 40th degree
north or south. It is met with every where on the
African coast and adjacent isles to the Cape of Good
Hope, and sometimes on the coast of Spain and Italy,
and even on those of France that lie on the Mediterra¬
nean, having been found at Marseilles and for some way
up the Rhone. It is seen also on the Persian side of the ‘
Caspian sea, and fi’om thence along the western coast ’
as far as the Wolga. They breed in the Cape de
Verd isles, particularly in that of Sal, constructing a nest
3T 2 of
ORNITHOLOGY.
473.
Chiknsis.
474
Pl.ATAI.EA..
47 S
Characters.
47 6
Leucoro'
dia.
of mud in the shape of a hillock, with a cavity at top,^
in which the female generally lays two white eggs, of
the size of those of a goose, but more elongated. . i he
hillock is of a suilicient height to admit the bird’s sitting
on it conveniently, or rather standing, as the legs are
placed one on each side at full length. Sometimes the
female will deposit her eggs on the projecting part of
a low rock, if otherwise adapted to the above-mentioned
attitude. The young are not able to fly till they are
grown, but they can previously run with amazing
swiftness. In this immature state, they are sometimes
caught and easily tamed. In five or six days, they be¬
came familiar, and even eat out of the hand, and di ink
a areat quantity of sea water. It is, however, difficult
to rear them, as they are very liable to pine from want
of their natural subsistence, which chiefly consists of small
fish and water insects. These they take by plunging
the bill and part of the head into the water, and from
time to time trampling the bottom with their feet, to
disturb the mud, and raise up their prey. In feeding
they are said to twifet the neck in such a manner, that
the" upper part of their bill is applied to the ground.
Except in the breeding season, flamingos are generally
observed m great flocks, and at a distance appear like a
regiment of soldiers, being often ranged alongside of one
another on the borders of rivers. When the Europeans
first visited America, they found these birds on the shores
tame and gentle, and no way distrustful of mankind.
We learn from Catesby, that when the fowler had kill¬
ed one, the rest of the flock, instead of attempting to
fly, only regarded the fall of their companion in a kind
of fixed astonishment *, so that the whole flock were some¬
times killed in detail, without one of them attempting
to make its escape. They are now, however, extreme¬
ly shy, and one of their number acts as sentinel, while
the rest are feeding. 1 he moment that this guard pei-
ceives the least danger, lie gives a loud scream, like
the soundof a trumpet, and instantly all are on the wing,
and fill the air with their screams. The flamingo,
wh^n at rest, stands on one leg, the other being drawn
up to the body, with the head placed under the wing
on that side of the body on which it stands. Its flesh
is esteemed tolerable eating, and that ol the young has
been compared to partridge. Pliny, Martial, and oilier
writers of antiquity, have celebrated the tongue as a
morsel of exquisite relish.
Chili flamingo.—Quill feathers white j bill covered
with a reddish skin *, head subcrested •, measures five
feet from the bill to the claws. Inhabits Chili j fre¬
quents only fresh waters, and is extremely shy.
Gen. 46. Pl.ATAl.EA,' Spoonbill
Bill long and thin, the tip dilated, orbicular and flat ;
nostrils small at the base of the bill *, tongue short and
pointed j feet four-toed and semipalmated.
JFhite spoonbill—Body white-, chin blackhind head
somewhat crested. Bit! black, brown or spotted ; tongue
heart-shaped irides gray *, lores, orbits, and naked dilat¬
able chin, black } quill, feathers sometimes tipt with
black ; legs black. This species admits of two varieties,
of which the first has the wings varied with black and
white, and the legs yellowishanc! the second has the
body all white, and the legs flesh coloured. The white
or common spoonbill weighs about three pounds and.a
half, and measures two feet eight inches, in length. It Grail*,
inhabits from the Feroe isles to the Cape of Good Hope-, —v—«
but rarely occurs in England. It lives on grass, carices,
the roots of reeds, serpents, frogs, muscles, and other
shell-fish, but especially on fishes, which it often seizes
from other birds. It makes its nest in high trees, near
to the sea, and lays three or four white eggs, sprinkled
with a few pale red spots. rI he flesh, especially of the
young bird, tastes like that of goose. 4-7
Roseate spoonbill.—Body rose-coloured -, tail coverts Ajaja.
scarlet 5 bill cinereous white, with a furrow parallel with
the edges ; face and chin naked and whitish j legs gray.
This species also frequently appears of a blood red hue;
the neck white; collar black ; and tail feathers scarlet.
Two feet three inches long. Inhabits South America
and Jamaica. Figured in Eatham’s Synopsis. ^
Dwarf spoonbill—Body brown above; white be- Pygmam.
neath. Size of a sparrow. Inhabits Guiana and Suri¬
nam.
479
Palame-
DEA.
Gen. 47. PALAMEDEA, Screamer.
Bill conical, the upper mandible hooked ; nostrils oval; 4s0
feet four-toed, cleft, a very small membrane connect- Characters
ing the toes at the root.
h • • , • 1
Horned screamer.—M ings with turn spines at the cur- Coniuta.
vature, front horned; bill and legs black; irides golden;
body blackish above, white beneath; wings reddish be¬
neath ; spine strong, sharp, horny, triangular, yellow ;
horn on the front recurved, round, whitish, three inches
long; hind toe straight. Three feet four inches long.
Inhabits the fenny parts of South America ; making a
large nest of mud, in the shape of an oven, on the
ground, and laying two eggs the size of those of a goose.
It is remarked, that they are always met with in pairs,
and if one dies, the other mourns to death for the loss.
On hearing the least noise, or seeing any one, even at a
distance, they rise from the ground and make a loud
screaming noise. J hey feed principally on herbs, seeds,
and reptiles The flesh of the old bu d is tough and ill
tasted ; but that of the young, though very dark, is fre¬
quently eaten by the natives. ' ^g3
Crested screamer.—Wings unarmed; front crested. Cr^taia,
Size of a heron. Inhabits Brazil.
4S3
Gen. 48. Mycteria, Jabiru. MxctsjuJ
. 4^4
Bill a little bending upwards and sharp-pointed ; upper Character
mandible triangular ; front bald ; nostrils linear;
tonnue small or wanting; four-toed and cleft.
6 . . 4*5
American —M-hite ; quill and tail fe&iheTS American
purplish-black ; bill long, stout and black ; head and
neck bald, two-thirds of the neck blackish, the rest red ;
hind head cinereous; legs long, stout and blackish.
Nearly six feet long. Inhabits the savannas of South
America; is migratory and gregarious, makes its nest
in large trees, lays two eggs, and. tends the young till
they can descend to the ground. The colour of the
young birds is gray ; the second year it changes to rose
colour, and the third to pure white. They are very wild
and voracious, and destroy great quantities of fish. The
flesh of the young birds is said to be good eating, but
that of the old is hard and oily. 486
Indian jabiru.—White ; band over the eyes, lower Ahafka.
part of the back, quill and tail feathers, black; bill
A blackish;
Grail*.
4S7
Wovx Hoi*
O R N 1 T H
blackish ; upper mandible gibbous at the base j lower
’ tumid beneath ; legs flesh-coloured. Inhabits India, and
feeds on shell-fish.
New Holland jabiru.—Body purplish-green above,
under parts, neck and shoulders white j head purplish,
spotted with white; neck feathered ; irides yellow ; first
quill feathers white; tail black and white. Full six
feet long ; is supposed to live chiefly on fish. Inhabits
New Holland. Figured in Latham’s Supplement.
Gen. 49. Cancroma, Boatbill.
CaNcro-
HA.
489 Bill gibbous, and shaped like an inverted boat; nostrils
Characters. 8ma}l} ancl placed in a furrow; tongue small; toes
divided.
490
Cochlear ia.
Crested boatbill.—Crested ; cinereous ; belly rufous ;
crown and lunule on the neck black; bill brown ; lores
naked and blackish ; crest long, pendulous and pointed ;
legs yellowish-brown ; toes connected at the base. The
body is sometimes spotted with brown. Twenty-two
inches long. Inhabits South America ; perches on trees
which overhang the water, and darts down on the fish
as they swim underneath. It likewise feeds on crabs.
Gen. 50. Scopus, Umbre.
Characters.Bill thick, compressed, long and straight; nostrils linear
and oblique ; feet with four unconnected toes.
Tufted umbre.—With a crest; bill brown, with a
longitudinal furrow on each side, in which are placed
the nostrils : lower mandible narrower towards the end,
and a little truncated; crest thick, tufted and lax ; body
brown ; tail obscurely barred ; legs longish and brown.
Female not crested. Twenty inches long. Inhabits Africa.
491
■iCOPt'S.
492
493
'Jmbretta.
Plate
xcxcvnr.
4-
494
IRDEA.
495
, 49s
Mania.
Gen. 51. Ardea.
haracters. Bill straight, pointed, long, somewhat compressed, with
a furrow from the nostrils towards the tip; nostrils
linear ; tongue sharp ; feet four toed, cleft; toes con¬
nected at the base.
The birds of this numerous genus have long feet and
necks, and live on anphibious animals and fishes.
A. Crested, and bill scarcely longer than the head.
Crowned heron, or crown bird.—Crest bristly and
erect; temples with two naked wattles ; bill brownish ;
irides gray ; crown covereil with short silky feathers ;
crest circular, yellowish, tipt with black ; temples and
wattles red ; body bluish ash ; wing coverts white, the
greater ones reddish, those next the body blackish ; tail
and greater quill feathers black, the secondary bay ; legs
dusky. The female is black, where the male is bluish-
ash, has no wattles on the throat, and the long feathers
on the breast less conspicuous. This beautiful species,
the balearic crane of Bay, and the crowned African
crane of Edwards, is two feet nine inches long ; and
inhabits Africa, particularly the coast of Guinea, as far
as the Cape de Verd islands. At the latter it is said to be
very tame, and so familiar as to come into the court-yards
to feed with the poultry. It is supposed to feed chiefly on
worms and vegetables, often sleeps on one leg, runs very
fast, and not only flies well, but continues on wing for a
4,^ i°!1g time together. The flesh is said to be very tough.
'■rgo. Demoiselle heron, demoiselle of Numidia, or Numidian
O L O G Y. 517
crane.—A tuft of long, white, pendant feathers behind Grail*,
each eye ; bill yellowish ; the base greenish, tip red ; —y——^
irides red ; head and tips of the primary quill feathers
black ; feathers of the breast long and pendulous ; crest
over the eyes turned back, and pendulous ; body bluish-
ash ; crown cinereous; head, neck, throat, breast and
legs black. The wind-pipe does not, as ii> the genera¬
lity of birds, go straight forwards into the lungs, but
first enters a cavity in the keel of the breast bone, for
about three inches, when it returns, after making a bend
forwards, and then passes into the chest. This elegant
species is about the size of the common crane ; and three
feet three inches long. It is found in many parts of
Africa and Asia, but most plentifully about Bitdulgerid,
the ancient Numidia, and Tripoli. It also occurs at
Aleppo, and in the southern plain, about the Black and
Caspian seas, and not unfrequently beyond Lake Baikal,
about the rivers Selenga and Argun, but never ventures
to the northward. It affects marshes and rivers, subsist¬
ing chiefly on fish. In the Crimea it builds its nest in
open plains, generally in the vicinity of the salt lakes.
The young birds are brought to market by the Tartars,
and are so susceptible of domestication, that they even
afterwards breed in the farm yards. From the gentle¬
ness of its manners and the elegance of its form, it is
often kept in menageries. In confinement, it often as¬
sumes strange and uncouth attitudes, and seems occa¬
sionally to imitate dancing; and Keysler mentions one
in the gallery at Florence, which had been taught to
dance to a certain tune, when played or sung to it.
B. Cranes; head bald.
Common crane.—Hind head naked and papillous; cap Qr^[
and quill feathers black; body cinereous; innermost tail
feathers jagged ; hill greenish-black; front covered with
black down; hind head red, with a few scattered hairs,
and a cinereous area beneath ; temples and upper neck
white; legs black. There is a variety with the body
white ; and the lower, part of the neck and quill feathers
black; bill greenish black; front covered with black
down ; hind head red, with a few scattered hairs, and a
cinereous area beneath ; temples and upper neck white;
legs black. Weighs near 10 pounds ; length five feet.
Inhabits Europe and Asia, and annually migrates in flocks
to the southern parts of Asia and Africa, in autumn.
The. course of their flight is discovered by the loud noise
which they make ; for they soar to such a height as to
be scarcely visible to the naked eye. Like the wild
geese, they form themselves into difl'erent figures, de¬
scribing a wedge, a triangle, or a circle. It is said that
formerly they visited the fens and marshes of England,
in great numbers ; hut they seem now, in a great mea¬
sure, to have forsaken our island. They are seen in
France in the spring and autumn ; hut generally only as
passengers. They make their nests in marshes, and lay
two bluish eggs. They feed on reptiles of all kinds, and
on several sorts of vegetables, particularly green corn ;
among which, if a flock alights, it makes great havock.
Like other large birds, the crane has much difficulty in
commencing its flight.
Siberian creme.—White ; temples and front naked, GiganUa.
red, wrinkled; ten first quill feathers shining black ;
hill and legs red. Stands four feet and a half high. In¬
habits the marshy flats of Siberia, and feeds on reptiles,
worms, and small .fish.
C. Storks;
498
Cranes.
495
ORNITHOLOGY.
S'11
Storks.
502
Ciconia.
.503
Nigra.
5°4
Herons.
T, 505
JJubia,
C. Storks ; Di bits naked.
White sforA:."—White} orbits and quill feathers black,
bill, legs and skin red *, greater wing coverts black. In¬
habits Europe, Asia, and Africa. Is about the size of
a turkey j and measures three feet three inches in length.
Feeds on fish and reptiles, and in several countries is
protected for its use in destroying serpents. Vast num¬
bers annually resort to some parts of Holland, and even
as far north as Russia, to breed, but rarely visit England.
They observe great exactness in the time of their autum¬
nal departure from Europe to more favoured climes.
They pass a second summer in Egypt, and the marshes
of Barbary ; pairing in the former country, and rearing
a second brood. Before each of their migrations, they
rendezvous in amazing numbers,and are for a while much
in motion among themselves, till, after making several
short excursions, as if to try their wings, they all on a
sudden take flight with great silence, and with such
speed, as in a moment to be out of sight. At Bagdad,
.hundreds of their nests are to be seen about the houses,
walls, and trees j and at Persepolis, the remains of the
pillars serve them to build on, every pillar having a
nest on it. Shaw mentions flights of them leaving
Egypt, and passing over Mount Carmel, each half a
mile in breadth. The good-natured Hollanders provide
boxes for them to build their nests in, on the tops of
their houses, and resent any injury done to the birds as
an offence committed against themselves. The stork is
of a mild and affectionate disposition 5 and though it has
a grave air, yet, when roused by example, is not averse
from gaiety. “ I saw”, says Dr Hermann, “ in a gar¬
den where children were playing at hide and seek, a
tame stork join the party, run its turn when touched,
and distinguish the child whose turn it was to pursue
the rest, so well, as, along with the others, to be on its
guard.”—To this bird the ancients ascribed many of
the moral virtues, as temperance, vigilance, conjugal
fidelity, and filial and parental piety.
.Black stork.—Brown j breast and belly white. Two
feet nine inches long. Inhabits Europe and Asia. Feeds
on fish and reptiles \ is timid, and retires into thick
woods and inaccessible fens.
D. Herons ; middle claw inwardly serrated.
Gigantic $ero/?.—Glaucous above j dirty white be-
neath $ bill a little triangular. This is a large species,
measuring from tip to tip of the wings, nearly 15 feet.
The bill is of an enormous size, and 16 inches round at
the base. The head and neck are naked, except a few
straggling curled hairs. The feathers of the back and
wings are of a bluish ash colour, and very stout y those
of the breast long. The craw hangs down the fore part
of the neck, like a pouch, thinly covered with down.
The belly is covered with a dirty white down, and the
upper part of the back and shoulders surrounded with
the same. The legs and about half of the thighs are
naked, and the naked parts are full three feet in length.
The gigantic heron inhabits Bengal, and is sometimes
found on the coast of Guinea. It arrives in the interior
parts of Bengal before the period of the rains, and retires
as soon as the dry season commences. Though its aspect
is far from inviting, it is one of the most useful birds of
these countries, in clearing them of snakes and noxious
reptiles and insects. They sometimes feed on fish ; and
one of them will generally devour as much as would Grail*,
serve four men. On opening the body of an individual' v ■—»
of this species, a land tortoise, 10 inches long, and a
.large black cat, were found entire within it, the former
in the pouch and the latter in its stomach. Being, un¬
daunted at the sight of mankind, they are soon rendered
familiar j and when fish or other food is thrown to them
they catch it very nimbly, and immediately swallow it
entire. A young bird of this kind, about five feet in
height, was brought up tame, and presented to the
chief of the Bananas, where Mr Smeathman lived. It
.regularly attended the hall at dinner time, placing itself
behind its master’s chair, frequently before any of the
guests entered. The servants were obliged to watch it
carefully, and to defend the provisions by beating it oft
with sticks : yet notwithstanding every precaution, it
would frequently snatch off something from the table,
and one day purloined a whole boiled fowl, which it
swallowed in an instant. It used to fly about the island,
■and roost very high among the silk cotton trees ; from
this station, at the distance of two or three miles, it
could see when the dinner was carried across the court j
when darting down, it would arrive early enough to
enter with some of those who carried in the dishes.
When sitting, it was observed always to rest itself on
.the whole length of the hind part of the leg. Sometimes
it would stand in the room for half an hour after dinner,
turning its head alternately as if listening to the con¬
versation. These birds are found in companies,and when
seen at a distance, near the mouths of rivers, advan¬
cing towards an observer,it is said that they maybe easily
mistaken for canoes on the surface of a smooth sea, and
when on the sand banks, for men and women picking „ i
up shell-fish on the beach.—From their immense gape,
they have obtained the name of large throats, and from
their swallowing bones^thatef bone eaters or bone takers.
Night heron.—Crest on the hind head white, hori- Nyctico-
zontal, of three feathers j back black ; belly yellowish.raT*
The female has the head smooth and brown ; belly
brownish and white bene ath 5 and the first quill feathers
with a white spot at the tip. About 20 inches long.
Inhabits Europe, Asia, and America. Only one in¬
stance occurs of its having been met with in England.
It is pretty common in Russia, particularly on the Don,
where it builds in trees, and is also met with at Astra-
can during summer. It is said to lay three or four
white eggs, and sometimes to build among the rocks.
It has a very uncouth and rough voice, like that ot a
person straining to vomit. 507
Crested purple heron.—Hind head black ; crest pen- Purpioti.
dent, and composed ot two long feathers j body olive
abeve, purplish beneath. T.wo feet 10 inches long.
Inhabits Asia. > 5?s
Ajrican heron.—Crested j body cinereous j neck, Casjnca
breast and belly, ferruginous ; chin white j neck with
three black lines j bill and legs yellow crest of three
long feathers *, feathers of the breast and rump mixed
with ferruginous j a broad black line from the nape to the
back, and another on each ot the sides. About three
feet long; and smaller than the common heron. Inhabits
Asia and Africa, and has been twice found in England. joj
Common heron.—Hind head with a pendent crest; MajQr-
body ash coloured ; line on the neck beneath and pec¬
toral bar black. The female has the hind head smooth
and black; back bluish and whitish beneath ; and the
breast
Grallse
kzetta.
{ 5”
Egretta.
Plhte
(cccxcvin
%• 3-
Si»
ki'odias.
O R N I T H
breast with oblong “black spots. Bill dusky ; base yel¬
lowish beneath j area of the eyes naked and greenish ;
irides yellow j temples black ; front, crown, and neck,
white above ; spurious wings and greater quill feathers
black 5 scapulars and feathers of the throat long, lax,
and narrow; body white beneath •, legs dirty green.
The weight of this species is about three pounds and a
half-, and the length about three feet four inches. In¬
habits almost every where in fenny places, and is com¬
mon in England. It is a great destroyer both of sea
and fresh water fish, being enabled, by the great length
of its legs, to wade into some depth of water, where it
stands motionless, till some of the finny tribe approach,
when it darts its bill into them in an instant. Its diges¬
tion being as quick as its appetite is voracious, it com¬
mits great devastation in ponds and shallow waters. It
W’ill likewise eat frogs and vegetables. They are fre¬
quently observed to feed by moon light, when the fish
come into the shoaler waters. In the breeding season,
herons are gregarious, and make their nests very near
one another. Pennant mentions having seen eighty
nests on one tree, and Mr Montagu once saw a heronry
on a small island in a lake, in the north of Scotland, on
which there was but a single scrubby oak, which not be¬
ing sufficient to contain all the nests, many were placed
on the ground. The nest is large and flat, made of
sticks lined with wool and other soft materials. The
eggs are four or five in number, of a greenish-blue, and
about the size of those of a duck. Heronries were much
prized in the days of falconry, and some are yet to be
seen in several parts of the kingdom. In flying, this
species hides its head between its shoulders, and its legs
hang down. When it flies very high it presages a
storm. If taken young, these birds may be tamed:
but when the old birds are captured, they soon pine
away, refusing every kind of nourishment. The body
is very small and always lean, and the skin is scarcely
thicker than membrane used by the gold beaters. Lin¬
naeus had made the two sexes distinct species, and
others were long of the same opinion: but later obser¬
vations have corrected the mistake.
Egret, or little egret.—Hind head crested j body
white j bill black j lores and legs greenish ; irides yel¬
lowish ; crest consisting of some short, and two long
feathers j face naked and green -, claws black. Nearly
a foot long, and weighs one pound. Inhabits marshy
places, in temperate regions, in the four quarters of the
world. If we may judge from the bill of fare of the
famous feast given by the archbishop Nevil, these birds
were formerly plentiful in England , for no fewer than
1000 were in that list. It is, however, now become a
very rare bird in this kingdom. Its plumes wrere for¬
merly used to decorate the helmets of warriors, but are
now applied to ornament the head dresses of European-
ladies, and the turbans of the Persians and Turks. Its
habits are analogous to those of the common heron.
Great egret.—Somewhat crested, white ; legs black j.
feathers of the back and breast lax, narrow and very
long. About two feet long. Inhabits South America.
Is shy and solitary, lying hid among the tall reeds, and
feeding by night.
Great heron.—Hind head crested j body brown ;
thighs rufous ; breast with oblong black spots. Above
five feet long. Inhabits the lakes and rivers of Vir¬
ginia, and feeds on lizards, frogs, and fish,
O L O G Y. 519
Blue heron.—Hind head crested; body blue ; bill Grallse.
and lores blue ; legs green. In the female, the head v —
and neck are dusky purple j the chin and middle of the 5*3
throat white, and the back lead colour. There is ac<c,Wta*
subcrested variety blue green, with the chin and throat
white. Another is varied with brown, yellow, and cine¬
reous 5 steel black above; white beneath 3 and wings
and tail greenish. From 16 to 18 inches long. Inhabits
America. Found in Carolina in spring, and in Jamaica,
and other islands of the West Indies, in winter. It has
also been met with at Otaheite, and other islands of the
South seas, where it is much respected. 514
Squacco heron.—Ferruginous 3 white beneath 3 hind Comata.
head with a long white pendent crest, edged with black.
About 15 inches long. Inhabits Europe and Asia. A
white variety, with a smooth head, the upper part,
crown, breast and back reddish, and which inhabits
Coromandel. Has been once shot in England. ^
Bittern; in provincial English, hittour, humpy coss, Stellark.
butter bump, and miredrurn.—Head smoothish 3 body
testaceous above, with transverse spots; paler beneath,
with oblong brown spots. About two feet and a half
long. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and America, affecting
the more temperate regions in winter, and migrating
northwards in summer. Though not a plentiful species
in Britain, it is occasionally found in the breeding season,
in the less frequented reedy marshes, and swampy moors,
well clothed with rushes, where it forms a nest on some
stump, by collecting sedges or other coarse plants toge¬
ther. It lays four or five eggs of a light olive green
colour, inclining to cinereous. At this season the male
makes a singular bellowing noise, vulgarly supposed to
be produced by the bird putting bis bill into a reed. It
is with difficulty roused from its lurking place, flies
heavily, and frequently lights again at a small distance,
so that it becomes an easy prey to the sportsman. About
sunset, it sometimes soars to a great height in tire air,
with a spiral ascent, making at the same time aloud andr
singular noise. Its flesh is accounted a delicacy. ^5
Greater bittern—Head smoothish, black3 body cine- Botaurus*
reous brown above 3 rufous beneath 3 lores and naked
orbits yellow 3 throat white, streaked with black and
reddish. - Three feet nine inches long. Inhabits Italy, ^
Great white heron.—Head smooth 3 body white 3 bill Alba.
tawney 3 legs black 3 bill six inches long5 irides yellow¬
ish 3 lores green. Three feet six inches long. Inhabits
Europe, Asia, and America. Is rare in England. ^lS
Wattled heron.—Back, wdngs, legs and crown black- Caruncula.
blue 3 smooth head and neck white 3 body black be-ta-
neath 5 bill and chin caruneulated. Five feet long.
Inhabits Africa. 519
Minute bittern.—Smooth head and upper part of the Exihs.
body reddish-bay 3 white beneath 3 sides of the neck
rufous 3 wings and tail black. Twelve inches and a
half long. Inhabits Jamaica. ^2Q
Little bittern.—(Male). Head smooth; body brown 3 Minuter
reddish beneath ; tail feathers greenish black; lores yel¬
lowish. (Female). Body browm 3 edges of the feathers
reddish; reddish beneath 3 crown, back, wings and tail
black 3 bill yellow green 3 naked part of the face yel¬
low 3 irides saffron; legs green brown. This beautiful
species is scarcely larger than a fieldfare, and about-
15 inches long, from the tip of the bill to the end of the
tail. The female lays four or five white eggs, of the
size of those of the blackbird, and which are placed on-
o R N I T H
Inhabits Europe and
S2T
Pondiceri-
ana.
522
Coromande
liana.
523
Scolopacea
5*4
Tantaxvs.
5^5
Characters.
525
Loculator.
5*7
Igneus.
528
Niger.
. 529
Ibis.
a few dried flags on the ground.
Asia, but is rare in England.
E. Bill gaping in the middle.
Pondicherry Acrow.—-Gray-ash , quill feathers long
and black \ middle claw not serrated j bill yellow, thick
at the base, pointed at the tip, and a little bent m, gap¬
ing in the middle ; space between the bill and eyes lea¬
thered ; legs yellow. Fourteen inches and a half long.
Inhabits India.
Coromandel White 5 back, wings and tail
black j upper mandible serrated from the middle to the
tip > bill yellow, thick at the base, and pointed at the
tip \ legs reddish-yellow *, upper part of the head with
black lines} lores and chin naked and black ; irides
red y toes connected at the base. Inhabits Coromandel,
and feeds on fish and reptiles,
. Scohpaceousheron.—Brown j throat and breast streak¬
ed with white $ chin and legs white *, wings and tail
copper-colour. Twenty-five inches long. Inhabits
Cayenne.
Gen. 52. Tantalus, Ibis,
Bill long, subulated, roundish, somewhat arched j face
naked-, tongue shortand broad j jugular pouch naked 5
nostrils ovalj feet four-toed and palmated at the
base.
Wood ibis.—Face bluish j bill reddish j legs, quill
and tail feathers black j body white -, biU nine inches
long, yellowish-brown j irides reddish. The male has
the head and neck naked, wrinkled and black blue $ and
the female has the neck gray and downy. Three feet
long. Inhabits New Holland and the warmer parts of
America. Is stupid and slow in flight, sitting on trees,
and feeding on herbs, seeds, fruits, fish, and reptiles.
The flesh is good. Of this species there are two varieties,
the first having the head and neck white, blended with
yellow, the body black, and belly cinereous and the
second distinguished by white wing-coverts, with a black
blotch in the middle.
Glossy ibis.—Head and neck black; legs green; body
varied with glossy-blue, blackish, green and claret; dark
rufous beneath; quill and tail feathers green-gold ; bill
green. Thirteen inches and a half long. Inhabits Rus¬
sia, and was once shot in Cornwall.
Black ibis.—Face, bill, and legs reds ; body black.
From 30 to 40 inches long. Inhabits Egypt.
Egyptian ibis.—Face red ; bill pale yellow; quill fea¬
thers black ; body reddish-white. This is a large birfl,
somewhat exceeding the stork, and measures from 30 to
40 inches in length. The bill is seven inches long, the
colour yellow, growing reddish towards the tip, slightly
curved, and ending in a blunt point. The fore part of
the head, all round as far as the eyes, is naked and red¬
dish. The skin under the throat, is also bare and dila¬
table ; the plumage reddish white, most inclining to red
on the back and wings ; quills and tail black ; the legs
long ; and the thighs bare for three parts of their
length. Hasselquist adds that the irides are whitish,
and the end of ’the bill and the legs black ; and that it
is found in Lower Egypt, in great plenty, in places just
freed from the inundations of the Nile. It lives on frogs
and insects, and is seen in gardens morning and evening,
and sometimes so abundantly, that whole palm trees are
O L O G Y.
covered with them. When at rest they sit quite erect, Grallas.
their tail touching their legs. The same author believes v—.
it to be the ibis of the ancients ; first, because it is com¬
mon in, and peculiar to Egypt; secondly, as it eats ser¬
pents ; and, thirdly, because the urns which contain the
remains of embalmed birds, found in the sepulchres along
with the mummies, seem to contain birds of this size.
Its figure represented Egypt, in the hieroglyphic writ¬
ing of its inhabitants. In that country it is still called
Pharaoh's bird, and builds in the palm trees. <30
Scarlet ibis.—Face, bill and legs red ; body scarlet; Ruber,
wings tipt with black. Twenty-one inches long. In¬
habits South America. Sits on trees, but lays its
greenish eggs on the ground. The young are at first
black, then gray, whitish just before they fly, and after¬
wards grow gradually red.
White ibis.—This species is 22 inches long, and about Attw,
the size of the whimbrel; the face, bill and feet reddish ; t,‘ate»
body white ; tips of the wings green ; the male and fe- cc^c'j111
male nearly alike. Native of Brazil, but towards the
end of summer migrates to the north, and is found in
great numbers in the marshy lands of Carolina, feeding
on dish and aquatic insects. Here they remain for about
six weeks : the fat and flesh of the white ibis are said to
be of a saffron colour, but though not much esteemed, is
sometimes eaten.
Gen. 53. Corrira, Courier.
532
Corkira, |
533
Bill short, straight, toothless; thighs longer than the Characters,
body ; feet four-toed, palmated ; hind toe unconnect¬
ed.
534
Italian courier.—Ferruginous above ; white beneath ; Italics,
two middle tail feathers white, tipt with black ; bill
pale yellow, black at the end, with a large gap ; irides
a double circle of bay and white. Less than the curlew.
Inhabits Italy, and runs swiftly.
Gen. 54- ^colopax. Scoiopas.1
Bill roundish, obtuse, and longer than the head ; nostrils characters
linear ; face covered with feathers ; feet four-toed ;
hind toe consisting of many joints.
The birds of this and of the succeeding genus are with
difficulty ascertained, being subject to differ in appear¬
ance from sex and age, and their colours shading into
one another. The markings of their feet, however, arc
pretty constant, and therefore afford one of the best cri-
teria. 537
Pigmy curlew.—Arched bill, and legs black ; body pygmaa.
varied with ferruginous, brown, and white ; white be¬
neath ; rump white ; quill and outer tail feathers edged
with white. Size of a lark. Inhabits Europe, and is
very rare in England. 538
Common curlew.—Bill arched, blackish; legs bluish ; Arquata.
wings blackish, with snowy spots; lower mandible red¬
dish at the base ; body above, and breast, streaked with
dusky brown ; chin, rump, belly, and vent, white ;
quill feathers black, spotted with white within ; legs
bluish ; toes flat and broad. This species is subject to
vary considerably in size, weighing from 20 to upwards
of 30 ounces ; the length of the largest being about 25
inches. Inhabits the moist and fenny places of Europe,
Asia, and Africa. A rufous and black variety, with a
smaller body, and longer bill, occurs in America. The
curlew
ORNITHOLOGY.
JSrallie. curlew is common on most of our coasts, in winter, when
.—V—i it is gregarious, and feeds on small crabs, and other ma¬
rine insects and worms. In the spring it retires inland,
and commonly to the more northern parts of the king¬
dom, to breed, resorting to the most retired situations
on the heath-covered mountains, or in extensive and
unfrequented marshes. It makes no nest ■, but deposits
among the heath, rushes, or long gras>>, four eggs, of a
pale olive colour, marked with brownish spots. The
young make use of their legs as soon as they are hatch¬
ed, but cannot fly for a considerable time. The flesh
of this species is eatable, but is best in summer, when
the bird feeds on frogs, worms, and water insects. In
5^9 winter it is rank and fishy.
xopus. WhimbreL—Bill arched, and black*, legs bluish 5
back with rhomboid brown spots 5 rump white $ lower
mandible reddish at the base ; body above, and breast
brownish, with dusky brown streaks *, chin, rump, bel¬
ly, and vent, white; tail brown, with duskv bars $
quill feathers black, spotted with white on the inside.
About half the size of the preceding*, but agreeing with
it in appearance and habits. It is also more scarce in
J40 this country.
!§rrt. Black snipe.—Bill and legs red 5 body black. Inha-
m hits the islands between Northern Asia and America.
■dans. Nodding snipe.—Bill black 5 legs greenish j body ci¬
nereous ; crown and upper part of the back dusky red,
and streaked j the lower white, spotted with black. Size
of the common snipe. Inhabits Labrador, and is con-
542 stantly nodding the head.
bh«/s. Woodcock.—Bill straight, reddish at the base 5 legs
cinereous ; thighs covered \ head, with a black band on
each side 5 upper mandible longer, reddish at the base ;
front cinereous5 lower eyelid white; crown, neck above,
back, and wing-rcoverts, ferruginous, mixed with black'
and gray ; chin pale ash ; throat yellowish, with small
dusky spots; body whitish beneath, with dusky lines;
quill feathers dusky, with triangular rufous spots; tail
rounded, cinereous at the tip; legs brownish. Length
15 inches; weight from 1 2 to 15 ounces. This well-
known species is subject to great variety, and inhabits
the northern countries of Europe, Asia, and Africa,
migrating in winter to the more temperate regions. In
Britain it seldom appears in numbers till about the
middle of November ; but some occasionally appear as
early as the latter end of September, or beginning of
October. They generally come to us with northerly or
easterly winds, when the more northern countries be¬
come frozen; and if the frost in those parts where
they breed is suddenly severe, large flights are sometimes
met with on our coasts, where they remain for a day, to
recruit their strength, and then disperse. In England
they are not so plentiful as formerly, when the art of
shooting flying was less practised. A great many, how¬
ever, are yet to be found in the more uncultivated parts
of Devonshire, Cornwall, and Wales, as well as in the
north of Scotland; but they are nowhere so abundant
as in the large tracts of woods in Ireland. In severe
weather, they accumulate, from the moors and inland
counties, to the woods in the wrest of England. It is
one of the few winter birds that occasionally breed with
us. It builds a nest of a few fibres, or dry leaves, on
the ground, generally at the root of a tree, and lays
four eggs, somewhat larger than those of a pigeon, of
a yellowish white, spotted and blotched with rufous
YOX.. XY. Part II. f
521
brown and ash colour. Its usual food is insects and Giallce,
worms, for which it bores with its bill into moist places, ——y——>
feeding principally at night, when its call resembles that
of the snipe. In some countries the woodcock remains
the whole year, only moving in the breeding season,'
from the plains to the mountains. In this country, it
usually prepares for its departure about the middle of
March, when flocks come down to the sea coast, and,
if the wind is favourable, are soon out of sight; hut if
it be contrary, they linger till it change. ^
Little woodcock.— Bill straight; legs brownish ; front Minor.
cinereous ; hind head black, with four transverse yel¬
lowish lines; chin white; body above black, waved
with slight tawney ; yellow beneath. Eleven inches
and a half long. Inhabits America. Its flesh is rec¬
koned exquisite.
Great snipe.—Legs and crown black, the latter with Major.
a pale divided line down the middle, a pale streak above
and beneath the eyes ; body varied above, white be¬
neath ; bill like that of the woodcock; lower feathers
of the body, except the middle of the belly, edged with
black; quill leathers dusky ; tail feathers reddish, and,
except the two middle ones, with black lines. Weighs
about eight ounces; length 16 inches. Inhabits Sibe¬
ria, and very rarely England. ^
Common snipe—Bill straight, tuberculated ; legs Gatlin age.
brown ; body varied with blackish and tawney, white
beneath ; front with four brown lines; crown, bill,
ocular band, and wings, black ; chin pale rusty; tail-
feathers black at the base; rump variegated. The
weight of this species is about four ounces, and the
length nearly 12 inches. It is met with in marshy si¬
tuations, in almost every part of the world, and is verv
plentiful in our own island. In very wet times it re¬
sorts to the hills; but more generally frequents the
marshes of the plains, where it can penetrate the earth
with its bill, in quest of worms. Some few remain with
us the whole year, and breed in the more extensive
marshes and mountainous bogs. The nest is made of
the materials around it, as coarse grass or heath, and
placed on a dry spot, near a splash or swampy place, tke
eggs, like that of the lapwing, being much pointed, and
invariably placed with their smaller ends inwaids. In
the breeding season the snipe changes its note entirely.
The male will keep on the wing for an hour together,
mounting like a lark, uttering a shrill piping noise, and
then descend with great velocity, making a bleating
sound, like that of an old goat, which is alternately re¬
peated round the spot possessed by the female, especially
while she is sitting on her nest The young ones run ( ft'
soon after they are freed from the shell ; hut tic v are
attended by the parent birds, until their bills have ac¬
quired a sufficient firmness to enable them to provide for
themselves. When undisturbed in its retreats, the snipe
walks leisurely, with its head erect, and keeps moving
the tail at short intervals. But it is rarely observed in
this state of tranquillity, being extremely watchful,
and perceiving the sportsman, or his dog, at a great di¬
stance, and either concealing itself among the varie¬
gated withered herbage, so similar in appearance to its
own plumage, that it is almost impossible to discover it,
or, as happens more frequently, springing and taking
flight beyond the reach of the gun. When first disturb¬
ed it utters a kind of feeble whistle, and generatlv flies
against the wind, turning nimbly in a zig zag direction,
3 U and
54tf
Gaailinula
547
Glottis.
54s
Calidris.
549
Tctanut.
O B N I T
aiul sometimes soariag almost out of sight. From its vi-
gilanei' ancj manner ot living, it is very diilicult to shoot j
hut some sportsmen can draw it within range of their
fowlimr-piece, by imitating its cries, and others aie com
tented to catch it in the night by springes. The snipe is
much esteemed as a delicious and well flavoured dish;
and though it is very fat, it rarely disagrees even with
the weakest stomach.
Jack-snipe, judcock? or gid.—Bill straight, tubercula-
ted; bodv variegated; legs greenish; lores blown;
Tump varied with violet; bill black; body variegated
with testaceous, black, violet, and glossy green ; head
with pale yellow and black lines, reaching Irom the bill
to the hind head; breast spotted ; belly and vent white.
Fight inches and a ha.lt long. Inhabits Furope, Asia,
and America. Is found in the same places with the pre¬
ceding, but is more solitary and rare. It will lie among
lushes, or other thick covert, till in danger of being
trampled on, and, when roused, seldom flies far. It
conies to us later than the common snipe, and is never
known to remain in this country during the breeding
season. It is as much esteemed as the snipe, and is
cooked in the same manner,
Greenshank.—V)\W straight, the lower base red; body
beneath snowy ; legs greenish ; bill black; the lower
mandible bending a little upwards; eyebrows and lower
part of the back white ; head, neck, and hack, pale ci¬
nereous ; shafts of the feathers spotted with brown; quill
feathers dusky, spotted with white on the inside; tail
white, with dusky lines; legs very long. Weight about
six ounces i length inches. Inhabits Furope, Asm,
and America. Is sometimes seen, in small flocks, on
our coasts, in winter ; as also in the marshes and tens
contiguous to the sea. Some few are supposed to remain
with us all the summer, and to breed in our fens. Ihe
greater part, however, retire northward to breed, and
are found in Sweden, Russia, and Siberia. Then flesh,
like all the rest of this genus, is well flavoured, and
reckoned good eating.
Jled.shank, oTpocl-snipe>~r-R ill straight, red; legs scar¬
let ; secondary quill feathers white ; bill black towards
the tip ; irides reddish hazel; head and neck cinereous
above; back and shoulders greenish-brown ; wing-co¬
verts cinereous, mixed with dusky and brown, and spot¬
ted with whitish; secondary quill feathers, except the
two inner ones, white towards the tip ; primary dusky,
the four or five inner onestipt with white; line over the
eyes white ; a dusky spot between the hill and eyes;
short dusky streaks on the chin and throat; under part
of the body and rump white, with small dusky spots ;
each of the tail feathers with 12 or 13 transverse black
lines. Weighs about five ounces, and is 12 inches long.
Inhabits Europe and America. Is not uncommon in
some parts of England, residing the greater part of the
year in the fen countries, where it breeds and rears its
young. It lays four eggs, which are whitish, tinged
with olive, and marked with irregular spots of black,
chiefly on the thicker end. When disturbed it flies
round its nest, making a noise like a lapwing. It is not
so common on the sea shores as several of its congeners,
and is of a solitary disposition, being mostly seen alone,
or only in pairs.
Spotted snipe, red-legged godwit, or spotted redshank.
—Blackish, with white spots ; white beneath ; lines on
Gra’la.
5 So
H O L O G Y.
the breast and hands on the lateral tail feathers black¬
ish ; legs red. Size of the greenshank. Inhabits Eu¬
rope, frequenting the banks of rivers, and feeding on
the smaller shell-fish and other vermes. Seldom visits
Britain.
Lesser god wit, jadreka snipe, or stone plover.—Bill Lvmsa.
inclining a little upwards at the point, red at the base ;
body gray brown, varied with rufous ; white beneath;
quill feathers white at the base, the four first without
spots; tail white at the base; irides whitish; cheeks
reddish ; back brown ; quill feathers blackish ; feathers
round the bill reddish white. Seventeen inches long,
and weighs nine ounces. Inhabits the north of Europe,
and is gregarious ; but seldom occurs in Britain. 551
Red godwit, or red-breasted godw it.—Bill a little re- Lappma
curved, yellowish ; legs black ; body reddish-rusty be¬
neath ; bill blackish at the tip; head, neck, breast and
body, ferruginous above, and, except the neck, streak¬
ed with black ; lower part of the back and rump rufous
white ; greater quill feathers black without, the base
white within ; secondary and tail leathers halt black and
half white. Weight about 12 ounces ; length 18 inches.
There is a variety with the head and neck cinereous,
and the chin and belly white. Inhabits Europe and
America, and is gregarious, but rarely seen with us. 552 ;
Common ov gray godwit*—\$\W straight, reddish yel- ^
low ; legs greenish ; head and neck reddish ; three of
the quill feathers black, with a white base ; a broad
white streak from the bill to the eye; body reddish-
brown above ; feathers with a dusky spot in the middle.
Subject to very considerable variety both in size and
plumage. In general, it weighs Irom seven to twelve
ounces, and measures from 15 to 16 inches. It inhabits
Europe, Asia, and Africa; continues with us the whole
year, and resorts to the fens in spring for breeding. In
the winter it is found on our shores, particularly at the
mouths of large rivers and inlets, where the mud and
sand become bare at low water, and where it feeds on
insects. It is much esteemed by epicures as a great de¬
licacy, and sells very high. It is caught in nets, to
which it is allured by a stale, or stuffed bird, in the
same manner, and at the same season, as the ruffs and
reeves. # _ ^ I
Goi/uuV.—Brown, edged with whitish; neck whitish,Leucopa
with small brown spots; chin and belly white; quill
feathers with black bands; bill a little turned up, brown,
with a purple base ; tail feathers white ; the two middle
ones wholly, the rest barred with brown on the outer
side. Sixteen inches long. Inhabits Europe. Regard¬
ed by some ornithologists as only a variety of the ergo-
cephala.
Cinereous *idwit.--\je%!>\ox\'g, cinereous; head, neck, Canesccni
and back varied with cinereous and white; chin and
breast white, spotted with ash; bill thicker than in the
greenshank; tail with cinereous lines. Size of the
greenshank. Inhabits Ricolnslure; but is very lare,
and seems to be imperfectly known. 555J
Cambridge godwit.—Legs orange ; bill red ; body Cantuln
brown ash above, white beneath ; wing-coverts and taile«Bi.
feathers barred with black ; lesser wing-coverts brown,
edged with white and barred with black ; quill feathers
blackish, white within; the secondary barred with
white. Larger than the redshank. Was shot near Cam¬
bridge, and first described by Pennant.
5 Gen. $$-
ORNITHOLOGY.
5 Li
INGA.
Si 7
;aracters.
Gen. 55. TrinGa, Sandpiper.
Bill roundisli, as long as the head ; nostrils small, li¬
near tongue slender *, feet four-toed 5 hind toe of
one joint, and raised from the ground.
558
i'gnax.
5S9
melius.
The birds of this genus frequent the plains and shores*
and hardly touch the ground with their back toe.
Ruffiand /Tree.—Bill and legs rufous 5 three lateral
tail feathers without spots j face with ilesh-coloured gra¬
nulations ; hill sometimes black or yellowish; irides ha¬
zel ; back of the neck with a large tuft of feathers,
which fall off in moulting season. Female pale brown ;
back spotted with black ; tail browfi; the middle fea¬
thers spotted with black; breast and belly white. The
ruffs, or males, are so very variable in their markings,
that two are seldom found alike. Buffon mentions that
Klein compared above 100 ruffs together, and found on¬
ly two that Were similar. About one foot long. Inha¬
bits Europe and Siberia. The male does not acquire
the ornament of his neck till the second season, and, be*
fore that time, is not easily distinguished from the fe¬
male, except by being larger. After moulting, at the
end of June, he loses his ruff and the red tubercles of
bis face ; and from that time, till the spring of the year,
he again, in plumage, looks like his mate. These birds
leave our island in the winter, and are then supposed to
associate with other congenerous species. In the spring,
as soon as they arrive again in England, and take up
their abode in the fens where they were bred, each of
the males (of which there appears to be a much greater
number than of females) immediately fixes on aparticii*
lar dry or grassy spot in the marsh, about which he runs
round and round, until it is trodden bare, wishing, appa¬
rently, to invite the female to take joint possession, and
become an inmate. As soon as a single female arrives,
and is heard or observed by the males, her feeble cry
seems to rouse them all to war ; for they instantly be¬
gin to fight; and their combats are described as being
both desperate and of long continuance, the female, at
the end of the battle, remaining the prize of the victor.
It is at the time of these battles, that they are caught
in the greatest numbers in the nets of the fowlers. They
are also at other times caught by day nets, and are
drawn together by means of a stuffed reeve, which is
placed in some suitable spot for that purpose. The ruff
is much prized as a delicious dish, and is sought after
with great eagerness by the fowlers who live by catch¬
ing them and other fen birds, for the markets of the me¬
tropolis, &c. Before they are offered for sale, they are
commonly put up to feed, for about a fortnight, on boil¬
ed wheat, and bread and milk, mixed with hemp-seed,
to which sugar is sometime's added ; in consequence of
which mode of treatment they soon get very fat. In
the beginning of May the female makes her nest in a
dry tuft of grass, in the fens, and lays four white eggs,
marked with rusty spots.
Lapwing, peivit, bastard plover, &c.—Legs red ;
crest pendynt; breast black ; bill black ; irides hazel;
crown shining black ; crest on the hind head four inches
long ; cheeks and sides of the neck whi'e ; a black line
beneath each eye ; throat black ; bind part of the neck
mixed with white, a h colour, and red ; back and sca¬
pulars glossy green ; S6me of the feathers with lerrugi
nous tips ; lesser wing-coverts shining black, blue, and
green ; greater quill feathers black, the four first with Craila-.
a white spot at the end ; lesser black on the upper half,
White on the lower; belly white; vent and tail coverts
orange ; outer tail feathers white ; the rest 011 the lower
half black, tipt with dirty white; upper white. Weighs
between seven and eight ounces. Is found in most parts
of Europe, as far north as Iceland; and in the winter is
met with in Persia and Egypt. The chief food ol the
lapwings is worms ; and sometimes they may be seen irt
flocks nearly covering the low marshy grounds in search
of these, which they diaw with great dexterity from
their holes. When the bird meets with one ot those
rolls of earth that are thrown out by the perforations of
the worm, it first gently removes the mould from tire-
mouth of the hole, then strikes the ground at the side
with its foot, and steadily and attentively waits the is¬
sue ; while the reptile, alarmed by the shock, emerges
from its retreat, and is instantly seized. In the evening,
the lapwings pursue a different plan, running along the
grass, and feeling under their feet the worms, which
now come forth, invited by the coolness of the air.
Thus they obtain a plentiful meal, and afterwards w ash
their hill and feet in the small pools or rivulets. 1 hey
remain in this country the whole year. The female la)S
four olive-coloured eggs, spotted with black, on the dry
ground, near some marsh, on a little bed ol dry grass
which she prepares. She sits about three weeks, and
the young are able to run within two or three days alter
they are hatched. The parent exhibits the greatest at¬
tachment to them, and has recourse to very amusing ar¬
tifices to allure hoys and dogs from approaching them.
In place of waiting the arrival ol the enemies at the
nest, she boldly pushes out to meet them. When as
near as she dare venture, she rises from the ground with
a loud screaming voice, as if just flushed from hatching*
though, probably, at the same time, not within 100
vards of her nest. She then flies with great clamour
and apparent anxiety, whining and screaming round the
invaders, striking at them with her wings, and some¬
times fluttering as if she was wounded. To complete
the deception, she becomes still more clamarous as she
retires from the nest. If very near, she appears altoge¬
ther unconcerned ; and her cries cease in proportion as
her fears are increased. When approached by dogs, she
flies heavily, at a little distance before them as il maim¬
ed, still clamorous and bold, but never oflering to move
towards the quarter where her young are stationed. The
dogs pursue, in expectation every moment of seizing the
parent, and by this means actually lose the young;
for the cunning bird, having thus drawn them oft to
a proper distance, exerts her jiovvers, and leaves her
astonished pursuers to gaze at the vapidity ol her flight.
These birds, when tamed, clear gardens of worms and
snails. Their flesh and eggs are both reckoned delica¬
cies for the table. In winter they join in large flocks,
but are then very shy. cOo
Gambet, gambet sandpiper, or red-legged horseman.— Gambelt^
Bill and legs-red ; body variegated with pale yellow,
and cinereous; white befieath ; hill tipt with black ;
irides yellowish green ; wing coverts and scapulars ci¬
nereous, and edged with yellow ; first quill and tail lea¬
thers dusky, the latter edged with yellow. About the
size of the gr enshank. Inhabits the northern parts of
Europe and America, but seldom occurs in France or
England.
3 U 2 IFeM
5?1
Nigricans.
562
Interpret.
563
Striata-
.564
Macularia
565
Cinerea.
566
Fuca,
567
Lincoloni
frtjis.
S6S
J-obata.
O R N I T H
Welsh sandpiper.—Blackish-ash ; chin and middle of
the belly white j base of the bill and legs red. . Plight
inches and a half long. Inhabits Glamorganshire and
Caermarthenshire.
Turnstone, Hebridalsandpiper, or sea-dotterel.— I>egs
red; body black, varied with white, and ferruginous ;
breast and belly white; bill black, a little turned up at
the tip •, cheeks and neck black above ; tail black in
the middle, and white at the ends. Female more dusky,
head varied with brown and whitish *, neck blackish
above. Though these are the usual characteristics, the
species is very subject to varieties. About the size of a
throstle *, length nine inches and a hall, and weight ra¬
ther more than four ounces. Inhabits the sea coasts of
Europe and America. Though not known to breed
with us, it visits some of our shores in August, and de¬
parts in spring. T.he name has been given it fiom its
manner of turning up the stones in search of worms and
marine insects. It makes a slight nest on the dry ground
or sand, and lays four olive-coloured eggs, spotted with
black. This species is not uncommon in the north of
Scotland.
Striated sandpiper.—Base of the bill and legs yellow,
tail feathers white, barred with brown 5 most of the
quill feathers white. Nearly 11 inches long. Inhabits
Europe and North America. Feeds on shell-fish and
mollusca, which it searches for at the ebb of the tides,
and on insects which it catches, hanging over the wa¬
ter like a swallow.
Spotted sandpiper.—Base of the bill and legs flesh co¬
lour j all the body spotted eye-brows and double band
on the wings white ; bill dusky } body above greenish-
brown, white, with dusky spots beneath •, two middle
tail feathers greenish-brown, the rest white, with dusky
lines. Female without spots beneath. About the size
of a thrush, and eight inches long. Inhabits Europe
and North America ; is migratory, and is sometimes,
though rarely, found in Britain
Ash-coloured sandpiper.—Cinereous above, white be¬
neath ; legs dusky green •, head spotted with black ;
neck with dusky streaks; back and wing-coverts with
concentric black semicircles, varied with cinereous and
white ; tail coverts black and white ; tail cinereous,
edged with white; breast spotted with black ; membrane
surrounding the toes narrow and toothed. Length about
10 inches; weight from four ounces and a quarter to
five and three quarters. This species, like most of the
tribe, is subject to considerable variety. It inhabits Eu¬
rope and America ; visits some parts of our coasts, in
large flocks, in winter, and departs about the latter end
of March or beginning of April.
Brown sandpiper —Pale brown, spotted yvith black
above, white beneath ; fore part of the neck streaked
with black ; tail cinereous ; wing-coverts edged with
whitish : bill and legs black. Size of a jack-snipe. In¬
habits England, but is very scarce.
Black sandpiper —White, varied withgrayand brown
spots above, with oblong brown and black spots be¬
neath ; two middle tail feathers all black. Size of a
thrush. Inhabits England, chiefly in Lincolnshire.
Gray phalarope, ox great coot-footed tringa.—Bill su¬
bulate, and bent in at the tip; feet pinnate; breast wa¬
ved with white; bill black; front white; crown dusky;
neck pale ash above; back, rump, and shoulders dove-
colour, with dusky spots ; wing-coverts and quill fea-
O L O G Y.
Gralla
571
thers brown; breast and belly white; tail dusky, edged
with cinereous ; legs black ; membrane round the toes
indented. Size of the common purre; weight one
ounce. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and America. Con¬
gregates about the borders of the Caspian sea, and is not
common in Britain. In stormy weather, it swims in
numbers on lakes; but in fine weather, is solitary among
the fens.
Red phalarope, or cock coot-footed tringa.—Bill subu- Hyperba-
lated, bent in at the tip; feet pinnate; breast cinere-rf'3
ous; sides of the neck ferruginous ; bill black ; band
through the eyes blackish ; bar on the wings white ;
rump with blackish bands. The female is gray above,
rufous beneath, with the eyebrows and base of the tail
reddish, and the rump white ; bill yellowish ; band a-
bove the eyes reddish ; bar on the wings white, and the
rump spotted with blackish. Eight inches long. Inha¬
bits northern Europe and America; but is rarely met
with in our own country. These birds go in pairs, and
catch insects in the water with their bill. They do not
dive, and are but bad swimmers. The female makes
her nest on dry ground, and lays four eggs.
Alpine sandpiper, ox dunlin.—Brown testaceous; breast Alpina
blackish; tail feathers whitish-ash; legs brownish; bel¬
ly white ; two middle tail-feathers a little longer.
Weighs from nine to eleven drams ; length of the lar¬
gest eight inches. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and Ame¬
rica, and is not uncommon on our own coasts during
great part of the year. The female lays four eggs, of a
dirty white, blotched with brown round the thicker end,
and marked with a few small spots of the same colour on
the smaller end.
Green ox tvood sandpiper.—Bill dotted at the tip ; Ochropui,
legs greenish ; back brown green ; belly and outer tail
feathers white ; bill greenish ; crown and hind head
dusky ash ; rump variegated ; eyebrows white. Inha¬
bits Europe, North America, and Siberia. This ele¬
gant species weighs about three ounces and a quarter;
length full 10 inches. It is by no means plentiful in
Britain, and, except in pairing time, lives solitary. It
is never seen near the sea; but frequents rivers, lakes,
and other fresh waters. It runs on the shores, or skims
the surface of the water. It utters a cry as it rises, and
sometimes dives when pursued by the buzzard. It feeds
on the fry of small fishes and worms. Though its flesh
tastes somewhat of musk, it is considered as a great deli¬
cacy. It comes to us about the middle of September,
and leaves us as late as the end of April, when it de¬
parts northward to breed.
Shore sandpiper.—Smooth bill, and legs cinereous;
quill feathers brown, the shaft of the first snowy. Near
11 inches long. Inhabits Europe; and is ranked by
some ornithologists among British birds. > 573
Greenwich sandpiper.—Body varied above; neck ci- Grenovi-
nereous beneath ; belly, vent, and sides of the rump
white ; bill black ; legs greenish ; crown brown, streak¬
ed with black; neck ash-coloured beneath ; back and
wing-coverts brown ferruginous, edged with whitish ;
hind part of the back, rump, and lesser wing^coverts ci¬
nereous ; tail cinereous, the feathers waved towards the
tip, which is pale rusty. Size ot the preceding, but
very rare. The circumstance of one having been shot
near Greenwich, has given rise to the trivial name. 574
Sea or selninger sandpiper.—V aried above with gray
and black, white beneath ; legs yellow ; middle of the
back
GmIIoj.
S7S
ypoleu-
S16
nut us.
577
ictus.
ORNITHOLOGY.
back, violet; throat and tail dusky ; four outer tail fea- their sweep
J thers very short, and edged with white. Size of a stare.
Inhabits Norway and Iceland. A small flock of this
species, consisting of 10 or 12, was once observed, some
years ago, near Bexhill, on the 8th of December.
Common sandpiper..—Bill smooth ; legs livid ; body
cinereous, with black stripes, white beneath; bill brown;
irides hazel ; head brown, with black streaks ; eyebrows
white ; neck cinereous above ; back and wings greenish-
brown, with numerous, narrow, dusky lines ; quill fea¬
thers brown, and, except the first, with a white spot
within ; tail rounded, and glossy-green brown. Weight
about two ounces ; length seven inches and a half. In¬
habits Europe and America. Visits this country in the
spring, chiefly frequenting our lakes and rivers, on the
borders of which it makes a nest composed of moss and
dried leaves, and most commonly placed in a hole in the
bank. It lays four or five eggs of a dirty white, mark¬
ed with dusky and cinereous spots, mostly at the larger
end. When disturbed, it makes a piping noise as it
flies ; and, when running on the ground, the tail is con¬
stantly in motion. In autumn it is liable to be much
infested with the hippobosca hirundinis.
Knot.— Bill smooth ; legs ash-coloured ; primary quill
feathers serrated ; outermost tail feather white, without
spots; bill dusky ash ; irides hazel; lores dusky; eye¬
brows and band on the wings white ; body cinereous
above, white beneath ; lower wing-coverts tipt with
white ; chin and breast with minute spots ; belly and
vent with dusky lines ; rump with brown semicircles.
Nine inches long, and weighs four ounces and a half.
Inhabits Europe and America. In Lincolnshire, and
the other fenny districts of England, it is caught, in
great numbers, by nets, into which it is decoyed by
carved wooden figures to represent itself. It is also fat¬
tened for sale, and esteemed by many equal to the ruff
in the delicacy of its flavour. The season for taking it
is from August to November, after which the frost com¬
pels it to disappear. This bird is said to have been a
favourite dish with Canute king of England ; and Cam¬
den remarks that its name is derived from his.
Stint, purre, or sunder ling.—Bill and legs black ;
lores white ; body and rump gray and brown ; head and
neck pale cinereous above, with brown streaks ; back
and wing-coverts brownish-ash, the greater tipt with
white; throat white, mixed with brown; breast and
belly white ; two middle tail feathers more dusky, the
rest edged with white : the legs are sometimes brown.
The country people frequently call it ox-bird, ox-eye,
least snipe, sea-lark, or wagtail. It is nearly eight inches
in length, and weighs about an ounce and three quar¬
ters. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and America. During
winter it is found on all our coasts, appearing in vast
flocks, and especially ailecting the flat sandy shores and
inlets. They leave us in April, though it is suspected
that some remain with us all the year. These birds run
nimbly near the edges of the flowing and retiring waves,
and are almost perpetually wagging their tails, w'hile
they are, at the same time, busily employed in picking
up their food, which consists chiefly of small worms and
insects. On taking flight, they give a kind of scream,
and skim along the surface of the water with great rapi¬
dity, as well as with great regularity, not flying directly
forward, but performing their evolutions in large semi¬
circles, alternately approaching the shore and the sea in
525
the curvature of their course being indi- Grallw.
cated by the flocks appearing suddenly and alternately -v — ■'
in a dark or in a snowy-white colour, as their backs or
their bellies are turned to or from the spectator.
Little sandpiper.—Bill and legs brown ; body reddish Pusilla.
beneath ; outer tail feathers with a white shaft; rump
variegated ; bill tipt with black ; greater wing-coverts
and quill feathers brown, tipt with white ; tail dusky ;
breast and belly white. About the size of a hedge-spar¬
row’, and between five and six inches long. Inhabits
Northern Europe and Nootka Sound; and has been
once or twice killed in England. -,9
Gray sandpiper.—Bill black; legs greenish; body S/giatarota.
gray, white beneath ; head, back, and wing-coverts,
edged with greenish-ash ; cheeks and chin with oblong
dusky spots, and with the belly and rump white ; tail
barred with black and white. Weight about 7 ounces ;
length 1 2 inches. Inhabits Europe and America. Is
not plentiful on our shores, seldom more than six or seven
being seen in a flock, and all of them retiring north¬
ward to breed. In Siberia and Carolina, it is said to
be found in large flocks.
Red or Aberdeen sandpiper.—Bill and legs brown ; Islandica.
body ferruginous beneath; secondary quill feathers edged
with white ; body thickly sprinkled with black, and fer¬
ruginous above ; wing-coverts white on the outer edge ;
rump and Vent whitish, the former waved with black,
the latter with a few black streaks ; quill feathers black,
with white shafts; tail feathers cinereous, with white
shafts. From eight to ten inches long. Inhabits the
north of Europe and America. Sometimes appears in
great flocks on the coasts of Essex and the north of Scot¬
land. In summer it frequents the neighbourhood of the
Caspian sea, and also the river Don. It is perpetually
running up and down on the sandy banks, picking up
insects and small worms, on which it feeds.
Gen. 56. Charadrius, Plover.
5S1
Charajoki-
cs.
Bill roundish, obtuse, straight; nostrils linear; feet 582
formed for running, three-toed. Characters.
The birds of this genus frequent the mouths of ri¬
vers, and the neighbourhood of torrents, and seem to
enjoy rainy weather. From this last circumstance is
derived their French name pluvier, and the English
plotter.
Ring plover, ring dotterel, ox sea lark.—Breast black; Hiaticula.
front blackish, with a white band ; crown brown ; legs
yellow ; upper half of the hill orange, lower black ; iri¬
des hazel ; body gray brown above, white beneath ;
eggs bluish-white, with small round purplish spots. Of
this species there is also a gray varietv, with the collar
and belly white ; and another gray-ash, with the front
and collar white, and the lower half of the tail black,
tipt with rusty ; the former inhabiting Spain, and the
latter America. The more common sort is a native of
both Europe and America, and is a well known visitant
of our shores in summer; usually arriving in spring, and
migrating in autumn, or at least retiring to the more in¬
land parts of the country. It weighs about two ounces,
and is between seven and eight inches long. It pairs
early in May, and makes no nest, but lavs four eggs in
a small cavity in the sand, just above high-water mark.
They are of a cinereous brown, marked all over with
small black and ash-coloured spots. It is to be remark¬
ed
c 25
Oral lie.
ORNITHOLOGY.
5S4
Vociferus.
585
JVlorinel*
lUi.
<xl, that these and other birds nhich lay invariably only
four eggs on the ground, place them so us to occupy the
least possible space, that is, with the small ends touch¬
ing each other as a centre. The ringed plover is great¬
ly attached to its young, and will practise various de¬
ceptions to save them from men and dogs 5 sometimes
fluttering along the ground as if crippled, and some¬
times seeming to tumble head over heels repeatedly, till
it has enticed its enemy to a distance from its young,
and then it flies off.
Noisy plover.—Bands on the breast, neck, front, and
cheeks white ; tail pale yellow, with a black bar ; legs
yellow. Betrveen nine and ten inches long. Inhabits
America. Is very restless and clamorous.
Dotterel.—Breast ferruginous ; band over the eyes,
and line on the breast white ; legs black ; bill black,
depressed in the middle ; front mixed with dusky and
„Tay; hind head black, temples and chin white; upper
part of the neck, back and wings, gray-brown ; line
across the breast white; middle of the belly black, red-
dish-white below ; greater quill feathers brown, and
seme of them edged with white; tail olive brown, with
a dusky baud near the end, and tipt with white. Ihe
female is distinguished by a dusky band over the eyes,
and brown crown. The crown ot this species is some¬
times varied with white, gray-hrown, and yellowish;
the body beneath yellowish, mixed with white; the two
middle tail feathers brown, and the lateral ones white.
Weight between four and five ounces; length nearly JO
inches. Inhabits Europe, and makes this island a resting
statiou in its migratory flights to and from its breeding
place. It is seen on seme of our downs, heaths, and
moors, from April to the beginning ot June ; returns
again in September, and remains till November. On
the Wiltshire downs, it resorts to the new sown corn or
fallow ground, for the sake of worms and beetles, its
principal food. In the autumn it flies in flocks ot five,
six, or more. It is a stupid bird, and easily shot, but
much esteemed for the delicacy ot its flesh.
Long-legged plover, or long shanks.—W bite ; back
and wings black ; bill black, longer than the head ; legs
red, and very long; bill black, slender, tapering to a
sharp point, the upper mandible a little longer than, and
bent over, tire lower ; irides red ; neck dusky spots
above. There is a variety with white and black wings,
and the tail feathers white. This extraordinary species
is certainly the longest legged bird, in proportion to its
bulk, hitherto known ; the length from the apex of the
bill to the end of the tail being thirteen inches, and
from that to the end of the toes, five inches more. It
is rare in Britain, and in many parts of Europe, so that
its manners are very imperfectly known. According
to Latham, it is common in Egypt, being found there
in the marshes in October. Its tood is said to consist
principally of flies. It is likewise plentiful about the
salt lakes, and often seen on the shores of the Caspian
sea, as well as by the rivers which empty themselves
into it, and in the southern deserts of Independent '1 ar-
tarv. It is also often met with in the warmer parts of
America, and sometimes in Jamaica.
Hooded plover.—Bill and feet red ; face naked, ha¬
ving a yellowish carunculated membrane; bead and
CCCXC1X. part t|K, nf.ck black; bind head furnished w th a tew
fi°' short pointed feathers hang.ng tike a crest ; beneath
Gen. 57. Kecurvirostra, Avocct.
white ; body above rufous gray ; under part white. CmJb.
Ten and a half inches long. Native ot Senegal. '
588
Recurvi-
ROSTRA.
Bill depressed, subulated, recurved, pointed, flexible at 589
the tip ; feet palmated, four-toed, hind toe not con-C‘iaract^
nected, very short, and placed high up; nostrils nar¬
row, pervious ; tongue short.
5S6
ffimanto-
fus.
. &
Pilratvs.
Plate
Of this singular genus there are only three species,^^
of which the first inhabits Europe.
Scooping avocet.—In provincial English, butter-slip,
scooper, yelper, picarmi, crooked bill, cobler s air/, &c.
Varicoated with white and black; bill three inches and
a half long; irides hazel; crown black, a white spot
behind and beneath the eyes ; rest of the head, neck,
back, exterior part of the wings, lesser quill feathers,
tail, and under part of the body white; inner scapulars,
and greater quill feathers without and at the tips black;
legs bluish, and very long membrane connecting the toes
indented. Resides in the temperate parts ot Europe ;
weighing thirteen ounces, and measuring, from the tip
of the bill to the end of the tail, eighteen inches. It
breeds in the fens of Lincolnshire, and on Romney
Marsh, in Kent. The female lays two white eggs,
tinged with green, and marked with large black spots.
In winter these birds assemble in small flocks ot six or
seven, and frequent the shores, particularly the mouths
of large rivers in search of worms and marine insects,
which they scoop out of the mud or sand. They seem
to be particularly fond of the cancer pulex, or locusta.
By means of their long legs, they run over shores that
are covered five or six inches with water. In their
movements they are lively, alert, volatile, and difficult
to catch. When the female is frightened oft her nest,
she counterfeits lameness ; and, when a flock is disturb¬
ed, they fly with their necks stretched out, and their
legs extended behind, over the head ot the spectator,
making a shrill noise, and uttering a yelping cry of
twit, twit, all the time. 591
American avocet.—Head and neck reddish ; back America
black, white beneath. Fourteen inches long. Inhabits
North America and New Holland. g j
White avocet.—White ; lower wing coverts brown-
isb ; bill orange ; legs brown. Fourteen inches and 9.Alba.
half long. Inhabits Hudson’s bay.
593
Gen. 58. HiEMATOPUS. HjEMat#
Bill compressed, the tip an equal wedge; nostrils linear;1’118'^
tongue a third part as long as the bill; leet lormed£jiaracje
for running, three toed, cleft. ^
Sea pie, or pied oyster-catcher.—A&iW, eyelids, and legs OAraiez
red, the former sometimes tipt with black ; irides scai-
let; body sometimes totally black ; frequently the head, fig> 3
neck, and body above black ; white beneath ; a small
white spot under the eyes; breast with a white semicir¬
cular band ; middle wing coverts at the tips, and great¬
er entirely white; quill feathers spotted with white on
the inside; tail from the middle to the base white, low¬
er half black ; claws black. Weight seventeen ounces,
length sixteen inches. Inhabits almost every sea shore,
but seems never to quit the coast. Congregates in
small flocks 111 winter, and chiefly subsists on marine in¬
sects
O R N I T H O L O G Y.
tiiallac-
59^
jLAREOLA.
$91
haractere.
59s
[ustriaca.
599
megal-
ms.
6do
'ovia.
601
IIUCA.
602
laracters.
60^
dlinule.
604
loropus.
sects and shell-fish, especially on oysters, which it seizes
with great adroitness. It makes no nest, but deposits
its eggs on the bare ground, above high water mark.
The eggs are generally four, of an olivaceous brown,
blotched with black, and somewhat larger than those
of the lapwing. The male is very watchful at the time
of incubation, and on the least alarm, flies off with a
loud scream, and the female instantly runs from her
eggs to some distance, and then takes wing. It is a
shy bird, but becomes bolder when the young are hatch¬
ed. The latter are capable of running as soon as they
quit the eggs, and are led by their parents to their pro¬
per food. The young are easily tamed.
, Gen. 59. Glareola, Pratincole.
Bill strong, short, straight, and hooked at the tip ; no¬
strils at the base of the bill, linear and oblique j gap
of the mouth large; feet four-toed, toes long, slen¬
der, connected at the base by a membrane ; tail fork¬
ed, consisting of twelve feathers.
Austrian pratincole.—Gray brown above 5 collar
black; chin and throat white, breast and belly reddish-
gray. Very subject to vary in its plumage. Inhabits
the heaths of southern Europe. About nine inches
long. Feeds on worms and aquatic insects; is very
restless and clamorous, and lays about seven eggs.
Senegalpratmcolc.—Bills, legs, and whole body brown.
Nine inches and a half long. Inhabits near the Sene¬
gal, and also Siberia.
Spotted pratincole.—Brown, spotted with white; lower
part of the belly and vent reddish-white, with black
spots ; bill and legs black. Size of the austriaca. In¬
habits Germany.
Gen. 60. Fulica.
Bill convex ; upper mandible arched over the lower at
the edge; lower gibbous near the tip; nostrils ob¬
long ; front bald; feet four-toed and sub-pinnated.
Birds of this tribe frequent waters, and feed on worms,
insects, and small fish. They have a compressed body;
the bill thick, and bent in towards the tip ; the upper
mandible reaching far up the forehead, and the wings
and tail short. They are divided into gallinules or wa¬
ter heris, and coots. The former have the feet cleft ;
the upper mandible membranaceous at the base, and the
wings concave ; while the latter have the toes surround¬
ed by a scalloped membrane ; the mandibles equal; no¬
strils oval, narrow and short.
A. Feet cleft. Gallimde.
Common gallimde, or moor hen.—Front tawney ;
bracelets red ; body blackish ; bill red, with a greenish
tip; irides red ; body sooty above, mixed with olive ;
cinereous beneath ; outer edge of the wings and lower
tail-coverts white ; legs greenish ; toes flat and broadish.
Weighs from 14 to 16 ounces; length 14 inches. In¬
habits Europe and America, and is a very common spe¬
cies, being found in most sedgy and slow rivers, or
streams of water, and frequently in ponds abounding in
weeds, where it can fie concealed. It feeds principally
on insects, seeds, and vegetable productions of various
sorts, in quest of which it frequently quits the water. It
rgns fast, and is equally expert in swimming and diving,
do;
but flies heavily, and with its legs hanging down. A.s
it runs or swims, it is continually flirting up the tail, ’*■
when the white underneath is very conspicuous. The
nest is made of flags or rushes, and placed near the sur¬
face of the water, on some branch of a tree or bush, and
sometimes on the stump of an old willow. The eggs are
commonly five or six, but sometimes nine or ten, of a
light yellowish brown, marked with rust-coloured spots..
The young are hatched in about three weeks, and in¬
stantly take the water. This species breeds twice or
thrice in the course of a season. Its flesh is reckoned
delicious.
Purple gallinule.—Front red; bracelets many; body Porpkyrip.
green ; violet beneath. Fifteen inches long. Common
in most temperate and warm countries. Is docile and
easily tamed. Stands on one leg, and lifts the food tp
its mouth with the other. Feeds on fish, roots, fruits,
and seeds.
. 606"
B. Feet pinnated. Coot. Coot.
Common, black, or bald coot.—Front flesh-coloured ; Atra?
bracelets greenish-yellow, body blackish ; bill yellowish- Plate
white; front, except in pairing time, white; legs yel-CCCXCIX,
lowish green ; outer edge of the wings white. There
are several varieties. Length 18 inches ; weight from.
20 to 30 ounces. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and Ameri¬
ca. It occurs in Great Britain at all seasons of the
year, and is not supposed to migrate to other countries,
but changes its stations, and to remove from the pools,
where the young have been reared to the larger lakes,
where flocks assemble in the winter. The female com¬
monly builds her nest of a great quantity of coarse dried
weeds, well matted together, and lined within with soft-
ter and finer grasses, in a bush of rushes surrounded by
the water. She lays from 12 to J5 eggs at a time, and
commonly hatches twice in a season. Her eggs are
about the size of those of a pullet, and of a pale brownish-
white colour, sprinkled with numerous small dark spots,
which, at the thicker end, seem as if they had run into
each other, and formed bigger blotches. As soon as
the young quit the shell, they plunge into the water,
dive, and swim about with great ease, but they still ga¬
ther about the mother, and take shelter under her
wings, and do not entirely leave her for some time.
They are first covered with a sooty-coloured down, and
are of a shapeless appearance ; and, while in this state,
before they have learned by experience to shun their
enemies, they are often sacrificed to the rapacity of the
pike, the kite, moor-buzzard, &c. A female of this
species built her nest in Sir William Middleton’s lake
at Belsay, in Northumberland, among the rushes, which-
were afterwards loosened by the wind, so that the nest
was driven about, and floated on the surface of the wa¬
ter; notwithstanding which, she continued to sit as^
usual, and brought out her young on her movealde
habitation. The common coot swims and dives wit In
great ease, but is a bud traveller, and may be said not
to walk, but to splash and waddle between one pool
and another, with a laboured, ill balanced, ami awk¬
ward gait. During the day it usually skulks among the
rushes or other water plants, rarely venturing abroad,
except in the dusk, or at night, in quest of herbage,
seeds, insects, and fishes. The sportsman and his dog
can seldom force it to spring from its retreat, as it
will rather burv itself in the mud than take wing, or,,
it
ORNITtlOLOG Y.
608
A lemma.
6og
ffristata.
610
"Vagina¬
lis.
611
Characters.
if it be very closely pursued, and compelled to rise, it
gets up with much flustering and apparent difficulty.
Greater coot.—Front white •, bracelets red j body
blackish. Has much the appearance and manners of
the last, but is larger and blacker. It is found both in
England and Scotland. The French eat it on meagre
days.
'Crested coot.—Blue black •, naked front and crown
red; caruncle red, bifid, erect; bracelets red, green,
and yellow; bill whitish, with a red base; legs dus¬
ky. Eighteen inches long. Inhabits China and Mada¬
gascar.
poultry, and defend them against birds of prey, which Gratia.,
it does by means of the spurs on its wings. It never
deserts the charge committed to its care, and brings
them home at night. It will readily suffer itself to
be handled by grown up persons, but not by chil¬
dren.
Gen. 61. Vaginalis, Sheath-bill.
612
Alba*
Bill strong, thick, conical, convex, and compressed ;
upper mandible covered above with a moveable horny
sheath; nostrils small, placed before the sheath;
tongue round above, flattened beneath, and pointed
at the tip ; face naked and papillous ; wings with an
obtuse excrescence under the flexure ; legs strong;
four-toed ; naked a little above the knees ; toes rough
beneath ; claws grooved.
White sheath-bill.—Bill black at the base ; sheath a
horny yellow or black plate, nearly covering the no¬
strils-/face naked; and in the adult bird, beset with
white, or pale orange warts ; a brown or blackish wart
above the eyes, larger than the rest; feathers white;
excrescences on the wings blackish ; legs two inches
long, and generally reddish. The only species of the
genus; about the size of a pigeon. From 15 to 18
inches long; inhabits New Zealand and the South seas,
and feeds on shell-fish and carcases.
Gen. 62. Parra, Jacana.
631
Parra.
Characters.Bill tapering, somewhat obtuse ; nostrils oval, in the
middle of the bill ; front covered with lobated ca¬
runcles ; wings spinous.
.5l5.
Chilensis.
616
Jacana.
617
Chav aria.
Gen. 63. Rallus, Rail.
61S
Rallus.
Bill
thickish at the base; attenuated on the back to-character
wards the tip ; compressed ; a little incurved and
pointed ; tongue rough at the tip ; body compressed ;
tail short; feet four-toed and cleft.
!
The birds of this genus have the bill a little in¬
flected ; small nostrils; tongue rough ; and the tail very
short.
Land rail, crake, corn-crake, daker-hen,&c.—V ings Crex
reddish-rusty ; bill and legs brown-ash ; indes hazel;
feathers of the body reddish-brown; the upper ones
black in the middle; chin very pale; belly whitish-
yellow. About nine inches and a half long. Inhabits
the sedgy parts of Europe and Asia. From its appearing
at the same time with the quail, and frequenting the
same places, it is sometimes called king of the quails. Its
well known cry is first heard as soon as the grass be¬
comes long enough to shelter it, and continues till the
grass is cut; but the bird is seldom seen, as it skulks in
the thickest parts of the herbage, and runs so nimbly
through it, winding and doubling in every direction,
that it is difficult to come near it. When hard pushed
bv the dog, it sometimes stops short and squats down,
Chilese jacana.—Claws moderate ; legs brown ; hind
head subcrested. Inhabits Chili. Size of a jay, but
has longer legs; feeds on worms and insects; is noisy,
and defends itself by the spurs on the wings. Builds in
the grass, and lays four tawney eggs, speckled with
black.
Chesnut jacana.—Hind claws very long ; legs green¬
ish. Ten inches long; inhabits watery places in South
America, and utters, almost unceasingly, a shrill dis¬
agreeable cry.
Faithful jacana.—Toes long; legs tawney; hind head
crested ; bill dirty white ; upper mandible like that of
the dunghill cock; a red membrane on both sides at
the base of the bill, extending to the temples, in the
middle of which are the eyes; irides brown; hind head
with about 12 blackish feathers ; three inches long,
forming a pendent crest; rest of the neck covered with
thick black down ; body brown; wings and tail
blackish ; wing-spurs two or three, and half an inch
long; belly light black ; thighs half bare ; toes so
long as to entangle each other in walking. About the
size of a cock, and stands a foot and a half from the
ground. Inhabits the rivers and inundated places near
Carthagena in America ; feeds on herbs; has a clear
and loud voice, a slow gait, and easy flight. The na¬
tives keep one of these birds tame to wander with the
621
by which means its too eager pursuer overshoots the
spot, and loses the trace. It seldom springs but when
driven to extiemity, and generally flies with its legs
hanging down, but never to a great distance. As soon,
as it alights, it runs off, and before the fowler has reach¬
ed the spot, the bird is at a considerable distance. It
is a migrative species, appearing with us about the lat¬
ter end of April, and departing in October. On its
first appearance, and till the female begins to sit, tlm
male is frequently heard to make a singular kind of
noise, much resembling that of a comb when the finger
is drawn along the teeth of it, and which has been used
as a decoy. When they first arrive, they are very lean,
but before their departure, become excessively fat, and
are much sought after tor the delicacy of their flesh.
Water rail, brook ou%el, bilcock, velvet runner, &c —Aquatics
Wings gray, spotted with brown ; flanks spotted with
white ; bill orange beneath ; bill black, reddish at the
base ; irides red; feathers of the upper part of the body
olive-brown, and black in the middle; the lower ones
cinereous ; those of the lower part of the belly and vent
edged with rufous ; quill feathers dusky ; lower tail co¬
verts white ; tail feathers short, black; the two middle
ones at the' tip, the rest edged with ferruginous ; legs
dusky red. Length about 12 inches ; weight four
ounces. Inhabits watery places in Europe and Asia.
Though not vt-rv plentiful, it is sometimes found m va¬
rious parts of Great Britain, in low situations, about
water courses and rivulets, where it *eeks shelter among
sedge-rushes, and reeds, and is seldom put to flight, de¬
pending chiefly on its legs for safety. When roused, it
flies only a small distance, and that in a heavy and
awkward manner, with its legs hanging down. It runs
nimbly, and frequently flirts up its tail. The nest is
Grsllir.
62i
’orzana.
623
User.
624
mllith
625
SOPHIA.
626
made 6t sedge and coarse grass among the thickest aqua
J tic plants, or in willow beds. The female lays six or
more eggs, rather larger than those of a blackbird, very
smooth, and of a pure white. This bird continues with
us all the year, and by many is erroneously believed to
be the land rail metamorphosed in tlte autumn, without
knowing perhaps that the latter leaves this country at
that season, and that the difference of the bills alone
constitutes an essential distinction.
Spotted gallinule, or spotted water-hen.—Two middle
tail feathers edged with white j bill and legs pale olive j
bill greenish -yellow ; irides hazel ; head brown, spot¬
ted with black 3 line over the eyes pale gray 3 neck
above, and flanks brown-ash, with small white spots j
back and wing-coverts olive, with black stripes, and
near the edges of the feathers with white spots; the
greater with white stripes and lines; cheeks, chin, and
throat, pale gray, with brown spots j breast brown, with
white spots 3 belly varied w ith cinereous and white 3
vent ochre-yellow. The weight of this elegant species
is about four ounces 5 length nine inches. Inhabits
Europe and North America 3 is migrative and scarce in
England, and seems to have the manners and habits of
the preceding.
Black raf/ —-Black 3 bill red at the base, brown at
the tip 3 legs brown or red. Nine inches long. Inha¬
bits Africa.
Dwarf rail.—Stripped with ferruginous and black ;
body black beneath, with narrow white bands 3 throat
and breast bluish. Size of a lark. Inhabits near the
salt lakes of Dunria.
ORNITHOLbGY.
627
vpitans.
Gen. 64. PsoPHlA, Trumpeter.
haracters. bin cylindrical, conical, convex, somewhat pointed 3
the upper mandible longest 3 nostrils oval and pervi¬
ous 3 tongue cartilaginous, flat, and fringed at tire
tip ; feet four-toed and cleft.
Gold-breasted trumpeter.—Black 3 back gray 3 breast
glossy-green 3 orbits naked, red 3 bill yellowish-greeny
legs strong, tall, brownish ash or green 3 the back toe
a round protuberance beneath, at a little distance from
the ground 3 tail very short 3 feathers of the head downy 3
of the lower part of the neck squamiform 3 of the shoul¬
ders ferruginous, lax, pendulous, and silky 3 scapulars
long and hanging. The agatni of voyagers and others.
Nearly 22 inches long, and about the size of the com¬
mon domestic fowl. Inhabits South America, particu¬
larly the interior of Guiana, in considerable troops. In
its native haunts is not distrustful of man, and is suscep¬
tible of domestication in an eminent degree, acquiring
many ol the social habitudes of the dog. It emits from
the lungs a harsh and uncommon noise, not unlike that
of a child’s trumpet. It stands on one leg, and sleeps
with its neck drawn in between the shoulders.
Undulated or African trumpeter.—Crest of the hind
head short, whitish 3 that of the breast long, black, and
pendent. Size of a goose. Inhabits Africa.
628
ululata.
• 629
| 'laiNjE,
, Order V. GALLINJE.
<>3°
a|acters. Bill convex 5 the upper mandible arched and di¬
lated at the edge over the lower 3 nostrils half-co¬
vered with a convex cartilaginous membrane 3 tail fea¬
thers more than 12 ; feet cleft, but connected at the
Vol. XV. Part II. f
innermost joint ; claws broad 3 toes scabrous below,
and formed for scratching up the ground. In most
species the males have spurs on the legs. They live
chiefly on the seeds of plants, but likewise eat insects,
grubs, and worms, which are macerated in their crop.
They are polygamotis, and build rude nests, for the
most part, on the bare ground, the female laying many
eggs at a time. They collect their young about them
by a particular cry when they feed them, and lead and
protect them till they moult. They are easily tamed,
and are useful on account of their flesh, their esss. and
their feathers. 56
Gen. 6s- Otis, Bustard.
63*
Otis.
632
Bill somewhat convex 3 nostrils oval and pervious 5 Characters,
tongue bifid, pointed; feet formed for running; three¬
toed ; tall; naked above the thighs.
Great bustard.—W*ve spotted, with black and m-
ferns 3 whitish beneath 5 head (of the male) and each
side of the throat crested ; head and tteck cinereous 3
quill feathers black 3 tail with rufous and black lines,
and from 18 to 20 feathers ; pouch beginning undef
the tongue, and reaching to the breast; long, capa¬
cious, and fit to hold near seven quarts of water 3 legs
dusky. The male weighs from 20 to 30 pounds, and
the female about 10 or 123 length about four feet.
Inhabits the open plains of Europe, Asia, and Africa
It is the largest ol British birds, and is now almost ex¬
tinct in our island. It makes no nest, but the female
lays her eggs in some hole in the ground, in a dry corn
field. The eggs are two io.number, as big as those of a
goose, and of a pale olive-brown, marked with spots of a
deeper colour. If during her absence from the nest,
any one handles, or even breathes on the eggs, she im¬
mediately abandons them. Bustards feed on green
corn, the tops ot turnips, and various other vegetables,
as well as on worms 3 and they have also been known to
eat frogs, mice, and young birds of the smaller kind,
which they swallow whole. They are remarkably shy
and timid, carefully avoiding mankind, and being ea¬
sily driven away in whole herds by the smallest dog.
I hey are slow in taking wing, but run with great ra¬
pidity 3 and the young are even sometimes coursed and
taken by greyhounds. T hough not properly migratory,
they leave their usual haunts in very severe winters,
when the downs are covered for any length of time rvith
snow, and repair to the more inclosed and sheltered
situations in small flocks, and even stray to a great di¬
stance. In the Crimea they are seen in large flights,
especially during winter, when the wings and crop fea¬
thers are sometimes so encumbered with ice, that the
bird is unable, in the snow, to take the run previous to
»n consequence of which many are caught by the
hand, or by means of dogs, and brought to market a-
live. The flesh, particularly of the young, when kept
a little time, is excellent. £34
Arabian bustard.—Ears with erect crests. Size
the preceding. Inhabits Asia and Africa. 635
Little bustard, or field duck.—Headandthroatsmooth 3 Tctrax*>
bill gray-brown; crown black, with rufous bands 3
temples and chin reddish white, with small dark spots 3
neck (of the male) black, with a white collar 3 body
above varied with black* rufous, and white 3 beneath
3 X, and
6^6
Afro.
" Plate
cccc.
jis:. n
637
Honiara.
638
Ocdicne-
mus.
ORNITHOLOGY.
About the size of have been mistaken for distant cavalry, i heir strong
jointed legs, and cloven hoots, it tve may use the ex- ^
pression, are \vell adapted both tor speed and oetence.
Their wings and all their feathers are insufficient to raise
them from the ground. Their voise is a kind of hollow
mournful lowing j and they graze on the plain with die
quacha and the zebra. In the interior parts ol southern
Africa they frequently make great havock in the corn
fields, destroying the ears of wheat so effectually, that
in a large tract of land, it often happens that nothing
but the bare straw is left behind. In running, they
have a proud and haughty look, and even when ciosoy
pursued, never appear to be in great haste, especially
when the wind is with them, and they can easily acce¬
lerate their progress by flapping their wings, so as to out¬
strip the swiftest horse. But if the weather be hot and
calm, or if the birds have by any accident lost a wing, the
difficulty of outrunning them is not so great. The ostrich
is one of the few polygamous birds found in a state of
nature, one male being generally seen with two or three,
and frequently with five females. It has been common¬
ly believed that the female, after depositing her eggs in
the sand, and covering them up, allows them to be
middle 5 om j—— 7 , vellow • hatched by the heat of the climate, and leaves the young
^ ®ecent travellers have, how-
and outer edge of the wings white. -- - -
a pheasant; ‘length t7 inches. Inhabits Southern En-
rope and Asia. A few instances are on record ol its
having been found in England. In liance, 1
ouentlv served at table as a delicacy, though the fle
lie blackish. In June it lays from three to ^e eggs,
of a glossy green, and the young are able to fly m Au-
^White-cared bustard.; back cinereous j ears
white •, in the male the bill and legs are yellow 5 the
crown is cinereous, and the wings are marked with a
large white blotch , the neck behind, and thighs above
the knees, have a white collar-, the tad feathers
j 4 : the female is cinereous, and the thighs and bel y
black. Length 22 inches. Native of the Cape of Good
110Ru ffed bustard.—Yellowish, spotted with brown j
feathers of the neck long, whitish, with black shat s^,
quill feathers black, with a white spot in the middle.
Size of a capon. Inhabits Africa and Ara na.
Thick-kneed bustard, stone curlew, or Norfolk plo-
vcr.—Gray two first quill feathers black, white in the
middle ; bill sharp pointed 5 legs cinereous j bill b ack 5
Caliin;
639
Struthio.
640
Characters.
641
Camelus.
Plate
CCCC.
Sir. 2.
a yellow line above and beneath the eyes ;
from the bill, under the eyes to the ears j knees thick
as if swollen belly and thighs white. \\ eighs about
17 ounces j length 18 inches. Inhabits Europe, Asia,
and Africa. With us it is a migrative species, making
its first appearance the latter end of April, or beginning
of May, when the male is heard to make a very loud
shrill noise, particularly in the dusk of the evening. t
chiefly frequents large corn fields, heaths, or warrens,
in open hilly situations j makes no nest, but lays two
light-brown coloured eggs, blotched and streaked with
dusky, on the ground. Its food chiefly consists of in¬
sects and worms, and sometimes also of mice, hogs, an
toads. In the autumn, these birds assemble in small
flocks preparatory to their departure, and are seldom
seen after the beginning of October. When flying,
they stretch out their feet straight behind, like the
heron. The young are hardly to be distinguished from
the stones in which they generally harbour.
Gen. 66. Struthio.
Bill subconical 5 nostrils oval wings short, unfit for
flight j feet formed for running.
Black ostrich.—Feet with two toes ; head small 5 bill
horn-colour j hides hazel j eyelids fringed, head and
greater part of the neck bald, flesh-coloured, with a few
scattered hairs •, feathers of the body lax, black, and de¬
composite ; the webs on each side equal j quill and tail
feathers snowy, waved, and long, with a sprinkling of
black on the* edge or tip chest callous j wing spurs
two, one at the end of the wing, and one on the spuri¬
ous wing thighs and flanks naked , leet strong, ^I'ky-
brown ; toes connected at the base, the outer very short,
and unarmed. The ostrich stands so very high as to
measure from seven to nine feet, from the top ol the
head to the ground from the back, however, it is
seldom more than three or four feet, the rest of its
height being made up by its extremely long neck. In the
sandy and burning deserts of Africa and Asia, the black
ostriches are seen in such large flocks, as sometimes to
ever, assured us, that no bird whatever has a stiongei
affection for her offspring, and that none watches her
eggs with greater assiduity. It is true, that during the
intense heat of the day, when incubation is less neces¬
sary, she sometimes forsakes them, but she always caie-
fully broods over them by night. Kolben affirms that
this species sit on their eggs like other birds, and that
the males and females take this office by turns, as be had
frequent opportunities of observing. Nor is it more
true, that they forsake their young as soon as excluded
from the shell. On the contrary, the old ones are very
assiduous in supplying them with grass and water, are
careful to defend them from harm, and will even them¬
selves encounter every danger in their defence. All
the females which are attached to one male, deposit their
eggs in the same place, to the number of ten or twelve
each, about the size of a child’s head. I hese they
hatch all together, the male also taking his turn of sit¬
ing on them. Thus from sixty to seventy eggs have
sometimes been found in one nest, and Linnseus enone-
ously assigned them to one female. The term of in¬
cubation is six weeks. Jhe nest appears to be merely
a hole in the ground, formed by the birds trampling the
earth for some time with their feet. If the eggs are
touched by any person in the absence of the parents,
they immediately discover it by the scent, at their return,
and not only desist from laying any more in the same
place, but trample to pieces with their feet all those that
have been left. On this account the Africans are very
careful in taking part of the eggs away not to touch
any of them with their hands, but always fetch them
out of the nest with a long stick. Within the eggs are
frequently discovered a number of small oval-shaped,
pebbles, of the size of a marrowfat pea, of a pale yellow
colour, and exceedingly hard. These eggs are reckon¬
ed a areat delicacy, and are prepared in various ways.
From their large size, one of them is sufficient to serve
two or three persons at a meal. The ostrich itself is
chiefly valuable for its plumage j and the Arabs have
reduced the chase of it to a kind of science. They hunt
ORNITHOLOGY.
Giillmse. it, we are told, on horseback, and begin their pursuit at
—* ' a gentle gallop; for should they, at the outset, use the
least rashness, the matchless speed of the game would
immediately carry it out of their sight, and in a very
short time, beyond their reach. But when they pro¬
ceed gradually, it makes no particular effort to escape.
As it does not go in a direct line, but runs first on one
side, and then on the other, its pursuers save much
ground by rushing directly onward. In a few days at
most, the strength of the animal is exhausted, and it
then either turns on the hunters, and fights with the
fury of despair, or hides its head, and tamely receives
its fate. Frequently, also, the natives conceal them¬
selves in ostrich skins, and thus are enabled to approach
near enough to surprise them. Some persons breed up
these birds in flocks, for they are tamed with very little
trouble, and may be rendered very useful in a domestic
state. Besides the valuable feathers which they cast,
the eggs which they lay, their skins, which are used by
the Arabians as a substitute for leather, and their flesh,
which many esteem excellent food, they are sometimes
made to serve in place of horses. It is pleasant to ob¬
serve with what dexterity they play and frisk about in
a tame state, particularly in the heat of the day, when
they will strut along the sunny side of a house, with
great majesty, perpetually fanning themselves with their
expanded wings, and seeming, at every turn, to admire
and be enamoured of their own shadows. They are
very tractable and familiar towards persons who are
acquainted with them, but are otten fierce towards
strangers, whom they frequently attempt to push down
by running furiously on them, and when they succeed
thus far, they not only peck at their fallen foe with their
bill, but strike at him violently with their feet. While
thus engaged, they sometimes make a fierce hissing noise,
and have their throat inflated, and mouth open ; and
at other times, make a kind of cackling noise. During
the night they often utter a doleful or hideous cry,
somewhat resembling the distant roaring of a lion, or the
hoarse tone of a bear or an ox, as if they were in great
agony. They will swallow with the utmost voracity
rags, leather, wood, iron, or stone, indiscriminately. “ I
saw one at Oran (says Dr Shaw), that swallowed, with¬
out any seeming uneasiness or inconvenience, several
leaden bullets, as they were thrown upon the floor,
scorching hot from the mould.” Mr Adanson mentions
two ostriches which afforded him a sight of a very ex¬
traordinary nature. They were so tame, that two little
blacks mounted both together on the back of the largest.
No sooner did he feel their weight, than he began to
run as fast as possible, and carried them several times
round the village, as it was impossible to stop him other¬
wise than by obstructing the passage. To try their
strength, he directed a full-grown negro to mount the
smallest, and two others the largest. This burthen did
not seem at all disproportioned to their strength. At
first they went at a pretty sharp trott, but when they be¬
came heated a little, they expanded their wings, as if to
catch the wind, and moved with such fleetness that they
scarcely seemed to touch the ground. “ Most people
(observes M. Adanson) have, one time or other, seen a
partridge run, and consequently must know that there
is no man whatever able to keep up with it: and it is
easy to imagine, that if this bird had a longer step, its
^ T
speed would be considerably augmented. The ostrich Gallinm.
moves like the partridge, with this advantage j and Iv—'
am satisfied that those I am speaking of would have dis¬
tanced the fleetest race horses that wrere ever bred in
England. It is true, they would not bold out so long
as a horse, but they would undoubtedly be able to go
over the space in less time. I have frequently beheld
this sight, which is capable of giving one an idea of the
prodigious strength of an ostrich, and of showing what
use it might be of, had we but the method of breaking
and managing it as we do a horse.”
Emeu, or cassowary.—Feet three-toed ; helmet and Cassuarius.
dewlaps naked ; bill and legs black 5 gape very large ;
irides topaz j eyelids fringed ; nostrils nearly at the tip
of the bill; eyes large ; helmet horny, reaching from
the base of the bill to the middle of the crown, three
inches high, the fore part blackish, the bind part yel¬
low, temples and neck bald, wrinkled, and reddish, with
a blue or purple tinge, and covered with a few scatter¬
ed hairs *, two pendant caruncles, partly red and partly
blue, on each side of the neck ; chest on which it rests
callous j feathers brownish-black, lax, generally two
from one shaft j no tail wings consisting of about five
naked dusky shafts j claws straight. Five feet and a
half long. Inhabits within the torrid zone in Asia; is
a fierce and bold bird ; kicks with its feet like a horse,
grunts like a hog, feeds on vegetables, which it swallows
whole ; lays greenish eggs, more oblong than those of
the black ostrich; runs very swiftly, and is incapable of
flying. 643
New Holland cassowary.—Feet three-toed, crown Nova Hoi-
flat; shanks serrated behind. Seven feet twm incheslandiw.
long. Inhabits New Holland. 644
American ostrich.—Eeet three-toed, and a round cal- Rhea.
lus behind. Nearly the height of a man. Inhabits
South America; feeds on fruits, flesh, and flies, defends
itself with its feet, and calls its young by a kind of hiss. ^ _
Gen. 67. DiDUS, Dodo. Dimjs.
• • 6a6
Bill narrowed in, the middle, with two transverse charaeters.
wrinkles; each mandible bent in at the tip; nostrils
oblique, near the edge of the middle of the bill; face
naked beyond the eyes ; legs short and thick; feet
cleft; wings unfit for flight; no tail. ^
Hooded dod/).—Black, waved with whitish; headIneptns.
hooded; feet four-toed ; bill strong, large, bluish, with
a red spot ; the upper mandible yellowish at the tip, the
lower bulging near the tip; gape very large; irides
whitish; plumage soft; belly whitish; head large, black,
as if covered with a cap ; feathers of the rump curled,
inclining to yellow; legs yellowish ; claws wanting.
This uncouth species is rather bigger than a swan, and
nearly three feet in length. It inhabits the islands of
Mauritius and Bourbon in the Indian ocean. Accord¬
ing to Helbert, it seldom weighs less than 50 pounds j
has a slow pace ; the body round and fat: and the
stomach so strong as to digest stones. It is, however', so
seldom met with that its true history is little known. ^3
Solitary dodo.—Varied with gray and brown ; feet Solttanus.
four-toed ; eyes black ; spurious wings, terminating in a
round protuberance. he female with a white protu¬
berance, resembling a teat, on each side of the breast.
Size of a turkey. Inhabits the island of Rodrigue,
where it is not uncommon, though seldom more than
3X2 tw®
649
Pavo.
65°
O R N I T H O
two are found together. It makes its nest in by-places,
of leaves of the palm, a foot and a half in thickness, and
lays one egg, bigger than that of a goose. ’I he male
sits in his turn, and does not suffer any bird to approach
•within two hundred yards of the spot when the hen is
sitting. The incubation lasts seven weeks. Some months
elapse before the young can shift for itself. The old
ones in the mean time treat it with affection and tender¬
ness, and are faithful to each other afterwards, though
they may occasionally mix with others of their kind.
The young bird, though timid, is stupid enough to
allow a person to approach it 5 but when grown up, it
is more shy, and will not be tamed. T hey are chased
in the winter season, viz. from March to September,
being then fat, and the young birds are much esteemed
for the table.
LOGY.
Gen. 68. Pavo, Peacock.
651
Christatus
Characters. Bill convex and strong •, head with a crest of feathers
turning forwards j nostrils large; rump feathers long,
broad, expansile, and covered with cye-like spots.
Crested peacock.—Head with a compressed crest; spurs
solitary. It is impossible to describe the beauties of this
well-known species in adequate terms. Its matchless
plumage, as Buffon observes, seems to combine all that
delights the eye in the soft find delicate tints of the
finest flowers, all that dazzles it in the sparking lustre
of the gems, and all that astonishes it in the grand dis¬
play of the rainbow. Its head is adorned with a tuft,
consisting of 24feathers, whose slendershafts are furnish¬
ed with webs only at the ends, painted with the most
exquisite green, mixed with gold. The head, throat,
neck, and breast, are of a deep blue, glossed with green
and gold ; the back of the same, tinged with bronze ;
the scapulars and lesser wing-coverts are of a reddish
cream-colour, variegated with black; the middle coverts
deep blue, glossed with green and gold ; the greater
coverts and spurious \ving are of a reddish-brown, as are
also the quills, some of which are variegated with
black and green ; the belly and vent are black, with a
greenish line. Bqt the distinguishing character of this
bird is its train, which rises just above the tail, and
when erected, forms a fan of the most resplendent hues.
The two middle feathers are sometimes four feet and a
half long, the others gradually diminishing on each side.
The shafts, which are white, are furnished from their
origin nearly to the end with parted filaments of vary¬
ing colours, ending in a flat valve, which is decorated
with what is called the eye. This is k brilliant spot, en¬
amelled with the most enchanting colours, yellow, gildr
ed with various shades, green, running into blue and
bright violet, varying according to its different positions,
the whole receiving additional lustre from the centre,
which is a fine velvet black. When pleased or de¬
lighted, and in sight of his females, the peacock erects
his tail, and displays all the majesty of his beauty, and
he frequently turns slowly round, as if to catch the sqn-
beams in every direction, accompanied with a hollow
murmuring voice. His cry at other times is very dis¬
agreeable, and often repeated. The peahen is some-
what less than, the cock, and though furnished both
with a train and crest, is destitute of those dazzling
beauties which distinguish the male. She lays five or
six eggs of a whitish colour, in some secret spot, where
she can conceal them from the male, who is apt to Galling
break them; and she sits from 25 to 30 days, according *—..
to the temperature of the climate and the warmth of the
season. Peacocks were originally brought from the
distant provinces of India, and thence have been diffus¬
ed over every part of the world. -They are sometimes
found in a wild state in many parts of Asia and Africa.
The largest and finest are said to be met with in the
neighbourhood of the Ganges, and on the fertile plains
of India, where they grow to a great size. In colder
climates, they require care in rearing ; and do not ac¬
quire their full plumage till their third year. In former
times they were considered as a delicacy, and made a
part of the luxurious entertainment of the Roman volup¬
tuaries. The females of this species, like the pheasant,
have been known to assume the appearance of the male,
by a total change of colour, which is said to take place,
after they have done laying. A white variety of pea¬
cock occurs not unfrequently, in which the eyes of the
train are barely visible, and may be traced by a difler-
ent undulation of shade on the pure white of the tail. 652
Iris peacock.—Brown ; head suherested; spurs two; ^a'k<ira
bill blackish ; the upper mandible, from the nostrils to
the tip, red ; irides yellow ; crown black; face naked;
temples white : neck shining brown, with black lines ;
upper part of the back, shoulders, and iving-coverts
brown, with yellowish stripes ; the feathers near the tip
with a large purple gold spot ; lower part of the back
and rump spotted with white ; body brown beneath,
with transverse black streaks; quill feathers dusky ;
legs brown. Larger than a pheasant. Inhabits China.
<*S3
Melea-
GRIS.
^54
Gen. 69. Melkagris, Turkey.
Bill conical, and incurved ; head covered with spongy
caruncles ; chin with a longitudinal membranaceous
caruncle ; tail broad, and expansile ; legs spurred.
American ox common turkey.—Front and chin ca- Gallipnvt.
runculated ; breast of the male tufted. Female with¬
out a spur. Upwards of three feet and a half long. In¬
habits America; and is very generally domesticated. In
a wild state it lives in woods, and feeds on nuts, acorns,
and insects. It roosts on the highest trees ; is very iras¬
cible, and impatient of any thing red. The cock struts
with an inflated breast, expanded tail, red face, and re¬
laxed frontal caruncle, making a singular inward noise,
which when it is uttered shakes the whole body. The
eggs are numerous and white, with reddish or yellow
spots. The females lay them in spring, generally in
aome retired or obscure place ; for the cock, enraged
at the loss of his mate while she is employed in hatching,
is otherwise apt to bre*k them. They sit on their eggs
with so much perseverance, that if not taken away, they
will almost perish with hunger before they will entirely
leave the nest. In a wild state, turkeys are gregarious,
and associate in flocks, sometimes of about five hundred.
They are very swift runners, but fly awkwardly ; and
about the month of March they become so fat, and
they cannot fly beyond three or four hundred yards, and
are then easily run down by a horseman. The hunting
of these birds forms one of the principal diversions of
the Canadians. When the latter have discovered the
retreats of the turkey, which in general are near fields
of nettles, or where there is plenty of any kind of grain,
they send a well-trained dog in the midst of the flock.
J The
rinse.
*55
yra.
O R N I T
The birds no sooner perceive their enemy than they run
1 oft’ at full speed, and with such swiftness that they leave
the dog far behind ; he, however, follows, and as they
cannot go at this rate for any length of time, at last
forces them to take shelter in a tree, where they sit,
spent and fatigued, till the hunters come up, and with
long poles, knock them down one after another. Turkey
cocks, among themselves, are very fierce and pugna-
ciouo, and yet, against other animals, are usually weak
and cowardly. The disposition of the female is in ge^
neral much more mild and gentle than that of the male ;
and when leading out her young family to collect their
food, though so large and apparently so powerful a bird,
she gives them very little protection against any rapaci¬
ous animal that comes in her way, but rather warns
them to shift for themselves. It deserves to he remark¬
ed, that though this species is reared with some difficul¬
ty, yet in its wild state it is found in great plenty in
the forests of Canada, that are covered with snow for
more than three-fourths of the year. It is easily hurt
by hunger or rain. They are bred in great numbers in
Norfolk, Suffolk, and some other counties, from whence
they are driven to the London markets in flocks of se¬
veral hundreds. The diivers manage them with great
facility, by means of a bit of red rag tied to the end of
a long stick, which, from the antipathy that these birds
bear to that colour, effectually answers the purposes of a
scourge. We need scarcely notice, that the flesh of the
turkey is reckoned a delicate food. The Indians make
an elegant clothing of the feathers, by twisting the in¬
ner webs into a strong double string with hemp, or the
inner bark of the mulberry-tree, and working it like
matting, so that the whole appears rich and glossy, and
as fine as silk shag. The natives of Louisiana make
fans of the tail; and of four tails joined together the
French used formerly to form a parasol.
Horned turkey.—Head with two horns: body red,
with eye-like spots 5 bill brown ; nostrils, front, and
area of the eyes covered with black hair-like feathers ;
crown red ; horns callous, blue, bent back •, curuncle
of the chin dilatable, blue, varied with rufous ; legs
whitish, spurred ; tail feathers twenty. The female has
the head covered with feathers, without horns or gular
caruncle j feathers of the head and upper part of the
neck black-blue, long, and decumbent; rest of the body,
as in the male, red with eye-like sjjots 5 spurs more ob¬
tuse. Rather less than the preceding. Inhabits India.
H O L O G Y.
Size of a common fowl, &nd not dissimilar in shape.
Though not much known to naturalists, it is common in
the woods of Guiana, at a distance from the sea. It is
generally seen 'in small flocks, excepting at breeding¬
time, when it is only met with in pairs, and then fre¬
quently on the ground, or on low shrubs, at other times
on high trees, on which it roosts during the night. The
female makes her nest on some low bushy tree, as near
the trunk as possible, and lays three or four eggs.
When the young have been hatched for ten or twelve
days, they descend with the mother, which scratches on
the ground like a hen, and broods them, till they can
shift for themselves. They breed twice a year. The
young birds are easily tamed, and seldom forsake the
places where they have been brought up. Their cry is
not unharmonious, unless they be irritated or wounded,
when it is harsh and loud. Their flesh is much esteem¬
ed^
533
Gallina;.
656
VELOPE.
*57
aracters.
70.
Penelope.
*58
*59
'nanen-
660
'ml.
Bill naked at the base ; head covered with feathers;
chin naked j tail with twelve feathers j legs without
spurs.
Guan.—Head with an erect crest j temples violet.
Two feet six inches long. Inhabits Brazil and Guiana,
where it is frequently tamed, its flesh being reckoned
very delicate. It frequently utters a £ound like the word
jaev.
Jticu or yacou.—Blackish ; crest and first quill fea¬
thers white. Size of a hen turkey. Inhabits Cayenne
and Guiana, It erects its crest, expands its tail, and
cries in a mournful tone, like a young turkey. It builds
on the ground, is easily tamed, and is often domesticated.
Marail fMr&ey.—Greenish-black 5 naked orbits j and
legs red j throat somewhat naked, speckled with white.
Gen. 71. Crax, Cui'cissow.
661
Crax.
662
cccc.
fig. 4.
Bill strong and thick j the base of each mandible cover- Characters,
ed with a cere *, nostrils in the middle of the cere 5
feathers covering the head, turned spirally forward j
tail large, straight, and expansile.
Crested curassow.—(Male). Cere yellow J body Akctor.
black 5 belly white j bill black or horny j cere reaching Plate
from the middle of the bill behind the eyes; crest erect,
black, and three inches long; tail black and roundish,
eleven inches long, feathers fourteen ; spurs none. (^Fe¬
male). Red ; head bluish ; crest white, tipt with black ;
bill cinereous ; irides red ; legs brown. Subject to
much variety. Three feet lotig. Inhabits the moun¬
tainous woods of South America. Lives on fruits, roosts
on trees, and is often domesticated on account of its
white and delicate flesh. They are frequently kept
tame in our menageries, and readily mix with other
poultry, feeding on bread and grain, but they are unable
to bear the dampness of the grass of our meadows, which
renders their toes subject to rot off. Hr Latham men¬
tions an instance in which the whole of one foot was
gone, and but part of one toe left on the other, before
the creature died.
Globose curassow, or curassow bird.—Yellow ; gib- Globicern.
bosity of the nostrils globular ; body blackish-blue, low¬
er part of the belly white ; bill yellow, tipt with cinere¬
ous ; gibbosity yellow, and very hard; irides red ; or¬
bits white ; crest black, tipt with white ; legs pale ru¬
sty. (Female). Bill and legs cinereous ; head and crown
black ; crest black, with a white band ; some of the
feathers of the neck tipt with white; throat, breast,
back, and wings brown ; upper part of the belly white,
and some of the feathers tipt with black; vent yellow*
ish brown ; tail black, with four transverse white bands.
Size of the preceding. Inhabits Guiana.
6fi4
665
Phasia-
NUS.
666
Gen 72. Phasianus, Pheasant.
Bill short and strong ; cheeks covered with a smooth
naked skin ; legs generally with spurs.
The females produce many young ones at a brood, Characters,
and take care of them for some time, leading them
abroad, and pointing out food for them. The young
are at first clad with a thick soft down. The nests of
the whole tribe are formed on the ground.
Common
667
Callus.
O R N I T H
Common cock, or wild cock.—Comb on the crown, and
two wattles on the chin compressed ; ears naked j tad
compressed and erected j feathers of the neck linear, long,
and membranaceous at the tips 5 body, when wild, less
than the common cock j comb large, indented, shining-
red j temples and line from the crest to the eyes naked
and flesh-coloured, a clay-coloured spot of the shape of
a man’s nail, and covered with short feathers, behind
the eyes j feathers of the rest of the head and neck long,
narrow, gray at the base, black in the middle, and tipt
with white ; feathers of the upper part of the body
grayish, with a white and a black streak j breast red¬
dish j greater wing-coverts reddish-chesnut, with trans¬
verse black and white streaks j tail coverts glossy violet j
middle tail feathers long and falcated *, spurs large and
curved. The female without comb and wattles *, head
and neck gray ; cheeks and chin whitish ; body more
dusky, and varied with brown gray and rufous •, and
wants the spurs. Inhabits India in a wild state, is every
where domesticated,and subject to innumerable varieties
in size and colour. His beautiful plumage and undaunt¬
ed spirit, as well as his great utility, have rendered him
a favourite in all countries into which he has been in¬
troduced. The cock is very attentive to his females,
hardly ever losing sight of them. He leads, defends,
and cherishes them, collects them together when they
straggle, and seems to eat unwillingly till he sees them
feeding around him. Whenever a strange cock ap¬
pears within his domain, he immediately attacks the in¬
truder, and, if possible, drives him away The patience
and perseverance of the hen in the hatching, are truly
extraordinary, but are too familiar to most ot our readers
to require to be detailed. 1 hough by nature timid, and
apt to fly from the meanest assailant, yet, when march¬
ing at the head of her brood, she is fearless of danger,
anil will fly in the face of the fiercest animal that offers
to annoy her. As the chickens reared by the hen bear
no proportion to the number of eggs which she produces,
many artificial schemes of rearing have been attempted.
Chickens have long been hatched in Egypt by means of
artificial heat. This is now chiefly practised by the in¬
habitants of a village called Berme, and by those who
live at a little distance from it. Towards the beginning
of autumn, these persons spread themselves all over the
country, and each of them is ready to undertake the
management of an oven. These ovens are of different
sizes, each capable of containing from forty to eighty
thousand eggs j and the number of ovens in different
parts is about three hundred and eighty-six. They are
usually kept in exercise for about six months 5 and as
each brood takes up twenty-one days in hatching, it is
easy in every one of them to produce eight different
broods of chickens in the year. The ovens consist only
of a low arched apartment of clay. Two rows of shelves
are formed j and the eggs are placed on them in such a
manner as not to touch each other. They are slightly
moved five or six times in the course of twenty four
hours. All possible care is taken to diffuse the heat
equally throughout, and there is but one aperture, just
large enough to admit a man stooping. During the
first eight days, the heat is rendered great, but during
the last eight it is gradually diminished, till at length,
when the young brood are ready to come forth, it is re¬
duced almost to the state of the natural atmosphere.
Every keeper of an oven obliges himself to deliver to
O L O G Y.
his employer only two thirds of as many chickens as
there have been eggs entrusted to him j anti he is a-v—.
gainer by this bargain, as it always happens, except
from some unlucky accident, that many more than that
proportion of the eggs are productive. In this way it
has been calculated that the Egyptian ovens give life
annually to near a hundred millions of chickens, -this
useful and advantageous mode of hatching eggs was in¬
troduced into France by the ingenious and indefatigable
Monsieur de Reaumur, who, by a number ot experi¬
ments, reduced the art to certain principles, and applied
it to the production of all kinds of domestic fowls. The
young brood are generally hatched a whole day before
they taste food, and then a few crumbs of bread are
given for a day or two, after which time they begin to
pick up grain and insects for themselves. In order to
save the trouble of attending them, capons are taught
to watch them in the same manner as hens. M. de
Reaumur informs us, that he has seen above two hundred
chickens at once, all led about and defended by only
three or four capons. It is asserted that even cocks
may be taught to perform this office, which they will
continue to do all their lives afterwards. Among the
endless varieties of this species, the English game cock
stands unrivalled by those of any other nation for its in¬
vincible courage, and on that account is made use of as
the instrument of the inhuman sport of cock-fighting.
The Athenians allotted one day in the year to this bar¬
barous pastime •, and the Romans are said to have learn¬
ed it from them, and to have introduced it into this
island. Henry 'VTII. wFas so fond ot the spoit, that he
caused a commodious house to be erected for that pur¬
pose, which, though now applied to a very different
use, still retains the name of the cock-pit. The Chinese,
the Sumatrians, and others in the eastern parts of the
world, are so addicted to this savage diversion, that, in
the paroxysms of their frenzy, they will sometimes risk
not only the whole of their property, but their wives
and children, on the issue ot a battle. Hie cock, it is
well known, is a watchful bird, and crows clapping his
wings. The hen will lay eggs the whole year, provid¬
ed she has plenty of food and cold water, gravel, and a
warm place. After laying she has a peculiar note of
triumph and exultation. Her heat is increased while
hatching, but if put into cold water, she ceases to sit. ^
Courier pheasant.—Tawney white; tail long, and shin- j\jexican
ing green ; a few white spots at the base of the tail.
Eighteen inches long. Inhabits New Spain; is slow in
flight, but so swift on foot as to outrun the fleetest horses. 669
Conwionpheasant.—\k\i\ous, head bluet tail wedged,Colchicu
cheeks papillous; bill pale, horn colour; hides yellow;
cheeks red, speckled with black; in tbe old birds wrink¬
led and pendulous; a greenish-black feathered line from
the nostrils to beneath the eyes; rest of the head and neck
green-gold, with a gloss of violet and blue; lower part
of the neck, breast, back, and rump, shining tawney; quill
feathers brown, v.ith ochreous spots; belly and vent
white; tail feathers eighteen, with transverse black bars;
legs dusky, armed with spurs. lemale less, varied with
brown, gray, rufous, and blackish ; cheeks feathered ;
and, after she has done breeding, puts on the appearance
of tbe male. There are several varieties. This beauti¬
ful bird is about nineteen inches long, and weighs from
two pounds twelve ounces to three pounds four ounces.
It is said to have been brought from the island of Col-
ORNITHOLOGY.
allimc. chis by the Argonauts; is a native of Africa, and very
-v'—”' common in almost all the southern parts of the old con¬
tinent, whence it was originally imported into Great
Britain. Pheasants are much attached to the shelter of
thickets and woods, where the grass is very long ; but
they also often breed in clover fields. They form their
nests on the ground, and the females lay from twelve to
fifteen eggs, which are smaller than those of the dome¬
stic hen. The nestis usually composed of a few’ dry ve¬
getables put carelessly together, and th$ young follow
the mother like chickens, as soon as they break the shell.
The parents and their brood remain in the stubble and
hedge row’s, if undisturbed, for some time after the corn
is ripe. If disturbed, they seek the woods, and only
come forth in the mornings and evenings to feed in the
stubble. Though very fond of corn, they are often obli¬
ged to content themselves with wild berries and acorns.
In confinement, the female neither lays so many eggs,
nor hatches and rears her brood with so much care and
vigilance as in the fields. In a mew she will very rare¬
ly dispose her eggs in a nest, or sit on them at all; and
the domestic hen is usually entrusted with the charge of
incubation and rearing the young. The wings of the
pheasant are very short, and ill adapted for considerable
flights. As the cold weather approaches, these birds be¬
gin to fly at sunset among the branches of oak trees
for roosting during the night j and this they do more
frequently as the winter advances, and the trees lose
their foliage. The male birds at these times make a
noise, which they repeat three or four times, and which
the sportsmen call coketing. The hens on flying up ut¬
ter one shrill whistle, and then are silent. Poachers avail
themselves of these notes, and, unless the woods are strict¬
ly watched, secure the birds with the greatest certainty.
The crowing of the males, which begins in the first
week of March, may be heard at a considerable distance.
During the breeding season, the cocks will sometimes
intermix with the common hen, and produce a hybrid
breed. The pheasant does not appear to pair, for the
female carefully hides her nest from the male; and where
they are in plenty, and food provided for them, the two
sexes are said in general not to feed together. In a do¬
mestic state, they are sometimes more or less mixed with
white, and sometimes wholly so. A variety with a white
ring round the neck, and thence called the ring pheasant,
is not uncommon in some parts of England. This species
rarely occurs in Scotland.
Argus pheasant.—Pale yellow, spotted with black
face red ; hind head crested, blue ; bill yellowish ; orbits
and whiskers black ; front, chin, and throat red ; hind-
head and nape blue ; wings gray, with eye-like spots ;
tail wedged, the colour of the wings; two middle
feathers three feet long, with large eye-spots at the
shaft; feet armed ; size of a turkey. Inhabits Chinese
Tartary and Sumatra. This is a most beautiful bird,
though its colours are not brilliant. It is with great
difficulty kept alive for any time after it has been caught
in the woods. It seems to have an antipathy to the
light, being quite inanimate in the open day ; but when
kept in a dark place, it appears to be perfectly at ease,
and sometimes makes its call, which is rather planitive,
and not harsh like that of the peacock. The flesh re¬
sembles that of the common pheasant.
Impeyan pheasant.—Crested, purple glossy green,
black beneath ; feathers of the neck with a changeable
4
535
670
571
’t/anioi
lustre of gold, copper, and green; tail entire, rufous; Gallinar
larger than a common fowl. Inhabits India, but not »
plentifully, being brought from the hills in the northern
parts of Hindostan to Calcutta, as curiosities. Lady
Impey attempted, with great probability of success, to
bring over with her some of them to England; but af¬
ter living in health on board the ship for two months,
they caught a disorder from the rest of the poultry,,
similar to the smallpox, and died in consequence. They
bear cold, but are impatient of heat. The cock was
never observed to crow, but had a strong hoarse cackle,
not unlike that of a pheasant.—Described and figured
by Latham.
Crested pheasant.—Brown above ; beneath reddish- Cristatm.
white ; vent rufous ; head crested ; orbits red, naked ; Plate
tail wedge-shaped, and tipt with yellow ; bill and un¬
armed legs black ; feathers of the crest whitish-brown ; lfc’ ^
beneath black ; feathers from the hind head to the lower
part of the neck have a white streak down the middle ;
coverts of the wings at the tip and edge white ; quill
feathers rufous ; tail ten inches long ; length of the bo¬
dy 22 inches. Native of New Spain. Frequents trees
in the neighbourhood of water, and feeds on worms, in¬
sects, and serpents.
Painted pheasant.—Crest yellow; breast scarlet; se- Pictusi
condary quill feathers blue; tail wedged ; bill, irides,
and armed legs, yellow ; feathers of the crest silky, and
hanging backwards ; cheeks naked and flesh coloured;
feathers of the hind head tawney, with black lines, and
beneath these green ones ; back and rump yellow ; up¬
per tail coverts long, narrow, and scarlet; wing-coverts
varied with bay and brown ; scapular's blue ; quill fea¬
thers brown, with yellowish spots ; tail feathers varied
bay and black, and 23 inches long. Female reddish
brown ; yellowish brown beneath ; legs unarmed ; Jess
than the common pheasants; length two feet nine inches
and a half. The native country of this beautiful species
is China, where it is called Kin-ki. It bears confine¬
ment well, and will breed readily in that state. The
eggs are redder than those of the common pheasant, and
somewhat resemble those of the Guinea fowl. An in¬
stance of their breeding with the common pheasant is
mentioned by Bulfon. Edwards informs us, that some
females of this species, kept by Lady Essex, in the space
of six years gradually gained the male feathers ; and
we are told, that it is not unusual for the hen birds,
when about four or five years old, to be neglected by
the cocks, and gradually to gain the plumage of the
males. _ _ 6?4
Superb pheasant.—Unarmed ; rufous, varied with Superlms..
green and blue; caruncles of the front rounded ; wat¬
tles awl-shaped ; bill and body red ; each side of the
neck with long feathers turned back ; crown green ;
the hind part with a folding blue crest; shoulders green,
spotted with white; primary quill feathers blue ; tail
long, wedged, the feathers varied with blue and red ;
coverts declined, and of various mixed colours; legs yel¬
low. Inhabits China.
Gen. 73. Numida, Pintado, or Guinea Fowl.
675
Numjda.
675
Bill strong and short; the base covered with a carun- Charactci's.
culated cere* receiving the nostrils; head horned,
with a compressed coloured callus ; tail short, bending
down ; body speckled.
Common
53^
O R N I T H
Common Guinea A™.—Caruncles at tlie gape iloublc,
w-v—^ and no gular fold; bill of a reddish horn colour ; head
^77 blue •, the crown with a conical, compressed, bluish red
Meleagris. protuberance ; upper part of the neck bluish ash, almost
naked •, lower feathered, verging to violet j body black,
with round white spots-, legs gray brown; gular ca¬
runcle of the male bluish j of the lemale red. 1 here is
a variety with the breast white, and another with the
body entirely white somewhat larger than the com¬
mon hen. Inhabits Africa, and is domesticated in most
parts of Europe, the West Indies, and America. It
formed a part of the Roman banquets, and is mow
much esteemed as a delicacy, especially when young.
The female lays a great number of eggs, which she
frequently secrets till she has produced her young
brood. The eggs are smaller than those of a common
hen, and of a rounder shape, and are delicious eating.
The Guinea hen is a restless and very clamorous bird,
and has a harsh creaking note, which is peculiarly gra¬
ting and unpleasant. Like the common domestic fowl
it scrapes the ground, and rolls in the dust to free itself
from Insects. During the night it perches on
places, and, if disturbed, alarms the neighbourhood by
its unceasing cry. In its natural state of freedom, it is
said to prefer marshy places. It is easily tamed, but
often abandons its young.
t™1 Ge"-74- Teteao.
, 679 j^ear the eyes, a spot which is either naked or papil-
C aracieis. ]0USj or rarely covered with leathers.
The birds of this genus have a strong convex billy
grouse, partridges, and quails, agree in having a short
convex bill. The grouse chiefly inhabits the colder re¬
gions, and is distinguished by small nostrils, hid under
the feathers j an acute tongue strong feet} and a piet-
ty long tail. Partridges and quails are less in size j have
a short tail and their nostrils covered above-with a cal¬
lous prominent margin. They inhabit the temperate
and even the warmer climates. 'Ihe tinamous are a
tribe peculiar to Guiana, and approach the pheasant in
manners. Their bill is longer and obtuse at the apex ,
the nostrils are placed in the middle 5 their gape is very
wide ; the throat thinly covered with feathers-, the tail
very short} the back-toe short, and useless for running.
The female is larger than the male.
GrolS A. Spot over the eyes,naked; legs downy. Grouse.
Uro&alhis Wood grouse, cock of the wood, or capercailzie.—Ta.i\
' r gi ' rounded j armpits white y bill horn colour-, spot above
the eyes scarlety irides hazel -, nostrils covered with
short feathers -, feathers of the chin black, longer-, head
and neck cinereous, with fine transverse black lines j body
bay with blackish lines above -, breast blackish green -,
belly and vent black, varied with white -, tail feathers
• 18, each side spotted with white 5 legs robust, and
brown -, toes pectinated at the edge. Of the female
the bill is dusky -, chin red ; body with alternate red
and black transverse lines above j breast with a few
white spots, the lower part orange -, belly spotted with
pale orange and black, the feathers tipt with white 5
shoulders black, the feathers edged with black and pale
tawney, and tipt with white j tail rusty, barred with
black, and tipt with white. In size, this species is little
inferior to a turkey, and sometimes weighs 12 or 13,
Gal’irll
tot
O L O G Y.
hut more frequently seven or eight pounds. Ihe male
is two feet nine inches, and the female two feet two 1
indies long. Inhabits the mountainous and woody parts
of Europe and northern Asia. It is not uncommon in
the pine-forests of Normandy, in Russia and Siberia, in
Italy, and several parts ot the Alps. In Scotland and
Ireland it is nearly extinct. It feeds on the berries of
the juniper and vaccinium, and on the seeds of the pine
tribe and other trees. It is a solitary bird, except in
the season of love, when, in the beginning of February,
perched on the top of a tree, it calls the females about
it with a loud voice, its tail expanded, its wings hang-
-ing down to its feet, its neck stretched out, and the fea¬
thers of its head erected. The female builds on the
ground among mosses, and lays from eight to sixteen
eggs. The flesh of this species is much esteemed, and
its eggs are accounted preferable to those of every other
bird. They are white, spotted with yellow, and larger
than those of the common ben. The young follow the
hen as soon as they are hatched, and sometimes with part
of the shell attached to them. ^ osz
Black game, black grouse, or black cock, y ioiet
black -, tail forked $ secondary quill feathers white to¬
wards the base} bill black ; body shining glaucous-
black; wing-coverts black brown; four first quill lea¬
thers black, the rest white at the base ; tail feathers
from 16 to 18, black, legs black brown ; toes pectina¬
ted. Female less; the weight ol an old cock is nearly
four pounds, but that of the female is not often more
than two. Length about 23 inches : there are several
varieties. Inhabits mountainous and woody parts of
Europe. In Britain it is chiefly confined to the north¬
ern parts of the kingdom, and especially to the High¬
lands of Scotland ; population and culture having driven
them from the south, except in a few of the more wild
uncultivated parts, as in the New Forest in Hampshire,
Dartmoor and Sedgemoor in Devonshire, and the heathy
hills in Somersetshire contiguous to the latter. It also
occurs in Staffordshire, North Wales, and the north of
England. It feeds principally on the tops ol heath ai d
birch, except when the mountain berries are ripe, at
which time it devours bilberries and craneberries with
the greatest voracity. In the month of April the male
places himself on an eminence, at morning dawn, and
invites the females by crowing and clapping his wings.
The males are polygamous, and fight desperately for the
females. They afterwards associate peaceably in small
packs, are fond of wood, heathy, and mountainous situ¬
ations ; but occasionally visit the corn fields in autumn,
retiring wholly to woods in the winter, and perching on
trees. It is somewhat remarkable that they are killed
by eating cherries or pears. The female forms an ai t-
less nest on the ground, and lays six or eight eggs, ot a
dull yellowish white colour, marked with numerous very
small ferruginous specks, and with blotches of the same
towards the smaller end. The young are hatched very
late in summer. The young males quit their parent in
the beginning of winter, and keep together in flocks ot
seven or eight till the spring. They do not acquire
their male garb till towards the end ot autumn, when
the plumage gradually changes to a deeper colour, and
assumes that of a bluish-black, which it afterwards
retains. „. . ^
Ptarmigan, white grouse, or white game.—C1 nereous; Ugap
toes downy ; quill feathers white; tail feathers black,,
683
rallin*.
fiS4
685
uido.
6S6
tiasia.
687
agen or
ticus.
0 R N I T H O
tipt \Vltll White, the hiiddle fines white j body, in sum¬
mer, cinereous, varied with white and brown, in winter
nearly all white $ but in all seasons the lateral tail fea¬
thers are black, tipt with white j legs and toes covered
with a thick wool like a hare’s. From 14 to 15 inch¬
es long. Inhabits the Alpine parts of Europe and Si¬
beria. In this country it is met with only on the sum¬
mits of our highest hills, chiefly in the Highlands of
Scotland, and sometimes, but rarely, On the lofty hills of
Cumberland and Wales. As the snow melts on the sides
of the mountains, it constantly ascends till it gains the
summit, where it forms holes, and burrows in the snow.
These birds pair at the same time with the red grouse $
the female lays eight Or ten white eggs, spotted with
brown, not in any regular nest but on the ground. In
winter they fly in flocks, and are so little accustomed to
the sight of man, that they are easily shot, or taken in
a snare. They feed on tile wild productions of the hills,
as the buds of trees, the young shoots of pines, the heath,
crow-berry, rhododendron, &.c. They run swiftly, fly
heavily, are impatient of the sun and wind, and are un¬
susceptible of domestication. The flesh of the young
is accounted a great delicacy. That of the full-grown
birds has sometimes a bitter, but not unpalatable taste :
it is also dark coloured, and, according to Buffon, ap¬
proaches in flavour to that of the hare.
White grouse.—Orange, varied with black bands and
white blotches ; toes downy ; tail feathers black, tipt
with white ; the middle ones entirely white ; bill black j
belly and legs white claws broad and flat. Upwards
ol 16 inches long. Inhabits the woods of Europe and
Asia, and, like the preceding, grows white in winter.
Pinnatedgrouse.— Back of the neck with supplemen¬
tal wings, which are wanting in the female. The male
is smaller than a partridge. Inhabits North America j
feeds chiefly on acorns 5 and at sunrise erects his neck
and wings, and sings for the space of half an hour.
Hazel grouse.—-'I ail feather cinereous, with black
spots and a black band, except the two middle ones.
Fourteen inches long. Inhabits the hazel woods of
Europe ; feeds on catkins j when terrified, erects the
feathers of the crown.
Redgrouse,or moorcoch.—Transversely streaked with
rufous and blackish j six Outer tail feathers blackish on
each side ; caruncle on the eyebrows lunated and scar¬
let ; greater quill-feathers brown 5 tail feathers sixteen,
the four middle ones the Colour of the back, the rest
blackish. Length fifteen inches; weight about nine¬
teen ounces. This species is only-to be met with in the
extensive uncultivated wastes that are covered with
heath, particularly the most mountainous situations, ha¬
ving been driven from the south by cultivation. It
still occurs in the mountains of Wales, and in the moor¬
lands of Yorkshire and the north of England, but is
no where so plentiful as in the Highlands of Scotland,
and in the waste moors of North Britain in general.
It is also found in the Western islands, and in the moun¬
tains and bogs of Ireland } but seems to be unknown on
the continent of Europe, those mentioned by BufFon as
natives of France, Spain, Italy, &c. either forming a
distinct species, or at least a variety. Linnaeus did not
seem to be acquainted with it, and Gmelin gave it as a
variety of the ptarmigan. The red grouse never re¬
sort to woods, but confine themselves wholly to the open
hioors, feeding on the mountain and bog berries; and,
Yol. XV. Fart II. ' f
LOGY. 537
in defect of these, on the tops of the heath. They pair GalHme.
in the spring j and the female lays from 8 to 14 eggs, 1
much like those of the black grouse, but smaller, on
the ground. The young keep with the parent birds till
towards winter, and are called a pack, or brood. In
November they flock together in greater numbers, some¬
times to the amount of thirty or forty, and are then ex¬
tremely shy and difficult to be shot.
B.
Orbits granulated ; legs naked.
a. Legs of the male armed with a spur. Partridge. Partridge.
, ' w 689
Gt'eek or 7'cd partridge.—Bill and legs blood-red \ Rufus,
chin white, surrounded with a black band, and spotted
with white } feathers of the sides with a double black
stripe ; tail feathers fourteen,cinereous,the five outer ru¬
fous for the last half. Rather larger than the next spe¬
cies. Inhabits various parts of southern Europe, Asia,
Africa, and the Greek islands. A variety, called the
Guernsey or red-legged partridge, has sometimes been
found on the Suffolk or Norfolk coasts. It is distin¬
guished by a single black stripe on the feathers of the
sides, and sixteen tail feathers, of which the five outer
are rufous on each side. The red partridge frequently
perches on a tree, and will breed in confinement, which
the common one is never known to do. 690
Common partridge.-*-A. naked scarlet spot under the Perdue.
eyes tail ferruginous j breast brown j legs white ; face
yellowish 5 cap and neck waved ash j quill feathers
brown, with ferruginous bands; tail feathers eighteen,
lower part of the breast with two chesnut spots. Seve¬
ral varieties of this species are enumerated by ornitholo¬
gists, but most of them appear to be accidental. Length
about 13 inches j weight 15 ounces. Inhabits Europe
and Asia, though chiefly in temperate regions, the ex¬
tremes of heat and cold being equally unfavourable to
it. They are nowhere in greater plenty than in this
island, where, in their season, they contribute to our most
elegant entertainments. They haunt corn fields, and
are never found at any distance from arable land. They
pair early in the spring; and the female is very proli¬
fic, laying from 12 to 20 eggs. It makes no nest, but
scrapes a small bole in the ground, and throws into it a
few contiguous fibres, on which to deposit the eggs. The
old birds sit very close on the latter when near hatching.
The incubation lasts three weeks, and the young birds
learn to run as soon as hatched, frequently with part of
the shell sticking to them. It is no uncommon thing
to introduce partridges eggs under the common hen,
who hatches and rears them as her own : but, in this
case, the young birds require to be fed with the larvas
of ants, which are their favourite food, and without
which it is almost impossible to rear them. They like¬
wise eat insects, and, when full grown, feed on all kind«
of grain and young plants. “ The affection of the parw
tridge for her young (says Mr Bewick), is peculiarly
strong and lively ; she is greatly assisted in the care of
rearing them by her mate: they lead them out in com¬
mon, call them together, point out to them their proper
food, and assist them in finding it by scratching the
ground with their feet; they frequently sit close by each
other, covering the chickens with their wings like the
hen. In this situation they are not easily flushed 5 the
sportsman, who is attentive to the preservation of his
game, will carefully avoid giving any disturbance to a
3 Y scent
538
Gallinse.
^
O R N I T H O LOG Y.
Quail
602
Viridis.
69.I
Califomi-
694
Suscilator.
695
'Sinensis.
6q6
Coturnix.
scene so: truly Interesting •, but should the pointer come
' too near, or unfortunately run in upon them, there arc
few who are ignorant of the contusion that to lows . the
male first gives the signal of alarm by a peculiar ciy o
distress, throwing himself at the same moment more im¬
mediately into the way of danger, in order to deceive
or mislead the enemy ; he flies or rather run, along the
ground, hanging his wings, and exhibiting o'eiy > 1
tom of debility, whereby the dog is decoyed, in the too
eager expectation of an easy prey, to a distance horn th
covey ; the female flies off in a contrary direct ion, and
to a greater distance, but returning soon after by seciet
ways? she finds her scattered brood closely squatted a-
mong the grass, and, collecting them with haste, she
leads them from the danger, before the dog has had
time to return from his pursuit.”
b. Legs without a spur. Quail.
Green rW.-Green ; bill and legs reddish •, wings
chesnut, speckled with black •, bill a little bent at the
tip j hind toe unarmed j tail and vent black. Between
11 and 1 2 inches long. .
Californian quail.—Lead colour ; crown with an up¬
right crest; throat black, edged with white ; belly yel¬
lowish brown, wit!, black crescents. The female wants
the black throat and whitish margin. Larger than the
common quail. Inhabits California. ,
Noisy quail.—Varied with yellowish, rufous, black,
and gray ; bill longer than in others of the genus.
A very clamorous bird, which inhabits the woods in
Chinese quail.—Body spotted with gray •, th. oat
black, with a white arch. From four to six inches
lomr. Inhabits China and the Philippine isles, and is
carried alive by the Chinese, in the winter, between
their hands, for'the purpose of warming them.
Common o?m?7.-*-Body spotted with gray ; eyebrows
white ; tail feathers with a ferruginous edge and cre¬
scent ; bill black; head black, varied with rufous; a
yellowish streak down the middle of the crown and
neck ; feathers of the neck rusty brown, varied with
gray ; the shafts with a longitudinal yellowish streak ;
body beneath dirty ochreous; throat and breast reddish;
quill feathers gray brown, vyith rufous bars on the out¬
side ; tail feathers twelve, with reddish and black lines;
legs brownish. Seven inches and a half long. Inha¬
bits Europe, Asia, and Africa. When these birds mi¬
grate to and from the north, they are found in prodi¬
gious quantities in all the islands ol the Archipelago.
One hundred thousand, it is said, have been taken m one
flay on the west coast of the kingdom of Naples. A
small portion only extend their flight to this country.
With us they appear about the beginning of May, in
our cultivated champaign districts, though not in such
numbers as formerly. On their first arrival, the males
are constantly uttering a whistling noterthiice successive¬
ly repeated, which being imitated by a whistle or quail-
call, they are easily enticed into a net. Before the re¬
volution, great quantities used to be sent alive from
France to the London market. In confinement they
fatten, and seem to lose much of their fierce and pug¬
nacious disposition. The female deposits eight or ten
yellowish eggs, blotched, or spotted with dusky, on the
bare ground, and usually with us among green wheat.
The young birds follow the mother as soon as hatched,
but do not continue long together; for they are scarce. Gallin
ly grown up when they separate, or, if kept together,v-
they fight obstinately, and frequently destroy one ano¬
ther. From this quarrelsome disposition it was, that the
Greeks and Romans used them as game cocks ; and
that the Chinese, and some of the Italians .are, at this
day, addicted to the diversion of quail-fighting. After
feeding two quails very highly, they place them opposite
to each other, and throw in a few grains of seed be¬
tween them, when the birds rush on each other with the
utmost fury, striking with their bills and heels till one
of them yields.
697
C. Orbits with a few feathers ; legs naked, four-toed, Timm, .
and unarmed. Timmons. cJane-
Cayenne tinamous.—Bill anti legs brown; back asby-
brown, varied with blackish stripes; chin cinereous; bel¬
ly pale orange. Eleven inches long. Inhabits Cayenne
and Guiana. , -u 11 1 nr ^95
Great tinamous.—Legs yellowish-brown ; bill black; Major.
crown rufous ; body olive ; back and tail with black
spots. Eighteen inches long,, inhabits the waiods oi
South America ; roosts on the lower branches of trees;
feeds on worms, insects, seeds and fruits; builds twice a-
year, at the root of a large tree, and lays from twelve
to fifteen green eggs. _ , 1 ,1c’00
Little tinamous.—Bill and legs yellow; head and Son.
neck black; body brown above, rufous beneath; chin
mixed with white; quill feathers brown. Nine inches
long. Inhabits Guiana. Builds an hemispherical nest
in the branches ol trees.
Order VI. PASSERES.
7011
Passes:
7°2
Bill conical, pointed ; nostrils oval, pervious, and na-Characj
ked.
The birds of this order have the feet formed for walk¬
ing or hopping. They live, some at the time of breed¬
ing, and others constantly, in monogamy. Some which
feed on the seeds of plants have a short bill, others that
live on insects and worms are generally furnished with
a longer bill. They nestle on trees, in hushes, in houses,
and on the ground. They often build very artificial
nests, and feed their young with their bilk 1 his order
includes all the singing birds ; the males are the song¬
sters. They are for the most part eatable.
Gen. 75. Columba, Pigeon.
n
COLUM
70J
Bill straight, descending towards the tip; nostrils ob-Qara(
long, and half covered with a soft tumid membrane.
The birds of this genus have a weak and slender bill,
short feet, and many of them red toes, divided to their
origin. They extend their residence even to the arctic
regions. They drink much, and not at intervals like
other birds, but by continuous draughts like quadrupeds.
Their note is plaintive or mournful. They form the
connecting link between this and the preceding order;
but are more nearly related to the passerine tribes, m
being monogamous, in caressing each other by their bills,
in the male and female alternately hatching, m both
ioining to feed the young, in laying but few eggs, anti
‘in their nidiheation. Of upwards of seventy species
which belong to this genus, only five or six are natives
Useres
''3S
i ks.
O R N
The etrs-s of all the
I T
of Great Britain,
white.
A. Tail even and moderate
species are
706
ncstica.
°7
nata.
oS
£ ata.
* ’fit/us.
Common or stock pigeon, or stock dove.—Bluish 5 neck
above glossy green-, double band on the wings, and tip
of the tail blackish throat and breast claret colour •,
claws black. Length 13 or 14 inches; weight 11
ounces. Inhabits Europe and Siberia; is wild in many
places, but is kept in pigeon-houses every where, and
is the parent stock whence all the varieties of the do¬
mestic pigeon are derived, and is on that account called
the stock-dove. It build in towers, in caverns of rocks,
and in cliffs in unfrequented islands. On the approach
of winter, it migrates southward. It is gregarious ; lays
two eggs, and breeds several times in the year.
Domestic pigeon.—Cinereous; rump white; band on
the wings, and tip of the tail blackish. The varieties
are, however, very numerous, and not easily reducible to
distinct descriptions. Some of the more remarkable are,
the rock, Roman, Barhary, jacobinc, shaker, tumbler,
carrier, horseman, and turner pigeons. From 14 to 15
inches long. Inhabits and is domesticated in almost
every part of Europe and Asia, and lays from nine to
11 times a year. Though only two eggs are laid at a
time, at the expiration of four years, the produce and
descendants of a single pair may amount to nearly
15,000. A composition of loam, old rubbish and salt,
will not only entice birds of this species to remain in a
required spot, hut will even decoy those belonging to
other places, and is therefore prohibited by law. The
carrier pigeon is easily distinguished from the other va¬
rieties, by a broad circle of naked white skin round the
eyes, and by its dark blue or blackish colour. rI he bird
is conveyed from its home to the place whence the in¬
formation is intended to be sent; the letter is tied under
its wing, and it is let loose. From the instant ot its
liberation, its flight is directed through the clouds, at
an amazing height, to its home, and it darts onward in
a straight line to the very spot from which it was taken,
by virtue of some faculty or instinct which it is very
difficult to explain. To measure their speed with some
degree of exactness, a gentleman some years ago, on a
trifling wager, sent a carrier pigeon from London, by
the coach, to a friend at St Edmund’s-bury, and along
with it a note, requesting that the pigeon, two days alter
its arrival there, might be thrown up precisely when the
town-clock struck nine in the morning. This was ac¬
cordingly done, and the pigeon arrived in London, and
flew into the Bull Inn in Bishop’s-Gate Street, at half
an hour past eleven o’clock of the same morning, hav¬
ing flown 72 miles in two hours and a half.
Great crowned Indian pigeon.—Bluish ; cinereous
above; orbits black; crest; shoulders ferruginous. Size
of a turkey. Inhabits New Guinea.
Lesser crowned pigeon.—Eyelids white ; hind bead
with a red gold crest; breast and belly violet; back,
rump, and tail green ; legs yellow ; hind toe unarmed.
Size of the common pigeon. Inhabits Malacca.
Ringdove.—Cinereous; tail feathers black on thehind
part; primary quill feathers whitish on the outer edge;
neck white on each side ; bill yellowish ; cere red and
scurfy; irides yellowish ; head, back, and wing-coverts
bluish; rump and throat pale ash ; breast claret colour;
belly and vent whitish; neck above and at the sides
H O L O G Y.
green gold, with a white crescent on each side ; feet
rough as far as the toes. Weighs about 20 ounces ;
length eight inches. Inhabits Europe, and rarely Sibe¬
ria. From its living in woods, and building in trees, it
is not uncommonly called wood pigeon. It seems to be
originally a native of this island, and probably migrates
no farther than from the northern to the southern parts
of it. Early in spring it begins to pair, at which time
the male is observed to fly in a singular manner, alter¬
nately rising and falling in the air. It forms a nest of
a few small sticks loosely put together. Its common
food is grain and seeds of all kinds, acorns and beech¬
nuts, and in default of these, turnip-greens, and young
clover, or even green corn, and ivy berries. Various at¬
tempts to domesticate this species have proved unsuc¬
cessful.
Green turtle.—Brass green above, purple-violet be- Viridis.
neath. Near eight inches long. Inhabits Amboina. 711
Turtle dove.—Tail feathers tipt with white ; back Turtur.
gray ; breast flesh-coloured ; a spot of black feathers,
tipt with white, on each side of the neck; bill brown;
irides yellow ; crown olive-ash ; front and chin nearly
white; scapulars and coverts reddish-brown, spotted with
black; throat and breast claret-coloured; belly and vent
white ; two middle tail feathers dusky-brown, the end
and exterior side of the outermost feathers white. Sub¬
ject to several varieties. About 12 inches long. Inha¬
bits Europe, China, and India, \isits the southern
parts of England in the spring, and leaves them 111 the
lie gin sing of September. Is very shy and retired,
breeding in thick woods, and nestling on high trees.
Is very destructive to fields of pease.
71a
B. Tail long and wedged.
Passenger pigeon.—Orbitsnaked and sanguine; breast Miqrato-
rufous. From 15 to 16 inches long. Inhabits North ria.
America, migrating southward in December in quest of
food. The multitudes which pass in hard winters are
truly astonishing, as they fly by millions in a flock, and
literally intercept the light of the sun. As soon as one
flock has passed, another succeeds; and these movements
sometimes continue for three days without intermission.
Their favourite food is acorns; but they not only eat the
fruit of various-kinds of trees, hut also corn and rice,
of which they are very unsparing in the course of their
passage. 7*7
Black-winged pigeon.—Body livid ; wings black. Melano-
Inhabits Chili. pterq.
Marginatcd turtle.—Breast red; tail feathers tipt
with -black, and edged with white ; bill horny ; iridesfo
rufous ; front and chin reddish brown ; lores white ;
hind head bluish-ash colour ; a black spot under the
ears ; body above brown; shoulders spotted with black;
rump cinereous ; throat and breast rosy; two middle
tail feathers blackish; the rest ash colour. Ten inches
long. Native of America. ^
Bantam pigeon.—Orbits naked and flesh-coloured ; Bantameiu-
neck, breast, and flanks, waved with black and white, sis. ,
Size of the wry-neck. Inhabits Java.
Plate
ccccr.
% 1.
Gen. 76. Alauda, Lark.
7i()
Alacda.
717
Bill cylindrical, subulated, straight; the mandiblesCharactefs,-
equal, and a little gaping at the base ; tongue bifid j
hind claw straight, and longer than the toe.
3 Y 2 Field.
7lS.
Arvcnsis.
719
fratensis,
Minor.
O R N I T H
Field or sky lurk.—Outer webs of the two middle
tail feathers white, middle ones ferruginous on the inner
side ; body above varied with blackish, reddish-gray,
and whitish ; reddish-white beneath-, bill and legs black ;
throat spotted with black. A variety sometimes occurs
that is wholly white, another which is black-brown, and
a third, which is found in Russia, and distinguished by
its very long legs. This well-known species is about
seven inches long, and inhabits Europe, Asia, and A In¬
ca. It is most common in the open and upland cultna-
ted districts in which corn abounds, and is rarely seen
on extended moors at a distance from arable land. Ihe
nest is placed on the ground, among grass or corn, and
is formed of dry grass and other vegetable stalks, and
lined with line dry grass. The eggs are generally four,
rather larger than those of a tit-lark, and of a dirty
white, blotched and spotted with brown. The sky lark
begins to breed in May, and will lay as late as Septem¬
ber, if its first nests are destroyed. The incubation lasts
a fortnight, and two broods are usually produced in the
course of the year. When hatched, the mother watches
over them with the most tender solicitude and affection.
They are first fed with worms and insects; but after
they are grown up, they live chiefly on seeds, herbage,
and most other vegetable substances. They are easily
tamed, and become so familiar as to eat off the table,
and even alight on the hand. Ihe lark becomes tune¬
ful early in spring, and continues so during the summer.
His song is chiefly heard in the morning and evening j
and he is one of those few birds that chaunt their mel¬
low notes on the wing. We need scarcely remark, that
he mounts almost perpendicularly, and by successive
springs into the air, where he hovers at a great height,
and whence he descends in an oblique direction, unless
threatened by some ravenous bird of prey, or attracted
by his mate, when he drops down to the ground like a
stone. When he first leaves the earth, his notes are
feeble and interrupted, but, as he rises, they gradually
swell to their full tone. These birds cease their strains
in winter, when they assemble in flocks, grow fat, and
are taken in multitudes by the bird-catchers. I our
thousand dozen have been taken in the neighbourhood
of Dunstable, between September and I ebruaryand
Kepler informs us, that the excise on larks alone pro¬
duces about 900I. a-year to the city of Leipsic, whose
neighbourhood is celebrated for larks of a peculiarly de¬
licate flavour.
Tit lark.—Greenish-brown, outer webs of the two
outermost tail feathers white eyebrows with a white
line ; bill black } body white beneath breast ocNreous
yellow, with oblong black spots *, legs yellowish.
Length nearly five inches and three quarters. Inha¬
bits Europe, and is very common in most parts of this
island, though it seems partial to barren situations, and
occurs both in mountainous and low swampy places. In
Scotland, it is almost the only bird which frequents the
extensive heath tracts bn which it breeds. It has a
fine note, and sings either sitting in trees, or on the
ground.
Lesser field lark.—Reddish-brown, spotted beneath
chin and belly white 5 throat and breast obscure yellow
legs brownish j wing coverts edged with white 5 quill
feathers dusky, the outer web of the first edged with
white, the others with yellowish-green j hind claw short,
and sometimes hooked, Somewhat larger than the pre-
O L O G Y.
ceding, with which it has been often confounded. It Passere
visits this country in spring, but is rarely seen till the -y-"«
beginning of May- y is not plentiful, and chiefly affects
enclosed situations. From the beginning of May till
July, it may be seen mounting in the air in a fluttering
manner, at the same time uttering a twittering note,
and then descending to some neighbouring tree with
motionless wing and the tail thrown up. It then sings
sweetly, but never when rising. In generally nestles in
the high grass or green wheat, and lays four eggs of a
dirty bluish white, thickly blotched and spotted with
purplish brown. _ -ju
Woodlark.—Head surrounded by a white annularArborc
fillet y body varied like the arvensis ; legs flesh colour¬
ed. Weighs about eight drams j length six inches.
Inhabits Europe and Siberia, and is met with, though
sparingly, in various parts of Britain. It sings delight¬
fully on wing, but rarely when sitting on the ground,
though sometimes when perched on a tree. Its song is
much more melodious than that of the sky lark, but
does not consist of so great a variety of notes ; but then
it frequently sings in the night, and through most of
the year, except in the months of June and July. It
does not ascend in the air perpendicularly, and continue
hovering and singing in the same spot, like the sky lark,
but will sometimes soar to a great height, and keep fly¬
ing in large irregular circles, singing with little inter¬
mission j and will thus continue in the air for an hour
together. It is an early breeder, the eggs being some¬
times found in the nest in the beginning of April. 712
Red lark.—Brown •, orbits blackish 5 two outermost
tail feathers white. About the size of the sky lark.
Inhabits North America, and is sometimes found near
London.
Malabar lark.—Wings and tail dirty brown colour, Malaba
with reddish edges ; bill black j crest long, brown andco plat(
tipt with white 5 chin and belly reddish white j feathers rccc
of the back, and coverts of the wings, brown •, the edge fig. 3
reddish towards the tip, and marked with a white spot j
legs reddish. Five inches and a half long. Native of
Malabar. .7^4
Grasshopper lark, or grasshopper warbler.—Tail fea- Tnml
thers brown, the outer one half white, the second with
a white wedged tip j wings with two whitish lines y bill
dusky •, legs whitish •, lores white 5 body greenish-brown
above, feathers dusky in the middle, yellowish-white
beneath y breast dirty white y tail longish, and somewhat
wedged. Length five inches and a half y weight about
three drams and a quarter. Inhabits Europe. 1 hough
not plentiful in Britain, it perhaps appears to be much
less so from its extreme shyness, and its habit of con¬
cealing itself among furze and thick hedges. Its singu¬
lar note resembles the chirping of the larger species 0
crickets. ^ ^
Rock lark.—Olive brown, varied with blackish y yel-oiscUK
lowish beneath ; sides of the neck and breast with brown¬
ish spots y outermost tail feathers obliquely half whitish,,
second whitish at the tip. Upwards of seven inches
long. In its song, manner of flying, and general habits,
is much allied to the tit lark. Inhabits some of the
rocky shores of England, and seems to subsist chiefly on ^
marine insects. ,
Lesser crested lark.—Tail feathers black, the two out¬
ermost white on the outer edge ; head crested j legs red y
body pale brown. Inhabits Europe and Siberia, and
i '-.seres.
giKNCS.
729
(.racter.
77°
J %aris.
t) ius.
is common in Yorkshire. It is a solitary bird, and
builds in woods and thickets.
Calandrc lark.—Outermost tail feathers totally white
without, second and third tipt with white ; pectoral
band brown. Seven inches and a quarter long. Inha¬
bits Italy and Russia. Builds on the ground. Sings
sweetly, and imitates the notes of other birds.
Gen. 77. Sturnus, Stare, or Starling.
Bill subulate, angular, depressed, somewhat blunt j the
upper mandible entire, and somewhat open at the
edges j nostrils surrounded with a prominent rim j.
tongue notched and pointed.
Common stare or starling.—Bill yellowish ; body
black, with white dots ; quill feathers and tail dusky ;
the former edged with yellow on the outer side, the lat¬
ter with dirty green j lesser coverts edged with yellow,
and slightly glossed with green j legs reddish-brown.
Male shining with purple, green, and gold. There are
several varieties. Weight about three ounces j length
eight inches and three quarters. Found in almost every
part of the old continent. It breeds in the hollows of
trees or rocks, among rubbish, or in old towers, and
sometimes appropriates the nest of another bird. My¬
riads of this species breed among the rocks in the Ork¬
ney islands, and in the winter feed on the cancerpulex.
Their general food is insects, earth-worms, seeds, berries,
&c. They migrate in flocks, and are very noisy. In
confinement it may be taught to mimic various sounds,
and even to speak. So attached are they to society,
that they not only join those of their own species, but
also birds of a different kind ; and are frequently seen
in company with redwings, held fares, and even with
pigeons, jackdaws, and owls. They chatter much in
the evening and morning, both when they assemble and.
disperse.
Water-ou%el, or crake.—Black ; breast white y chin
white $ tail black y belly ferruginous y legs pale blue
before, black behind. Length seven inches and a half.
Inhabits Europe and northern Persia.. Is shy and soli¬
tary, and rarely to be seen, except on the banks of ri¬
vers, and streams of water. It is not unfrequent in the
mountainous parts of Scotland and Wales, and in some
districts in Devonshire. In these places it breeds, and
continues the whole year. The nest is very large, formed
externally of moss and water plants, and lined with dry
oak leaves, resembling that of the wren, with a dome or
covering. It is usually placed in some mossy bank, im¬
pending on the water, and contains five or six eggs of
a transparent white. “ A pair of these bixals, says Mr
Montagu, which had for many years built under a small.
wooden bridge in Caermarthenshire, we found had made
a nest early in May. It was taken, but had no eggs,
although the bird flew out of it at the time. In a fort¬
night after they had completed another nest in the same
place, containing five eggs, which was taken y and in a
month after we took a third nest under the same bridge
with four eggs} undoubtedly the work of the same
birds, as no others were seen about that part. At the
time the last was taken, the female xvas sitting, and the
instant she quitted her nest, plunged into the water, and
disappeared for a considerable time; at last she emerged
at a great distance down the stream. At another time
we found a nest of this bird in a steep projecting bank passeres.
over a rivulet clothed with moss. The nest was so well J
adapted to the surrounding materials, that nothing but
the old bird flying in with a fish in its bill would have
led to a discovery. The young were nearly full fea¬
thered, but incapable of flight, and the moment the nest
was disturbed, they fluttered out and dropt into the wa¬
ter, and to our astonishment, instantly vanished ; but in
a little time made their appearance at some distance
down the stream ; and it was with difficulty two out of
five were taken, as they dived on being approached.—
The aquatic habits of this bird have not escaped the no¬
tice of ornithologists, some of whom speak of their
flying under water. If, indeed, the wings being in
motion can be called flying, in certainly does ; but
this is no more than is common to all diving birds,
which, in pursuit of fish, or to escape danger, always
use their wings to accelerate their motion. In this case,
however, the wings are not extended, for that would
retard their progress ; but it is effected by short jerks
from the shoulder joint. Whether these birds can run
at the bottom of the water, as some have asserted, is
much to be doubted, as it is requisite all birds should
use a considerable exertion to keep them under water,
by reason of their specific gravity being so much less-
It is certainly a most curious and singular circumstance,
that a bird, not apparently in the least formed for di¬
ving, should pursue its prey under water, living chiefly
on small fish and aquatic insects. It cannot, however,
swim on the surface.”
Green stare.—Green above ; bluish beneath ; a tuft Viridis.
of black and white feathers on the front and chin. In¬
habits China.
JFat tied Stare.—Bill and legs black ; a pendent Cm-uncuta-
orarjge wattle at each angle of the mouth. Male black, *«s*
with the back and wing-coverts ferruginous. Female '
rusty-brown, with very small wattles. Ten inches long.
Inhabits New Zealand. '
Collared stare.—Blackish brown, spotted with brown; Collar is,
flanks rufous ; chin white, spotted with brown. Size
of the fieldfare. Inhabits Switzerland and Italy. Is
solitary, wags its tail,, feeds on seeds, sings with a very
we.ak voice, and builds in the ground, or in clefts of
rocks.
Gen. 78. Turdus, Thrush* Tukdus.
• • • 736
Bill somewhat straight ; upper mandible a little bending charaitcr^
and notched near the point; nostrils naked or half
covered with a small membrane; mouth ciliated,
with a few bristles at the corners ; tongue jagged.
Most of the numerous species of this genus feed on r
berries, especially those of the juniper; and many of
them are excellent songsters.
Missel thrush.—Back brown ; neck spotted with Viscivorur,
white ; bill yellowish ; body whitish-yellow beneath,
with spots brown on the chin and white beneath; quill
and tail feathers brown, with paler edges ; the three
outermost tipt with white ; legs yellow; claws black.
Weight near five ounces ; length 11 inches. Inhabits
the woods of Europe. It is by no means plentiful in
Britain, and appears to be less so in winter. It begins
to sing in January if the weather is mild, but ceases as
soon as the thermometer sinks below 40 degrees. A
bout
542
Passcres.
7^8
Pilaris.
. 739
Iliacus.
O R N I T H
bout, the mldtlle of March it makes a nest in the fork
of some tree, especially if covered with lichen, am
seems partial to the apple tree, frequenting orchards
more than other situations in spring, and never build¬
ing in a bush. The nest is made of mosses, lichens,
and dry leaves, lined with withered grass, and iorti-
iied on the outside with small sticks. The eggs are
four or five, rarely six j of a flesh colour, and marked
with deep and light rust-coloured spots. Ihe song ot
this bird is louder than that of the throstle, and superior
to it. Perching on the uppermost branch ol a tail tree,
the missel thrush sings when its mate is making the
nest, and during incubation j but becomes silent as soon
as the young are hatched, and is no more heard till the
beginning of the new year. If the young are taken, its
song continues as before, and if the lemale is destroyed,
it continues in song the whole summer. The missel is
very bold during the breeding season, driving other
birds from the neighbourhood of its nest, and even at¬
tacking the magpie and jay. Its food is insects and
berries, particularly those of the misletoe, which are
frequently propagated after passing through the diges¬
tive organs of this bird.
Fieldfare.—Tail feathers black, the outermost at the
inner edge tipi with white 5 head and rump hoary j bi
yellowish, tipt with black ; crown and neck olive ash
above *, body bay above ■, quill feathers cinereous j throat
and breast yellowish-rufous ; belly and vent whitish j legs
blackish. Subject to three or four varieties. Length 10
inches j weight tour ounces. Inhabits Europe, Syiia, an
Siberia. Arrives in Britain,inlargeflocks,aboutlMichael-
mas, and leaves us in March. It feeds on the berries ot
the holly, thorn, juniper, empctruvi nigrum, arbutus al-
pina, &c. as well as on worms and insects. In very se¬
vere weather they migrate farther south, it not prevented
by a sudden fall of snow. In 1798, when a very heavy
snow fell on the northern and eastern parts of England,
prodigious flocks of fieldfares appeared in the west j but
as that part of the island also was soon covered with
snow, which lay on the gi’ound for a considerable time,
they became too weak to advance farther south, and
thousands were picked up, starved to death. 1 hough it
builds in trees, and sits on them in the day time, it al¬
ways roosts on the ground. When a person approaches a
tree that is covered with them, they continue fearless,
till one at the extremity of the bush, rising on its wings,
utters a loud and peculiar note of alarm, when they all
Immediately fly, except one other, which remains till
the person approaches still nearer, and then it also flies
off, repeating the note of alarm. Fieldfares were high¬
ly esteemed by the Roman epicures, who kept them in
their aviaries, and fattened them with crumbs of bread,
mixed with minced figs. According to Varro and
Plutarch, the flesh was sometimes bitter.
Redwing or wind thrush.—Wings ferruginous un¬
derneath } eyebrows whitish •, bill blackish •, legs pale
gray j body gray-brown, whitish beneath, with brown
spots •, sides and inner coverts ferruginous ; vent white.
Weight nearly two ounces and a half5 length eight
inches and a half. Inhabits Europe, and is a winter
guest with us, appearing a few days before the prece¬
ding, migrating in vast flocks. It breeds in Sweden,
Norway, &c. where it inhabits the maple woods, and
sings delightfully from their highest tops. It builds in
hedges or thickets, and lays six bluish-green eggs, spot-
O L O G Y.
ted with black. In the southern countries of Europe, it Passeres
does great injury to the vineyards. ^ _ 1 v—■
Throstle or song-thrush ; mavis of the Scotch.—Quill 74°
feathers ferruginous at the inner base. Resembles the lmtcU!'
missel in colour, but the inner wing coverts are yellow,
irides hazel, bill brown, and the mouth yellow within.
Inhabits the woods in Europe. Weight about three
ounces', length nine inches. Ibis well-known species
is generally admired for its song. Every ivood and
grove re-echoes with its notes, which sometimes vie
with those of the missel. The throstle frequently sings
as early as February, if the weather is mild, and in
March the female makes its nest, composed of dried
grass and green moss externally, and plastered within
with rotten wood, mixed with cow dung 01 clay, and
so compactly as to hold water, a circumstance which,
in a rainy season, sometimes proves fatal to the egg:-.
The latter are four or five, of a blue colour, and spot¬
ted with black at the larger end. The nest is some¬
times placed on the stump ot a tree, very near tne
'•round, or against the side of a tree, and frequently in
a hedge, or solitary bush. Though the throstle feeds
on berries and insects in general, it is particularly fond
of shelled snails, especially of the helix nemoralis,
whose shell it breaks by repeated strokes against a
stone. It is not uncommon to find a great many frag¬
ments of shells together, as if a number had been con¬
veyed to one particular stone for the purpose. This
species breeds twice, and sometimes thrice in the year,
and consequently continues long 111 song. Like the
preceding, it is very hurtful to vineyards. 741
Mocking bird, or mimic thrush—Dusky-ash above Polyglot
pale ash beneath ; primary quill feathers white on the us’
outer half j bill black j irides yellow; tail four inches
long; legs cinereous. Nine inches and a halt long. In¬
habits the moist woods of Virginia, Carolina, Jamaica,
&c. In the summer is seen much more to the north¬
ward than in winter. This singular species not onl\
possesses musical and solemn notes of its own, but can at
pleasure assume the tone ot every other animal in the
forest, from the humming bird to the eagle, and de¬
scending even to the wolf or the raven. One of them,
confined in a cage, has been heard to mimic the mew¬
ing of a cat, the chattering of a magpie, and the creak¬
ing of the hinges of a sign-post in high winds. It is
said to take a pleasure in archly deceiving other birds,
alluring the smaller kinds, for example, with the call
of their mates, and then terrifying them with the scream
of an eagle. In the warmer parts of America, it
sings incessantly from March to August, both day am
night, beginning with its own compositions, and fre¬
quently finishing by borrowing from the whole feather¬
ed quire, repeating its tunes with such artful sweetness
as to excite both pleasure and surprise. The female
frequently builds her nest in the hushes or fruit-trees
about houses, but is so very shy, that if a person only
looks at the nest, she immediately forsakes it. It feeds
on grasshoppers, different kinds of berries, &c. am is
itself eaten by the Americans, who account it very de-
Mocking thrush.—Back brown ; breast and lateralOrphas
tail feathers whitish; eyebrows white. Eight indies
and a half long ; inhabits South America, and re- ^
sembles the last in its fine song and imitative notes. m
Pagoda thrush.—Black; back and rump gray
wute 7
74-'
744
745
MS.
74°
nhcus.
O R N T T H
isscres. 'vliite j head crested. &ize of a finch. Inhabits Ma-
labar and Coromandel, chiefly about the temples and
pagodas.
Chili thrush—Glossy black; bill somewhat striated j
tail wedged; bill, eyes, legs, and flesh black; tail five
inches long. About the size of the missel ; is common
in Chili, where it sings sweetly ; imitates the notes of
other birds, and, when tamed, the voice of man. Feeds
on worms, seeds, and even on smaller birds, which it
kills by perforating the skull with its bill. Congre¬
gates with starlings, and makes a nest of twigs and
fibres, mixed with mud, and lined with hair. Lays
three bluish-white eggs.
Hose-coloured thrush.—Pale rosy ; head, wings, and
tail black; hind bead crested. About eight inches
long. Inhabits Europe and Asia, and has been found,
though very rarely, in England. As it feeds chiefly on
locusts, it is held sacred by the Turks.
Musician thrush.—Reddish-brown, varied with trans¬
verse dark streaks; whitish beneath; chin, cheeks, and
throat reddish-orange; a black blotch spotted with
white on each side of the neck. Four inches long. In¬
habits the woods of Cayenne. Is solitary; feeds on
ants and other insects, and is celebrated for its sweet
and variable note.
Chiming thrush.—Brown above; under parts and
rump reddish-taAvney ; chin white ; cap and cheeks
white, spotted with black ; eyebrows and streaks be¬
hind the eyes black. Four inches long. Inhabits the
woods of Cayenne and Guiana. Its note resembles the
chiming of bells.
Alarum thrush.—Brown above; white beneath;
breast spotted with black ; tail even ; bill black above,
white beneath ; legs pale plumbeous. Six inches and
a half long. Inhabits Cayenne. Every morning and
evening, for the space of an hour, cries with a harsh
loud voice, like an alarum bell.
King thrush.—Reddish-brown above, paler beneath;
hind head lead-coloured ; front varied with white and
brown. Seven inches and a half long. Inhabits South
America, near the hillocks raised by the white ants,
on which it feeds.
Blackbird.—Black ; bill and eyelids yellow. Fe¬
male, and the young male rusty black, and bill dark.
There is a variety with the head white, another with
the body white and black, and a third entirely white.
Inhabits Europe and Asia. A well-known species, ad- *
mired for its song, which is a shrill kind of whistle of
various notes, enlivening the early days of spring. The
nest is externally composed of green moss, fibrous roots,
&.C. having the inside plastered with earth, and then
lined with fine dry grass. The female lays four or five
blue eggs, thickly covered with pale ferruginous brown
spots. The blackbird feeds principally on worms and
shelled snails, but is also fond of insects and fruit in
general. It breaks the shell of the snail with great
dexterity on a stone. In confinement it readily eats
crumbs of bread, and flesh either raw or prepared for
the table. With us it is never observed to migrate or
to congregate, but lives solitary in woods and inclosed
situations. It is easily tamed, and imitates other
sounds, even that of the human voice.
Ring ouzel.—Blackish ; bill yellowish ; collar white.
Rather larger than the blackbird. Inhabits Europe,
Asia, and Africa. Is migratory in some countries, but
O L O G Y.
747
itinna-
atus.
748
749
75°
rala.
J1751
* iMtus,
. 54J
is known to remain and breed in the mountains of Passeres.
Scotland and Wales. When fattened, its flesh is much ’ v—
esteemed. In its habits it is nearly allied to the black-
752
bird.
diced thrush.—Rusty brown ; white testaceous be- Arundina-
neath ; quill feathers brown, tipt with reddish. Fre- ceus-
quently varies in its markings. Inhabits the reedy
marshes of Europe, builds a hanging nest among the
reeds, and lays from five to six yellowish white eggs
spotted with brown. The male sings while the female
is sitting;.
Songster' thrush.—Greenish-black, shining with blue Cantor.
or violet; wings and tail black. Inhabits the Philip¬
pine isles in numerous flocks ; sings very sweetly, and
often lays in pigeon houses.
Gen. 79. Ampelis, Chatterer. ampelis.
Bill straight, convex, somewhat incurved ; each mandi- n 7
ble notched ; nostrils covered with bristles; tongue Characters‘
sharp, caitilagmous, and bifid; middle toe connected
at the base to the outermost.
r 7
Waxen or Bohemian chatterer.—Hind bead crested ; Garndus.
secondary quill feathers tipt with red horny appendages;
bill and legs black ; irides bright ruby ; cheeks tawney;
throat black, with a small bristly tuft in the middle ;
head and body reddish-ash above; ocular line and chin
black ; breast and belly pale purplish bay ; lesser wing-
coverts brown; greater remotest from the body black,
tipt with Avhite; quill feathers black, three first tipt
with white; six next with half an inch of the exterior
edge yellow ; inner white ; tail black, tipt with yel¬
low. Length about eight inches; size nearly that of
a starling. Inhabits Europe, Northern Asia, and A-
merica. Occasionally visits this country, migrating in
flocks. In the month of February, it frequents the
neighbourhood of Edinburgh, where it feeds on the
berries of the mountain ash. It is supposed to breed
farther north, and to build in the holes of rocks. Its
flesh is excellent.
The other species of this genus are all inhabitants of
the warmer parts of America.
Gen. 80. Colius, Col:/.
Bill short, thick, convex above, and flat beneath
757
Colics.
758
uPPer Characters,
small at
( mandible bent down at the tip; nostrils
the base of the bill, and nearly covered with fea¬
thers ; tongue jagged at the tip ; tail long and wed¬
ged.
Cape cohj.—Outermost tail feathers white on the Capcmh.
outside ; body cinereous ; whitish beneath. Ten in¬
ches and a quarter long. Inhabits the Cape of Good
Hope. _ l6o
Panayan cohj.—Above yellowish ash colour; beneath Panapensis*
rufous ; breast streaked with black ; head crested ; bill 1>late
black; legs pale flesh colour; tail very long, the fea¬
thers of which are of different lengths. Native of Pa-
nay, one of the Philippine islands.
Green co/y.—-Shining green ; hind head and eyelids Viridis.
silky black ; wings and tail blackish. Twelve inches
long. Inhabits New Holland. ,^2
Indian coly.—Cinereous above ; rufous beneath ; Indicia.
hind head and chin yellow ; lores and naked orbits yel¬
low. Fourteen inches long. Inhabits India.
Gen.
CCCCII.
fio-. 2.
ORNITHOLOGY.
Gen. 8l. LoxiA, Grossbcak.
Loxia.
764
Characters.
7?5
Curviro-
IHra.
766
Cccco-
thraustes.
767
Enuclea
i]6$
Pyr’rbula
Bill sttong, thick, convex, and rounded at the base j
lower mandible bent in at the edge j nostrils small,
round at the base of the bilk} tongue truncated.
Crossbill, or sheld Mandibles crossing each
other j body varying in colour-, wings and forked tail
brown j varies, with a reddish head and scarlet body.
Male red, varied with brown and green, lemale olive
green, mixed with brown. Weighs about an ounce
and a half; length near six inches and a half. Inhabits
Europe, Asia, and America. Is not known to breed
with us, but is more or less found among fir plantations
from June to the latter end of the year, feeding on the
seed by dexterously dividing the scales of the cones, lor
Which purpose the hill is admirably adapted. It is
sometimes found in orchards in autumn, and will readily
divide an apple to get at the kernels. Many are taken
with a bird-call and birdlime*, and others by a horse-
• hair noose fixed on a long fishing rod *, for so intent are
these birds on picking out the seeds of the cdiie, that
they will suffer themselves to bo taken by the noose be-
ing put over their head. The crossbill breeds in the
northern countries early in the month of March, on tlm
tops of the pine trees, making its hemispherical nest ot
twigs, and of the sphagnum arboreum, two inches arid
a half thick, lining it with the lichen Jlondns, and stop*
ping up the chinks with rosin. It is capable of being-
tamed, and in confinement climbs up the wires of a
cage by the claws and beak.
Grossbeak, or hawfinch.—Chesnut ash j wings with a
white line : middle quill feathers rhombic at the tips ^
tail feathers black at the base of the thinner web; or¬
bits and chin black } tail spotted with white within.
The length of this species is six inches j weight about
two ounces. The plumage is subject to great variety.
It inhabits Europe, and usually appears in Britain in
the autumn, continuing till April, and appeRiing in
small flocks of four or five, but not commonly. It is
more plentiful in France, and breeds in Burgundy in
April. The nest is composed of dried fibres intermixed
with liverwort, and lined with finer materials. The
eggs are of a bluish green spotted with olive brown,
with a few irregular black markings. This bird lives
on the kernel of the almond, walnut, and cherry, break¬
ing with the greatest ease their hard stones with its
bill.
Pine grossbeak.-—Wings with a double White line ‘,
tail feathers all black j head, neck, breast, and rump in
the young bird, red j in the old yellow j female olive.
Nine inches long. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and Ameri¬
ca, but is limited to the northern regions of these quar¬
ters of the globe, and especially to the pine forests. In
this island it is only found in the north of Scotland,
where it is also supposed to breed. It sings excellently,
and during the night, but soon ceases. It builds in
trees pretty near the ground a nest of small sticks, and
lines it with feathers, laying four eggs. Its food is the
seed of the pine.
Bullfinch.—Cinereous 5 head, wings, and tail black j
coverts of the tail, and hindermost quill feathers white j
crown black j breast cinereous-, belly of the male red, of
the female chesnut. Scarcely six inches long, and liable
*0 vary in its markings^ Inhabits Europe and Siberia.
In summer it frequents vVoods, and in winter haunts or- p4SSer(.
chards and gardens, where it preys on the young buds
of the trees. It is not gregarious, but is usually obser¬
ved in pairs, or on broods, and remains with us all the
year, making a nest of small dry twigs, lined with fi¬
brous roots, in some thick bush, either in woods or
hedges, about the latter end of April or beginning of
May, and laying four or five eggs of a bluish-white,
speckled and* streaked with purple, and rather larger
than those of a linnet. The native notes of the bull¬
finch are few, but remarkably soft, and uttered in so
low a tone as to escape a common observer j the call
notes are simple, but more audible. In confinement it
becomes very docile, and may be taught a great varie¬
ty of tunes, and even to imitate human speech. But it
also acquires harsh strains with equal facility. A friend
of the Comte de Buffon saw one of this species that had
never heard any person whistle but carters j and it
whistled with their strength and coarseness. These
birds are also susceptible of strong and durable attach¬
ments. Some have been known, after escaping and
living a whole year in the woods, to recognise the voice
of their mistress, and return to torsake her no more,
and others have died of melancholy on being removed
from the first object of their attachment. ^
Cardinal grossbeak.—Crested j red } frontlet black j Cardinal
bill and legs blood red j crest, when erect, pointed.
Nearly eight inches long. Inhabits North America
From the melody of its song, some of the Americans
cell it nightingale. In spring, and during great part of
summer, it sits on the tops of the highest trees, and
makes the forests echo with its song. During summer,
it lays up its winter provision of maize and buck-wheat.
Nearly a bushel of the former grain has been found in
the retreat of one of these birds, artfully covered with
leaves and small branches of trees, and only a small hole
left at which the bird enters. In cages it will sing
with a very sburt interval of silence, through the whole
year. # 770
Molucca grossbeak.—Colour brownish j the head, 2^,^J
throat, and tail feathers are black ", beneath waved withm.
white and black j bill black ; hindhead, wings and legs
brown j rump waved with-white and black. l our inches ^ ,j
long. Inhabits the Molucca islands. 771
Hamburgh grossbeak.—Head and neck chesnut
above j’chin, hand in the middle of the white throatjM- ,
and rounded tail brown -, back, breast, and rump yellow-
‘ish-brown, spotted with black j belly', vent, and two
bands on the wing edverts white. Nearly six inches
long. Inhabits the neighbourhood of Hamburgh, leeds
on-insects, and climbs trees like the creeper. 77.
Greenfinch, or green grossbeak ; pr0v incially green Chlorb-
linnet.—Yellowish-green-, primary quill feathers edged
with yellow four lateral tail feathers pale yellow at
the basey bill brownish j legs flesh coloured j female
browner. Rather larger than the house sparrow 5 weight
nearly eight drams y length six inches and a half. la*
habits Europe and Kamtschatka; is very common in
most parts of this country in summer 5 becomes gregari¬
ous in winter, and associates with chaffinches and ye
low hammers 5 but in severe weather migrates from par- .
ticular districts. It is rather a late breeder. I he nest
is comprised of small dry twigs, bents, and moss, inter¬
woven with wool, and lined with hair and feathers. R
is commonly placed among ivy surrounding a tree, or m
O II N I T H O L O G Y.
545
sscrts.
773
iihuratn:
774
, i%alen-
775
^ bpina.
777
some thick hush. The eggs are four or five ; white,
speckled with rusty red at the larger end, and much
like those of the linnet, but larger. The principal food
of this bird is seed and grain. It is easily tamed if held
on one’s fingers in the dark and heated gently. Though
its native song is trilling, in confinement it will catch
the notes of other birds.
Brimstone grosbeak.—Olive brown ; throat and belly
pale yellow ; eyebrows yellow. Nearly six inches long.
Inhabits m flocks near the Cape of Good Hope, fre¬
quents the banks of rivers, and builds a pendulous nest,
with a long neck beneath, in trees and shrubs.
Bengal grosbeak.—Gray ; crown yellow; temples
whitish; belly whitish, spotted with brown. “ This bird
(says Sir William Jones) is exceedingly common in Hin-
dostan : he is astonishingly sensible, faithful and docile;
never voluntarily deserting the place where his young are
hatched, but not averse, like most other birds, to the
society of mankind, and easily taught to perch on the
hand of his master. In a state of nature he generally
builds his nest on the highest tree that he can find, es¬
pecially on the palmyra, or on the Indian fig tree, and
he prefers that which happens to overhang a well or a
rivulet j he makes it of grass, which he weaves like
cloth, and shapes like a large bottle, suspending it firm¬
ly on the branches ; but so as to rock with the wind,
and placing it with its entrance downward to secure it
from birds of prey. Its nest usually consists of two or
three chambers; and it is popularly believed that he
lights them with fire flies, which he is said to catch alive
at night, and confine with moist clay or with cow dung.
That such flies are often found in his nest, where pieces
of cow dung are also stuck, is indubitable; but as
their light could be of little use to him, it seems pro¬
bable that he only feeds on them. He may be taught
with ease to fetch a piece of paper, or any small thing
that his master points out to him. It is an attested fact,
that if a ring be dropt into a deep well, and a signal
given to him, he will fly down with amazing celerity,
catch the ring before it touches the water, and bring it
up to his master with apparent exultation ; and it is
confidently asserted, that if a house or any other place
be shown to him once or twice, he will carry a note
thither immediately on a proper signal being made. One
instance of his docility I can myself mention with con¬
fidence, having often been an eye witness of it. The
young Hindoo women at Benares, and in other places,
wear very thin plates of gold called ticas, slightly fixed,
by way <>f ornament, between their eyebrows; and
when they pass through the streets, it is not uncommon
for the youthful libertines who amuse themselves with
training these birds, to give them a signal which they
understand, and send them to pluck the pieces of gold
from the foreheads of their mistresses, which they bring
in triumph to tlvdr lovers.”
Brown-cheeked grosbeak.—Dirty greenish ; cinere¬
ous beneath : cheeks brown, surrounded with a yellow
fringe. Inhabits Mexico, and sings delightfully.
Philippine grosbeak.— Brown; yellowish-white be¬
neath; crown and breast pale yellow; chin brown. In¬
habits the Philippine islands A variety found in Abys¬
sinia, has the tail and quill feathers greenish brown, and
edged with yt-ilow. Constructs a nest like the benga-
lensis.
Abyssinian grosbeak.—Yellowish ; crown, temples,
Vol. XV. Part II.
779
throat, and breast, black ; shoulders blackish ; quill and Passeres.
tail feathers brown, and edged with yellow; irides red ;' —~
wing-coverts brown, edged with gray; legs reddish-
gray. Size of the hawfinch. Inhabits Abyssinia. This
bird forms a curious nest of a pyramidal shape, which is
suspended from the ends of branches like the nests of
some others of this tribe. The opening is on one side,
facing the east; the cavity is separated in the middle by
a partition of half its height; up this the bird ascends
perpendicularly, and then descending on the other side,
forms its nest in the further chamber. By this means
the brood is defended from snakes, squirrels, monkeys,
and other mischievous animals, besides being secured
from the rains, which in that country last Sometimes for
five or six months together. . 77s
Pensile grosbeak.—Green; head and throat yellow ; PfK-uWr-
ocular band green ; belly gray ; vent rufous red ; bill,
legs, tail, and quill feathers, black ; the last edged with
green. Size of a house sparrow. Inhabits Madagascar.
Constructs a hanging nest of straw and reeds, shaped
like a bag with an opening beneath, on one side of
which is the true nest. The bird does not choose a new
situation every year, but fastens a new nest to the end
of the last, so that five may sometimes be seen hanging
from one another. Builds in large societies, and pro¬
duces three at each incubation.
Sociable grosbeak.—Kufous brown; yellowish be- Sccia.
neath; frontlet black; tail short; bill black; region
of the ears yellowish ; legs brown. Inhabits the inte¬
rior parts of the Cape of Good Hope, where they were
first discovered by Mr Paterson. They build their nests
in a species of mimosa, which grows to an uncommon
size ; and which, from its ample head and strong wide
spreading branches, is well calculated to admit and sup¬
port their dwellings. The tallness and smoothness of
its trunk are also a perfect defence against the invasions
of the serpent and monkey tribes. In one tree described
by Mr Paterson, there could not be fewer than from
eight hundred to a thousand nests under one general
roof. Mr Paterson calls it a roof, because it resembles
that of a thatched house, and projects over the entrance
of the nest below in a very singular manner. “ The in¬
dustry of these birds (says this traveller) seems almost
equal to that of the bee. Throughout the day they
seem to be busily employed in carrying a fine species of
grass, which is the principal material they use for the
purpose of erecting this extraordinary work, as well
as for additions and repairs. Though my short stay in
the country was not sufficient to satisfy me by ocular proof
that they added to their nest as they annually increas¬
ed in numbers; still, from the many trees which 1 have
seen borne down by the weight, and others which I
have observed with their boughs completely covered
over, it would appear that this is really the case. When
the tree which is the support of this aerial city, is obliged
to give way to the increase of weight, it is obvious that
they are no longer protected, and are under the necessity
of building in other trees. One of these deserted nests
I had the curiosity to break down, to inform my-eil of
the internal structure of it, and found it equally ii,.. e-
nious with that of the external. There are many en¬
trances, each of which forms a regular street with nests
on both sides, at about two inches distance from each
.other. The grass with which they build is called the
Boshman's grass; and I believe the seed of it to be
+ 3 Z their
ORNITHOLOG Y.
78c
Qrix.
their principal food •, though, on examining their nests,
M found the wings and legs of different insects. 1 rom
every appearance, the nest winch 1 dissected had been
inhabited for many years', and some parts of it were much
more complete than others, i his, therefore, i conceive
to amount nearly to a proof, that the animals added to
it at different times, as they found necessary from the
increase of the family, or rather ot the nation or com¬
munity.”
Qrenadisr grosbeak.—Gray 5 bill, front, and belly,
black •, neck and rump tawney ; sometimes the wings
are white, and the tail is brown. Size of a sparrow ;
inhabits Africa, and is found chiefly in marshy and
reedy grounds. The nest is formed among the icons
with small twigs, so closely interwoven with cotton, as
not to be penetrated by any weather. It is also divided
into two compartments, ot which the upper is for the
male, and the lower for the female and the young.
Among various other species which we have not room
to describe, there are two or three of a very small size,
which inhabit Surinam.
7S1
Emberiza
7S3
Characters.
?St
Nivalis,
784
^dustelitic
7S5
^Ipntaric,
786
frfjliaiia.
Gen. 82. Emberiza, Bunting.
Bill conical j mandibles receding from each other from
the base downwards, the lower with the sides con¬
tracted, the upper with a hard knob within.
Snow bunting, snow bird, ov snow flake.—Quill fea¬
thers white, the primaries black on the outer edge 5 tail
feathers black, the three lateral ones white j bill and
legs brown. Besides the varieties induced by age, sex,
ami climate, there are others which seem to be more
permanent. In winter, the whole body, except the back
and middle coverts, often becomes nearly white. Some¬
what larger than the chaffinch. In summer, inhabits in
vast flocks, the north of Europe, Asia, and America.
In winter, migrates to some warmer climate. Breeds in
some of the mountains of Scotland, where it is sometimes
mistaken tor the ortolan. It builds in the fissures ot
rocks, constructing a nest of grass and feathers lined
with the hair and wool of the arctic fox or other qua¬
druped, and lays five eggs. It sings well, sitting on the
ground, feeds on grain, and is wakeful during the night.
It is taken in great numbers in winter, when it is lat,
and its flesh esteemed delicate.
Tawncy bunting.—Quill feathers dusky, white at the
base, the last wholly black j tail feathers black, the
middle ones at the edge, and three lateral ones, white on
each side, with a dusky spot without. Nearly seven
inches long. Inhabits with the last; but is more rare.
In some places it is called sea lark and brambhng.
Mountain bunting, lesser mountain finch or brambling.
 Five first quill feathers blackish brown, the rest white,
spotted with brown at the tips ‘, tail feathers brown,
three lateral ones all white on each side •, bill yellow,
tipt with black ■, head chesnut *, chin white *, upper part
of the neck and back cinereom ; breast and belly with
longitudinal flame-coloured spots. Found in Yorkshire,
Lincolnshire, and Northamptonshire, but is not common.
Common bunting.—Brown *, spotted, with black be¬
neath \ orbits rufous $ bill and legs brownish *, quill fea¬
thers duskv \ outer edges pale yellow tail a little fork¬
ed, edged with white 5 legs yellowish. Weight nearly
two ounces j length seven inches and a half. Inhabits
Europe in large flocks during the autumn and winter.
Seems partial to champaign countries, abounding with pass(
corn, and is rarely found in uncultivated parts, or in'—
grass fields remote from arable land. W bile tbe female
is employed in incubation, the male sits on the branch
of a neighbouring tree, and cheers her with his rude
son*r. The nest is placed on the ground, formed exter¬
nally of straw, lined with fibrous roots or dry grass, and
sometimes finished with long hairs. The eggs are from
four to six, of a dirty white, spotted and veined with
reddish-brown and ash-colour. These birds are some¬
times brought to market, and sold for larks, to which
they are little or nothing inferior, but are easily distin-
o-uished by the form of the bill, and the tooth like
knob in the roof of the month, by the most common
observer. ^ . . r
Ortolan.—Quill feathers brown, the first three whitish ilwtu
at the edges j tail feathers brown, the two lateral ones
black on the outer side 5 bill, naked eyelids and legs
yellowish j head and neck olive-ash 5 chin yellowish,
surrounded with a cinereous line \ feathers of the back
and scapulars brownish-bay, black in the middle •, body
reddish beneath. The female is distinguished by the
head and neck being cinereous, and each feather with
a narrow blackish line. Somewhat less than the yellow
hammer •, length six inches and a quarter. Inhabits se¬
veral parts of Europe, but is not found in Britain. Orto¬
lans are common in France, Italy, some parts of Germany,
Sweden, &.c. migrating in spring and autumn, when
they are caught in great quantities, and fattened for the
table. For this purpose, they are confined in a dark
room, and fed plentifully with oats and millet. They
are then killed for sale, and reckoned the most delicate
of food. The ortolan will sometimes sing very prettily,
its note being not unlike that of the yellow hammer, but
finer and sweeter. In some parts, it makes its nest on a
low hedge, in others on the ground, and constructs it
carelessly, like that of the lark. The female lays four
or five grayish eggs, and in general has two broods in
the year.—There are five or six varieties. 7$|
Yellow hammer, or yellow bunting.—Tail feathers Citm 1.
blackish, the two outer ones on the inner edge, with a
pointed white spot bill black ; crown, cheeks and body
beneath yellow 5 eyebrows brownish ; nape greenish;
feathers of the neck and back blackish down the middle,
rufous at the sides, and edged with gray ; rump pale
tawney j wings chesnut, olive or black, mostly edged
with gray ; lateral ones olive without ; the tip edged
with white j legs yellowish-brown. The weight of this
species is about seven drams: length six inches. Inhabits
Europe, and is one of tbe most common indigenous
birds of this country. Its song is as little attractive as
that of the common bunting, possessing only a repetition
of the same note, five or six times successively, and ter¬
minating in one more lengthened and shrill. It congre¬
gates in winter, approaching houses, and picking up
scattered grains. It does not breed till late in the spring.
Tbe nest is generally placed near the ground, in some
low bush or hedge, and is composed of straw and various
dried stalks, lined with fine dry grass, and finished with
long hair. The eggs differ somewhat in colour and
size, some being nearly white, and others haying a purp¬
lish hue, but all more or less marked with hair-like
streaks. The number is usually three, four, or five. ^
Foolish bunting, or foolish sparrow.—Reddish 5 head c;a,
with a few blackish lines 5 eyebrows white. Size of tne
yellow
ORNITHOLOGY.
;ercg, yellow hammer. Inhabits Europe and Siberia. Is so
' tame as to be caught in any snare. Has a trifling note,
like that of a yellow hammer.
Cirl bunting.—Brown; breast spotted; eyebrows pale
yellow ; two outmost tail-feathers with a white wedged
spot; bill brown ash; head olive ; temples yellow ; a
black spot between the bill and eyes; throat black,
with a yellow band ; body yellow beneath ; tail slightly
forked, the feathers edged with gray. Female streaked
with brown beneath ; chin and vent white. Length six
inches and a half; weight about seven drams. Inhabits
France and Italy. “We first discovered this species,”
says Mr Montagu, near Kingsbridge in the winter of
1800, not uncommon amongst flocks of yellow buntings
and chaffinches, and procured several specimens of both
sexes, killed in difterent places six or seven miles from
that place. They are indigenous to Devonshire, but
seem to be confined to the southern parts of that county
contiguous to the coast, having found them extending as
far as Teignmouth, at both of which places we found
their nests ; but have never observed them far inland.
It generally builds in furze or some low bush ; the nest
is composed of dry stalks, roots, and a little moss, and
lined with long hair and fibrous roots. The eggs are
four or five in number, cinereous white, with irregular
long and short curved lines, terminating frequently with
a spot at one end ; size rather inferior to those of the
yellow bunting, to which it bears great resemblance.
These birds pair in April, and begin laying early in
May.—The female might readily be mistaken for that
sex of the yellow bunting at a little distance, but is ma¬
terially different when compared, especially in the ches-
nut colour of the upper parts of this bird. The note is
also similar to that of the yellow bunting, but shorter,
not so shrill, and the latter part not drawn out to such a
length.—It is remarkable, that so common a bird as the
cirl bunting seems to be in the west of England, should
have so long escaped the notice of British naturalists ;
but in all probability this has been occasioned by their
locality. It is said to he only found on the continent
in the warmer parts of France and Italy ; so with us it
seems confined to the mildest part of England ; but the
winter of 1800, which was severe in Devonshire, did
not force them to seek a warmer climate, but on the
contrary, they continued gregarious with other small
9I birds, searching their food among the ploughed lands.”
Maris Familiar bunting.—Cinereous, spotted with brown ;
tail feathers tipt with white ; hind part of the hack yel¬
low. Size of a siskin. Was found at Java by Osbeck,
and was so familiar, that if the cage door was opened,
it would leap on the first person’s hand that was ofl’ered;
if any one whistled to it, it sang very sweetly in return,
and if it saw a dish of water, it went immediately and
02 bathed in it. It was fed with rice.
tvora. Jlice bunting, or rice bird.—Black ; crown reddish ;
belly black; tail feathers daggered. Six inches and
three quarters long. Inhabits Cuba. These birds feed
on the early crops of rice in the island of Cuba ; but
when the rice in Carolina begins to ripen, they quit
the island, and proceed to Carolina, in amazing and
destructive multitudes. They arrive there in September,
while the rice is yet milky ; and when it grows hard
they return. The birds which thus migrate are all fe¬
males ; hut both sexes make a transient visit to Carolina
in the spring.
Reed bunting, or reed sparrow,—Head black ; body Passen s
gray and black ; outmost tail feathers with a white v——
wedged spot; bill brown; throat and breast black; „ 7°! 7
belly white, streaked with black at the sides; wing
coverts and quill feathers brownish red, black down the
middle; tail feathers pointed, the eight middle ones
black, two middle ones rufous on each edge, the rest on
the outer only; legs brownish. Weight near five drams
and a half; length six inches. Inhabits the marshy ami
reedy districts of Europe and Southern Siberia. A brown
variety occurs at the Cape of Good Hope, and a white
one about Astracan. “ It is somewhat extraordinary,”
observes the intelligent ornithologist quoted above, “ that
the manners and habits of so common a bird should re¬
main so long in obscurity; even modern authors tell ns
it is a song bird, that it sings after sunset; and describe
its nest to be suspended over the water fastened between
three or four reeds. There can he no doubt, however,
that the nest, as well as the song, of the sedge warbler,
have been taken and confounded for those of this bird ;
for as they both frequent the same places in the breed¬
ing season, that elegant little warbler is pouring forth
its varied notes concealed in the thickest part of a bus!);
while this is conspicuously perched above, whose tune is
not deserving the name of song, consisting only of two
notes, the first repeated three or four times, the last single
and more sharp. This inharmonious tune it continues
to deliver with small intervals from the same sprav, for
a great while together when the female is sitting. The
nest is most commonly placed on the ground near wa¬
ter ; sometimes it builds in a bush some distance from the
ground ; at other times in high grass, reeds, sedge, or
the like, and even in furze at a considerable distance
from any water ; in all these situations we have met with
it, but never fastened or suspended as authors have rela¬
ted. The nest is composed of stalks of grass, or other
dry vegetable substances, sometimes partly moss, and
lined with fine grass ; frequently finished with long hair.
The eggs, which are four or five in number, weigh about
36 grains, and are of a dirty bluish-white or purplish-
brown, with numerous dark-coloured spots and veins,
much resembling those of the chaffinch.
JFhi da w bunting.—Black; breast red ; four middle Paradisca.
tail feathers long and pointed, two very long; bill
black. The two middle tail feathers are four inches in
length, very broad, and ending in a long thread ; the
two next are 13 inches or more in length, very broad
in the middle, narrower at the end, and rather pointed ;
from the middle of the shaft of this last arises another
long thread ; the rest of the tail feathers are only two
inches and a quarter long ; the two middle long ones
are placed somewhat vertically, appear undulated across,
and are more glossy than the others ; the legs are flesh-
coloured. The female is wholly of a deep brown, ap¬
proaching to black, but does not acquire its full plu¬
mage till the third year. This species inhabits Africa,
particularly Angola. It moults in November, and also
late in spring.
Shaft-tailed iwwfrwg.—Four middle tail feathers black, Regia.
from nine to ten inches long, equal and feathered only iJJutc
at the tip ; bill and legs red ; body above, and vent, CCCCII.
black ; body beneath, and throat, temples, and orbits, (l®' I*
rufous ; neck above spotted with black. Native of
Africa. Less than the linnet.
Greenheaded bunting.—Brown; head and neck olive; Chlordct-
3 Z 2 back^^
543
Passei'es.
797
Tanagra.
79s
Characters
799
Jacapa.
Soo
Episcopus-
Sox
Jacanari.
Sox
Siberica.
Plate
CCCCil.
fig- 5-
O R N I T H
back ami wing-coverts varied with brown and black j
tail forked. Only two instances are recorded ot this
species having been found in England.
Gen. 83. Tanagra, Tanager.
Bill conical, pointed, notched, almost triangular at the
base, and a little inclining at the tip.
Red-breasted tanager.—Black •, front, throat, and
breast, scarlet j bill black 5 lower mandible silvery, and
convex on the hind part j front sometimes black ; legs
brown. Female purplish-brown j reddish beneath •, wings
and tail brown. Six inches and a half long. Inhabits
South America, frequenting inhabited places, building
a pendulous cylindrical nest, and feeding on fruits.
Bishop tanager.—Cinereous 5 wings and tail blue
without. Six inches and a half long. Inhabits Cayenne,
especially about the skirts of the forests, and feeds on
the lesser kinds of fruits. During night it roosts on the
palm leaves. _ . . . ,
Jacanari tanager.—Black violet; wings whitish be¬
neath-, tail divaricated and forked -, bill and legs cine¬
reous. Inhabits Brazil and Guiana. Is fond ol newly
cultivated land haunts small trees, particularly eollee
trees. The male frequently hops upwards from a branch,
alighting again, first on one foot, and then on the other,
accompanying each leap by a note, and spreading out
the tail at the same time. The nest is hemispherical,
about two inches in diameter, and composed of dried
herbs of a gray colour. The eggs are two in number,
of a greenish-white, marked with small numerous red
spots, deepest and most in number at the large end.
Siberian tanager.—Black 5 tips of the interscapular
and rump feathers fringed with white 5 bill short, pale,
tipt with brown ; bill notched at the tip j legs black.
Native of Siberia ; size of a thrush.
The other species, which are numerous, and not very
distinctly ascertained by authors, seem to differ from one
another more in their markings than then' habits.
O L o G Y.
gant nest of green moss, curiously studded with lichen, Passert
interwoven with wool, and lined with feathers and hair.1
It builds against the side of a tree, particularly in ivy,
or in some forked branch of a bush } but particularly in
apple trees overgrown with moss and lichen, and, like
manv other birds, adapts the materials ot its nest to tne
surrounding colour. The eggs are four or five, larger
than those of the goldfinch, of a dirty white, tinged
with purple, marked with streaks and spots ot dark
purple. Its notes are few, and scarcely deserve the
name of song. Both sexes have a monotonous call-note,
which seem°to express the word twink. This species
is subject to several varieties.
is subject to several varieties. So7 I
Mountain finch, brambling, or bramble.—Vv^e, of the
wings fine yellow beneath j bill yellowish, tipt with8
black head, neck, and back black in the female
brown j tbe feathers edged with reddish-brown -, rump,
lower part of the breast and belly white ; throat and
upper part of the breast reddish-tawney j in the female
reddish gray, leaser wing-coverts reddish } middle ones
reddish white greater black, tipt with white ; those
next the body reddish at the tip} quill leathers black,
edged with yellowish *, tail a little forked } legs gray.
Rather larger than the preceding; length about six
inches. Inhabits Europe and Asia, breeding in the
northern regions. Is frequently seen in large flocks m
the winter, on the coasts of Kent and Sussex, when the
weather is severe, when it is sometimes so exhausted as
to suffer itself to be taken up. They are also found in
the interior parts of the kingdom at that season, Hying
in company with chaffinches and yellow hammers. In
hard winters, they are also frequently seen in the neigh¬
bourhood of Edinburgh. They are partial to the pine
forests in the Highlands, and live on beech mast and the
seeds of other trees. They build in trees a nest formed
of hypnums without, and ot wood and feathers within,
the female laying four or five yellowish spotted eggs.
Their flesh is eatable, though sometimes bitter. 80S
Goldfinch, or thistlefinch.—QmW feathers black; and Carduel
except the outmost marked with fine yellow in the mid¬
dle ; two outmost tail feathers in the middle, and the
rest at the tips white; bill white, tipt with black; front-
let scarlet, in the female brown ; cheeks, hind head,
and belly white ; top of the head black ; wing-coverts
black, in the female brown ; back, rump, and breast,
chesnut-brown. This beautiful species, which is subject
to o-reat variety, is rather less than the chaffinch, and
inhabits Europe, Asia, and Africa. It is gregarious m
winter, lives to a great age, subsists chiefly on the seeds
of the thistle, hemp, and capitated plants ; is docile and
easily tamed, and sings delightfully, even in confine¬
ment. It sometimes builds in hedges, but most com¬
monly in trees, especially those that are evergreen. Ihe
nest is neatly constructed of bents, moss, and lichen,
woven together with wool, and sometimes lined with
wool, or hair covered with thistle down, or the pap¬
pus of tbe willow. The eggs are four or five, ot a
bluish white, with a few small spots, chiefly at the lar¬
ger end. The goldfinch readily breeds with the canary
and other congenerous birds.
Lepid finch.—Greenish-brown ; band above and be-Iqn*
neath the eyes and chin orange ; breast black. Only
half tbe size of the canary bird. Inhabits the woods ot
Cuba, and sings with a weak, but very sweet note. 8i
Ethiopian finch.—Deep black ; irides rufous.
803
Fringil-
X.A.
S04
Characters.
Sot;.
happonua,
806
Cwlebs.
Gen. 84. Fringilla, Finch.
Bill conical, straight, and pointed.
This is a numerous and active tribe of birds, very ge¬
nerally dispersed over the world, and feeding principal¬
ly on insects and grain.
Lapland finch.—Head black ; body gray and black ;
eyebrows white ; outmost tail feathers with a white
wedded spot. Six inches and a half long. Inhabits
Europe, Asia, and America. Runs along the ground
like a lark, and sings on the wing.
Chaffinch-, p r 0 v i n c i a 1 i y, beech fi nch, horse finch, pink,
and twink.—Limbs black ; quill feathers white on both
sides, the three first without spots ; two of the tail fea¬
thers obliquely white ; bill white, but in spring and
summer bluish, tipt with black ; crown, nape, and sides
of the neck hoary ; temples and throat reddish ; belly
and vent reddish-white ; wing-coverts with a -white
blotch, the greater with a white band besides; quill fea¬
thers yellowish at the edge, and white at the base; tail
a little forked ; legs brown. The female wants the red
on the breast and other parts. Rather less than the
sparrow. Inhabits Europe and Africa. Continues with
us the whole year; but the females migrate from Sweden
to Holland in the autumn, leaving their mates behind,
and return in the spring. This bird makes a most ele-
4
80
<pa.
Sia
Jegans,
813
maria.
S14
i i/tt/JU*,
ORNITHOLOGY,
habits tlie woods of America, feeds on fruits and seeds,
is easily tamed, and sings with the feathers of the head
erected.
Caspa finch.—Reddish-gray *, front and chin white j
wings and tail black. Inhabits Barbary and Abyssinia,
frequents granaries in large flocks, and excels the ca¬
nary bird in its song.
Beautiful finch.—Green above; neck cinereous; breast
yellow, frontlet, chin, rump, and tail red ; belly with
curved white spots ; bill and legs red j rump and tail
chesnut red. Five inches long. Inhabits Africa.
Canary bird, or canary finch.—Bill and body straw
colour ) quill and tail feathers greenish. Is now well
known over Europe, into which it was brought from
the Canary islands, about the beginning of the 16th
century. It is somewhat longer than the siskin, and
about five inches and a half in length. With us they
are kept in a state of captivity, and partake of all the
differences and varieties incident to that condition. Buf-
fon enumerates 29 varieties, and more might probably
be added to his list. “ The breeding and rearing of
these charming birds,” says Mr Bewick, “ form an a-
musement of the most pleasing kind, and afford a variety
of scenes highly interesting and gratifying to innocent
minds. In the places fitted up and accommodated to
the use of the little captives, we are delighted to see
the workings of nature exemplified in the choice of their
mates, building their nests, hatching and rearing their
young, and in the impassionate ardour exhibited by the
male, whether he is engaged in assisting his faithful mate
in collecting materials for her nest, in arranging them
for her accommodation, in providing food for her off¬
spring, or in chanting his lively and amorous songs
during every part of the important business. J he canary
will breed freely with the siskin and goldfinch, particu¬
larly the former j it likewise proves prolific with the lin¬
net, but not so readily, and admits also the chaffinch,
yellow bunting, and even the sparrow, though with still
more difficulty. In all these instances, excepting the
first, the pairing succeeds best when the female canary
is introduced to the male of the opposite species. Accord¬
ing to Buffon, the siskin is the only bird of which the
male and female propagate equally with those oi the
male or female canaries.” Great numbers of these birds
are reared in the Tyrol. Four Tyrolese usually brought
over to England about 1600 of them annually, and
though they carried them on their backs 1 OOO miles,
and paid 20I. for such a number, they were enabled to
sell them at five shillings a-piece. It is not generally
known, that the song of the canary bird is usually com¬
posed of the notes of the tit lark or of the nightingale.
Mr Barrington saw two of the species which were
imported from the Canary islands, neither oi which had
any song j and he was afterwards informed, that a ship
brought over a great many of them with the same de¬
fect. Most of those from the Tyrol have been edu¬
cated under parents whose progenitors were instructed
by a nightingale. Our’English canary birds, however,
have more of the tit-lark’s than of the nightingale’s
notes. The canary bird lives chiefly on the seeds of
phalaris canariensis, canabis myagrurn, brassica napvs,
arena, &c.
Siskin, or aberdevine.—Quill feathers yellow in the
middle j the first four without spots j tail feathers yel¬
low at the base, and tipt with black} crown black j
549
body yellowish 5 greenish above, breast greenish *, wings passeres.
green 5 throat brown, of the female white j head and
back, in the female, greenish-ash, spotted with brown.
Four inches and three-fourths long. Inhabits Europe,
and is liable to several varieties. Though migratory in
most places, it does not seem to observe any regular
periods, as it is sometimes seen in large, and at other
times in very small numbers. Buffon remarks, that the
great flights happen only once in the course of three or.
four years. It conceals its nest with so much art, that
it is extremely difficult to discover it. Kramer informs
us. that inthe forests borderingon theDanube, thousands
of young siskins are frequently found, which have not
dropt their first feathers, and yet it is rare to meet with
a nest. It is not known to breed in this island 3 nor is
it known whence they come over to us. In some parts
it is called the barley bird, from its appearing when
that grain is sown. Its song, though not so loud as that
of the canary, is pleasing and various. It is docile and
familiar in captivity, and will imitate the notes of other
birds, even to the chirping of a sparrow. Like the
goldfinch, it may easily be taught to draw up its little
bucket with water and food. It drinks frequently, and
seems fond of throwing water over its feathers. '1 he male
breeds freely with the hen canary, and is assiduous in
his attention to her, carrying materials for the nest, and
arranging them, and during the time of incubation, re¬
gularly supplying her with food. S15
Bearded finch.— Pale yellow : wings green, spotted Bar bat a,
with black and red j chin bearded. Size of the canary
bird. Inhabits the mountains of Chili, except in winter,
when it descends into the plains. It is easily tamed,
sings charmingly, and imitates the notes of other birds. gj^
Greater redpole,or red-headed linnet.—Chesnut brown j Canabina,
reddish-white beneath j wings with a longitudinal white
band *, tail feathers edged with white on each side ; bill
black j head and neck cinereous ; sides yellow •, middle
of the belly white •, tail forked, dusky, both-sides edged
with white. Head of the female ash-colour, spotted with
black j crown and breast without the red 5 breast dirty
yellow with black lines. Subject to considerable variety
in the markings. Five inches and a half long. Inhabits
Europe and America. These birds fly in flocks during
winter, at which time the males have little or none of
the red markings, which in the return of spring they
put forth. In many parts they haunt the sea shore,
and in the breeding season, often resort to furzy conir
mons. The nest is composed of moss and bents interwoven
with wool, and lined with wool and hair. The eggs are
four or five, of a bluish-white, with purplish specks and'
short lines. The redpole sings nearly the whole year, is
very familiar, and so easily tamed, as to be cheerful in
five minutes after it is taken.1 817
Common or brown linnet.—Chesnut brown ; whitish Linota,
beneath j wings with a longitudinal white band j tail
feathers edged with white on each side. Though this
is usually described as a distinct species, it seems to be
only a variety ®f the preceding. 818
Lesser redpole or lesser red headed linnet.—Brown, Bmanaz.
varied with gray 5 reddish-white beneath •, wings with a
double white band j crown and breast red*, bill and legs
brown*, back black, the feathers edgedwith chesnut j sides
with narrow dusky lines ; quill feathers dusky, edged
with dirty white ; legs dusky. Female with a saffron
spot on the front. Weight about two drams and a half;
length
ORNITHOLOGY.
Sip
Montium.
820
Coccinea.
821
Domcslica.
55°
Passcres. length five inches. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and Ame-
—v——' i-ica. It is gregarious in winter, when many are taken
by the bird-catchers near London, &.c. under the name
of stone redpole. It breeds in Scotland and the north oi
England •, building in the trunk of the alder a nest ot
dry sticks and wool, lined with hair and leathers, or wil¬
low down. Lays four eggs of a light bluish-green,
thickly sprinkled with reddish spots, especially at the
larger end. ( ••11
Mountain linnet, or twite.—Black, varied with red¬
dish •, whitish beneath j feathers of the lower part of the
neck black in the middle ; wings with a white band j
rump red j feathers ot the throat and breast black, edged
with white ; middle quill feathers edged 5 secondary tipt
with white. Rather larger than the greater redpole j
length about six inches and a halt. Inhabits Europe.
Is gregarious, and has much the habits ot the other lin¬
nets, with which it associates.
Scarlet finch.—Bright orange ; wings and even tail
black ; quill feathers orange at the outer edge, the pri¬
maries tipt with black j bill brownish; legs black.
Four inches and a half long. Inhabits the Sandwich
islands.
House sparrow.—Quill and tail feathers brown; body
gray and black j w7ings with a single white band ; bill
black; ciowm gray; a black spot under each eye; a
broad bay mark surrounding the hind part of the head ;
cheeks white ; chin and under side of the neck black,
the latter edged with white ; lesser wing coverts bright
bay ; the last row black, tipt with white. The lower
mandible of the female white, and a white line beyond
each eye. The most remarkable varieties are, 1. white,
2. yellow, clouded with chesnut above, and 3. blackish.
Weighs nearly seven drams ; length about six inches.
Inhabits Europe, Asia, and Africa. I his well known
species inhabits the dwellings of the rich and the poor,
and is rarely seen far from the habitation of man. It
lives on seeds and fruits, and often cunningly avoids the
snares that are laid for it. In autumn it is often gre-
.garious, but more frequently so in winter. It does not
sing, except when tamed, and then the male will imitate
the song of a linnet, or other bird within hearing. It
makes a nest conformable to the place which it chooses
for incubation, whether in a hole of a wall, in thatch,
under the tiles of a house, or in the nest of a martin, or
other bird ; but when it builds in a tree, the nest is of
a large size, and covered at the top, composed of hay
and straw, lined warmly with feathers and fragments of
thread or worsted, bits of cloth, or any refuse material
of that sort found about houses. The female lays six
eggs of a whitish colour, spotted with dusky and cine-
a eous, and usually breeds thrice in the year. Mr Smellie
relates a pleasing anecdote of the affection of these birds
towards their young. “ When I was a boy,” says he,
u I carried off a nest of young sparrows, about a mile
from mv place of residence. After the nest was com¬
pletely removed, and while I was marching home with
them in triumph, I perceived, with some degree of asto¬
nishment, both parents following me at some distance,
and observing my motions in perfect silence. A thought
then struck me, that they might follow me home, and
feed their young according to their usual manner. When
just entering the door, I held up the nest, and made the
young utter the cry which is expressive of the desire of
food. I immediately put the nest and the young in the
corner of a wire cage, and placed it on the oufside of a putscre,
window. I chose a situation in the room wkere I could 1 
perceive all that should happen, without being myself
seen. The young animals soon cried for food. In a
short time both parents, having their bills filled with
small caterpillars, came to the cage ; and after chatting
a little, as we would do with a friend through the lat¬
tice of a prison, gave a small worm to each. This
parental intercourse continued regularly for some time,
till the young were completely fledged, and had acquired
a considerable degree of strength. I then took one of
the strongest of them, and placed him on the outside of
the cage, in order to observe the conduct of the parents
after one of their offspring wras emancipated. In a few
minutes both parents arrived, loaded as usual with food.
They no sooner perceived that one of their children had
escaped from prison, than they fluttered about, and made
a thousand noisy demonstrations of joy both with their
wings and their voices. These tumultuous expressions
of unexpected happiness at last gave place to a more
calm and soothing conversation. By their voices and
their movements it was evident that they earnestly en¬
treated him to follow them, and to fly from his present
dangerous state. He seemed to be impatient to obey
their mandates ; but, by his gestures, and the feeble
sounds he uttered, he plainly expressed that he was afraid
to try an exertion he had never before attempted. They,
however, incessantly repeated their solicitations ; by fly¬
ing alternately from the cage to a neighbouring chimney
top, they endeavoured to show him how easily the journey
was to be accomplished. He at last committed himself
to the air, and alighted in safety. Upon his arrival,
another scene of clamorous and active joy was exhibited.
Next day I repeated the same experiment, by exposing
another of the young on the top of the cage. I observed
the same conduct with the remainder of the brood, which
consisted of four. I need hardly add, that not one either
of the parents or children ever afterwards revisited the
execrated cage.”—Few birds are more persecuted by
the farmers, and, perhaps, more unjustly so, than spar¬
rows ; as it has been proved, that they are more useful
than noxious. Mr Bradley, in his Treatise on Husbandry
and Gardening, shows, that a pair of sparrows, during
the time that they have their young to feed, destroy, on
an average, every week 3360 caterpillars. He discovered
that the two pai’ents carried to the nest 40 caterpillars
in an hour. He supposed the sparrows to enter the nest
only during 12 hours each day, which would cause a
daily consumption of 480 caterpillars. This sum gives
3360 caterpillars extirpated weekly from a garden. But
the utility of these birds is not limited to this circum¬
stance alone; for they likewise feed their young with
butterflies and other winged insects, each of which, if
not destroyed in this manner, would be the parent ot
hundreds of caterpillars. s22
Tree or mountain sparrow, Hamburgh grosbeak of Montun*\
Latham, &c.—Quill and tail feathers brown ; body
gray and black ; wings with a double white band ; bill,
chin, and spot on the ears black ; head and nape bay ;
body above reddish-brown, spotted with black ; whitish
beneath ; wing coverts black, edged with rufous ; tail
feathers blackish, edged with rufous; legs yellowish.
Female without the black spots. Five inches and a halt
long, and rather smaller than the preceding. Inhabits
Europe and North America, and is said to be very plen¬
tiful
ipassere;.
S2.3
"drama-
)ia.
824
HYXOTO-
:a.
3^5
Iiaracters
S2J
lara.
827
Ioscica-
828
hai'acters
829
aradm
O R N I T H
tlful ill Lincolnshire, Yorkshire, ami Lancashire. It
is local, and very gregarious.
Ultramarine finch.—Blue; bill white; legs red. Size
of a canary bird. Inhabits Abyssinia, and sings well.
Gen. 85. Phytotoma.
Bill conical, straight, serrated ; nostrils oval ; tongue
short, and obtuse ; feet four-toed.
{ . ^ara phytotoma, or four-toed plant-cutter.—Bill
thick, half an inch long, and toothed on each side like a
saw ; jrides brown ; body ash above ; paler beneath ;
qmll and tail feathers spotted with black ; tail round¬
ed ; hind toe shorter than the fore ones. Inhabits Chili,
where it is not uncommon. Has a rough voice, and
utters at intervals, the syllable ra, ra, very distinctly^
leeds on vegetables, digging and cutting about their
roots with its bill as with a saw, and thus making great
havock in gardens. Builds in lofty trees, in retired si¬
tuations.
Gen. 86. Muscicapa, Fhj-catc/ier.
$30
ijrarnm.
83*
’alachu-
S32
Wnaa.
Pi ate
CCCCJ.
%
833
‘bricollis,
, S34
Papilla
Bill nearly triangular, notched on each side, bent in at
the tip, and beset with bristles at the root; toes in
most cases divided to their origin.
a- The ^ds °f tI,.Is genns 1, ve 011 insects, particularly
Hies. Of 92 species, two only inhabit Britain.
Paradise fly-catcher, or pied bird of Paradise.—
Crested ; head black ; body white ; tail wedged ; two
middle feathers very long ; head, neck, and chin green¬
ish-black ; back, rump, throat, and body white be¬
neath ; wing coverts and quill feathers black, edged
with white ; tivo middle tail feathers inches long •
legs lead-coloured. Eight inches and a quarter long.
Ot tins species there are several varieties. Inhabits
Asia and Africa.
lorked-tailfly-catcher.—Tail very long and forked ;
body black ; white beneath. Fourteen inches lono-.
Inhabits Canada and Surinam.
Soft-tailed fly-catcher.—Brown ; ferruginous be¬
neath ; throat of the male blue ; tail long, wedged, with
loose webbed feathers. Inhabits New Holland, being
found about Sidney and Botany Bay, in marshy places,
abounding with long grass and rushes, which afford it a
hiding place, and where, like the bearded titmouse, it is
supposed to make its nest When disturbed, its flight
is very short; but it runs on the ground with great
swiftness. This singular bird, which is but three inches
long, is well represented in the fourth volume of the
Linnsean Transactions.
Dwarf fly-catcher.—Straw-coloured beneath ; head
and neck rufous, spotted with black; feathers of the
back and wing coverts cinereous; edged with greenish ;
quill feathers black, edged with gray ; tail black and
short. Hardly three inches long. Inhabits Cayenne.
P urple-throatedfiy-catcher.—P>\-ac\s.-, chin and throat
with a large purple red spot. Twelve inches long.
Inhabits woods in South America, is gregarious, feeds
on fruits and insects, and often associates with the tou¬
can.
Pied fly-catchcr.—Black above ; under parts, spot
on the front, and shield on the wings, white ; lateral
tail feathers white without; bill and legs black 3 tail
823
O L O G Y.
coverts spotted with white. Female brown ; white be¬
neath, and wants the frontal spot. About the size of a
linnet, and nearly five inches long. There are three or
four varieties, and the young birds at first resemble the
female. It is local, and by no means plentiful in this
island, affecting wild and uncultivated tracts of furze.
According to Dr Latham, it builds in some hole of a
tree, not very near the ground, making a nest of a few
fibres, mixed with moss, and laying six eggs.
Chattering flycatcher.—Green; yellow beneath ; Viridis.
belly and vent whitish ; eyebrows and spot under the
eyes whitish; tail brown. Seven inches and three
quarters long. Haunts unfrequented places in Caroli¬
na ; is very shy, and flies with its legs extended. 835
Azm e fly-catcher.—Blue; hind head and breast Cisrulea,
with a black spot; belly and vent bluish white; quill
and tail feathers dusky-blue. Five inches long. In¬
habits the Philippine islands.
Fan-tailed fly-catcher.—Olive above, ferruginous Flabetlife-
beneath ; eyebrows, chin, throat, sides of the neck, and»’«-
lateral tail feathers white; middle tail feathers, head,
and collar black. Six inches and a half long. Inhabits
New Zealand. Flies with its tail expanded like a
fan ; and is easily tamed. g ,s
Flack fly-catcher.—Totally black; bill, head, and Nigra.
legs dusky black. Inhabits Society islands. S39
Active fly-catcher.—Olive-brown ; whitish beneath
quill and tail feathers black, and edged with olive-
brown. Four inches and a half long. Inhabits Ca¬
yenne. Is continually hunting after insects, which it
picks out from under the bark of trees. , g40
Spotted fly-catcher.—Brownish whitish beneath; neck Grisolc..
longitudinally spotted ; vent pale-rnfous ; bill black,
whitish at the base ; inside of the mouth yellow; head
laige, brownish, and spotted with black; back mouse-
coioured ; wings and tail black ; the former edged with
white; chin spotted with red; legs black. About the
size ot the tit-lark ; length five inches and a half. In¬
habits Europe. I his bird visits us in spring, and de¬
parts in September. It frequents orchards and groves,
and will make its nest on the limb of some fruit-tree
nailed against the wall, or in a hole, sometimes in out¬
buildings, on the end of a beam or rafter, and at other
times against the body of a large tree, on the stump of
a decayed branch. i he nest is formed of bents, moss,
and such materials, interwoven with spiders webs, and
lined with feathers. The female lays four or five eggs,
not much unlike those of the redbreast, but rather less,
and the rust-coloured spots more distinct, and not so.
much confined to the larger end. Its food seems to be
entirely winged insects, though it is said to be particu¬
larly fond of cherries, probably from the circumstance
of its frequenting the cherry tree for the sake of flies,
that are attracted by the fruit. As soon as the young
birds leave the nest, they are led by the old ones to
some neighbouring wood or grove where insects abound;,
and where they may be seen darting in every direction
in pursuit of flies, and frequently returning to the same
station. I he note of this species is a simple weak
chirp, not frequently used till after the young are fled,
so that the bird, though not uncommon, is not readily
discovered.
Desert fly-catcher.—Body ferrnginous and sooty ;
wings and tail blackish; bill yellowish. Inhabits the
deserts of .Arabia, /
Gen,
842
Motacil-
LA.
S43
Characters.
844.
Luscinm.
O It N I
Gen. 87. Motacilla.
Bill subulated, straight', the mandibles nearly equal j
nostrils ohovate ; tongue lacerated at the end.
Most of this genus feed on insects ; a few are grega¬
rious and on the approach of winter, migrate to warm¬
er climates. , .,
Ni<rhtingale.—Bufous-ash, white ash beneath ', tail
feathers rufous-brown j bracelets cinereous ; bill brown j
head and back pale mouse-colour, with olive spots ; tail
red-mouse colour ; legs and quill feathers brown-ash, the
latter chesnut on the outer edge. About the size ot the
sky-lark, but of a more slender and elegant lorm.
Weighs six drams ; and measures between six and seven
inches in length. There is a variety with the body
somewhat larger, and another that is entirely white.
Inhabits Europe, Asia, and Africa. Appears in Eng¬
land sometimes in April, but most commonly not ti
the beginning of May. The females do not arrive till
a week or ten days after the males; so that on the hrst
arrival of these birds none but males are caught, a cir¬
cumstance which has given rise to the supposition, that
the proportion of males exceeds that of females. 1 he
nightingale is said to be found as far north as Yorkshire,
and certainly not farther west than the eastern borders
of Devonshire ; it is plentiful both in Somersetshire and
Dorsetshire. This bird resides wholly in woods and
thickets, and is seldom seen. About the latter end ol
May it prepares a nest of dry leaves, generally of the
oak, and lined with dry grass, usually placed on the
ground, among the same materials of which it is compo¬
sed, so that it is not readily discovered. The eggs are
four or five, of an uniform brown colour, and rather
larger than those of the hedge sparrow. As soon as the
young are hatched, the song of the nightingale ceases •,
and it is a mistaken notion that this, or any of the later
breeding birds, have a second brood in the same season,
except when some accident has befallen the first. I he
young are not easily reared in confinement. At first
they are fed with meal-worms, and afterwards with
boiled sheep’s heart. The winter residence of this bird
is said to be in Asia. The sweetness and variety ol its
notes have been universally admired, and the moie so,
perhaps, because they are uttered in the silence of night.
In a wild state, it does not sing above ten weeks in the
year, while those confined in a cage continue their song
for nine or ten months. The honourable Dairies Bar¬
rington once kept a very fine nightingale for three
years, during which time he paid particular attention to
ks song. Its tone was infinitely more mellow than that
of any°other bird, though at the same time, by a proper
exertion, it could be very brilliant. When it sang its
sons: round, in its whole compass, he observed sixteen
different beginnings and closes 5 at the same time that
the intermediate notes were commonly varied in their
succession with so much judgment as to produce the most
pleasing variety. Sometimes it would continue its song
twenty seconds without a pause •, w henever respiration,
however, became necessary, it was taken as skilfully as
by an opera.singer. Nightingales will also adopt the
notes of other birds, may be instructed to sing by turns,
with a chorus, and even to articulate words. The
Loudon bird-catchers take them by net-traps, baited
with meal-worms from the bakers shops. It is with
X H O L O O Y.
great difficulty that the old birds are induced to sing Paisere,
after being taken for a considerable time.they refuse 1 v—
to eat', but by great attention to their treatment, and
avoiding every thing that might agitate them, they at
length resume their song, and continue it during the
greater part of the year. ?4S [
Hang-nest warmer.—Greenish-brown above, tawney Lu^n% ,
beneath ; ocular line, and one beneath, black. Size of
a robin-redbreast. Inhabits Jamaica, and builds a
hanging nest. ^ [,
Hedge-sparrow, or hedge-warbler.—Gv^y-hrown a-Moduli :,
bove ■, wing-coverts tipt with white 5 breast bluish-ash j
bill blackish -, cheeks striped wuth white ; feathers of
the back and wing-coverts edged with chesnutwings
and tail dusky ; rump greenish brown ; chin and breast
cinereous j belly whitish j vent yellowish j Icg^ flesh-
coloured. Length five inches and three quarters j
weight nearly six drams. Inhabits Europe j and is one
of the few of the warbler tribe that remains with us the
whole year. It lias a pleasing plaintive song, which it
begins with the new year, if the weather is mild, breeds
early, making, in March, a nest composed of green moss
and wool, and lined with hair, which is placed 111 some
lowr evergreen shrub, thick bush, or cut hedge, and some¬
times in faggot piles. The female lays four or five blue
eggs. In default of insects and worms, the hedge-spar¬
row will pick up crumbs of bread, and seems to prefer
situations near the habitation of man. The cuckoo fre¬
quently makes choice of this bird’s nest for the purpose
of depositing its egg. • , ir S47 •
Lesser petty-ehaps.—Greenish-ash above, yellowish
beneath ; belly whitish j limbs brown ^eyebrows whitish *,
upper mandible black, lower bluish inside ot the mouth
red a yellowish line above and beneath the eyes j quill
and tail"feathers mouse-coloured, and edged with green¬
ish ; the shafts black ; lower wing-coverts yellow $ belly
silvery. Weight about two drams ^ length rather more
than four inches and a half 5 size inferior to that of the
yellow wren, which it much resembles in plumage, and
with which, and the wood-wren, it has been often con¬
founded. It is the first of the warblers that visits us in
the spring, being generally heard on or before the first
of April, repeating its song, if so it may be called ; for
it consists only of two notes, which seem to exprtess the
words chip, chop, four or five times successively. It is
a busy, restless bird, always active among the trees and
bushes, in search of insects. The nest is oval, with a
small bole near the top, composed externally of dry
leaves and coarse dry grass, and lined with feathers.
For the most part, it is placed on, or near the ground,
frequently on a ditch-bank, or in a tuft of grass or low
bush. The eggs are five, or six, white, speckled with
purplish-red at the larger end only, with here and there
a single speck on the sides. This species is found 111 al¬
most every part of the country where wood or hedges
can shelter it. Its note is heard long after the yellow
wren is silent; ami it remains with us, not unfrequent- ^ ^
lv, till the latter end of October. ^
JF'jod-wren.— Olive green above 5 throat and cheeks J
yellow •, belly and vent fine silvery j tail feathers brown,
and, except the first, green on the outer webs, and’
white on the inner ; bill horn-colour j irides hazel;
breast pale-yellow j a yellow line through the eye; tail
somewhat forked, and brown ; under part of the shoulder
bright vellow ; legs horn-colour. Weight about two
° J " drams
ORNITHOLOGY.
;sseres
S49 _
i 'temis.
5°
S aria.
drams and forty grains; length five inches and a quar-
J ter. The female is rather larger. This is a migrative
species, appearing about the end of April, and depart¬
ing in September. The females arrive ten days or a
fortnight after the males. From its great similitude to
the yellow wren, it has been little noticed as a distinct
species, but is far from uncommon in some parts of Eng¬
land. It seems partial to oak and beech woods, where
it may be found by its singular note, expressive of the
word twee, drawn out to some length, and repeated five
or six times in succession, terminating with the same
notes, delivered in a hurried manner, and accompanied
by a shaking of the wings. The nest, w hich is oval
with a small hole near the top, is constructed of dry
grass, a few dead leaves, and a little moss, and is inva¬
riably lined with finer grass and a few long hairs. It
is placed on the ground, and contains six white eggs,
sprinkled all over with purplish spots.
Pcity-chaps, or greater petty-chaps.—Gray brown
above, white beneath; eyebrows whitish; quill feathers
brown-ash, edged with gray, the outmost on the outer
web, and near the tip on the inner, whitish ; bill black¬
ish ; lateral tail feathers edged with gray-brown ; legs
brown. Length six inches ; weight about five drams.
Inhabits Europe ; and occurs during summer in Lan¬
cashire, and in some of the southern counties of Eng¬
land. It chiefly frequents thick hedges, where it makes
a nest composed of goose-grass, and other fibrous plants,
flimsily put together, with sometimes an addition of a
little green moss externally. It usually contains four
eggs, about the size of the hedge-sparrow’s, of a dirty
white, blotched all over with light brown, especially at
the larger end, where spots of ash-colour also appear.
The song of this species is little inferior to that of the
nightingale. Some of the notes are sweetly and softly
drawn, others quick, lively, loud, and piercing, reaching
the distant ear with pleasing harmony, not unlike the
blackbird’s whistle, but in a more hurried cadence. It
frequently sings after sunset,
Sedge warbler.—Cinereous above, white beneath ;
eyebrows white ; bill black ; head brown, with dusky
streaks ; hind part of the neck and back reddish-brown;
back spotted with black ; tail coverts tawney; wing-
coverts dusky, edged with pale brown ; tail brown and
wedged; legs dusky. Weight about three drams ;
length five inches and a half. Inhabits sedgy situations
in Europe. It comes to us about the middle of April,
and leaves us again in September. It has a variety of
notes, which it utters in a hurried manner, and which
partake of those of the sky-lark and swallow, as well as
of the chatter of the house-sparrow. It is frequent by
the sides of rivers and watery places, where sedges and
reeds grow, among which it makes a nest, composed of
a little moss, intermixed with dry stalks, and lined with
dried grass, and occasionally a few hairs, sometimes
tastened between two or three reeds, sometimes placed
on a tuft of rushes, and fastened round the bottom of
them, and at other times, in a low bush, or on the trunk
of a willow. The eggs are five or six, of a light-brown
colour, mottled with darker shades of the same. Vari¬
ous authors have erroneously ascribed the song of this
warbler to the reed-bunting, which has no notes that
deserve the name of song, a mistake which has origina¬
ted from both species breeding in the same places, and
the reed-bunting being conspicuous on the upper
Vol. XV. Part II. * f
55.
branches of a tree, while the little vvarbler, concealed Passeres.
in the thickest part, is heard aloud. It has been re-v-—’""v—~
marked, that if it be silent, a stone thrown into the bush,
will make it begin singing instantly, and that it will
also sing during a moon light night. St.r
White-throat.—Cinereous above, white beneath ; first Sylvia,
tail feathers longitudinally half-white, the second tipt
with white ; bill black, white at the base ; head brown¬
ish-ash ; back reddish. Female, with the breast and
belly snowy. There is a variety that is reddish-ash
above, and reddish-white beneath, with the throat
white ; the outmost tail feathers on the upper part of
the inner side, and whole of the outer side white.
Weight about four drams ; length five inches and three
quarters Inhabits Europe, and is very common in our
inclosed countries. It arrives about the middle of April,
and enlivens our hedges with its song, when it erects the
feathers on the crown of the head. The nest is made of
goose-grass, lined with fibres, and sometimes a few long
hairs, but is of so flimsy a texture that it can afford little
warmth to the eggs or young. It is generally placed in
some low bush, among nettles or other luxuriant plants.
The eggs are four or five, of a greenish white, and
speckled all over with light brown or ash-colour. The
white-throat feeds on insects and berries, and frequents
our gardens in the summer, for the sake of cherries and
currants. g^z
Lesser white-throat.—Brown-ash, dirty-white be- Sylviella.
neath ; two middle tail feathers shorter and subulated ;
bill dusky, the base beneath yellowish ; irides dusky j
crown deeper than the body 5 legs brown. Scarcely five
inches long. Though not so common as the preceding,
it occurs in many of the hedges of Gloucestershire and
Wiltshire ; builds in low shrubs, and has a shrill whist-
ling note. . 8<;3
Epicurean warbler.—Brownish, white beneath ; Ficedula,
breast spotted with cinereous. About five inches long.
Inhabits Europe. Its flesh is reckoned delicious.
Hartford warbler.—Chesnut above, ferruginous be- Provincial
neath ; middle of the belly, edge of the quill feathers,***
spurious wings, and outside of the outmost tail feather
white; eyebrows red; bill black, the base beneath
white; irides scarlet; tail black, and as long as the
body ; legs yellow. Inhabits Provence, and rarely
England. A pair were shot on a common near Dart-
ford in 1773, and others have since been observed about
Falmouth, Wandsworth, &c. As yet the nest and eggs
are unknown. It is rather larger than the common
wren, and five inches and a half in length. It is a shy
bird, concealing itself among the thickest furze, on the
least alarm, and creeping from bush to bush. The short¬
ness of the wing, and length of tail give it a singular *
manner of flying, which is in short jerks, with the tail
thrown up. Its note is a weak but shrill piping noise,
several times repeated. 83>
Pensile warbler.—Gray, yellow beneath ; belly and Pms/*'s.
eyebrows white ; lores spotted with yellow ; wing co¬
verts with alternate white and black bands. Nearly
five inches long. Inhabits St Domingo, and some of
the West India islands, where it feeds chiefly on insects
and fruits ; and has a very delicate song, which is con¬
tinued throughout the year. “ The sagacity displayed
by this bird (says Mr Bingley), in building and placing
its nest, is truly remarkable. She does not fix it at the
forking of the branches, as is usual with most other
4 A .birds.
856
Alba,
S57
Ftava.
o R N I T H
birds, but suspends it to binders hanging from the net¬
ting, which she forms from tree to tree, especially those
which fall from branches that hang over the rivers an
deep ravines. The nest consists of dry blades ol grass,
the ribs of leaves, and exceedingly small roots inter¬
woven with the greatest art •, it is fastened on, or rather
it is worked into, the pendant strings. It is in lact a
small bed rolled into a ball, so thick and compact as
to exclude the rain 5 and it rocks in the wind without
receiving any harm. But the elements are not the on¬
ly enemies against which this bird has to struggle } \vit 1
wonderful sagacity it provides for the protection ol its
nest from other accidents. The opening is not n^de on
the top nor side of the nest, but at the bottom. Is or is
the entrance direct. After the bird has made its way
into the vestibule, it must pass over a kind ol partition,
and through another aperture betore it descends into the
abode of its family. This lodgment is round and solt,
being lined with a species of lichen, which grows on the
trees, or with the silky down oi plants. 1
White or water wagtail; provincially, dishwasher, or
washerwoman.—RiZMi black ; two lateral tail leathers
obliquely half white; bill, hind head, nape, throat, and
legs black j front, orbits, sides of the neck, and belly
white j body cinereous above } greater quill leathers
blackish •, secondary, and wing-coverts dusky, and edged
with gray } middle tail leathers black, and edged with
gray. Female with the crown brown. Weight nearly
six drams •, length seven inches and a half. 1 his species
inhabits almost every where j is a very active bird, and
continually in motion, running after flies. In tins coun¬
try, as the weather becomes severe, it is apt to haunt
marshes that are subject to the flow oi the tide. Early
in spring they return to their usual summer situation
and from the number which are sometimes seen together
at this time attending sheepfolds and newly ploughed
fields, we may presume that they are gregarious in their
flights. In the breeding season they seem to prefer
pleasure grounds that are constantly mowed, on which
they run unencumbered, and where the insects have not
sufficient cover to evade their sight. Tdie nestis found
in various places, sometimes on the ground, in a heap
of stones, the hole of a wall, or on the top of a pollard
tree. It is composed of moss, dried grass, and fibres,
put together with wool, and lined with feathers or hair.
The eggs are four or five, white, and spotted all over
with light brown and ash-colour j weighing about forty
grains, and much resembling that of the cuckoo, which
bird frequently makes choice of the wagtail’s nest, in
which to deposit her egg. It sings very prettily early in
spring, and frequently gives the alarm on the appearance
of a hawk, which it pursues in company with the swal¬
lows. The young birds bave no black on the throat
till the returning spring, and the old ones lose it in
winter. In this state they have been erroneously de¬
scribed as a variety.
Yellow wagtail.—Breast and belly yellow} two la¬
teral tail feathers obliquely half white} bill and legs
black •, hind claw very long •, body olive above ; band
through, and one beneath the eyes, black j throat with
a few black spots •, middle and greater wing-coverts
black, edged with yellowish ; tail black. Female with
whitish eyebrows. Length six inches and a half. In¬
habits Europe and Asia. Visits this country in April,
and departs in September.. It frequents arable land,
O L O G Y.
especially in the more champaign parts, and sometimes ?assertSl
uncultivated ground, interspersed with lurze. It is also * — ■
partial to bean fields ; and breeds in all such situations,
being more negligent of water than the white or gray
Wagtail. The nest is always placed on the ground,
composed of dried stalks and fibres, and lined with hair.
The eggs are four or five ; not very unlike those of the
sedge warbler. Its note is more shrill than that ot the
white, and less so than that of the gray wagtail. ^
Wheatcar.—Back hoary j front, line above the eyes,OeminiM
rump, and base of the tail white ; a black band through
the eyes ; crown, neck, and back reddish-gray •, eye¬
brows, rump, upper tail coverts, and upper hall ol the
tail white j lower half, legs, and quill feathers black, the
latter edged with reddish-brown 5 body yellowish-white
beneath. The female wants the line over the eyes.
are, however, several varieties. 'Vveighs about
six drams and a half j length near six inches and a half.
Inhabits Europe, Asia, and Africa. This bird visits
England annually in the middle of March, and leaves
it again in September. In some parts the) are lound
in great plenty, and are much esteemed. About East¬
bourne in Sussex, they are taken in snares made of horse¬
hair, placed beneath a long turf. Being naturally very
timid, the motion even of a cloud, or the appearance of
a hawk, will immediately drive them into the traps.
These last are first set, every year on St James’s day,
the 25th of July 5 soon after which they are caught in
astonishing' numbers, considering that they are not gre¬
garious, and that more than two or three are scarcely
ever seen flying together. The number annually en¬
snared in tbe district of Eastbourne alone, is said to
amount to nearly two thousand dozen. The ImAs
caught are chiefly young ones •, and they are invariably
found in the greatest number when an easterly wind pre¬
vails. They are very fat in autumn, and esteemed a
great delicacy, little inferior to the ortolan. They live
chiefly on insects and earth worms, frequent open stony
places, warrens, downs, &c. and breed in stone walls,
old rabbit holes, or under stones, making a large nest
of dry grass, rabbit’s down, leathers, and horse-hair.
The female lays five or six eggs, of a uniform pale-blue
colour. Tbe wheatear sings prettily, and not unfre-
quently on wing, hovering over the female. .
Whinchat.—Blackish j eyebrows white j wings witb^to
two w'hite spots*, chin and breast yellowish j bill and
legs black; chin white; tail white; the lower third
part blackish ; two middle feathers all blackish. \Veighs
about four drams and a half; length full five inches.
Inhabits Europe, and appears in this island about the
middle of April, frequenting the same places with the
stonechat, and corresponding with it in most ol its ha¬
bits. S<fd
Stonechat, or woor titling.—Gray, pale rufousbeneatb; Rubico\
throat with a white band ; lores black ; bill and legs
blackish ; head and neck nearly black ; body above
blackish, varied with pale rufous; breast and belly red¬
dish yellow ; vent and rump white ; tail feathers black,
the two outmost, on the outer edge and tip, pale ferru¬
ginous ; quill feathers black, edged with ferruginous;
those next the body at the base, and wing-coverts, with
a white spot. Female varied with blackish and reddish.
Weight about five drams ; length five inches and a
quarter. Inhabits hedges and dry moors in Europe
and Siberia. Feeds on insects and worms, and frequent-
''asserfs.
8<Ji
ricU'
'lla-
862
inicauda.
863
Minima.
864
'cenictf
86':
865
anea.
867
1 undi-
! cea.
0 R N I T H O L
]y sits on the uppermost sprays, darting at every fly that
passes. The nest is placed on, or very near the ground,
at the bottom of a furze bush, or some similar situation,
is composed of moss and bents, lined with hair, and
sometimes mixed with small feathers. The eggs are
five, of a blue colour, rvith small rufous spots at the
larger end. When the young leave the nest, the old
birds are extremely bold and clamorous, and are as art¬
ful in enticing any one from their young as they are in
concealing their nest. In the early part of the spring,
the stonechat sings very prettily, springing into the air,
and suspending itself for some time on wing. But as
it breeds so early, its song is of short duration.
Blackcap.—Brick-colour above, cinereous beneath ;
cap dusky-black } bill brown 3 crown black, in the fe¬
male chesnut 3 body greenish-ash above, gray beneath,
gradually growing white 3 temples gray 3 quill and tail
feathers broAvn-ash, edged with greenish-ash, the middle
ones very short 3 legs lead colour. Of this species there
are at least three or four varieties. Length full six
inches. Inhabits Europe. It is a migrative bird, visit¬
ing us early in the spring and retiring in September. It
frequents woods and thick hedges, and seems very par¬
tial to orchards and gardens, where it delights us with
its charming melodious song, which is very little infe¬
rior to that of the nightingale, except in variety of notes.
It makes a nest in some low bush or shrub, composed of
dried stalks, generally of goose-grass, put together with
a little wool, and sometimes a little green moss on the
outside, and lined with fibrous roots, oh which are fre¬
quently placed a few long hairs. The eggs are four or
five, of a pale reddish-brown, mottled with a deeper
colour, and sometimes sprinkled with a few ash-coloured
spots. On the first arrival of this bird it feeds greedily
on ivy berries, but forsakes that food as soon as the ver¬
nal sun has roused the insect tribe*
Thorn-tailed warbler.—Chesnut, Avhite beneath 3
crown spotted with yelloAV 3 face and eyebrows yelloAV 3
wing coverts rufous, varied with brown 3 the greater
and quill feathers brown 3 tail wedged, the feathers
daggered. Four inches and a half long. Inhabits Terra
del Fuego.
Least warbler.—V&\e brown, whitish beneath 3 bill
and very short tail yellowish. Three inches long. In¬
habits New Holland.
B-edstart.—Throat black 3 belly and tail rufous 3
head and back hoary 3 front white ; bill, cheeks, and
legs, black 3 belly white 3 rump, breast, and lateral tail
feathers rufous 3 the middle ones brown 3 wings broAvn.
Female Avith the croAvn and back gray-ash 3 and chin
Avhite. Fi\'e inches and a quarter long. Inhabits Eu¬
rope. It is seen in this country only in spring and sum¬
mer. It builds in holes of Avails, or even of houses, or
in hollow trees 5 and lavs four or five eggs. It sings
prettily, and imitates the notes of other birds. It is less
than the redbreast, and moves its tail horizontally.
Blue-throated warbler.—Breast ferruginous, with a
blue band 3 tail feathers brown, ferruginous towards
the tip. Size of the redbreast. Inhabits Europe and
Siberia. Sings sweetlv, and does not migrate.
Superb warbler.—Black blue above, white beneath 3
feathers of the head long, lax, and turgid 3 front, cheeks,
and lunule on the neck fine blue. Five inches and a
half long. Inhabits Ncav Holland.
B.eed wren.—Olive-brown above, whitish beneath 3
0 G Y. S55
lores and orbits whitish-brown 3 band in the middle of Passercs.
the Avings taAvney-yelloAV beneath 3 tail broAvn, slightly 1——y—1
AVedged 3 under part of the toes greenish-yelloAV. Up¬
per mandible horn-colour, loAVer flesh-colour 3 mouth
orange 3 irides brown 3 chin Avhite 3 legs pale-olive.
Length scarcely five inches and a half 3 Aveight nearly
three drams. Has often been confounded Avith the
sedge warbler, to which it is nearly allied in form, size,
and habits 3 but it may at once be distinguished by the
greater broadness of the base of the bill, by the Avant of
a light stroke over the eye, and having the upper parts
of one plain colour. The nest and eggs are also differ¬
ent. The former is composed of long grass, and the
seed-branches of reeds, and lined with the finer parts of
the latter. It is very deep, and is generally fastened by
long grass to several reeds, which are drawn together
for that purpose. The eggs are four or five, rather
larger than those of the sedge-warbler, of a greenish-
white, blotched all ov7er with dusky brown. This species
inhabits near Uxbridge, in the fens of Lincolnshire, and
in many parts of the south of England and Wales 3 ar¬
riving about the end of April, or beginning of May,
and departing again in September. S6S
Redbreast, or 7'obin redbreast.—Gv^y 3 throat and Ru^eco,a-
breast ferruginous 3 bill and legs dusky 3 tail feathers
terminating in an acute angle 3 belly Avhite 3 edges of
the quill feathers inclining to yelloAV. There is a varie¬
ty Avith a white chin } Aving coverts varied Avith Avhite,
black, and rufous 3 quill and tail feathers black, and
edged with rufous 3 and another that is entirely Avhite.
This Avell-knoAvn species is a constant inhabitant of
most parts of the European continent, and appears about
our dAvellings in winter, when the Avoods and fields are
destitute of insects. “ When the cold grows more se¬
vere (says Buffon), and thick snorv covers the ground,
it approaches our houses, and taps on the windoAV with
its bill, as if to entreat an asylum, Avhich is cheei fully
granted 3 and it repays the favour by the most amiable
familiarity, gathering the crumbs from the table, di¬
stinguishing affectionately the people of the house, and
assuming a Avarble, not indeed so rich as that of the
spring, hut more delicate. This it retains through all
the rigours of the season 3 to hail each day the kindness
of its host, and the sAveetness of its retreat. There it
remains tranquil till the returning spring awakens neAV
desires, and invites to other pleasures: it hoav becomes
Uneasy, and impatient to recover its liberty.” The red¬
breast generally builds its nest by the roots of trees, in
some concealed spot near the ground, composing it of
dried leaves mixed with hair and moss, and lined Avith
feathers. The female lays from five to seven eggs,
which are whitish, and spotted with rust-colour, and
cinereous. In order the more successfully to conceal its
nest, avc are told, that it covers it Avitfi leav'es, suffering
only a narroAV winding entrance under the heap to be
left. This bird feeds principally on insects and worms :
and its delicacy in preparing the latter is somewhat re¬
markable. It takes a Avorm by one extremity, in its
beak, and beats it on the ground, till the inner part
comes away 3 then taking it in the same manner by the
other end, it cleanses the outer part, which alone it eats.
Besides insects, it is fond of the seeds of the spindle tree.
It is a solitary and quarrelsome species, insomuch that
two are never seen on the same tree. 869
IRren.—Cray 3 eyebroAVS Avhite 3 Avings waved witii Troglody-
4 A 2 blacktei'
556
1’as.seres.
870
Regutus.
O R N I T H
black and cinereous-, bill dark green ; head and body
deep reddish brown above 5 quill leathers alternate y
barred with black and red-, throat yellowish-white j
belly and sides crossed with narrow, dusky, and pale
reddish-brown lines j tail with dusky bars ; legs brown¬
ish. Length nearly four inches and a quarter; weight
about two drams and three quarters. Inhabits Lurope
and Asia. Its nest is curiously constructed, and not he-
cmn at the bottom, as is the case in most instances, but
first traced, as it were, in oval frame-work, and equally
fastened in all its parts to a tree, or other support, and
afterwards inclosed on the sides and top, a small hole
only being left near the latter, for entrance. 11 the nest
is placed under a bank, the top is first begun, and well
secured in some small cavity by which the labile is
suspended. The materials are generally adapted to the
place ; if built against the side of a hay-nck, tor ex¬
ample, the nest is composed ol hay, it against the side ot
a tree covered with lichen, it is made ot that species ot
moss, &c. The lining is invariably feathers. 1 he eggs
are seven or eight, and sometimes more, 'v'lde, and
sparingly marked with small reddish spots. I he song ol
the wren is much admired, being, though short, a very
pleasino- warble, and louder than could be expected
from the size of the bird. This it continues througiiout
the year -, and it has been heard to sing, with apparent
unconcern, even during a fall of snow. It also sings
very late in the evening, though not like the mghUn-
<xale, after dark. The wren feeds on insects, which it
finds in sufficient abundance to support hie, even in the
severest winters. _ .
Golden-crested wren.—Greenish-, secondary quill
feathers yellow on the outer edge, and white in the mid¬
dle ; crown orange -, bill black; crest orange (ot the
female yellow), each side edged with black -, body
yellowish-green above, reddish white beneath ^ wing
coverts dark brown, with two transverse white bars 5 legs
vellovv. Inhabits every quarter of the globe. This
is the smallest British bird its weight seldom ex-
ceeding eighty grains, and its length three inches
and three quarters. It migrates from the Shetland
islands in winter, but continues in the Orkneys the
wht)le year Its song is like that of the common wren,
but its voice is weaker. It builds a nest nearly ot a
round form, with a hole in the side -, and lays hom six
to eight eggs. It erects or depresses the crest at pleasure.
Though not uncommon, it oiten escapes observation,
from the smallness ol its size. It has also been remark¬
ed, that the female, from some cause which has not yet
been discovered, is irequently destroyed during the time
of incubation ; and the nest, with the eggs, left to de¬
cay. Mr Montagu communicates the following inter¬
esting details relative to a young family ol tins heautilul
species. ** When lirst 1 discovered the nest, I thought it
a favourable opportunity to become acquainted with
some of the manners ot this minute species, and to en¬
deavour to discover whether the male ever sung by way
of instructing the young ones. Accordingly I took the
nest when the young were about six days old, placed it
in a small basket, and by degrees enticed the old ones
.to my study window ; and after they became familiar
with that situation, the basket was placed within the
window j then at the opposite side ol the room. It is
remarkable, that although the female seemed regardless
of danger from her affection to her young, yet the male
3
O L O G Y.
never once ventered within the room j and yet would
constantly feed them while they remained at the outsider—y,
of the window 5 on the contrary, the female would feed
them at the table at which 1 sat, and even when I held
the nest in my hand, provided I remained motionless.
But on moving my head one day, while she was on the
edge of the nest, which I held in my hand, she made a
precipitate retreat, mistook the open part of the window,
knocked herself against the glass, and laid breathless on
the floor for some time. However, recovering a little,
she made her escape, and in about an hour alter I was
agreeably surprised by her return, and would afterwards
frequently feed the young while l held the nest in my
hand. The male bird constantly attended the female
in her flight to and fro, hut never ventured beyond the
window-frame j nor did he latterly ever appear with
food in his bill. He never uttered any note but when
the female was out of sight, and then only a small chirp.
At first there were ten young in the nest, hut probably
for want of the male’s assistance in providing food two
died. The visits of the female were generally repeated
in the space ol a minute and a half or two minutes, or
upon an average, thirty-six times in an hour j and this
continued full sixteen hours in a day, and which,if equally
divided between the eight young ones, each would re¬
ceive 72 feeds in the day j the whole amounting to 576.
From examination of the food, which by accident now
and then dropt into the nest, I judged from those weigh¬
ed that each feed was a quarter of a grain upon a me¬
dium 5 so that each young one was supplied with 18
grain weights in a day j and as the young birds weighed
about 77 grains at the time they began to perch, they
consumed nearly their weight ol food in four days at
that time. I could always perceive by the animation
of the young brood when the old one was coming; pro¬
bably some low note indicated her near approach, and
in an instant every mouth was open to receive the in¬
sect morsel. But there appeared no regularity in the
supply given by the parent bird \ sometimes the same
was fed two or three times successively ; and I gene¬
rally observed that the strongest got most, being able
to reach farthest, the old one delivering it to the mouth
nearest to her, and after each feed she waited a while
to see if any muted."1' 871
Yellow Dusky green above, yellowish-white Tm/^i
beneath j wings and tail brown, and edged with green j
eyebrows yellow. Four inches and a halt long. Inha¬
bits Europe and America. Frequents wooded and in¬
closed situations, especially where willows abound vi¬
sits us early in April, and soon begins its usual song,
which is short, with little variety. Makes an oval nest,
with a small opening near the top, composed ot moss
and dried grass, and lined with feathers, either in the
hollow of a ditch, or in a low bush, close to the ground.
The eggs are six or seven, white, and spotted with light
ru^t colour. Has often been confounded with the lesser
prettychaps, and the wood wren. S7:
Tailor warbler, or tailor bird.—Entirely-yellow, anaftrfon/,
very smalt, scarcely exceeding three inches m length.
Inhabits India. Its nest is composed of two leaves, the
one generally dead, which it fixes, at the end of some
branch, to the side of a living one, by sewing both to¬
gether with little filaments (its bill serving as a needle),
in the manner of a pouch or purse, and open at the top.
Sometimes, instead of a dead and a living leaf, two hv-
ir.g
!S7.)
:rula.
874
! 'RA.
875
i iractei's
O R N I T H O
iflgones are sewed together, and, when thus connected,
seem rather the work of human £vrt than of an uninstruct¬
ed animal. After the operation of sewing is finished,
the cavity is lined with feathers and soft vegetable down.
The nest and birds are together so very light, that the
leaves of the exterior and more slender twigs of the trees
are chosen for the purpose j and, thus situated, the brood
is completely secured from the depredations of every in¬
vader.
Grey twig-to'/.—Cinereous above, yellow beneath ;
first tail feathers entirely, second on the inner side,
white j bill and legs brown , chin and throat black j
wing-coverts brown, and edged with ash 5 quill feathers
brown, the secondaries white at the base ; middle tail
feathers black, and edged with greenish. Weighs about
five drams ; and measures seven inches and three quar¬
ters in length. This elegant species inhabits Europe ;
visits us about the latter end of September, and departs
in April. It is much in motion, constantly flirts the
tail, seldom perches, frequents waters, makes its nest
on the ground, and sometimes on the banks of rivulets,
and lays from six to eight eggs, of a dirty white, mark¬
ed with yellow spots.
876
] icola
’late
3CCII.
S 4-
S77
. 'incus.
S78
•.uta.
I79
ica.
ISo
us.
Si
ratters
^ 'utus.
ute
(CCI.
5-
Gen. 88. Pipra, Manakin.
Bill shorter than the head, hard, nearly triangular at
the base, and slightly incurved at the tip j nostrils
naked; feet gressorial 5 tail short.
Crested or rock manakin.— Crest erect, edged with
purple ; body saffron j tail coverts truncated.—Size of a
small pigeon ; from 10 to 12 inches long j is shy, but
may be tamed, if taken young j feeds on small wild
fruits, and builds in the clefts of the most remote rocks,
laying two white eggs. Inhabits the rocky parts of
South America.
Black-capped manakin Black above, white beneath;
spot on the neck above, and on the wings, white ; bill
black j legs yellow. Inhabits the woods of Guiana. Is
restless and gregarious.
Little manakin.—Gray 5 head black, speckled with
white. Size of a small wren. Inhabits India.
Tuneful manakin.—Black above, orange beneath ;
front and rump yellow \ crown and nape blue ; chin and
throat black. Four inches long. Inhabits St Domingo.
Is very shv, and easily eludes the vigilance of such as
attempt to take it. Its note is musical, and forms a
complete octave, one note succeeding another.
Gen. 89. Parus, Titmouse.
Bill very entire, narrow, somewhat compressed, strong,
hard pointed, and covered at the base with bristles ;
tongue truncated, and bristly at the end j toes divid¬
ed at the origin, the hind ones large and strong.
Tins is a numerous and prolific tribe, some of the
species laving from 18 to 2C eggs at a time. Most of
them feed on seeds, fruits, and insects, and some on flesh.
They are particularly fond of the brains of other birds,
which they get at by cleaving the skulls of such as they
find dead. They are restless, bold, cruel to birds less
than themselves, and will attack such as are three times
their own size. Their note is generally unpleasant.
Crested titmouse.—crested j collar black ; belly
LOGY. 557
white. Nearly five inches long. Inhabits Europe, Passeres.
chiefly in fir woods. Is solitary, and not easily tamed. l——y——'
Great titmouse^ or ox-eye.—Head black j temples 8S3
white j nape yellow j bill, chin, and tail black j backJ J
and wings olive j rump blue gray j belly greenish yel¬
low, divided in the middle by a hand of black, extend¬
ing to the vent j quill feathers dusky, edged partly with
blue, partly with white ; exterior sides of the outmost
tail feathex-s white, of the others bluish j inner sides
dusky j legs lead-coloured. This species weighs about
10 drams 5 length five inches and three quarters. It in¬
habits Europe, Asia, and Africa j and is common in
manyparts of Britain, frequenting gardens and orchards,
where it does much mischief by picking off the tender
buds of trees. The nest is made of moss, lined with
hair, and placed in the hole of a wall, or of a tree.
The female sometimes lays eight or ten eggs, but mere
commonly six, which are white, spotted with i-ust-co-
lour, and so exactly like those of the nuthatch, as not
to be distinguished from them. The common note of
the gi’eat titmouse is a sort of chatter j but in the spring
it assumes a gx-eater variety, a shrill whistle, and a very
singular noise, something like the whetting of a saw :
but these cease with incubation. A variety was once
killed near Feversham in Kent, that had the bill crossed,
as in loxia curvirostra. Its characters were olive brown
above ; dirty yellowish beneath j head black j temples
cinereous, and bill forked. gs^
Creepingtitmouse— B1 uisfi j temples,breast, and back America-
yellowish ; flanks purplish. Four inches and three quar- w«s.
tei’s long. Inhabits Cai’olina and Canada. Inconstantly
running up and down trees in search of insects. 885
Blue titmouse, or tomtit.—Quill feathers bluish, the Ccerulem.
primaries white on the outer edge j front white j crown
blue J bill blackish ; line from the bill to the eyes, and
one surrounding the temples black ; back yellowish-
green j wing coverts blue j quill feathers black, with
dusky edges j tail blue, the middle feathers longer;
body whitish-yellow beneath ; legs and claws black.
Length about four inches and a half; weight three
drams. Inhabits Europe. This species would proba¬
bly be more admired for its beauty, if it was less com¬
mon. In winter it frequents houses for the sake of plun¬
der, and will devour flesh greedily, whether fresh or pu-
tx-id. It is also a constant attendant where horse-flesh is
kept for hounds, and in the farm-yard, being pax’tial to
oats, which it plucks out, and retiring to a neighbour¬
ing bush fixes the grain between its claws, and hammers
it with the bill, to break the husk. In summer, it feeds
chiefly on insects, in search of which it plucks off a num¬
ber of young huds from the trees. The nest is always
made in some hole, either of a txee or wall, composed
of moss, and lined with feathers and hair. The eggs
are white, and speckled with rust-colour at the larger
end. The female is so tenacious of her nest, that she
will often suffer herself to be taken rather than quit it,
and will frequently return again after being taken out.
It menaces every intruder in a singular manner, hissing
like a snake, erecting all its f’eathers; and uttering a
noise like the spitting of a cat, bitting at the same time,
severely, if handled. It has no song, but utteys a shrill
note quickly repeated.
Colemou.se or cole titmouse.—HjctxA black; back cine-6
reous ; hind head and breast white 3 hill and chin black ;
558
Passcres.
887
Palustris.
888
Caudatus.
889
Capensis.
890
Biarmicm,
89T
Pcnduli-
nus.
O R N I T H
a broad black stripe beneath the eyes, from the bill to
the neck j belly and vent reddish white j wing-coverts
gray, tipt with white j quill and tail feathers brownish-
ash, edged with gray j legs and claws lead coloured.
Weight about two drams and a quarter } length tom
inches and a quarter. Has frequently been confounded
with the palustris ; but it is not so plentiful a species •,
keeps more to woods; seems to live entirely on insects,
and has also a diffrent note*
Marsh titmouse.—-Head black *, back cinereous 5
temples white. The markings are, however, very sub¬
ject to vary j the length is about four inches and a halt}
and the weight two drams and a half. Inhabits Eu¬
rope. With the blue species it partakes ot flesh, and
haunts the oat-ricks. It seems to be partial to low wet
ground, where old willow trees abound, in the holes of
w'hich it frequently nestles.
Long-tailed titmouse.—Crown white j tail longer than
the body j weighs only two drams, and measures five
inches and a quarter in length. This very elegant and
singular species is confined chiefly to the woods and
thickets of Europe and Siberia, where it makes a cu¬
rious oval nest of lichens, firmly woven together with
wool j and having only a small hole on the side, placed
in the fork of some bush or branch of a tree. T- he fe¬
male lays from nine to seventeen eggs, which are white,
and sparingly marked with small rust-coloured spots to¬
wards the larger end.
Cape tittnouse.—Ci'r&'y ash \ quill feathers black,
edged with white j tail black above j bill and legs black.
Inhabits the Cape of Good Hope. Constructs a luxuri¬
ous nest of the down of a species of asclepias 5 near the
tipper end projects a small tube, about an inch in length,
with an orifice about three-fourths of an inch in diame¬
ter. Immediately under the tube is a small hole in the
side, that has no communication with the interior of the
nest. In this hole the male sits at night; and thus
both male and female are screened from the weather.
Bearded titmouse.—Rufous 5 crown hoary; tail
longer than the body ^ head bearded } vent black $ bill
pale orange ; iridcs yellow ; legs black ; tail wedged \
whiskers composed of long black feathers *, three outer
tail feathers black at the base, and whitish at the tips •,
middle of the breast flesh coloured ; sides and thighs
pale orange j six inches and a quarter long. Inhabits
marshy situations in Europe. Though it breeds with
us, and continues the whole year, its history is little
known \ and authors differ not only with respect to the
shape and composition of the nest, but even with re¬
spect to the place of nidification.
Penduline titmouse, or remvz.—Head ferruginous 5
ocular band black j quill and tail feathers brown, and
edged on each side with ferruginous four inches and a
half long. Inhabits Europe and Siberia, frequenting
watery places for the sake of aquatic insects, on which
it feeds. The most curious fact in the history of these
birds is the exquisite art displayed in the construction
of their nest. They employ the light down found on
the buds of the willow, the poplar, and the asper, on
thistles, dandelion, &c. With their bill they entwine
this filamentous substance, and form a thick close web,
almost like cloth. This they fortify externally with fi¬
bres and small roots, which penetrate into the texture,
and, in some measure, compose the basis ot the nest.
They line the inside with the same down, but not wo-
O L O G Y.
ven, that their young may lie soft \ they shut it above passe
to confine the warmth, and they suspend it with hemp, v-
nettles, &c. from the cleft of a small pliant branch over
some stream, that it may rock more gently, assisted by
the spring of the branch. In this situation the brood
are well supplied with insects, which constitute their
chief food, and are at the same time protected from
their enemies. The nest sometimes resembles a bag,
and sometimes a short purse. The aperture is made in
the side, and is almost always turned towards the water.
It is nearly round, and only an inch and a half in dia¬
meter, or even less, and is often, though not always,
surrounded by a brim. rIhese nests are found in the
fens of Bologna, Tuscany, Lithuania, Poland, and Ger¬
many. The peasants regard them with superstitious ve¬
neration, one of them being usually suspended near the
door of each cottage, as a charm against lightning, j
Languedoc titmouse.—Rufous gray crown hoary ; Narhr
Wings and tail blackish, edged with rufous ; primarysw-
quill feathers edged with white ; four inches long. In¬
habits France. Builds a strong pendulous nest on the
forked branch of a tree. 89;
Amorous titmouse.—Blackish blue *, longitudinal spot Amuht,
on the middle of the wings, half yellow and ru¬
fous five inches and a half long. Inhabits Northern
Asia, and is remarkable for the mutual affection of the
sexes.
Gen. 90. Hirundo, Swallow.
894
Hikim
^9 j
Bill small, weak, curved, subulated, depressed at the -
base ) gape larger than the head } tongue short, broad,
clelt j wings long 5 tail mostly forked.
Charack
The birds of this genus are readily distinguished, not
only by their structure, but by their twittering voice, and
their manner of life. They fly with great rapidity, sel¬
dom walk, and perform all their functions either on the
wing or sitting. By means of their wide mouth they
easily catch insects (their principal food) in the air, or
on the surface of the water. Naturalists have been
much divided in their opinions respecting the migration
of the swallow tribe. The Hon. Daines Barrington and
others have supposed that they do not leavethis country,
but that they lie concealed and torpid, during winter,
under water, in crevices of rocks, holes in sand banks,
&c. In confirmation ot this opinion they quote in¬
stances which appear to be sufficiently well authentica¬
ted. But a migration of the greater part of the birds
is not to be contradicted, by what seems to be rather the
effect of chance than design. T hose that have been
hatched late, and have not acquired sufficient strength to
accompany their companions in their journey, may alone
have supplied the above-mentioned instances, ^teieali
to remain, we should undoubtedly be furnished with more
numerous and more generally known examples than
have hitherto been recorded. The ingenious Mr John
Hunter, on dissecting several swallows, observed in them
nothing different from other birds in the organs of re¬
spiration, and hence inferred, perhaps too hastily, that
none of them can remain, for any length of time, under
water. That the migration of swallows does, however,
really take place, appears to have been fully proved by
a variety of well-attested facts, most of which have been
observed by navigators, who were eye-witnesses of the
flights of these birds, and whose ships have sometimes af-
R -»•
97
knta.
O R N I T H O
forded to tliem resting places in the course of their
toilsome progress.
A. Three toes before, and one behind.
Chimncy ovcommonswallow.—Front and chin chesnut;
tail feathers, except the two middle ones, with a white
spot •, bill black ; body blackish blue above, whitish be-
reath j tail very much forked *, legs short and black¬
ish j weight between five and six drams ; length six
inches and a half. Inhabits all the quarters of the world ;
visits us early in April, if the weather be mild, and re¬
tires about the end of September or beginning of Oc¬
tober. It is supposed to winter in Senegal, and other
warm countries. It has got the name of Chimney swal¬
low, from the circumstance of breeding in chimneys. It
also nestles on the beams or rafters of out-houses, and
sometimes on rocks. The nest is made of mud, pla¬
stered together, and lined with feathers, and is open at
top. The eggs are four or five, white, and speckled
with rusty red. Its velocity of wing and quickness of
sight are truly astonishing, and enable it to pursue its prey
with precision and effect. When a fly is taken, a smart
snap from the bill is to be heard, not unlike the noise of
the shutting of a watch case ; but the motion of the man¬
dibles is too quick for the eye. Wonderful is the ad¬
dress with which this bird ascends and descends through
the passages of a chimney. When hovering over the
roof of the funnel, the vibrations of its wings acting on
the confined air, occasion a rumbling like distant thun¬
der. It is not improbable that the female submits to the
inconvenience of having her nest low down in the shaft,
in order to secure her offspring from the birds of prey,
particularly from owls, which are frequently found to
fall down chimneys, probably in their attempts to get at
the nestlings. The progressive method by which the
young are introduced to their proper habits, deserves to
be noted. They first, though not without difficulty,
emerge from the shaft, and, for a day or two, are fed on
the chimney top , thence they are conducted to the
dead leafless bough of some neighbouring tree, where,
sitting in a row, they are attended by the parents with
great assiduity. In a day or two after this they are
strong enough to fly, but continue still unable to take
their own food ; they therefore play about near the
place where the females are watching for flies ; and,
when a mouthful is collected, on a certain signal, the
dam and the nestling advance, rising towards each other,
and meeting at an angle, the young all the while, utter¬
ing a short quick note of gratitude and complacency.
As soon as the mother has disengaged herself from the
first brood, she immediately commences heroperationsfor
a second, which is produced about the middle or latter
end of August.
Esculent swallow.—Blackish, whitish beneath all the
tail feathers with a white spot j bill black 5 tail tipt with
white •, legs brown, Two inches and a quarter in
length •, in size rather less than the wren. Inhabits China
and the islands of the Indian ocean. Many of our read¬
ers must have heard of the curious eatable nests of this
species. The following is the account given of them by
Sir George Staunton. “ In the Cass, a small island
near Sumatra, were found two caverns, running hori¬
zontally into the side of the rock •, and in these were a
number of those birds nests so much prized by the Chi¬
nese epicures. They seem to be composed of fine fila-
LOGY. 559
ments, cemented together by a transparent viscous mat- Passeres.
ter, not unlike what is left by the foam of the sea upon '—~v J
stones alternately covered by the tide, or those gelati¬
nous animal substances found floating on every coast.
The nests adhere to each other, and to the sides of the
caverns ; mostly in rows, without any break or interrup¬
tion. The birds that build these nests are small gray
swallows, with bellies of a dirty white. They were fly¬
ing about in considerable numbers •, but were so small,
and their flight was so quick, that they escaped the shot
fired at them. The same sorts of nests are said to he al¬
so found in deep caverns at the foot of the highest moun¬
tains in the middle of Java, at a distance from the sea ^
from which source it is thought that the birds derive no
materials, either for their food, or the construction of
their nests $ as it does not appear probable they should
fly in search oi either, over the intermediate mountains,
which are very high, or against the boisterous winds pre¬
vailing thereabout. They feed on insects, which they
find hovering over stagnated pools between tbe moun¬
tains, and for the catching of which their wide-opening
beaks are particularly adapted. They prepare their nests
from the best remnants of their food. Their greatest
enemy is the kite, who often intercepts them in their
passage to and from the caverns, which are generally
surrounded with rocks of gray limestone, or white mar¬
ble. The nests are placed in horizontal rows, at differ¬
ent depths, from 50 to 500 feet. The colour and va¬
lue of the nests depend on the quantity and quality of
the insects caught, and perhaps also on the situation
where they are built. Their value is chiefly ascertained
by the uniform fineness and delicacy of their texture ;
those that are white and transparent being most esteem¬
ed, and fetching often in China their weight in silver.—
These nests are a considerable object of traffic among :
the Javanese, many of whom are employed in it from -
their infancy. The birds, after having spent nearly two »
months in preparing their nests, lay each two eggs,
which are hatched in about 15 days. When the young
birds become fledged, it is thought the proper time to -
seiz.e upon their nests, which is done regularly three
times a-year, and is effected by means of ladders of
bamboo and reeds, by which the people descend into
the caverns : but when these are very deep, rope-ladders
are preferred. This operation is attended with much
danger, and several perish in the attempt. The inhabi¬
tants of the mountains, generally employed in this busi¬
ness, begin always by sacrificing a buffalo j which cus¬
tom is observed by the Javanese, on the eve of every ex¬
traordinary enterprise. They also pronounce some pray¬
ers, anoint themselves with sweet-scented oil, and smoke ■
the entrance of the cavern with gum-benjamin. Near
some of the caverns a tutelar goddess is worshipped,
whose priest burns incense, and lays his protecting hands ■
on every person preparing to descend. A flambeau is
carefully prepared at the same time, with a gum which
exudes from a tree growing in the vicinity, and which
is not easily extinguished by fixed air or subterraneous
vapours.”—The nest of this species generally weighs a-
bout half a ounce ; and is in shape something like a half
lemon. The consistency of the several layers of com¬
ponent matter approaches to that of isinglass, or of fine
gum-dragon. Such of these nests as are perfectly free
from dirt, are dissolved in broth to thicken it, and are
said to give it an exquisite flavour j or they are soaked'-
in
8pS
Vrbica.
S99
Riparia.
pco
Furpurea
901
Subis.
Plate
CCCCII.
%• 3*
902
Ambrosi-
903
Erytbroce
phala.
904
Nigra.
905
Apus.
o K N I T H
in water to soften them, then pulled in pieces, and, af¬
ter being mixed with ginseng, are put into the body of
a fowl. The whole is then stewed in a pot, with a suf¬
ficient quantity of water, and left on the coals all night.
On the following morning it is ready to be eaten.
Martin, martlet,martinet, or house martin.—Bluish-
black above, white beneath } tail feathers without spots-,
bill black-, mouth yellow) rump white) legs covered
with a short white down, 'there is a variety that has
the quill and tail feathers tipt with white. About five
inches and a half, and rather inferior in size to the chim¬
ney swallow. Inhabits Europe, Asia, and North Ame¬
rica. Visits Britain in spring, rather later than the
common swallow, making its first appearance in low,
warm situations, and if the weather is fine, beginning
to build early in May. It builds a close nest made of
straw and clay, and lined with feathers, with a hole at
top for admission, in windows, under the eaves of houses,
the projecting ornaments of steeples and churches, &c.
and sometimes against rocks or cliffs, contiguous to the
sea. The eggs are four or five, and pure white. 1 he
manners and habits of this well-known species nearly re¬
semble those of the common swallow.
Sand martin, bank martin, or shore bird.—Cinereous-,
chin and belly white ) bill blackish ) throat encircled
with a mouse-coloured ring) legs black, and downy be¬
hind. Four inches and three quarters long. Inhabits
Europe and America, in which last country it is called
ground swallow. In this country it is not so plentiful
as the preceding, with which it associates, and which
in its manners it much resembles, except that it nestles
in the banks of rivers or sand pits, and makes a nest of
straw and dried fibres, lined with feathers.
Purple swallow.—Entirely violet) tail forked ) bill
black ) legs blackish. Female brown. Seven inches
and three quarters long. Inhabits Carolina and V ir-
ginia, during summer. Is much valued by the inhabi¬
tants for its use in alarming poultry on the approach of
birds of prey, which it does not only by shrieking, but
attacking them with the greatest fury.
Canada swallow.—black) beneath and mouth
whitish-ash) belly white, clouded with brown) quill and
tail feathers blackish, edged with brown) legs and claws
dusky. Eight or nine inches long. Native of Hudson’s
bay.
Ambergrise -Grayish brown j bill blackish)
legs brown. Five inches and a half long. Inhabits
Senegal. Smells strongly of ambergrise.
Red-headed swallow.—Dusky-black, the feathers ed¬
ged with white) under part of the body white) head
red. Size of the least humming bird. Inhabits India.
Black swallow.—Entirely black. Six inches long.
Inhabits the interior parts-ot South America, and builds
in a deep hole in the ground, w'th a long entrance.
Swift, black martin, &c.—Blackish 5 chin white.
Weight nearly an ounce ) length about eight inches.
Inhabits almost every where. The swift makes its ap¬
pearance with us later than any of the other species,
being seldom seen till May. It frequents steeples, towers,
and other lofty buildings, in the holes of which, or under
the tiles of houses and barns, it makes a nest of dried grass,
lined with feathers, which it collects on wing, sweeping
them off the ground in a dexterous manner, Like the
swallow, it sips the water, and at the same time, picks
up flies as it skims over the surface. The female lays
O L O G Y.
only two white eggs of an oblong shape, larger than Passeie;
that, of the swallow ) and while she is sitting, the male u—y—-
is continually flying to and from the spot, making a
screeching noise, which is its only note. At night, both
sit on the nest, or at least roost in the same hole. In
very warm weather, these birds soar to a great height j
but in cold or moist weather, fly low in search of flies
and other winged insects, which at that time cannot
ascend. This species disappears about the middle of
August, remaining here no longer than is necessaiy tor
its breeding, it is remarkable that it disappears soonest
in the best and warmest Weather) and that in the very
inclement season of x 782, numbers of them were seen in
the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, so late as the 25th of
August, flying about with their usual spirit and vivacity,
when the thermometer stood at 36°- ^ is neither cold,
therefore, nor the rvant of food, which disposes them to
quit us so early. They have the process of moulting to
undergo, which cannot be performed in a state of torpor.
Their place of retirement, however, has not been ascer-
tained. , 9°6
White-collared swift.—Blackish-violet) head black; Cayenne.
collar bifid ; ocular band and thighs white. Five inches «»*.
and one quarter long. Inhabits Cayenne. Builds a long
conical nest, with a division in the middle.
Gen. 91. Caprimulgus, Goatsucker.
' 9°7
Caprimi: (j
GUS.
Bill slightly curved, very small, subulated and depressed 908 I
at the base j mouth extremely wide, and furnished Charade
at the sides with a series of bristles ) ears very large 5
tongue pointed and entire ) tail unforked, with 10
feathers ) legs short, middle claw with a broad ser¬
rated edge.
The birds of this family seldom appear in the day
time, except they are disturbed, or in dark cloudy wea¬
ther, but wander about in the evening, in search of in¬
sects. They lay two eggs on the naked ground. The
lateral toes are connected to the middle one by a small
membrane. . • 7 p 5°9
European or nocturnal goatsucker ; proymcially night Europe
or dorrhawk, churn or goatowl, wheelbird, nightjarr,
&c.—Black, varied with cinereous, brown, ferruginous
and white ; beneath reddish-white, with brown bands)
irides hazel) legs short, scaly, and feathered below the
knees. The male is distinguished from the female by a
large oval white spot near the end of the three first quill
feathers, and another on the outmost tail feathers. In¬
habits Europe, Asia, and America. With us this b^d
is only a summer visitant, appearing about the middle of
May, and departing again the latter end of September,
or beginning of October. It makes no nest, but lays
two eggs on the bare ground, among fern, heath, or
lon<r grass, sometimes in woods or furze, but at all times
contiguous to woods, in which it chiefly conceals itself
by day. The eggs are larger than those of a blackbird,
oblong oval, whitish, and elegantly marbled with light
brown and ash-colour. It generally sits on the ground,
but if molested, frequently perches on the limb of a tree,
most commonly lengthwise, and not across, as is com¬
mon with most birds. In the dusk of the evening, 1
begins its flight in pursuit of the larger insects, particu¬
larly scarabeeus melolontha, and solstitiahs, which rise
from their earthy abode about that time. It is also
fond of the large-bodied moths, and indeed allows tew
O R N I T H o L O G Y.
561
.ijseres.
910
andis.
pti
(e Ho!-
ndiw.
912
ngipen-
winged insects to escape its wide extended gape. It
makes a singular noise, like the sound of a large spinning
wheel, and which it is observed to utter perched with
the head lowermost; besides which, it utters a sharp
squeak, as it flies. It has its name from the ancient,
but erroneous belief, that it sucked the teats of goats.
Great goatsucker.—Blackish, with small brown spots
and streaks 5 area of the eyes yellowish , legs white ;
middle claw not serrated. Nearly two feet long. In¬
habits Cayenne. The gape of its mouth can readily ad¬
mit a man’s fist.
Crested goatsucker.'—Waved with brown, black, and
whitish •, whitish beneath } neck and breast with dusky
bands; crest on the front erect, and setaceous. Nine inches
and a half long. Inhabits New Holland. No account
has hitherto been procured of its manners, except that it
appears about our settlement at Port Jackson in March.
Leone goatsucker.—Variegated gray; wings spotted
with rufous and black ; a very long naked-shafted fea¬
ther on each shoulder. “ This singular species,” says
Dr Latham, “ is about the size of the European one,
and not far different from it in the general markings :
the length from the bill to the end of the tail is eight
inches and a quarter; but the remarkable circumstance
belonging to it, is the having a single feather springing
out of the middle part of the coverts of each wing, full
29 inches in length: this continues as a plain unwebbed
shaft for 14 inches and three quarters, having a few so¬
litary hairs, on the inside only; from thence it expands
into a broad web for the remaining five inches and a
quarter of its length. This part is mottled, not unlike
the darker part of the rest of the plumage, and crossed
with five dusky bars; the web or blade has almost the
whole of its breadth on the inner side, being there more
than one inch broad, but very narrow on the outer part
of the shaft; the legs are small. Inhabits Sierra Leona
in Africa; several of them have been brought into Eng¬
land,” &c.—The same bird is described by Dr Shaw in
his Naturalists Miscellany.
We have purposely reserved for an Appendix, the fol¬
lowing description of menura superba, a bird of New
South Wales, by Major-general Thomas Davies, F. 11.
and L. S.
“ Menura.
Char. gen. Rostrum validiusculum, convexo-conicum.
Nares ovatxe in medio rostri.
Rectrices elongatse, pinnulis decompositis;
intermediae duae longiores angustae, ex-
teriores ad apicem patulse, revolutae.
Redes validi ambulatorii.
Menura Superba.
“ The total length of this singular bird, from the point
ot the bill to the end of the broad tail feathers, is 43 in¬
ches ; 25 of which are in the tail alone. The bill rather
exceeds an inch in length, is strong, formed much like
ihat of a peacock, and black, with the nostrils, which
are long open slits, rather large, placed near the mid¬
dle of its length ; the head, which is somewhat crested
at the hind part, neck, shoulders, back, upper tail co¬
verts, and upper surface of the tail-feathers, of a dark
brownish-black ; throat rufous, reaching some way down
the middle of the neck ; breast, belly, and vent gray ;
Vox. XV. Fart II. T
the feathers of the latter are long, very soft, and of a Appendix,
silky texture ; thighs nearly of the same colour, rather 'w—y—■
long, and feathered down to the knee ; scapulars of a
brownish tinge; upper tail coverts and prime quill feathers,
which are somewhat curved at the ends, brown black;
edges of the quills gray; the legs long and very strong,
covered with large scales, especially in front; the feet,
which are likewise large, and the nails, are black ; the
last somewhat crooked, convex above and fiat beneath;
the hind nail near three quarters ot an inch long.
“The tail consists in the whole of 16 feathers; all of
which, except the two upper or middle ones, and the
two exterior on each side, have long slender shafts fur¬
nished on each side with delicate long filaments, four
inches or more in length, placed pretty close towards
the rump, but more distant from each other as they ap¬
proach the. extremity, and resemble much those of the
greater Paradise bird. The two middle or upper ones
are longer than the rest, slender, narrow at the base,
growing wider as they approach the ends, which are
pointed; webbed on the inner edge all the way, and
furnished with some distant hair like threads near the
end on the outer side, of a pale gray colour beneath,
and brown black above, as is the rest of the tail. The
two exterior feathers on each side are of an extraordinary
construction, rather more than an inch wide at the base,
and growing wider as they proceed to the ends, where
they are full two inches broad and curve outwardly ; the
curved part is black with a narrow white border ; the
quills of these feathers are double for two-thirds down
from the rump. The general colour of the under sides
of these two feathers is of a pearly hue, elegantly marked
on the inner web with bright rufous coloured crescent-
shaped spots, which from the extraordinary construction
of the parts, appear wonderfully transparent, although
at first sight seemingly the darkest; they are also elon¬
gated into slender filaments of an inch or more, espe¬
cially towards the extremities.
“ The figure of the male, which accompanies this de¬
scription, was taken from a specimen sent from New
South Wales as a present to Lady Mary Howe. I have
also seen two other specimens in the possession of the
right hon. Sir Joseph Banks, which I believe have
since been deposited in the British Museum.
“ Since I had the honour of communicating to the
Linnoean Society the foregoing description of the menura ^
I have been favoured with both male and female of that
extraordinary bird from my friend Governor King, by
the Buffalo store ship; and I am thereby enabled to lay
before the society a description of the different sexes. X
find, indeed, that, with a little deviation, the same cha¬
racters and colours will serve for both of them. The
female, however, is somewhat smaller, being in length,
from the crown of the head to the end of the tail, only
31 inches. The general plumage of the whole bird is
of a dull blackish colour, a little rufous under the chin
and throat, and of a brownish cast on the scapulars, as
in the male. The plumage of the whole body, from
the breast to the vent, and from the shoulders to the
rump, is composed of long, slender, thread-like, silky
feathers, resembling fringe, of a dull grayish-black ;
lighter on the breast, belly, and vent. The bill and
legs, which are strong and furnished with large scales,
as in the cock, are black. From the head to the rump
14 inches ; the tail 18 inches, also of a dull brown black
4 B colour
56
ORNITHOLOGY.
AiHiendi* colour above and gray beneath; the two upper tail fea-
uILy I thers are sharp-pointed at the ends; the rest are rounded
ami darker in colour, and shorter by degrees, as they
approach the rump, so as to appear cuneated j the two
outer feathers are shorter than the rest, hut in torm li a.e
those of the male, brown black above, of a pearly gray
beneath ; and the crescents, which are of a deeper rutous
colour, are not so visible nor so large, but more trans¬
parent, if posible, than those of the cock. Ihey are
about an inch and a half broad, and not black or longei
at the ends as in the other sex,.
From these birds being found in the hilly parts of Appendix,
the country, they are called by the inhabitants the
mountain pheasant* With respect to their food or man¬
ners, I have not as yet obtained any particular account.
In my specimens, there is a nakedness round the eyes,
but whether this is from the feathers having fallen off I
know not. I rather think otherwise, and that it may be
brightly coloured as in many other birds.”
For the most recent additions to Ornithology, see
Zoology and Vertebrosa, Supplement.
EXPLANATION or the PLATES.
914
Explana¬
tion of
plates.
Plate CCCXCIII. Accipitres.
Fig. I. Vultur Percnop ter us, Aquiline \ ulture.
2. Falco Me lancet os, Black Eagle.
3. Strix Zeylonensis, Ceylon Owl..
  Virginian a, Virginian Owl.
Plate eCCXCIV. Pick.
Eig. 1. Certhia Armillata, Braceletted Creeper.
° 2. Coracias Caudata, Long-tailed Roller.
3. Pious Cardinulls. Cardinal W oodpecker.
4*. Cucidus Melanokucosy Corpmandel Crested
Cuckoo.
Plate CCCXCV. Pick.
Fig* 1. Merops Erythropterus, Red-winged Bee-eater..
2. Buceros Panayensis, Panay Hornbill.
3. Todus Cristatus, Crested Tody-
4. Monwtus Brasiliensis, Brasilian Motmot.
5. Alcedo Gristata, Crested King’s-fisher.
Plate CCCXCVI. Anseres.
Fig. 1. Anas Mollissima, Eider Duck.
2. Mergus Serrator, Red-breasted Merganser..
3. Phaeton JEthereus, Common Tropic Bird.
4. Plotus Melanogaster, Black-bellied Darter.
5. Diomedca Exulans, Wandering Albatross, or.
Man of War Bird.
Plate CCCXCVII Anseres.
Fig. 1. Alca Cirrata, Tufted Auk.
2.   Tetracula, Dusky Auk.
3. Procellaria Pelagica, Stormy Petrel.
4. Colymbus Auritus, Eared Grebe.
5. Sterna Minuta, Lesser lem.
Plate CCCXCVIII. Grall®.
Fig. I. Phcenicopteros Ruber, Red Flamingo.
2. Pantalus Albus, W hite Ibis.
3. Ardea Egretta, Great Egret.
4. Scopus Umbretta, Tufted Umbre.
Plate CCCXCIX. Grallte.
Fig. I. Recurvirostra Americana, American Avocet.
2. Charadrius Pileatus, Hooded Plover..
3.. Hcematopus Ostralegus, Sea-pie, or Pied Oys¬
ter-catcher.
4. Fulica Atra, Common Coot.
Plate CCCC. Galling.
Fig. 1. Otis Afro, W7hite-eared Bustard.
2> Struthio Camelus, Black Ostrich.
3. Phasianus Cristatus, Crested Pheasant.
4. Crax Alector, Female Crested Curassow, Var
from Peru, Lath. Synop. 693-
Plate CCCCI. Passeres.
Fig. r. Columba Marginata, Marginated Turtle.
2. Loxia Moluccensts, Molucca Grosbeak.
3. Alauda Malabariea, Malabar Lark.
4. Muscicapa Pygmcea, Dwarf Fly-catcher.
3. Parus Cristatus, Crested Titmouse.
Plate CCCCII. Passeres.
Fig. I. Embervza Regia, Shaft-tailed Bunting.
& 2. Colius Panayensis, Panay an Coly.
3. Kirundo Subis, Canada Swallow.
4. Pipra Rupicola, Rock Man akin.
3, Tanagra Sibenca, Siberian lanager.
A.
Aberdevine, no8i4
Accipitres, 5°
Age of birds, . 45
Alauda, characters and species of,716—727
Albatross, _ 39° 395
Alc'i, characters and species ot, 303 372
Wo,characters and species of, 260—270
Ampehs, characters and species of, 254
INDEX.
Anas, characters and species of, N° 316
—354
Ani, character and species of, 162—164
Anseres, order of, 3J4
characters, 315
Apiaster, _ 277
Aptenodytes, characters and species of, 373
—378
Ardea, characters and species of, 494— S23
Auk, characters and species of, N® 3^
—375
Avocet, 588 59'
B.
Bar bet, characters and species of, 21
Bee-eater, # 275 2 1
Beef eater, characters and species 01, 1L
Birds, general observations on,
Afi fc/t’// scnl/t 1
ORNITHOLOGY.
-1C C1V1TRKS.
PLATE CCCXCJIT.
'
PLATE CCCXCJV.
ORNITHOLOGY.
Fig -3.
Published'byA.Constnble IkCo.Editibiirgh J8JJ.
Tig. 2.
Fig.4.
Fig a.
rc vi-:.
JeTig ? Wilson E dmF
ORNITHOLOGY . Pi c iP .
PLATE CCCXCV.
J. BffZron Scufc*£d£nE
PLATE CCCXCVI.
JZng ? fry-A, WiteonEdin!'
ORNITHOLOGY.
A NS K 1< JC S .
Published by A.Con.stable & Co.Edinburgh 1S1J.
Fig .1.
Fig. 4
■ 1/1'*6svn -JhUfi
ORNITHOLOGY. PLATE CCCXCVII.
ANSERES.
Tip.
Fit/. 7.
oiJNrmouxiY.
<; /{. j /./. /■;
PLATE CCCXf TM.
Fy. ,V.
FFij/.l.
ORTSITHOLOOT.
<; K.-I ZZ^E
PLATE fCCXCIX.
I
OR1STIT MOLOGY.
'V'
JEng^ly .A. Wilson JEctim
OUMTIIOLOCVT.
r.i ssjijij.-.s.
PL A TE Ci C( T.
/<</ ;
3 ><:
yt ffi/yon. <]'/{//> t /u/w ■
PLATE CCCCn.
ORNITHOLOGY.
S SE RE S .
Engl Try^4 WilsonEdin T
I
I
I
l
I
3
3
Index.
Birds, nutrition of, N° 38
flight and migration, 39
lubrication of the feathers, 40
nictitating membrane, 41
song, 42
egg8* 43
nests, 44
age* 45
diseases, 46
Bittern, 515—520
Blackbird, 7 50
Blackcap, 861
Boatbill, 488—490
Booby, 409
Bucco, characters and species of, 219—222
Buceros, 152
characters, 153
species, 154—158
Bunting, 781
Buphaga, characters and species of, 159
—161
Bustard, 631—638
Butcher bix&, 105—no
Buzzard, 70—73
C.
Canary bird, 813
Canct'oma, characters and species of, 488
—490
Capercailzie, 681
Caprimulgus, 907
Carrion crow, 174
of Jamaica, 55
Cassowary, 642, 643
Certhia, characters and species of, 288
—3°3
Chaffinch, 806
Channelbill, 149—151
Charadrius, characters and species of, 581
m —587
Chatterer, 754
Cockatoo, il6, 127
Colemouse, 886
Colius, 757
Columba, character and species of, 703
—715
Coly, _ 757
lolymbus, characters and species of, 422
n ~454
London, , 53
Coot, 606—609
Coracias, characters and species of, 185
—190
Corrira, characters and species of, 532
Corvorant, 402
Corvus, characters and species of, 171
—184
532—534
Cranes, _ 498—500
Uur, characters and species of, 661—664
neeper, characters and species of, 288
imsbi/l, _ 765
•t'otophaga, characters and species of, 162
— 164
ORNITHOLOGY.
Crow, characters and species of, N° 171
—184
Crown bird, 496
Cuckoo, characters and species of, 223—231
Cuculus, characters and species of, ib.—ib.
Curassow, 661—664
Curlew, _ 537, 538
Curucui, characters and species of, 216
 218
D.
.Darter,characters and species of, 412—416
Didus, characters and species of,645—648
Diotnedea, characters and species of, 390
—395
Diseases of birds.
Diver,
Dodo,
Dotterel,
Duck, velvet,
scaup,
eider,
Muscovy,
wild,
red-crested,
tufted,
E.
Eagle, different species of^ 61 68
Eggs of birds, 43
Egret, 510, 511
Ember goose, 434
Emberiza, characters and species of, 781
F. ~196
Falco, 5*8
characters of, 59
species of 60—90
Falcon, 75—80
Finch, 803
Flamingo, characters and species of, 470
, . . —473
Flight of birds, remarkable, 39
Fly-catcher, 827
Frigate pelican, 400
Frmgilla, 803
Dr/tea, characters and species of, 601—609
Fulmar, ^ 383
Galbula, characters and species of, 271
—274
Gallinw, order and characters of, 629, 630
Gallinule, -603—605
Gannet, 407
Garganey, _ 349
Glarcola, characters and species of, 596
—600
Glaucopis, characters and species of, 168
—170
Godwit,
Goldfinch,
Goose, snow,
antarctic,
bustard,
loggerhead,
gray or wild,
domestic.
549—555
808
321
322
323
324
.330
ib.
Goose, bean,
bernacle,
brent, or brand,
Goatsucker,
Goshawk,
Gracula, characters and species of,
46
430—434
^45—648
585
326
329
336
437
35i
353
354
563
N° 332
334
335
907
74
203
—207
Grakle, characters and species of, 203
—207
Grallce, order and characters of, 468, 469
Grebe, 435—442
Grouse, 680—687
Grosbeak, 763
singular nests of, 779
Guillemot, characters and species of 424
—428
Guinea fowl, 675—677
Gull, characters and species of, 443—454
H.
Her mat opus, characters and species of, 593
—595
Hedge-sparrow, 846
He 71 hai'rier, 8 2
Herons, 504—523
Himmdo, 894
Hobby, 87
Honey-guide, 23 r
Hoopoe, characters and species of, 283
—287
Horn-bill, 152—158
Hummmg bird, characters and species of,
i 3°4—3I5
Jabii'u, 483—487
Jacamar, characters and species of, 271
— 274
613—^617
‘ 177
178
179
524—531
84
Jacana,
Jackdaw,
Jay,
blue,
Ibis,
Kestril,
King's fisher, characters and species of,
260—270
Kite, 69
Kittiwake, 443
Knot, 576
Lanius, 105
characters of, 106
species of, 107—no
Lanner, 8 r
Lapwing, 559
Lark, 716—727
Zam?, characters and species of, 443—454
816—819
129—131
763
Linnet,
Lory,
Loxia,
Macao,
Magpie,
Mallai'd,
Manakin,
M.
4 B 2
116
j8i
35i
874
Man
5^4
Man of war bird, 392
Martin, or house martin, 898
Mavis, _ 74°
Melcazris, characters and species of,
653—655
Menura, 913
Merganser, 35°
red-breasted, 36°
Mcrgus, characters and species of, 3 56—36 2
Morons, characters and species of,
276—282
Migration of birds, 39
Momotus, *46
characters, M7
species, 148
Motaci/la, ^42
Mo tmot, 146 148
Muscicapa, > ^27
Musophaga, characters and species of,
165—167
Mvcteria, characters and species of,
483—487
N.
Nests of birds, 44
Nightingale, 844
Noddy, ' . 458
Numida, characters and species of, 675
—677
Nuthatch, characters and species of, 248
—251
Nutrition of birds, 38
O.
Orders of birds, 49
Oriole,characters and speciesof, 191—202
■Oriolus, characters and species of, ib.—ib.
Ornithology, definition of, I
writers on, 2—35
•Ortolan, 787
Ostrich, black, 641
American, 644
Otis, characters and species of, 631—638
Owl, 91
eared, 93—98
earless, 99—104
Ox-eye, 883
P.
JPa/amecfea, characters and species of, 479
—482
Paradise, birds of, 208—21 5
Paradisea, characters and species of, 208
—215
Parra, character and species of, 613—617
Parrot, *13—138
Partridge, 688
Par us, 8 So
Passe res, order and characters of, "joi
Pavo, 649—652
Peacock, ib.
Pelican, _ 396—411
Pelecanus, character and species ot, ib.
Penelope, characters and species of, 656
—660
Penguin, characters and species of, 373
* —378
or great auk, 366
ORNITHOLOGY.
Petrel, characters and species of, N° 379
—389
snowy, 384
stormy, 383
Petty-chaps, 847—849
Phcenicopteros, characters and species
of, . 47.0—473
Phaeton, characters and species of, Ml
—421
Phalaropc, > 568) 569
Phasianus, characters and species of, 665
—674
Pheasant, 665 674
Phytotoma, 824
Pica, 111
characters of, 112
Picus, characters and speciesof, 235”~247
Pied oyster-catcher, 595
Pigeon, 7°3' 7°5
Pipra, t 874
Plantain-eater, characters and species
of, . 165—167
Platalea, characters and species of, 474
—478
Plates, explanation of, 9J4
Plotus, characters and species of, 41 2—416
Plover, 581—587
Pratincole, 596—600
Procellaria, characters and species of, 379
-389
Psittacus, 113
characters of, II4
species, 115—T38
Psophia, characters and species of, 625
—628
Ptarmigan, 683
Pujjin, 365
Q<
Quail, 691
H.
Rail, 618—624
Ralius, characters and species of, ib.—ib.
Ramphastos, 13 9
characters of, 14°
species, 141—T45
Raven, x73
Ra%or-bill, _ 367
Recurvirostra, characters and species of 5 8 8
—592
Redbreast, 868
Red-legged crow, 184
Reed wren, 867
Reeve, 558
Rice bird, 792
Robin redbreast, 868
Roller, characters and species of, 185—190
Rook, I_75
singular history of, ib.
Royston, or hooded crow, 176
•«'#. . ; «8
Rynchops, characters and species of, 465
—467
S.
Sandpiper, 556—58°
Index.
Scolopax, characters and species of,N° 535
'555
Screamer, characters and species of, 479
—482
Scopus, characters and speciesof, 491—493
Scythrops, 149
characters of, 130
species of, 151
Sea swallow, 460
lark, 583
Shag, 4°3—4°5
Sheath-bill, 610—612
Sheldrake, 325
Shoveller, 338> 339
Shrike, 10 5—11 °
Siskin, 814
Sitta, characters and species of, 248—251
Skimmer, characters and species ot, 465
—467
Smew, 361, 362
Snipe, 54°—549
Soland goose, 407
method of taking, ib.
Song of birds, 42
Sparrow, house, 821
curious anecdote of, ib.
mountain, 822
hawk, 86
Spoonbill, characters and species of 474
—478
Starling, 7 28
Sterna, characters andspeciesof,455—464
Stonechat, 860
Storks, 501—5°3
Stoimjinch, 383
Strix, 9l
characters of, 92
species of, 93"“I04
Struthio, characters and species of, 639
—644
Sturnus, characters and species of, 728-734
Swallow, 894
migration of, 895
common, 896
esculent, 897
nests, uses, of, ib.
swift, 9°5
Swan, wild, 318
tame, 3 *9
black, 320
T.
872
797
ib.
Tailor bird,
Tanagcr,
Tunagra,
Tantalus, characters and species of, 524
—531
Tarrock, 4^5
Teal, , . . . 35°
Terms, technical, explanation ot,
Tern, characters and species of, 455—4&4
Tetrao, characters and species of, 67 8— 097
Thrush, 735
Throstle, V1
Timmous,
Titmouse,
index,
'imousc, _ N° 880
I'odus, characters and species of, 252—259
Vrtdy, characters and species of, ib.
omtit, 885
'oucan, 139
characters of, 140
species of, 141—145
Winga, characters and species of, 556—580
\rochilus, characters and species of, 304
—3*3
’'rogon, characters and species of, 216—218
Topic bird, characters and species of, 417
—421
vrumpetet') 625—628
"urdus, 735
"urkey, 653—655
U.
^bre, characters and species of, 491 —493
ORNITHO LOG Y.
Upnpa, characters and species of, N° 283
—287
V.
Vaginalis, characters and species of, 610
—612
Vulture, 51
king, 54
carrion, 55
Warbler,
Water ousel,
wag-tail,
W.
85°—855
731
856
857
yellow,
Wattle bird, characters and species of, 168
— 170
Wheat-ear, 858
Whimbrel, 539
565
Whin chat, N° 859
White grouse, 683
throat, 851
Wigcon, 344
red-headed, 348
Whigs of birds, action of, 39
Woodcock, 542, 543
Wood grouse, 681
Woodpecker, characters and species of, 235
—247
Wood wren, 848
Wren, 869
golden crested, 870
yellow, 871
Y.
Yellow hammer, 788
Yunx, characters and species of, 232—234
O li o
Dmitbo- ORNITHOMANCY, a species of divination per-
mancy formed by means of birds; being the same with augury.
11 See Divination and Augury.
0roblo° , ORNITHOPUS, a genus of plants belonging to the
diadelphia class; and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 32d order, Papilionacew. See Botany Index.
ORNITHORYNCHUS paradoxus, one of the
most extraordinary animals of the mammalia class yet
known, particularly for the singular conformation of
its head, which is the perfect resemblance of the beak of
a duck ingrafted on the head of a quadruped. See
Mammalia Index.
ORNUS fraxinus, is that species of the ash tree, in
the Linna;an system, which, according to Dr Cirillo of
Naples, produces the manna. See Materia Medica
Index.
OROBANCHE, a genus of plants belonging to the
didynamia class ; and in the natural method ranking
under the 40th order. Per sonata;. See Botany Index.
OROBIO, Don Balthasar, a celebrated Jew of
Spain. He was carefully educated in Judaism by his
parents, who were Jews, though they outwardly profes¬
sed themselves Roman Catholics ; abstaining from the
practice of their religion in every thing, except only the
observation of the fast of expiation, in the month Tisis
or September. Orobio studied the scholastic philosophy
usual in Spain, and became so skilled in it, that he was
made professor of metaphysics in the university of Sala¬
manca. Afterwards, however, applying himself to the
study of physic, he practised that art at Seville with suc¬
cess, till, accused of Judaism, he was thrown into the
inquisition, and suffered the most dreadful cruelties, in
order to force a confession. He himself tells us, that he
was put into a dark dungeon, so strait that he could
scarce turn himself in it; and suffered so many hardships,
that his brain began to be disturbed. He talked to him¬
self often in this way: “ Am I indeed that Don Baltha¬
sar Orobio, who walked freely about in Seville, who was
entirely at ease, and had the blessings of a wife and child¬
ren ?” Sometimes, supposing that his past life was but
a dream, and that the dungeon where he then lay was
his true birth-place, and which to al! appearance would
also prove the place of his death. At other times, as he
O R O
had a very metaphysical head, he first formed arguments Orobio.
of that kind, and then resolved them ; performing thus ■ /—
the three different parts of opponent, respondent, and
moderator, at the same time. In this whimsical way he
amused himself from time to time, and constantly denied
that he was a Jew. After having appeared twice or
thrice before the inquisitors, he was used as follows: At
the bottom of a subterraneous vault, lighted by two or
three small torches, he appeared before two persons, one;
of whom was judge of the inquisition, and the other se¬
cretary; who, asking him whether he would confess the
truth ? protested, that in case of a criminal’s denial, the
holy office would not be deemed the cause of his death
if he should expire under the torments, but that it
must be imputed entirely to his own obstinacy. Then
the executioner stript off his clothes, tied his feet and
hands with a strong cord, and set him upon a little stool,
while he passed the cord through some iron buckles
which were fixed in the wall; then drawing away the
stool, he remained hanging by the cord, which the exe¬
cutioner still drew harder and harder, to make him con¬
fess, till a surgeon assured the court of examinants, that
he could not possibly bear more without expiring. These
cords put him to exquisite tortures, by cutting into the
flesh, and making the blood burst from undei his nails.
As there was certainly danger that the cords would tear
oft' his flesh, to prevent the worst, care was taken to gird
him with some bands about the breast, which however
were drawn so very tight, that he would have run the
risk of not being able to breathe, if he had not held his
breath in while the executioner put the bands round
him ; by which device his lungs had room enough to
perform their functions. In the severest extremity of his
sufferings, he was told that this was but the beginning
of his torments, and that he would better confess before
thev proceeded to extremities. Orobio added further,
that the executioner, being on a small ladder, in order
to frighten him, frequently let it fall against the shin¬
bones of his legs ; so that the staves being sharp, crea¬
ted exquisite pain. At last, after three years confine¬
ment, finding themselves baffled by his perseverance in
denying his religion, they ordered his wi.nnds to be
cured, and discharged L’im. As soon as he had got
liberty,
O R P [ 566 ] GRP
OroWo liberty, he resolved to qbit the Spanish dominions j and,
1'^ going to France, was made professor of physic at 1 hou-
i-p.ieus. ^ jouse< The theses which he made as candidate for this
place were apon putrefaction j and he maintained them
with so much metaphysical subtlety, as embarrassed all
his competitors. He continued in this city for some
time, still outwardly professing popery ; but at last,
weary of dissembling, he repaired to Amsterdam, where
he was circumcised, took the name of Isaac, and profes¬
sed Judaism^ still continuing, however, to practise physic,
in which he was much esteemed. Lpon the publication
of Spinoza’s book, he despised a system the falseness ot
which he quickly discovered j and When Bredenbourg’s
answer to it came to his hands, Orobio, being persuaded
that the writer in refuting Spinoza, had also admitted
some principles which tended to Atheism, took up his
pen against them both, and published a piece to that pur¬
pose, intitled, Certamen philosopkicum adversus J. B.
Vrincipia. But the dispute which he held with the ce¬
lebrated Philip Limborch against the Christian religion
made the greatest noise. Here lie exerted the utmost
force of his metaphysical genius, and carried himself
with great temper. The three papers which he wrote
on the occasion were afterwards printed by his antago¬
nist, in an account which he published of the contro¬
versy, under the title ol Arnica Collatio cum Judico.
-Orobio died in 1687.
OROBUS, Bitter Vetch, a genus of plants be¬
longing to the diadelphia class j and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the 3 2d order, Papilmiacecc. See
Botany Index.
ORODES, a prince of Parthia, who murdered his
brother Mithridates, and ascended his throne. He de¬
feated Crassus the Roman triumvir, and poured melted
gold down the throat of his fallen enemy, to reproach
him for his avarice and ambition. He followed the for¬
tune of Cassius and Brutus at Philippi. It is said, that
when Orodes became old and infirm, Fis 30 children
disputed in his presence the right to the succession.
Phraates, the eldest of them, obtained the crown from
his father j and, to hasten him out of the World, he at¬
tempted to poison him. The poison had no effect j and
Phraates, still determined on his father’s death, strang¬
led him Avith his own hands, about 36 years before the
Christian era. Orodes had reigned about 30 years.
ORONOKO, or Orinoco, a large river of South A-
merica, which rises in Spanish Guiana, about 50 N. Eat.
•Its course has a spiral form, running first east, then
south, then west, then north, and at last east again. It
falls into the Atlantic ocean in N. Lat. 90 after a course
of 1400 miles, during which it is joined by several large
rivers, which flow eastward from the Andes.
ORONSA, a small fertile island of Scotland, one of
the Hebrides, seven miles west of Jura. Here are the
ruins of an abbey, with many sepulchral statues, and
some curious ancient sculpture.
ORONTIUM, a genus of plants belonging to the
hexandria class j and in the natural method ranking
under the second order, Piperitce. See Botany Index.
ORPHAN, a fatherless child or minor j or one that
is deprived both of father and mother.
ORPHEUS, a celebrated poet and musician of anti-
qity. His reputation was established as early as the
time of the Argonautic expedition, in which he was
• liimself an adventurer $ and is said by Apollonius Rho-
3
dius not only to have excited the Argonauts to row by Orpfceo
the sound of his lyre, but to have vanquished and put to y—
silence the Sirens by the superiority of his strains. Yet,
notwithstanding the great celebrity he had so long en¬
joyed, there is a passage in Cicero, which says, that Ari¬
stotle, in the third book of his Poetics, which is now
lost, doubted if such a person as Orpheus ever existed.
But -as the work of Cicero, in which this passage occurs,
is in dialogue, it is not easy to discover what was his own
opinion upon the subject, the words cited being put into
the mouth of Caius Cotta. And Cicero, in other parts
of his writings, mentions Orpheus as a person of whose
existence he had no doubts. There are several ancient
authors, among whom is Suidas, who enumerate five
persons of the name of Orpheus, and relate some par¬
ticulars of each. And it is very probable that it has
fared with Orpheus as with Hercules, and that writers
have attributed to one the actions of many. But, how¬
ever that may have been, we shall not attempt to col¬
lect all the fables that poets and mythologists have in¬
vented concerning him j they are too well known to
need insertion here. We shall, therefore, in speaking
of him, make use only of such materials as the best an¬
cient historians, and the most respectable writers among
the moderns, have furnished towards his history.
Dr Cudworth, in his Intellectual System*, after exa-* Hook
mining and confuting the objections that have beensect* I7‘
made to the being of an Orpheus, and with his usual
learning and abilities clearly establishing his existence,
proceeds, in a very ample manner, to speak of the opi¬
nions and writings of our bard, whom he regards not
only as the first musician and poet of antiquity, but as
a great mythologist, from whom the Greeks derived the
Thracian religious rites and mysteries.
w It is the opinion (says he) of some eminent philo-
logers of latter times, that there never was any such
person as Orpheus, except in Fairy land ; and that his
whole history was nothing but a mere romantic allego¬
ry, utterly devoid of truth and reality. But there is
nothing alleged for this opinion from antiquity, except
the one passage of Cicero concerning Aristotle j who
seems to have meant no more than this, that there was
no such poet as Orpheus anterior to Homer, or that the
verses vulgarly called Orphical, were not written by Or¬
pheus. However, if it should be granted that Aristotle
had denied the existence of such a man, there seems to
be no reason why his single testimony should preponde¬
rate against the universal consent of all antiquity j which
agrees that Orpheus was the son of Oegar, by birth a
Thracian, the father or chief founder of the mythologi¬
cal and allegorical theology amongst the Greeks, and of
all their most sacred religious rites and mysteries-, who
is commonly supposed to have lived before the Trojan
war, that is, in the time of the Israelitish judges, or at
least to have been senior both to Hesiod and Homer j
and to have died a violent death, most affirming that he
was torn in pieces by 'women, because their husbands de¬
serted them in order to follow him. For which reason,
in the vision of Herus Pamphilius, in Plato, Orpheus’s
soul passing into another body, is said to have chosen
that of a swan, a reputed musical animal, on account of
the great hatred he had conceived for all women, from
the death which they had inflicted on him. And the
historic truth of Orpheus was not only acknowledged
bv Plato, but also by Isocrates, who lived before Ari¬
stotle,
O R P r 567 ] O R P
-plicns stotle, iu liis oration in praise of Busiris ; and confirmed
' by the grave historian Diodorus Siculus, wlio says, that
Orpheus diligently applied himself to literature, and
when he had learned t<& (AvieXoyvpwx, or the mythologi¬
cal part of theology, he travelled into Egypt, where he
soon became the greatest proficient among the Greeks
in the mysteries of religion, theology, and poetry. Nei¬
ther was his history of Orpheus contradicted by Origen,
when so justly provoked by Celsus, who had preferred
him to our Saviour: and, according to Suidas, Or¬
pheus the Thracian was the first inventor of the reli¬
gious mysteries of the Greeks, and that religion was
thence called ©gno-jcsiae, Thrcskeiu, as if a Thracian in¬
vention. On account of the great antiquity of Or¬
pheus, there have been numberless fables intermingled
with his history ; yet there appears no reason that we
should disbelieve the existence of such a man.”
Cudworth is also of opinion, that the poems ascribed
to Orpheus were either written by him, or that they
were very ancient, and contained his doctrines. He
farther argues, that though Orpheus was a polytheist,
and asserted a multiplicity of gods, he nevertheless ac¬
knowledged one supreme unmade deity, as the original
of all things ‘y and that the Pythagoreans and Platonists
not only had Orpheus in great esteem, being commonly
called by them the Thcologer, but were also thought in
great measure to have owed their theology and philosor
phy to him, deriving it from his principles and tradi¬
tions.
Varbur- The bishop of Gloucester* speaks no more doubtful*
[ • ly of the existence of Orpheus than of Homer and He¬
siod, with whom he ranks him,.not only as a poet, but
also as a theologian, and founder of religion.
The family of Orpheus, is traced by Sir Isaac New¬
ton for several generations • “ Sefac passing over the
Hellespont, conq.uers Thrace j kills Lycurgus king of
that country; and gives his kingdom and one of his
singing women to Oeagrus, the son of Tharops, and fa¬
ther of Orpheus $ hence Orpheus is said to have had
the muse Calliope for his mother.
He is allowed by most ancient authors to have ex¬
celled in poetry and music, particularly, the latter ; and
that to such a degree, that he is represented as. taming
the most ferocious animals, changing the course of the
winds by his melody, and as causing the trees of the .fo¬
rest to dance in concert with his lyre. This account,
though we must suppose it fabulous, yet proves his ex¬
cellence to have, been great before he, could have given
rise to such fictions. He is said to have early cultiva¬
ted the lyre, in preference to every other instrument :
so that all those who came after him were contented to
be his imitators ^ whereas, according, to Plutarch, he
adopted no model j for before his time no other musie
was known, except a few airs fop the flute. Music was
so closely connected in ancient times with the most su-
ney's blime sciences, that Orpheus united it not only with
V/ philosophy, but with theology and legislation. He ab¬
stained from eating animal food ; and held eggs in ab¬
horrence as aliment, being persuaded that the egg sub¬
sisted before the chicken, and was the principle of all
existence : both his knowledge and prejudices, it is pro¬
bable, were acquired in Egypt, as well as those of Py¬
thagoras many ages after.
With respect to his abstaining from the flesh of oxen*
Gesner supposes it may have proceeded from the venera;
tion shown to that animal so useful in tillage, in the Orphean,
Eleusinian mysteries instituted in honour of Ceres, thev™""-'
goddess of agriculture. He might have added, that, as
those mysteries were instituted in imitation of those esta¬
blished in Egypt in honour of Osiris and Isis, this absti¬
nence from animal food was of the like origin, and a
particular compliment to Apis. But Abbe Fragnir, in
an ingenious dissertation upon the Orphic gives still
more importance to the prohibition \ for as Orpheus was
the legislator and humanizer of the wild and savage
Thracians, who were cannibals, a total abolition of cat¬
ting human flesh could only be established by obliging
his countrymen to abstain from every thing that had
life.
W ith respect to theology, Diodorus Siculus tells us, Dind. S7*
that his father Oeagrus gave him his first instructions incuhis, lib.
religion, imparting to him the mysteries of Bacchus, aslv‘ cap‘
they were then practised in Thrace. He became after¬
wards a disciple of the Ideei Dactyli in Crete, and there
acquired new ideas concerning religious ceremonies.
But nothing contributed so much to his skill in theolo¬
gical matters, as his journey into Egypt ; where being
initiated into the mysteries of Isis and Osiris, or of Ce¬
res and Bacchus, he acquired a knowledge concerning
initiations, expiations, funeral rites, and other points of
religious worship, far.superior to any one of his age and
country. And being much connected with the descen¬
dants of Cadmus, the founder of Thebes in Boeotia,
he resolved, in order to honour their origin, to transport
into Greece the whole fable of Osiris, and apply it to -
the family of Cadmus. The credulous people easily re¬
ceived this tale, and wrere much flattered by the institu¬
tion of the ceremonies in honour of Osiris. Thus Or¬
pheus, who was held in great veneration at the Grecian
Thebes, of which he was become a citizen, admirably-
adapted this fable, and rendered it respectable, not only
by his beautiful verses and manner of singing them, but
by the reputation he had acquired of being profoundly
skilled in all religious concerns. Diodorus Siculus also
says that he was a most attentive student in all kinds of ‘
literature, whether sacred or profane.
At his return into Greece, according to Fausanias,
he was held in the highest veneration by the people, as
they imagined he had discovered the secret of expia¬
ting crimes, purifying criminals, curing diseases, and
appeasing the angry gods. He formed and promul¬
gated an idea of a hell, from the funeral ceremonies
of the Egyptians, which was received throughout
all Greece. He instituted the mysteries and worship
of Hecate among the Eginetes, and that of Ceres at
Sparta.
Justin Martyr says, that he introduced among the-
Greeks near 360 gods j Hesiod and Homer pursued
his labours, and followed the same clue, agreeing in-,
the like doctrines, having all drank at the same Egyp¬
tian fountain.
Profane authors look upon Orpheus as the inventor
of that species of magic called evocation of the manes^
or raising ghosts j and indeed the hymns which are at¬
tributed to him are mostly pieces of incantation, and
real con juration. By all accounts he was an admirable
musician ; he is said to have received a lyre from Anol-
lo, or according to some from Mercury, upon which he
played with such a masterly hand, that even the most
rapid rivers ceased to flow, the savage beasts of the m?
rest
0 R P
OrpLeus.
[ 568
rest forgot their wildness, and the mountains came to
1 listen to his song. All nature seemed charmed and ani¬
mated, and the nymphs were his constant companions.
F.urydice was the only one who made a deep impies-
sion on the melodious musician, and their nuptials were
celebrated. Their happiness, however, was but short ;
for Aristaeus became enamoured of her j and. as she tied
from her pursuer, a serpent that was lurking in the grass
bit her foot, and she died of the poisoned wound. Her
loss was severely felt by Orpheus, and he resolved to
recover her or perish in the attempt. ’With his lyre in
his hand, he entered the infernal regions, and gained an
easy admission to the palace of Pluto. rl he king of hell
wa< charmed with the melody of his strains 5 and ac¬
cording to the beautiful expressions of the poets, the
wheel of Ixion stopped i the stone of Sisyphus stood
still *, Tantalus forgot his perpetual thirst, and even the
furies relented. Pluto and Proserpine were moved with
his sorrow, and consented to restore him I’.urydice, pro¬
vided he forbore looking behind him till he had come to
the extremest borders of hell. rlhe conditions were
gladly accepted, and Orpheus was already in sight of
the upper regions of the air, when he forgot his
promise, and turned back to look at his long lost Fu-
vydice.
All dangers past, at length the lovely bride
In safety goes, with her melodious guide j
Longing the common light again to share,
And draw the vital breath of upper air :
He first, and close behind him followed she ;
For such was Proserpine’s severe decree.
When strong desires th’ impatient youth invade 5
By little caution, and much love betrayed :
A fault which easy pardon might receive,
Were lovers judges, or could hell forgive.
For near the confines of etherial light,
And longing for the glimm’ring of a sight,
Th’ unwary lover cast a look behind,
Forgetful of the law, nor master of his mind.
Straight all his hopes exhal’d in empty smoke }
And his long toils were forfeit for a look.
Dry den’s Virgil.
He saw her, but she instantly vanished from his eyes :
He attempted to follow her, but he was refused admis¬
sion ; and the only comfort he could find rvas to soothe
his grief at the sound of his musical instrument in grot¬
toes or on the mountains. He totally separated himself
from the society of mankind 5 and the Thracian women,
whom he had offended by his coldness to their amorous
passion, or, according to others, by bis unnatural grati¬
fications and impure indulgencies, attacked him while
they celebrated the orgies of Bacchus y and after they
]
GRP
of Fur) dice. Poets often mention this subject } and in¬
stances of it occur in history both sacred and profane.
The witch of Fndor is well known to those who read
the historical part of the Bible. But to particularise
instances, whether sacred or profane, would be endless.
Some maintain that he was killed by a thunderbolt.
He was buried at Pieria in Macedonia, according to
Apollodorus. T he inhabitants of Dion boasted that
bis tomb was in their city, and the people of Mount
Libethrus in Thrace claimed the same honour •, and
farther observed that the nightingales which built their
nests near his tomb, sang with greater melody than all
other birds. Orpheus, as some report, after death re¬
ceived divine honours *, the muses gave an honourable
burial to his remains, and his lyre became one oi the
constellations in the heavens.
, Tzetzes explains the fable of his drawing his wife
Eurydice from hell, by his great skill in medicine,
w ith which he prolonged her life, or, in other words,
snatched her from the grave. yEsculapius, and other
physicians, have been said to have raised from the
dead those whom they had recovered from dangerous
diseases.
The bishop of Gloucester, in his learned, ample, and
admirable account of the Eleusinian mysteries, says,
“ While these mysteries were confined to Egypt their
native country, and while the Grecian lawgivers went
thither to be initiated, as a kind of designation to their
office, the ceremony would be naturally described in
terms highly allegorical. This way of speaking was
used by Orpheus, Bacchus, and others : and continued
even after the mysteries were introduced into Greece,
as appears by the fables of Hercules, Castor, Pollux,
and Theseus’s descent into hell; but the allegory was
so circumstanced, as to discover the truth concealed un¬
der it. So Orpheus is said to get to hell by the power
of his harp:
Orplicysi
Threicia frctus cithara,fidibusque canoris.
Virg. JEn. vi. ver. 119.
had torn his body to pieces, they threw his head into the
Hebrus, which still articulated the words Eurydice !
Eurydice! as it was carried down the stream into the
iEgean sea. Others think, that, as he attempted to
conjure his wife from the dead, which they understand
by the story of his going down to hell, he thought he
saw her •, and when afterwards, on looking hack he mis¬
sed her, he died of grief. There is certainly some rea¬
son for supposing this to be the case : for there were per¬
sons and temples publicly appointed for the purpose *,
and Pausanias really speaks of that temple which was in
Thesprotia, and where Orpheuswent to call up the ghost
That is, in quality of lawgiver; the harp being the
known symbol of his laws, by which he humanized a
rude and barbarous people.—Had an old poem, under
the name of Orpheus, intitled A descent into Hell, been
now extant, it would perhaps have shown us, that no
more was meant than Orpheus’s initiation.''^ bee My¬
steries.
Many ancient waiters, in speaking of his death, re¬
late, that the Thracian women, as hinted at above, en¬
raged at being abandoned by their husbands, who were
disciples of Orpheus, concealed themselves in the w7oods,
in order to satiate their vengeance ; and notwithstand¬
ing they postponed the perpetration ot their design some
time through fear, at length, by drinking to a degree
of intoxication, they so far fortified their courage as to
put him to death. And Plutarch assures us, that the
Thracians stigmatized their women, even in his time,
for the barbarity of this action
Our venerable bard is defended by the author * of*
the Divine Legation, from some insinuations to his dis-ton.
advantage in Diogenes Laertius. “ It is true (says
he), if uncertain report was to he believed, the mysteries
were corrupted very early *, for Orpheus himself is said
to have abused them. But this was an art the debauch¬
ed niystse of later times employed.to varnish their enor¬
mities }
O K P ^ [ 569 ] O R P
mities ; as the detested paederasts of after ages scandali¬
zed the blameless Socrates. Besides, the story is so ill
laid, that it is detected by the surest records of antiqui¬
ty for in consequence of what they fabled of Orpheus
in the mysteries, they pretended he was torn in pieces
by the women j whereas it appeared from the inscrip¬
tion on his monument at Dium, in Macedonia, that he
was struck dead with lightning, the envied death of the
reputed favourites of the gods.”
This monument at Dium, consisting of a marble urn
on a pillar, was still to be seen in the time of Pausani-
as. It is said, however, that his sepulchre was removed
from Libethra, upon Mount Olympus, where Orpheus
was born, and from whence it was transferred to Dium
by the Macedonians, after the ruin of Libethra by a
sudden inundation which a dreadful storm had occa¬
sioned. This event is very minutely related by Pau-
sanias.
\ irgil bestows the first place in his Elysium upon the
legislators, and those who brought mankindfrom a state
of nature into society :
Magnanimi heroes, nati melioribus annis.
At the head of these is Orpheus, the most renowned of
the European lawgivers, but better knowm under the
character of a poet: for the first laws being written in
measure, to allure men to learn them, and, when learnt,
to retain them, the fable would have it, that by the
force of harmony Orpheus softened the savage inhabi¬
tants of Thrace :
■■ —Threicius longa cum veste sacerdos
Obloqintur numens septem discrimind vocuni :
Jamque eadem digitis jam pectine pulsat eburno.
AEn. lib. vi. ver. 645.
The se ven strings given by the poet in this passage to
the lyre of Orpheus, is a circumstance somewdiat histo¬
rical. The first Mercurian lyre had, at most, but four
strings. Others wrere afterwards added to it by the se¬
cond Mercury, or Amphion : but, according to several
traditions preserved by Greek historians, it was Orpheus
who completed the second tetrachord, which extended
the scale to a heptachord, or seven sounds implied by
the septem discrimina vocum. For the assertion of ma¬
ny writers, that Orpheus added two new strings to the
lyre, which before had seven, clashes with the claims of
Pythagoras to the invention of the octachord, or addi¬
tion of the sound proslambanomenos to the heptachord,
of which almost all antiquity allows him to have been
the inventor. And it is not easy to suppose, that the
lyre should have been represented in ancient sculpture
with four or five strings only, if it had had nine, so
early as the time of Orpheus, who flourished long be¬
fore sculpture was known in .Greece. See the article
Lyre.
With respect to the writings of Orpheus, he is men¬
tioned by Pindar as author of the Argonautics, and
Herodotus speaks of his Orphics. His hymns, says
Pausanras, were very short, and but few in number:
the Lycomides, an Athenian family, knew them by
heart, and had an exclusive privilege of singing them,
and those of their old poets, Musaeus, Onomacritus,
Pamphus, and Olen, at the celebration of the Eleusi-
nian mysteries $ that is, the priesthood was hereditary
in this family.
Vol. XV. Part II.
Jamblicus tells us, that the poems under the name of Orpheus
Orpheus were Written in the Doric dialect, but have ||
since been transdialected, or modernised. It was the OrPine-
common opinion in antiquity that they were genuine ;
but even those who doubted of it, gave them to the ear¬
liest Pythagoreans, and some of them to Pythagoras
himself, who has frequently been called the follower of
Orpheus, and has been supposed to have adopted many
of his opinions.
Of the poems that are still subsisting under the name
of Orpheus, which rvere collected and published at Nu¬
remberg 1702, by Amir. Christ. Eschenbach, and which
have been reprinted at Leipsic 1764, under the title of
OP<l>E£2S AI1ANTA, several have been attributed to
Onomacritus, an Athenian, who flourished under the
Pisistratidae, about 500 years before Christ. Their
titles are, 1. The Argonautics, an epic poem. 2. Eigh¬
ty-six hymns j which are so full of incantations and ma¬
gical evocation, that Daniel Heinsius has called them
veram Sat ana liturgiam, “ the true liturgy of the de¬
vil.” Pausanias, who made no doubt that the hymns
subsisting in his time were composed by Orpheus, tells
us, that though less elegant, they had been preferred for
religious purposes to those of Homer. 3. De lapidibus,
a poem on precious stones. 4. Fragments, collected by
Henry Stevens. Orpheus has been called the mvejitor,
or at least the propagator, of many arts and doctrines
among the Greeks. 1. The combination of letters, or
the art of writing. 2. Music, the lyre, or cithara, of
seven strings, adding three to that of Mercury. 3.
Hexameter verse. 4. Mysteries and theology. 5. Me¬
dicine. 6. Magic and divination. 7. Asti'ology. Servius
upon the sixth /Eneid, p, 450. says, Orpheus first insti¬
tuted the harmony of the spheres. 8. He is said likewise
to have been the first who imagined a plurality of
worlds, or that the moon and planets were inhabited.
Orpheus, in Ichthyology, the name of a fish caught
in the Archipelago. It is of a broad and flat figure, and
of a fine purple colour; its eyes are large and promi¬
nent, and its teeth serrated ; it has only one fin on tho
back and the anterior rays of that are prickly, the o-
thers soft to the touch ; its anus is small, and is said to
have no passage for the semen.
I his was the fish called orpheus by the ancients, but
the modern Greeks call another fish by that name.
It is a species of the spams, of a flat figure, but very
thick, has a small mouth, and is covered with small
but very rough scales, which adhere very firmly to
the flesh ; the tail is not forked ; it has fleshy lips, and
very small teeth ; its back and sides are black ; its
belly white : it has a large black spot at the root of
the tail ; its head is reddish, and its fins are very
elegantly diversified with various colours ; it has only
one back-fin, and that has the anterior ray prickly,
the hinder ones not at all so. It grows sometimes to 20
pounds weight, and is much esteemed among the modern
Greeks.
ORPFMENT {auripigmentum), in Natural Histo-
ry, a mineral which is composed of sulphur and arse¬
nic, found native in the earth, and constituting one of
the ores of arsenic, but sometimes artificially prepared.
It is of two kinds, red and yellow. See Arsenic, Mi¬
neralogy Index, and Arsenic under Ores, Rcduc'
tion of
ORPINE. S6e Sebum, Botany Index,
t 4 C ORRERY,
O R T
[ 57° ]
O R V
prfery
II
Orthogra¬
phy-
ORRERY, a curious machine for representing the
motions or phases of the heavenly bodies. See Astro¬
nomy, p. 171.
The reason of its being called an Orrery was this .
Mr Rowley, a mathematical instrument maker, having
got one from Mr George Graham, the original inventor,
to be sent abroad with some of his own instruments, he
copied it, and made the first for the earl of Orrery. Sir
Richard Steele, who knew nothing of Mr Graham’s
machines, thinking to do justice to the first encourager,
as well as to the inventor of such a curious instrument,
called it an Orreryy and gave Mr Rowley the praise due
to Mr Graham.
Orrery, Earls of. See Boyle.
ORRICE. See Iris, Botany Index.
ORTEGAL, Cape, the most northern promontory
of Spain, where there is also a castle of the same name.
W. Long. 8. 20. N. Lat. 44. 0.
0RTEL1US, Abraham, a celebrated geographer
born at Antwerp, in 1527, was well skilled in the lan¬
guages and the mathematics, and acquired such reputa-
Tion°by his skill in geography, that he was surnamed the
Ptolemy of his lime. Justus Lipsius, and most of the
great men of the 16th century, were Ortelius’s friends.
Re resided at Oxford in the reign of Edward VI. and
came a second time into England in 1577- Theet-
trum Orbis was the completes! work of the kind that
had ever been published, and gained him a reputation
equal to his immense labour in Compiling it. He also
wrote several other excellent geographical works •, the
principal of which are his Thesaurus, and his Synonyma
Geographica. The tvorld is likewise obliged to him for
the Britannia, which he persuaded Camden to under¬
take. He died at Antwerp in 1598.
ORTHEZ, a city in France, in the department of the
lower Pyrenees, and before the Revolution, a bishop’s
see. Its population in 1800 was 6738. The cathe¬
dral is a wretched edifice, very ancient, built in a bar¬
barous style, and almost in ruins. The remains of the
castle of Orthez are very noble, and its situation is fine,
on a hill which commands the town and a great extent
of country. The people call it Le Chateau de la Peine
Jeanne, because that queen resided in it during many
years, in preference to the castle of Pau. rlhe prin¬
cess Blanche, daughter to John king of Arragon and
Navarre, was shut up, and died here, in 1464.
Her brother being dead, she became heiress to the
crown of Navarre ; but her father having delivered her
into the hands of her younger sister Leonara countess
of Foix, she confined the unhappy Blanche in the castle
of Orthez, and, after am imprisonment of two years,
caused her to be poisoned.
ORTHODOX, in church history, an appellation
given to those who are sound in all the articles of the
Christian faith.
ORTHOGRAPHIC projection of the Sphere,
that wherein the eye is supposed to be at an infinite di¬
stance •, so called, because the perpendiculars, from any
point of the sphere, will all fall in the common intersec¬
tion of the sphere with the plane of the projection. See
Geography and Projection.
ORTHOGRAPHY, that part of grammar which
teaches the nature and affections of letters, and the
just method of spelling or writing words, with all the
proper and necessary letters, making one of the four
greatest divisions or branches of grammar. See Gram¬
mar.
Orthography, in Geometry, the art of drawing or
delineating the fore-right plan oi any object, and of ex- ___
pressing the heights or elevations of each part. It is cal¬
led Orthography, for its determining things by perpen¬
dicular lines falling on the geometrical plane.
Orthography, in Architecture, the elevation of a
building.
Orthography, in Perspective, is the fore-right side
of any plane, i. e. the side or plane that lies parallel to
a straight line, that may be imagined to pass through
the outwai'd convex points of the eyes, continued to a
convenient length.
ORTHOPNOEA, a species or degree of asthma,
where there is such a difficulty of respiration that the
patient is obliged to sit or stand upright in order to be
able to breathe. See Medicine Index.
0RT1VE, in Astronomy, the same with eastern. 1 he
ortive or eastern amplitude, is an arch of the hoiizou
intercepted between the place where a star rises, and
the east point of the horizon, or point where the horizon
and equator intersect.
ORTNAU or Ortenau, a district or canton in Ger¬
many, in Suabia, lying along the Rhine opposite Stras-
burg. It included eight or ten small towns, of which
Offenburg, Gegensbach, and Zell, were the most con¬
siderable : these towns formed a small federation, and
held immediately of the empire. At the distribution of
the indemnities, after the peace of Luneville, this terri¬
tory, with the Brisgaw, was assigned to the duke of Mo¬
dena-, but the greater part of it was afterwards annexed
to the grand duchy of Baden.
ORTOLAN. See Emberiza, Ornithology In¬
dex.
ORTYGIA, the birthplace of Diana, was a beauti¬
ful grove of trees of various kinds, chiefly cypresses,
near Ephesus 5 on the coast, a little up from the sea.
This place was filled with shrines and images. The
priests of the goddess were eunuchs, and exceedingly
respected by' the people. A general assembly was held
there yearly, and splendid entertainments were provid¬
ed, and mystic sacrifices solemnized. The Cenchrius,
probably a crooked river, ran through it j and above
it was the mountain Solmissus, on which, it was fa¬
bled, the Curetes stood, and rattled on their shields, to
divert the attention of Juno. The improved face of a
country is perishable like human beauty. Not only the
birthplace of Diana and its sanctity are forgotten, but
the grove and buildings which adorned it appear no moi e
and perhaps, says Dr Chandler, the land has encroach¬
ed on the sea, and the va.iey, in which Arvisia is, was
once Ortygia. See Ephesus, and Diana, &c.
ORV LETO, a town of Italy, in the patrimony of
St Peter, with a bishop’s see, and a magnificent palace.
It is the capital of the province of Orvietano, in the ec¬
clesiastic state, in E. Long. 12. 5* Lat* 42- 50, Ris a
large strong town, situated at the conflux of the Paglia
and the Chiane, on a steep hill, surrounded on every side
with rocks and precipices. To this situation it is owing
that it has no springs } but there is a very surprising well
cut into the rock, to supply it with fresh water. The
mules, which bring up the water on their backs, go
down by a staircase of 150 steps, and 60 windows, and
come up by another, without meeting. The architect
of
Orthogra¬
phy
11
Orvieto.
O R Y [s
of this singular Wilding was the famous Antonio de San
Gallo, employed by Clement VIE. At the entrance is
this inscription, Quad natura munimento inviderat, in-
dustria adjccit. This city, called Hcrbanum by Pliny,
and Ut'becetanum by Procopius, is the see of a bishop
suffragan of Rome. The cathedral, which is of Gothic
architecture, is a handsome building, which w'as begun
in 1260 by Nicolo Pisano. The front is adorned with
fine statues, among the rest the V irgin Mary and the
four Evangelists, with a basso-relievo of the last judge¬
ment, by the said Nicolo Pisano, and others representing
some histories of the Old Testament. The other half
of the front is a surprising work in mosaic, by Scalzi,
expressing the history of the New Testament. In the
church there is a very fine organ, and a basso-relievo of
Raphael da Monte Lupo. Here is also a chapel, which
was begun to be painted by F. Angelo, a dominican,
and finished by Luke Signorelli, where you see a very
beautiful representation of the last judgment. Orvieto
was once a potent and populous city, but is now much
upon the decline.
ORYZA, Rice, a genus of plants belonging to the
hexandria class, and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 4th order, Gramma. See Botany Index.
There is but one species, namely the sativa, or com¬
mon rice. This plant is greatly cultivated in most of
the eastern countries, where it is the chief support of
the inhabitants *, and great quantities of it are brought
into England and other European countries every year,
where it is much esteemed for puddings, &c. it being
too tender to be produced in these northern countries
without the assistance of artificial heat •, but from some
seeds which were formerly sent to Carolina thei'e have
been great quantities produced, and it is found to suc¬
ceed as well there as in the east.
This plant grows upon moist soils, where the ground
can be flowed over with water after it is come up. So
that whoever would cultivate it in this country should
sow the seeds upon a hot-bed ; and when the plants
are come up, they should be removed into pots filled
with light rich earth, and placed in pans of water, which
should be plunged into a hot-bed ; and, as the water
wastes, it must from time to time be renewed again. In
July these plants may be set abroad in a warm situation,
•still preserving the water in the pans, otherwise they
will not thrive ; and, toward the latter end of August,
they will produce their grain, which will ripen tolerably
well, provided the autumn proves favourable. The
leaves of rice are long, like the reed, and fleshy ; the
flowers blorv on the top like barley *, but the seed which
follows is disposed in clusters, each of which is inclosed
in a yellow husk, ending in a spiral thread. The seed
is oblong, or rather oval, and white.
Rice is the chief commodity and riches of Damietta
in Egypt. Dr Hasselquist gives the following descrip¬
tion of the manner in which they dress and separate it
from the husks. “ It is pounded by hollow iron pestles
of a cylindrical form, lifted up by a wheel worked by
oxen. A person sitting between the two pestles, pushes
forward the rice when the pestles are rising j another
sifts, winnows, and lays it under the pestles. In this
manner they continue working it until it is entirely free
from chaff and husks. When clean, they add a 30th
part of salt, and pound them together; by which the
rice, formerly gray, becomes white. After this purifi-
71 ] CSC
cation, it is passed through a fine sieve to part the salt
from the rice ; and then it is ready for sale.” Damietta
sells every year 60,800 sacks of rice, the greatest part
of which goes to Turkey, some to Leghorn, Marseilles,
and Venice.
ORYZIVORA, called the rice-bird of Cateshy, a
species of emberiza, which see, ORNITHOLOGY Index,
OSCHOPHORIA, a festival celebrated by the A-
thenians, which receives its name utto tov Tag
“ from carrying boughs hung up with grapes,” called
6b-%xi. The original institution is thus mentioned by
Pint, in Thess. Theseus, on returning from Crete, for¬
got to hang out the white sail, by which his father was
to be apprized of his success. This neglect proved fatal
to iEgeus, for he threw himself into the sea, and pe¬
rished. Theseus no sooner reached the land, than he
sent a herald to inform his father of his safe return, and
in the mean time he began to make the sacrifices which
he had vowed to make when he first set sail from Crete.
The herald, on his entrance into the city, found the
people in great agitation. Some lamented the king’s
death, while others, elated at the sudden news of the
victory of Theseus, crowned the herald with garlands
in token of their joy. The herald carried back the
garlands on his staff to the sea shore j and, after waiting
till Theseus had finished his sacrifice, he related the
melancholy account of the king’s death. Upon this the
people ran in crowds to. the city, showing their grief by
cries and lamentations. From this circumstance, there¬
fore, at the feast of Oschophoria, not the herald but his
staff is crowned with garlands, and all the people that
are present always exclaim sAsAsv, is, <a, the first of which
expresses haste, and the others a consternation or depres¬
sion of spirits. The historian further mentions, that
Theseus, when he went to Crete, did not take with him
the usual number of virgins, but that in the place of
two of them, he took two youths of his acquaintance,
whom he caused to pass for women, by disguising their
dress, and by accustoming them to the ointments and
perfumes of women, as well as by a long and success¬
ful imitation of their voice. The imposition succeeded j
their sex was not discovered in Crete; and when The¬
seus had triumphed over the Minotaur, he with these
two young men led a procession, with branches in their
hands in the same habit, which is still used at the cele¬
bration of the festival. The branches which were car¬
ried w'ere in honour of Bacchus or Ariadne, or because
they returned in autumn, w'hen the grapes were ripe.
Besides this procession, there wras also a race, in which
young men only whose parents were both alive W'ere
permitted to engage. It was customary for them to
run from the temple of Bacchus to that of Minerva,
wdiiclr was on the sea shore. The place where they
stopped wras called acr^o^a^av, because the boughs which
they carried in their hands were deposited there. The
reward of the conqueror was a cup called 7nvrx'7r)\oxf
“ five-fold,” because it contained a mixture of five dif¬
ferent things, wine, honey, cheese, meal, and oil.
OSCILLA, small images of wax or clay made in
the shape of men or women, and consecrated to Saturn*
to render him propitious. The word is sometimes used
to signify a kind of masks scooped from the bark of
trees, and worn by the performers of comedy in the
ruder ages of Rome. In this sense we find it in Virg.
Georg, ii. 386. It also signifies little heads or images of
4 C 2 Bacchus,
O S I [ 572 ] a S I
(Sscilta Bacchus, which the country men of old hung upon trees,
I! that the face might turn every way, out of a notion
Osiris, that the countenance of this god gave felicity to them-
^ v selves, and fertility to their vineyards. An allusion to
this opinion and custom is also found in Virgil, Georg,
ii. 388.
OSENEY-island, in England, is formed by the
river Isis, in the meadows near Oxford, where a mag¬
nificent abbey was erected, at the instigation of a con¬
cubine of King Henry I. to atone for her sins $ and
the said king built a palace there, wherein King Ri¬
chard I. was born, which Edward II. converted into a
monastery.
OSIRIS, in Mythology, one of the gods of ancient
Egypt, and very generally believed to have been the
sun, or at least the mind actuating that luminary.
The Egyptians derived all things from two principles,
an active and a. passive. rI heir active principle, accord-
* Pantk. ing to the learned Jablonski*, was an infinite and eter-
Mgypt. na] Spirit; and their passive principle was night. This
spirit they considered sometimes as a male, sometimes as
a. female, divinity, and occasionally they attributed to it
both sexes; but it does not appear to have been the ob¬
ject of their worship. It shall be shown elsewhere (see
Polytheism), that the earliest objects of pagan adora¬
tion were the sun, moon, and planets : and that the phi¬
losophers and priests of ancient Egypt worshipped the
sun by the name of Osii'is, may be proved by number¬
less testimonies from the most authentic records of an¬
tiquity. Diogenes Laertius affirms, that they held the
sun and moon for divinities, and that they called the
latter Isis ; and Macrobius says expressly, “ Nec in oc-
culto est, neque aliud esse Osirin quam solem, nec Isim
aliud esse quam ter ram?' The same writer informs us,
that in the hieroglyphic writings of ancient Egypt,
“ Osiris was represented by a sceptre and an eye,” to
denote that this god was the sun looking down from
heaven on all things upon earth.
It must not, however, be concealed, that some of the
ancients, and a few of the most learned moderns, have
contended, that by Osiris the Egyptians understood the
Nile or spirit of the Nile, whilst others have confounded
him with the Grecian Bacchus. Scaliger and Selden
have adopted the former of these opinions, and Servius
on Virgil has given his countenance to the latter. But
that they are all mistaken, has been evinced by Jablon¬
ski in such a manner as to enforce the fullest conviction:
u When the Egyptians, in their sacred books, sometimes
gave the name of Osiris to the Nile and its wonderful
increase during the heat of summer, they mean nothing
more (says he) but to attribute to their god Osiris the
gift which fertilizes their country.” This thev would
the more readily do that they believed the Nile to have
fPrepar. its source in heaven. Hence Eusebius tells usf, 0<r«g<s
.Evangel. t<fUv 0 N«Aes, ov ov^avov x.XToiQt(>i<r6ctt oioilxi, Osiris is
the Nile, because they think it is sent down from heaven.
In one sense Osiris might be Bacchus, because the ori¬
ginal Bacchus was himself the sun (see Mysteries, N°
12.) } but that the Egyptian god could not be worship¬
ped as the inventor of wine is indeed undeniable, if, as Osirk,
Jablonski labours to prove, the primitive religion of that—v—«■
country inculcated upon its votaries, that wine was the
gift, not of a benevolent god, but of an evil genius,
the enemy of the human race. In support of this opi¬
nion our learned author quotes a passage from Plutarch,
from which it appears, that, before the era of Psamme-
tlchus, the Egyptians neither drank wine themselves,
nor offered it in libations to the gods, because they be¬
lieved that the first vine sprung from the earth was im¬
pregnated by the blood of those giants who perished in
the war with the gods. It is indeed true, that the
Greeks, who borrowed their religion as well as the first
principles of science from Egypt, attributed to their
Bacchus many of the actions of Osiris j but it is likewise
true, that they gave him other attributes, which the
Egyptian god could not possess, consistently with the
known superstitions of that country. Salmasius, how¬
ever, attempts to prove, from the import of the name,
that the Osiris of Egypt must have been the Bacchus
of Greece. 2ai? or he says, signifies a san in the
Egyptian language ; and hence he concludes that the,
god was by that people called Osiris, for the same rea¬
son that by the Greeks he was called Kovg«?, and by the
Romans Liber. But this seems all to be a mistake.
Siris makes a part of many Egyptian proper names, as
Bu-siris, Termo-siris, Tapo-siris, &.c. and is in all pro¬
bability derived from the Hebrew word Sar, Sur, or Sir,
which signifies a prince, potentate, or grandee. As the
name of the god was in Egypt not Osiris, but Isiris or
Ysiris, it was probably made up of Sir or Siris, and the
Hebrew prefix 1 or ish, denoting strength ; so that the
whole word will signify the strong or mighty prince. If
so, we cannot doubt, as Diodorus Siculus, Eusebius,
Sextus Empiricus, &e. all affirm, that the Egyptians
worshipped the sun by the name of Osiris, but that by
this name they meant the power or governing mind of
the sun, as the Greeks and Romans seem to have done,
by their Phoebus and Apollo.
But though the original Osiris was undoubtedly the
sun, or the intelligence actuating the sun, yet there is
reason to believe that there was a secondary Osiris, who
at a very early period reigned in Egypt, and was dei¬
fied after his death for the benefits he had rendered to
his country (see Polytheism). This is indeed so gene¬
rally admitted, as to have occasioned great controversies
among the learned respecting the time when he flourish¬
ed, and whether he was the civilizer of rude barbarians
or the victorious sovereign of a polished nation. The
illustrious Newton it is well known, has adopted the
latter opinion-, and with much plausibility endeavoured
to prove, that Osiris was the same with Sesostris or Se-
sac : but it must be confessed, that his conclusion is con¬
trary to all the most authentic records of antiquity, and
that it would be easy, by the same mode of arguing, to
give a show of identityto two persons universallyknown
to have flourished in very distant ages (a). The annals
of Egypt, as maybe seen in the writings of Herodotus,
Diodorus Siculus, Strabo, Plutarch, and others, who co¬
pied
(a) This has been in fact done by Warburton } who employs Newton’s mode of reasoning with equal plausi¬
bility, and perhaps superior force, to prove the identity of King Arthur- and William the Conqueror. See Di¬
vine Legation of Moses, vol. iii. book. iv. sect, v.
o s N [ S73 ] O S N
Osiris pled from those annals, expressly asserted the distinct
!l personality of Osiris and Sesostris, and placed them in
snaburg. vastjy distant from each other. Osiris, if any cre-
dit be due to those historians, was the founder of the E-
gyptian monarchy; and, as was customary in those days,
having either received the name of the sun, or commu¬
nicated his own to that luminary, was after his death
deified for the benefits which he had rendered to his
country : and being at farst worshipped only as a demi¬
god, was in process of time advanced to full divinity,
and confounded with his heavenly godfather. The
Greeks, who, though original in nothing, were always
prompted by their vanity to hold themselves out as the
first of the nations, claimed this Osiris as their own, and
pretended that he was the son of Jupiter and Niobe.
He reigned, say they, over the Argives ; but after¬
wards delivered his kingdom to his brother Algialeus,
and took a voyage into Egypt, of which he made him¬
self master, and married lo or Isis. He established good
laws there ; and they were both after their deaths
worshipped as gods. That this is a ridiculous fiction
needs no proof; since every one knows, that good
laws were* established in Egypt long before the Argives
had any king, or indeed existed either as a tribe or na¬
tion.
OSMUNDA, Moonwort ; a genus of plants be¬
longing to the cryptogamia class. See Botany Index.
OSNABURG, a bishopric of Germany, situated in
the centre of Ihe circle of Westphalia, between the We-
ser and the Ems, having Minden on the east, Munster
on the west, Diepholt on the north-east, and Ravensburg
on the souiliAvest. It is about 45 miles long and 25
broad, producing some rye,, several sorts of turf, coals,
marble, and good pasturage. The inhabitants, who are
a mixture of Protestants and Roman Catholics, breed a
considerable number of cattle, especially hogs, of which
they make excellent bacon and hams ; but a great part
of the country consists of heaths. By the treaty con¬
cluded here in 1648, the bishopric was to be an alterna¬
tive between the Roman Catholics and Lutherans; and
the Lutheran bishop was to be a younger prince of the
house of Brunswick Lunenburg, or in failure thereof,
of Brunswick Wolfenbuttle. In consequence of this
settlement, it has been twice held by a British prince
since the accession of the family of Hanover. In 1802
this bishopric was secularized and added to Hanover
on certain conditions, and now forms a part of that
kingdom. The bishopric had a population of about
130,000 souls. Of the peasants, 6000 go yearly to
Holland, where they mow, till, cut turf, and do other
work for hire. The meanest of them brings home
twenty, and the best workmen seventy florins. Bishop
Ernest established a salt-work at Dissen ; and the
same bishop opened a silver mine, but this undertaking
was not prosecuted. The chief manufactures of the
country are a coarse kind of linen cloth and yarn, which
are said to bring into it annually about 1,000,000 of
rixdollars. There are also some woollen manufactures
in Osnaburg and Bramsche. The land estates of the
bishopric were, the chapter, the knights, and the four
towns. The diets were held at Osnaburg, when called
together by the bishop. The count of Bar w'as heredi¬
tary seneschal or steward, and president ot the college
of knights. Hie bishop was a prince of the empire ; and
in the matricula is rated at six horse and 36 foot, or 216
florins monthly, in lieu of them. To the chamber of Osnaburg
the empix-e he contributed each term 81 rixdollars, 14'-—-v—
kruitzex-s and a half. The capital of this bishopric is
Osnaburg, or Osnahi'uck. It was formerly an im¬
perial city, and one of the Hanse towns. It has its
name from a bridge over the river Hase, or Qse,
which divides it into the Old and New Town, and
stands 75 miles west of Hanover, and 30 north¬
east of Munster, being suri’ounded with walls and
ditches, but commanded by a mountain within cannon
shot. It stands in a fine plain, and is adorned with
several good buildings, and on the mountain thexe is
an abbey. The magistracy of this city, which is re¬
chosen yearly on the 2d of January, is Lutheran ; and
the churches belong, some to the Lutherans, and some
to the Papists. Both parties have the full and free
exercise of their religion, whether the bishop be Pro¬
testant or Papist. The bishop’s palace, called Peters-
burgh, was built by Bishop Ernest Augustus, brother to
King George I. It is well fortified and separated from
the town by a bridge. It is a hexagon, with a court
in the middle, and at each corner a tmret. In the
town-house are still preserved the pictures of the pleni¬
potentiaries that assisted at the conferences there for
the famous treaty of Westphalia. In the treasury of
the cathedral are still to be seen some ornaments given
by Charlemagne, as also his crown, which is only of
silver gilt, and his comb and batoon, six feet in length,
both of ivory} together with other curiosities. Char¬
lemagne is said to have erected here a school for Latin^
and Greek, which the Jesuits in 1625 converted into
an academy. They have the best bread and beer that
is to be met with in all Westphalia, and have a pretty
good trade in bacon and linen ; as also by brewing a
palatable thick sort of beer called buse. This city is
noted for a treaty betwixt the emperor and the king
of Sweden in 1648, wherein the affairs of the Protes¬
tants were regulated, which was a branch of the treaty
of Westphalia. In 1613 the greatest part of it was
destroyed by fire. In 1630 Bishop Francis William
erected an academy here, consisting of thirteen semina-i
lies, which were also confirmed by the emperor Fer¬
dinand II., and Pope Ux-ban VIII.; but the capture of
the place by the Swedes in 1733 put an end to it. In
1634 the crown of Sweden created Count Gustavus
Wasaburg lord of the bishopric of Osnaburg ; but at
the peace of Osnaburg he, renounced all his right ob¬
tained over this place during the war, in consideration
of receiving 80,000 rix dollars. The town toll was by
the town, in the year 1431, given to the bishop, with
a reserve of exemption from toll to the burghers, in or¬
der to get rid of the Jews, who were that year banished.
The cathedral is in the hands of the Roman Catholics,
with the church and monastery of the Dominicans in
the old city, and the collegiate church of St John in the
new. The Protestants ai’e masters of the great pa¬
rochial church of St Mary in the old city; and
both religions have a voice in the election of the-
magistrates. The bishop’s palace is fortified like
a castle: here it was that George I. was born on
the 28th of May 1660, his father Ernest Angus-,
tus being then bishop and prince of the place; and"
here also he died in the night of the 10th of June
1727, and, as some say, in the very room in which
lie was horn. The inhabitants have considerable ma»
nufactures
CSC [ 574 ] OSS
Chnaburg nufactnres of linen and a good breed of cattle and
|| of their hogs, for which they are remarkable, is made
Osorius. the best Westphalia bacon. Not far from this city are
to be seen the ruins of an old church and castle called
Bedem, which some say was built by King Witekind
upon his conversion $ and about two miles from it lies
the monastery of llulle, on the bank ot a lake so deep,
that report says it could never yet be fathomed. I his
was the first town in Westphalia which received the
Lutheran doctrine.
Osnaburq Island, one of the islands in the South sea,
discovered by Captain Wallis in it is a high,
round island, not above a league in circuit} in some
parts covered with trees, in others a naked rock. S. Lat.
122. 48. W. Long. 14. 34.
OSOliTUS, Jerome, a Portuguese ecclesiastic, was
born of a noble family at Lisbon, in 1500. He was
educated at the university of Salamanca, and afterwards
studied at Paris and Bologna. On his return to Portu¬
gal he gradually rose to the bishopric of Sylves, to which
he was appointed by Catharine of Austria, regent of the
kingdom in the minority of Sebastian. At the reguest
of Cardinal Henry of Portugal, he wrote his history of
King Emanuel, and the Expedition of Gama 5 which
his great contemporary Camoens made at the sailie time
the subject of his immortal Lusiad ; a poem which has
at length appeared with due lustre in our language,
being translated with great spirit and elegance by Mr
Mickle. It is remarkable that the history of Osorius,
and the epic poem of Camoens, were published in the
same year, 1572: but the fate of these two great au¬
thors were very different •, the poet was suffered to
perish in poverty, under the reign of that Henry -who
patronised the historian : yet allowing for the differ¬
ence of their professions, they possessed a similarity of
mind. There appear many traces of that high heroic
spirit even in the priest Osorius, which animated the
soldier Camoens 5 particularly in the pleasure with
which he seems to describe the martial manners of his
countrymen under the reign of Emanuel. “ In that
age (says the historian in the close of his manly wTork),
poverty and sadness were banished from Portugal. Com¬
plaints were never heard } but every place, from the
court to the cottage, resounded with mirth and music.
Illicit love was unknown ; nor would the ladies listen
to the most honourable addresses of such youths as had
not signalized themselves in war. No young man about
court, however noble by birth, was permitted to wear
the dress of manhood till he had passed over into A-
frica, and thence brought back with him some animal
esteemed for its rarity 5 and such was the hardy edu¬
cation of the nobility in that age, that many of them
travelled everywhere in quest of adventures.” This
is a striking picture of the manners of chivalry, to
which Portugal owed much of its glory in that splen¬
did period. There is one particular in the character
of Osorius, which, considering his age and country,
deserves the highest encomium ; and that is his tole¬
rating spirit. In the. first book of his history, he
speaks of Emanuel’s cruel persecution of the Jews in
the following generous and exalted language : “ This
(says he) was authorized neither by law nor by reli¬
gion. Can men be compelled to believe what they re¬
ject with abhorrence ? Do you take upon you to re¬
strain the liberty of the will, or to fetter the under-
J
standing P Such an attempt must be unsuccessful; and Osorius
is not acceptable to Christ, who expects from man ||
devotion of the heart, and not that formal worship Ossian.
which is the offspring of pains and penalties. He
wishes them to study his religion, and accept it from
conviction, not from terror : for who does not see that
forced belief is mere hypocrisy ?” Osorius is said to
have used many arguments to dissuade Sebastian from
his unfortunate expedition into Africa, and to have
felt so deeply the miseries which befel the Portuguese
after that fatal event, that his grief was supposed to
accelerate his death. He expired in 1580, happy,
says De Thou (who celebrates him as a model of Chri¬
stian virtue), that he died just before the Spanish army
entered Portugal, and thus escaped being a witness to
the desolation of his country.—His various works were
published at Rome in 1592, by his nephew Osorius,
in four volumes folio, with a life of their author. A-
mong these are two remarkable productions ; the first,
An Admonition to our Queen Elizabeth, exhorting her
to return into the Church of Rome j the second, An
Essay on Glory, written with such classical purity, as
to give birth to a report, that it was not the com¬
position of Osorius, but the last work of Cicero on that
subject.
OSPREY. See Falco, Ornithology Index.
OSSA, a lofty mountain of Thessaly, near the Pe-*
neus, which runs between this mountain and Olympus j
famous in the fabulous story of the giants (Homer,
Virgil, Horace, Seneca, Ovid). The bending and un¬
bending of its pines, on the blowing of a strong north
wind, formed a clashing sound like thunder (Lucan).
It v'as once the residence of the Centaurs, and was for¬
merly joined to Mount Olympus ; but Hercules, as
some report, separated them, and made between them
the celebrated valley of Tempe. The separation of
the two mountains was more probably effected by an
earthquake wdiich happened about 1885 years before
the Christian era. Its greatest celebrity arises from its
being one of those mountains which the giants in their
wars against the gods heaped up one on the other to
scale the heavens -with more facility. A town of Mace¬
donia.
OSSAT, ArNauld DE, a learned French ecclesi¬
astic, was born in the diocese of Audi in 1536, of
mean parentage, and was taken notice of by a gentle¬
man in the diocese, who made him study wTith his ward
the Lord of Castlenan de Magnoac. He studied the
law at Dijon under Cujace, and applied himself to the
bar at Paris. He was secretary at Rome to M. de
Foix, archbishop of Thoulouse to Cardinal Este ; and
afterwards to Cardinal de Joyeuse, by the French king’s
express command. After rising to the highest dignities
both in church and state, in 1599 he was created a car¬
dinal by Pope Clement VIII. He died in 1604. An
eminent French writer gives him the following charac¬
ter : “ He was a man of prodigious penetration ; ap¬
plied himself so closely to affairs, and especially was so
judicious in forming his resolutions, and it is almost im¬
possible to find out one false step in the many negocia-
tions in which he was concerned. His works, and
especially his letters, have been much esteemed in the
learned world.
OSSIAN, the son of Fingal, a celebrated Celtic
poet, who flourished about the end of the second and
beginning
OSS [ 575 ] OSS
lOssian. beginning of the third century. Several incidents in
—y—his poems point out this as his sera : particularly the
engagement of Fingal with Caracul, or Caracalla, the
son of the emperor Severus, styled by Ossian, The Son
of the King of the World. M. Tillemont fixes the ele¬
vation of Caracalla to a share in the government to the
year 198, and the association of his brother Geta to
208. About which time Gibbon fixes the Caledonian
war, and speaks thus upon the subject : “ This Ca¬
ledonian war, neither marked by decisive events, nor
attended with any important consequences, would ill
deserve our attention ; but it is supposed, not without
a considerable degree of probability, that the invasion
of Severus is connected with the most shining period
of the British history or fable. Fingal, whose fame,
with that of his heroes and bards, has been revived in
our language by a recent publication, is said to have
commanded the Caledonians in that memorable junc¬
ture, to have eluded the power of Severus, and to
have obtained a signal victory on the banks of the Ca~
run, in which the son of the King of the World, Cara*
Osmris cul, fled from his arms along the fields of his pride f.
'oms, Something of a doubtful mist still hangs over these
Highland traditions-, nor can it be entirely dispelled
by the most ingenious researches of modern criti¬
cism (a) ; but if we could with safety indulge the pleas¬
ing supposition that Fingal lived, and that Ossian
sung, the striking contrast of the situation and manners
of the contending nations might amuse a philosoph c
mind. The parallel would be little to the advantage
of the more civilized people, if we compared the un¬
relenting revenge of Severus with the generous cle¬
mency of Fingalthe timid and brutal cruelty of Ca¬
racalla, with the bravery, the tenderness, the elegant
genius of Ossian j the mercenary chiefs who, from mo¬
tives of fear or interest, served under the imperial
standard, with the free-born warriors who started to
arms at the voice of the king of Morven : if, in a
word, we contemplated the untutored Caledonians
glowing with the warm virtues of nature, and the dege¬
nerate Romans polluted with the mean vices of wealth
and slavery.”
The date of this action, if the poems be true, is
rather confounding } for the next expedition, which is
produced to fix the time in which Ossian flourished,
was conducted by Oscar (against the usurper Carau-
sius, the Caros of Ossian), who did not assume the
purple till so late as the year 287. This account in¬
deed corresponds pretty well with the account gi¬
ven by Irish histories, which place the death of Fin¬
gal in the year 283, and that of O-car (who died
many years before his father Ossian) in the year 296.
These hints are not thrown out because we think they
militate against the authenticity of the poems 5 for
distant though these dates be, it is yet possible to re¬
concile them. Old age was and is very common in ossia&.
those regions ; and Ossian himself, we are told, was an —v-—
instance of great longevity. Indeed at such a distance of
time, it cannot be expected that we should give either
a very particular or a very exact account of Ossian and
his heroes. Were there no doubts remaining of the
truth of the facts, it is still natural to suppose that
they must have suft'ered obscurity through the rust of
time, and above all through the neglect of the poems,
which till lately were unknown.
The first expedition on which Ossian’s father sent
him was, to raise a stone on the banks of Crona, to
perpetuate the memory of a victory which the king of
M orven had obtained at that place. The Highlanders
talk of this as being emblematical of that immortality
which heroes were to receive from his future composi¬
tions. In this expedition he was accompanied by
Toscar, father of the beautiful Malvina, the amiable
companion of his grief, after the death of her beloved
Oscar, his son. It appears from his poems, that in
one of his early expeditions to Ireland, he had fallen
in love with and married Evirallin, daughter to Bran-,
no, petty king of Lego. “ I went in suit of the maid
of Lego’s sable surge ; twelve of my people were
there, the sons of streamy Morven. We came to
Branno, friend of strangers -, Branno of the sounding
mail.—‘ From whence (he said) are the arms of steel ?
Not easy to win is the maid that has denied the blue¬
eyed sons of Erin. But blest be thou, O son of Fin¬
gal ! happy is the maid that waits thee. Though
twelve daughters were mine, thine were the choice,
thou son of fame.’—Then he opened the hall of the
maid j the dark-haired Evirallin t.” This Evirallin f Fingal*
was the mother of his son Oscar, whose exploits he It iv.
celebrates in many of his poems, and whose death he
laments in the first book of femora. Evirallin died
some time before 0>car (Fingal, B. iv.), who seems
to have been her only child ; and Ossian did not marry
afterwards -, so that his po-terity ended in the death
of Oscar who seems to have died as he was about to
be married to Malvina, the daughter of Toscar. Se¬
veral of her lamentations for her lover are recorded by
Ossian, which paint her j;rief in the strongest and most
beautiful colours. “ It is the voice of my love! few
are his visits to my dreams.— But thou dwellest in the
soul of Malvina, son of mighty Ossian. My sighs arise
with the beams of the east} my tears descend with
the drops of night. I wa a lovely tree in thy pre¬
sence, Oscar, with all mv branches round me : but
thy death c me like a blast from the desert, and laid my
green head low ; the spring returned with its showers,
but no green leaf of mine arose.” Poem oj Comra.
The principal residence of 0>sian was in the vale of
Cona, now Gler.co, m Argyleslure. See Fingal.
His poems relate many of his expeditions to Ire¬
land,
(a) “ That the Caracul of Ossian is the Caracalla of the Roman history, is perhaps the only point of British
antiquity in which Mr Macpherson and Mr Whitaker are of the same opinion j and yet the opinion is not with¬
out difficulty. In the Caledonian war, the son of Severus was known only by the appellation of Antoninus; and
It may seem strange that the Highland bard should describe him by a nickname, invented four years afterwards,,
scarcely used by the Romans till after the death of that emperor, and seldom employed by the most ancient his¬
torians. See 13ion. lib. Ixxvii. p. I3I7’ Hist. August, p. 89. Aurel. Victor, Euseb. in Cliron. ad ann. Z14.
OSS
[ 576 ]
OSS
Ossian. land, Scandinavia, Clyde, and Tweed or Teutha. His
1 exploits on these occasions, after making a large al¬
lowance for poetical exaggeration, show him to have
been no less a warrior than a poet : (See Ossian s
Works, in the poems Calthom and Colmal, Lat/imon,
Bermthon, &c.). By these xpeditions, which were al¬
ways undertaken for the relief of the distressed, the
mind of Ossian seems to have been cultivated and en¬
larged beyond what is usually to be met with in so
rude a period of society as that in which he lived. His
poems breathe, throughout, such a spirit of generosity
and tenderness, especially towards the fair sex, as is
seldom or never to be met with in the compositions of
other poets who lived in a more advanced state ot civi¬
lization. He lived to an extreme old age; having sur¬
vived all his family and friends, many of whom perish¬
ed by a fatal accident, recorded in one of his poems
^SeeGtfeb'c called the fall ofTura*. Malvina alone, the love of
Antiqid- son Oscar, remained with him till within a few
ties' years of his death, and paid him every attention that
could be expected from the tender relation in which
she stood to him. To her he addresses many of his
poems, which seem to have been composed for the most
part in his old age. Her death is pathetically la¬
mented by him in the poem of Bcrrathon: towards the
close of which, he gives the presages of his own de¬
parture •, an event which he often wishes for, under tiie
blindness and other calamities of bis declining years.
“ lloll on, ye dark brown years, for ye bring no joy
on vour course. Let the tomb open to Ossian, for
his strength has failed. The sons of the song are gone
to rest: mv voice remains, like a blast, that roars
lonely, on the sea surrounded rock, alter the winds
are laid. The dark moss whistles there, and the di-
| Poem of slant mariner sees the waving trees 1.”-—“ But Ossian
Birralhon. js a tree that is withered. Its branches are blasted
ami bare ; no green leaf covers its boughs. From its
trunk no young shoot is seen to spring. The breeze
whistles in its gray moss : the blast shakes its head of
ages.—The storm will soon overturn it, and strew all its
dry branches with thee, O Dei-mid ! and with all the
rest of the mighty dead, in the green winding vale of
Cona J.”
It is not certain at what age Ossian died j but from
ties, poom pjg luiving been long blind with years, and from the
of Dermid. many contrasts between his present and past situations,
in poems composed, as it would appear, at a considerable
distance of time from each other, it is most likely he
lived to an extreme old age. The current tradition is,
that lie died in the house of a Culdee, called the Son of
Alpin, with whom he is said to have held several con¬
ferences about the doctrines of Christianity. One of
these dialogues is still preserved, and bears the genuine
marks of a very remote antiquity *, {Dissertation pre¬
fixed to Ossiaii'sWorks'). Several of Ossian’s poems are
addressed to this son of Alpin, who was probably one of
those Christians whom the persecution under Dioclesian
had driven beyond the pale of the Roman empire.
The poems of Ossian, though always held in the
highest esteem by those who knew them, were allowed
to remain in the obscurity of their original Gaelic, till
Mr Macpherson, above 40 years ago, translated a col¬
lection of them into English, which immediately at¬
tracted the attention of every person who had a true
taste for poetry. Dr Blair, in particular, introduced
4
| Gaelic
Antiqui-
thesc poems into the world with those critical remarks Ossiau
which do no less honour to himself than to the poet.t —v
According to that eminent critic, the two great cha¬
racteristics of Ossian’s poetry are tenderness and sub¬
limity. Ossiau is, perhaps, the only poet who never
relaxes, or lets himself down into the light and amu¬
sing strain. He moves perpetually in the high region
of the grand and pathetic. The events which he re¬
cords are all serious and grave ; the scenery wild and
romantic. We find not in him an imagination that
sports itself, and dresses out gay trifles to please the
fancy. His poetry, more perhaps than that of any
other, deserves to be styled the porti-y of the heart. It
is a heart penetrated with noble sentiments, with sub¬
lime and tender passions j a heart that glows and kindles
the fancy ; a heart that is full, and pours itself forth.
Of all the great poets, Homer is the one whose manner
and whose times come the nearest to Ossian’s Homer’s
ideas were more enlarged, and his characters more di¬
versified, Ossian’s ideas fewer, but of the kind fittest
for poetry ; the bravery and generosity of heroes, the
tenderness of lovers, and the attachment of friends.
Homer is diffuse \ Ossian abrupt and concise. His
images are a blaze of lightning, which flash and
vanish. Homer has more of impetuosity and fire j
Ossian of a solemn and awful grandeur. In the pathe¬
tic, Homer has a great power •, but Ossian exerts that
power much oftener, and has the character ol ten¬
derness more deeply imprinted on his works. No
poet knew better how to seize and melt the heart.
With regard to dignity of sentiment, we must be sur¬
prised to find that the pre-eminence must clearly be
given to the Celtic hard. This appears nowhere more
remarkable than in the sentiments which he expresses
towards his enemies. “ Uthal fell beneath my sword,
and the sons of Berrathon fled.—It was then I saw
him in his beauty, and the tear hung in my eye.
Thou art fallen, young tree, 1 said, with all thy beau¬
ty round thee. Thou art fallen on thy plains, and
the field is bare. The winds come from the desert,
and there is no sound in thy leaves ! Lovely art thou
in death, son of car-borne Larthmore His sup- * Ossian
position, that all the little feud/ and differences of Jforks,
this life should be forgotten in a future state, and that poem of
those who had once‘been foes would “ stretch_ their M
arms to the same shell in Loda,” gives us the highest
idea of the man as well as ot the poet. “ Daughter
of beauty, thou art low ! A strange shore receives thy
corse. But the ghosts of Morven will open their halls
when they see thee coming. Heroes around the feast
of dim shells, in the midst of clouds shall admire thee 5
and virgins shall touch the harp oi mist1\”- —u 1 he f Gaelic
feuds of other years by the mighty dead are forgotten,
The warriors now meet in peace, ami ride together
on the tempest’s wing. No clang of the shield, no
noise of the spear, is heard in their peaceful dwellings.
Side by side they sit, who once mixed in battle their
steel. There, Lochlin and Morven meet at the mutual
feast, and listen together to the song of their hards j p,. poem
But the sublimity of moral sentiments, il they want-of Dfl'.”6-
ed the softening of the tender, would he in hazard of
giving a stiff air to poetry. It is not enough that we
admire. Admiration is a cold feeling in comparison
of that deep interest the heart takes in tender and pa¬
thetic scenes. With scenes of this kind Ossian abounds-,
and
OSS E 577 ] OSS
Ossian an<^ hi® high merit in these is incontestable. He may
—y—-J be blamed for drawing tears too often from our eyes ;
but that he has the power of commanding them, no mart
who has the least sensibility can question. His poems
awake the tenderest sympathies, and inspire the most
generous emotions. No reader can rise from him with¬
out being warmed by the sentiments of humanity, vir¬
tue, and honour.
But the excellency of these poems occasioned in many
persons a doubt of their authenticity. Their genuine¬
ness, however, has been very ably defended by Dr Blair
and Lord Karnes, and warmly supported by the author
of the Gaelic Antiquities^ who has given the public
some more remains of Ossian’s poetry.
As the nature of our work will not allow us to
treat this matter at full length, w7e shall only give a
brief view of the arguments offered in support of the
authenticity of these poems, referring our readers to
the authors just now mentioned and others, for fuller
satisfaction.
“ In every period of society (says Dr Blair), human
manners are a curious spectacle; and the most natural
pictures of ancient manners are exhibited in the ancient
poems of nations. These make us acquainted with the
notions and feelings of our fellow-creatures in the most
artless ages *, discovering what objects they admired,
and what pleasures they pursued, before those refine¬
ments of society had taken place, which enlarge indeed,
and diversify the transactions, but disguise the manners
of mankind.
“ Besides this, ancient poems have another merit with
persons of taste. They promise some of the highest
beauties of poetical writing. That state, in which hu¬
man nature shoots wild and free, though unfit for other
improvements, certainly encourages the high exertions
of fancy and passion.
“ In the infancy of societies the passions-of men have
nothing to restrain them; their imagination has no¬
thing to check it. And as their feelings are strong,
so their language of itself assumes a poetical turn.
Men never have used so many figures of style, as in
those rude ages, when, besides a warm imagination
to suggest lively images, the wTant of proper and pre¬
cise terms for the ideas they would express, obliged
them to have recourse to circumlocution, metaphor,
comparison, and all those substituted forms of expres¬
sion, which give a poetical air to language. An A-
merican chief, at this day, harangues at the head of
his tribe in a more bold metaphorical style than a
modern European would venture to use in an epic
poem.
“ Poetry has been said to be more ancient than prose,
which, in a qualified sense, is true. Music or song
has been found coeval with society among the most
barbarous nations; and the only subjects which could
prompt men, in their first rude state, to utter their
thoughts in compositions of any length, Were such as
naturally assumed the tone of poetry ; praises of their
gods, or of their ancestors ; commemorations of their
own warlike exploits j or lamentations over their mis¬
fortunes. And before writing was invented, no other
compositions, except songs or poems, could take such
hold of the imagination and memory, as to be preserved
by oral tradition, and handed down from one race to
another.
Vol. XV. Part IL f
“ Hence we may expect to find poems among the an¬
tiquities of all nations. It is probable, too, that an ex¬
tensive search would discover a certain degree of resem¬
blance among all the most ancient poetical productions,
from whatever country they have proceeded. In a si¬
milar state of manners, similar objects and passions ope¬
rating upon the imaginations of men, will stamp their
productions with the same general character. Some
diversity will, no doubt, be occasioned by climate and
genius. But mankind never bear such resembling fea¬
tures as they do in the beginnings of society. What we
Call the oriental vein of poetry, because the earliest poe¬
tical productions have come to us from the east, is pro¬
bably no more oriental than occidental; it is character-
istical of an age rather than a country j and belongs, in
some measure, to all nations at a certain period. Of
this the works of Ossian seem to furnish a remarkable
proof.
“ He appears clearly to have lived in a period which
enjoyed all the benefit I have just now mentioned of
traditionary poetry. The exploits of Trathal, Trenmor,
and the other ancestors of Fingal, are spoken of as fami¬
liarly known. Ancient bards are frequently alluded to.
In one remarkable passage, Ossian describes himself as
living in a sort of classical age, enlightened by the me¬
morials of former times, conveyed in the songs of bards,
and points at a period of ignorance which lay beyond
the reach of tradition. Ossian himself appears to have
been endowed by nature with exquisite sensibility; prone
to that tender melancholy which is so often an attendant
on great genius; and susceptible equally of strong and
of soft emotions. He was not only a professed bard, but
a warrior also, and the son of the most renowned hero
and prince of his age. This formed a conjunction of
circumstances, uncommonly favourable towards exalting
the imagination of a poet.
“ The manners of Ossian’s age were favourable to a
poetical genius. Covetousness and effeminacy were un¬
known. The cares of men were few. The great object
pursued by heroic spirits, was, ‘ to receive their fame,’
that is, to become worthy of being celebrated in the
songs of bards ; and ‘ to have their names on the four
gray stones.’ To die unlamented by a bard was deemed
So great a misfortune as even to disturb their ghosts in
another state. In such times as these, in a country
where poetry had been so long cultivated, and so highly
honoured, is it any wonder that, among the race and
succession of bards, one Homer should arise: a man who,
endowed with a natural, happy genius, favoured by pe¬
culiar advantages of birth and condition, and meeting,
in the course of his life, with a variety of incidents pro¬
per to fire his imagination, and to touch his heart, should
attain a degree of eminence in poetry, worthy to draw
the admiration of more refined ages ?”
Besides, his compositions, w'hen viewed in themselves,
have, we are told, all the internal marks of antiquity s»
strongly impressed upon them, that no reader of taste
and judgment can deny their claim to it. They exhi¬
bit so lively a picture of customs which have disappeared
for ages, as could be drawn only from nature and real
life. The features are so distinct, that few portraits of
the life continually passing before us are found to be
drawn writh so much likeness. The manners uniformly
relate to a very early stage of society $ and no hint, no
allusion to the arts, customs, or manners, of a more ad-
4 D vanced
Ossian,
O S vS
Ossian.
vanced period, appears throughout the poems
distinction of ranks, which is always found in adult so¬
cieties, the poet appears to have been a perfect stranger.
The first heroes prepare their own repasts, and indiscri¬
minately condescend to the most menial services. I heir
quarrels arise from causes generally slight, but in sue i a
period extremely natural. A nvalship in love, an omis¬
sion at a feast, or an affront at a tournament, are often
the foundation of a quarrel among single heroes. And
the wars in which whole tribes are engaged, are carried
on with a view, not to enlarge their territory, but to
revenge perhaps the killing of a few deer on their moun¬
tains, or the taking forcibly away one of their women.
Their occupation was war and hunting-, and their chiet
ambition was to have their fame in the songs of the
The notions of a future state, exhibited in these
poems, are likewise strongly marked with the character
0f antiquity. A creed so uncommon, that the imagina¬
tion of a modern could not be supposed to grasp so
strong an idea of it from mere fancy, is uniformly sup¬
ported throughout. This creed is extremely simple,
but admirably suited to the times.
The language, too, and the structure, of these poems,
bear the most striking characters of antiquity. The lan¬
guage is bold, animated, and metaphorical, such as it is
found to be in all infant states ; where the words, as
well as the ideas and objects, must be few", and where
the language, like the imagination, is strong and undis¬
ciplined. No abstract, and few general, terms appear
in the. poems of Ossian. If objects are but introduced
in a simile, they are always particularized. It is “ the
young pine of Inishuna it is “ the bow of the showery
Len^^.,, This character, so conspicuous in the poems
of Ossian, is a striking feature in the language of all
early states -, whose objects and ideas are few and par¬
ticular, and whose ordinary conversation is of course
highly figurative and poetical. A picture, therefore,
marked with such striking features, could not be drawn
without an original. ... .
The whole texture of the composition is also, like the
language, bold, nervous, and concise *, yet always plain
and artless y without any thing of that modern rehne-
ment, or elaborate decoration, which attend the ad¬
vancement of literature. No foreign ornaments arq
hunted after. The wild and grand nature which lay
within the poet’s view, is the only source from which
he draws his ornaments. Beyond this circle, his ima¬
gination, though quick and rapid, seldom made any ex¬
cursion We perceive his language always to be that
of a person who saw and felt what he describes who
bore a part in thq expeditions which he celebrates, and
who fought in the battles which he sings. Such is the
nature of the internal proof adduced in the present case,
which unquestionably has weight, and that not inconsi-
Osslan.
[ 578 ] OSS
To that may excite admiration, hut will seldom enforce belief.
Of the customs and manners of ancient times we know v ^
but little, and of that little we have often but a confu¬
sed notion. There is therefore room for genius and abi¬
lity to exert itself in deceiving; and in proportion to-
the darkness in which the subject is involved, the de¬
ception will generally be the more complete, and the se¬
cret windings of error less easy to be developed.
Destitute of external proof, authenticity may appear
to be probable, but cannot be certain ; and in such cir¬
cumstances, on many occasions, and eepecially with re¬
spect to ancient writings, we may, without any oftence
to truth or to sound reasoning, give them up as spurious.
In the present instance, therefore, it is just and proper
to add to what has been already said, the more external
and positive proofs of the authenticity of the poems in
question, by the strength or weakness of which the sub¬
ject must be finally determined. It is observed, there¬
fore, That there have been in the Highlands of Scot¬
land, for some ages back, a vast many poems ascribed
to Ossian : That these poems have been held in the
highest veneration, repeated by almost all persons, and
on all occasions. These are facts so well known, that
nobody as yet has been hardy enough to deny them.-
There is not an old man in the Highlands, who will
not declare, that he heard such poems repeated by his
father and grandfather as pieces ot the most remote an¬
tiquity. There is not a district in the Highlands where
there are not many places, waters, isles, caves, ami
mountains, which from time immemorial are called af¬
ter the names of Ossian’s heroes.—There is not a lover
of ancient tale or poetry, however illiterate, who is not
well acquainted with almost every single name, charac¬
ter, and incident, mentioned in those translations of Os¬
sian’s poems, which he may have never heara of.—
Bards, who are themselves several centuries old, quote
those poems, imitate them, and refer to them—The or¬
dinary conversation and comparisons of the Highlanders
frequently allude to the customs and characters mention¬
ed in them;—and many of their most common proverbs,
established by the most ancient use, are lines borrowed
from the poems of Ossian *—The most ancient of the* See ex¬
clans boast of deriving their pedigree, each from somearnples un
one of Ossian’s heroes ;—and many of the signs arrno-^ head
L LUC <*1 iiiV7 ^ lltftd
rial assumed by them, are drawn from the feats ascribed in the Gae
1 Icll Kfj    # lit I,uv Y
to their predecessors in those poems f. Manuscripts are Antiqui
mentionedi in which some of those have been preserved ties, p. 93,
for several centuries J ; and a list of living names, in 94^>v
different part of the Highlands, is appealed to, as per- ^
sons who still repeat a part of these poems ||. Whilst^
Mr Macpherson was engaged in the translation, many j Karnes's
respectable persons, gentlemen and clergymen, avowed
to the public, that these were Ossian’s poems, with ^
which they had long been acquainted, and that the Antiquitie
translation was literal §. This appears also from thep.p , u8
which unquestionably has weight, and that not inconsi- irausiauuii J. . and rnmmred 6 See list
derable ; but unsupported, by external proof, or contrary large specimens ot t le ongma s p considerable of names,
. r- . \ f’ U l,v nroner luderes. The originals lay a consideraoie .
to facts, however forcible it may he in itself, when con¬
sidered in this connection, and found wanting, it will
neither, silence the querulous sceptic, nor, in all probabi¬
lity, will it ever convince those who have truth for their
object, and who wish to investigate, and, if possible, dis¬
cover it on surer grounds. Internal proof is of the
greatest service in a variety of excellent causes ; but it
comes in rather as a succedaneum than as direct evi¬
dence ; and without soinething more to the purpose, it
3
by “proper judges. The “originals lay a considerable of
time in the hands of the bookseller, for the inspection ot to Di.
the curious ; they have been afterwards shown frequent- ulair-s
lv to many of the best judges, and offered for pubhea-Disserta¬
tion if the editor had been favoured with subscriptions, non,
The editor of the pamphlet, in which their authenticity ^ ^
is attested by many respectable names of undoubted ve¬
racity, observes, by way of conclusion, ^ that more tes¬
timonies might have been produced by a more enlarged
V*. SI
ieeff
OSS
[ 579 ]
OSS
Qssiaiu
* Pref. to
SB'
1
correspondence tvith the Highland counties: But I ap¬
prehend, if any apology is necessary, it is for producing
so many names in a question where the consenting silence
of a whole country was, to every unprejudiced person,
the strongest proof that spurious compositions, in the
name of that country, had not been obtruded upon the
world.” It is likewise argued in support of the authen¬
ticity of these poems, that candid sceptics, on hearing
some of them repeated by illiterate persons, who had ne¬
ver seen the translation, caused them to give the mean¬
ing of what they repeated, by an extempore translation
into English, and by this means had all their doubts of
the authenticity of Ossian removed *. They urge fur-
Dr Percy’s ther, that such passages of Ossian’s works as are still re-
Reliques of peated by some old men, are among the most beautiful
Old English 0f Ossian’s poems-, such as the battle of Lora, the
fsTecUt most affecting parts of Carthon, Berrathon, the death
of Oscar, and Darthula, or the children of Usnoth, &c.;
which gives a credibility to his being equal to the other
parts of the collection, none of it being superior to these
in merit.
To these and the like arguments advanced in support
of the authenticity of the poems ascribed to Ossian, ma¬
ny objections have been urged. Those of Johnson and
his friend Shaw are universally known. A later wTriter
objects to them in the following manner: No fragments
of British poetry in Scotland are to be found. Many
specimens of Irish poetry in Scotland have been publish¬
ed; but none older than a century or two. Transla-
Pinkerton. ^ons have also appeared; but, in general, of no fidelity.
Those of the poems ascribed to Ossian in particular,
have deservedly drawn much of the public attention;
but they will only mislead any reader who wishes to form
an idea of Celtic poetry. He that believes Ossian to
have flourished about the year 300, and his writings pre¬
served by oral tradition for 1460 years, large is his faith,
and he might move mountains! Gentlemen of the High¬
lands of Scotland, with whom our author conversed on
the subject, assured him, that they looked upon nine-
tenths of Mr Macpherson’s work as his own; and up¬
on the other tenth, as so much changed by him, that all
might be regarded as his own composition. There are
positive evidences, he says, which convince him that not
one of the poems given to Ossian, and probably not one
passage of them is older than the 15th century. The
very first author we know who mentions Fingal, is Bar¬
bour, a Scotch poet, who wrote in 1375. Fingal was
an Irish hero: and one Good, a schoolmaster of Lime-
jrick, sent some account of Ireland to Camden, in 1566,
in which mention is made of some strange fables, that
the people amuse themselves with, about the “ giants
JFin Mac Hi/yle, and Other Mac Oshinf* of which w'e
shall speak more largely presently. In the mean time,
to these and such like objections, it has been answered,
That poetry has been cultivated with most success in the
earliest ages of society; that in Greece, Orpheus, Li¬
nus, Hesiod, and Homer, wrote their admirable poems
some ages before any thing had been written in prose in
the Greek language; that the book of Job, written in
a very early period of society, is highly poetical; that
among the tribes of Lapland and America, there have
been found, in the earliest state, some excellent pieces
of poetry. That the Caledonians, in particular, had
some peculiar institutions, which tended to improve their
poetry : their druids were among the most learned phi¬
losophers which perhaps any age or country produced;
their bards or poets were the disciples of those druids,1
and were always a .standing order, to which none but
the most promising geniuses were admitted. This stand¬
ing college of poets was furnished, not only with the
fruits of their own long study and observation, but also
with as much as merited to be preserved of the composi¬
tions of their predecessors in office, since the “ light of
the song” first dawned. They had the advantage of one
another’s conversation; which would excite their emu¬
lation, and make them aspire to eminence: They were
always present, and generally engaged, in every grand
operation that was transacted; which could not fail to
inspire their muse with the truest poetic fire.
The case of Ossian was particularly favourable. He
lived in an age when manners came to a considerable
degree of refinement under the care of the bards and
druids. Poetry in bis day was. considerably advanced ;
and the language, though strong and figurative, had
undergone some degree of cultivation, and learned to
flow in regular numbers, adapted to the harp, the fa¬
vourite instrument of the times. As a prince and a war¬
rior, his mind must have been expanded and much en¬
larged by his excursions to other countries. At home
he had Ullin, Alpin, Carril, andllyno, to converse with;
ail of them poets of eminence, who would have advan¬
ced him greatly by their example and conversation. All
these advantages, meeting with a native fire and enthu¬
siasm of genius, as in the case of Ossian, may well be
supposed to have produced poems that might challenge
the veneration of ages.
But it is not to their merit alone that we owe the
preservation of these poems so long by oral tradition.
Other circumstances concurred ; of which, the insti¬
tution of the Bards deserves particular notice. In a
country, the only one perhaps in the world in which
there was always, from the earliest period almost to
the present age, a standing order of poets, we ca,n-
not reasonably be surprised, either at finding excellent
poems composed, or, after being composed, carefully
preserved from oblivion. A great part of the busi¬
ness of this order was to watch over the poems of
Ossian. In every family of distinction there was al¬
ways one principal bard, and a number of disciples,
who vied with each other in having these poems in
the greatest perfection. Should the institution of the
bards last for ever, the poems of Ossian could never
perish.
Nor were they only the bards of great families who
took an interest in these poems ; the vassal, equally
fond of the song with his superior, entertained him¬
self in the same manner. This, with a life free from
care, a spirit unbroken by labour, and a space of time
unoccupied by any other employment or diversion, con¬
tributed to render the Highlanders a nation of singers
and poets. From such a people, the superior merit of
Ossian’s poems would naturally procure every encourage¬
ment, which they always retained as long as the manners
of the people remained unchanged.
Many other reasons conspired to preserve the poems
of Ossian. The martial and intrepid spirit which they
breathed, made it the interest of the chieftains to pre¬
serve them: the strain of justice, generosity, and hu¬
manity, which runs through them, recommended them
to the superintendants of religion, who well knew how
4 D 2 much
O&siau.
OSS [58
much the morals of a people must he tinctured with
those songs Avhich they are continually repeating, an
which have all the advantages of poetry and of music.
In superstitious ages, the people revered these poems,
from their being addressed generally to some “ son oi
the rock,” supposed to be the tutelar saint of the
place, or the great Irish apostle St Patrick. Besides,
every hill and dale which the natives of the Highlands
walked over, was classic ground. Every mountain,
rock, and river, was immortalized in the song. J-his
song would naturally be suggested by the sight of these
objects, and everybody would hum it as he walked
along. All the proverbs and customs to which these
poems gave rise, would operate in the same manner.
The son would ask what they meant, and the father
would repeat the song from which they were taken.
The distinct and unsubdued state in which the High¬
landers remained for so long a course of ages, every
clan, one generation after another, inhabiting the same
valley, till towards the present century, contributed
much to preserve their traditions and their poems ; and
the constant and general custom of repeating these in
the whiter nights, kept them always alive in theii re¬
membrance.
To these causes and customs the preservation ot
Ossian’s poems, for so many ages, has been ascribed.
But these causes and customs have ceased to exist; and
the poems of Ossian, of course, have ceased to be re¬
peated.—Within a century back, the Highlands of
Scotland have undergone a greater revolution than it
had done for ten before that period. With a quicker
pace the feudal system vanished j property fluctuated ;
new laws and new customs stept in, and supplanted
the old: and all this, with such sudden and such vio¬
lent convulsions, as may well account for the shaking
ef a fabric which had stood so many ages, that it
seemed to have bidden defiance to all the injuries of
time. Even since Mr Macpherson gathered the poems
in his collection, the amusements, employments, and
taste of the Highlanders are much altered. A greater
attention to commerce, agriculture, and pasturage, has
quite engrossed that partial attention which was paid,
even then, to the song of the bard. In twenty years
hence, if manners continue to change so fast as they
do at present, the faintest traces will scarce be found
of those tales and poems. “ Ossian himself is the last
of his race ; and he too shall soon be no more, for
his gray branches are already strewed on all the
winds.”
Among the causes which make these poems vanish
so rapidly, poverty and the iron rod should come in
for a large share. From the baneful shade of those
murderers of the muse, the light of the song must fast
retire. No other reason needs be given why the pre¬
sent Highlanders neglect so much the songs of their
fathers.—Once, the humble, but happy vassal, sat at
his ease, at the foot of his grey rock or green tree.
Few were his wants, and fewer still his cares j for he
beheld his herds, sporting around him, on his then un¬
measured mountain. He hummed the careless song,
and tuned his harp with joy, while his soul in silence
blessed his children.—Now, we were going to draw the
comparison:
 sed Cynthius aurem
Vellit et admonuit.
o ] OSS
It is more agreeable to remark, as another cause for Ossian.
the neglect of ancient poems and traditions, the growth ' y—
of industry, which fills up all the blanks of time to
more advantage, and especially the increase of more
useful knowledge.—But above all, the extinction of
the order of the bards hastened the catastrophe of Os¬
sian’s poems. By a happy coincidence Macpherson
overtook the last that remained of this order, (Mac-
vaurich, bard to Clanronald), and got his treasure. This
fact (with the red book furnished by Mr Macdonald of
Croidart, and some other MSS.) accounts tor Mi Mac-
pherson’s having found these poems in greater number
and perfection, than they could ever since be met with.
The fragments, however, which have since been gather¬
ed, give a credibility to every thing that has been said
of the original grandeur of the building.
Although this disquisition has already extended to
a length which readers not partial to Scottish antiqui¬
ties will perhaps think too great, we cannot dismiss
it without observing, that Fingal and Ossian have been
claimed by the Irish as well as by the Caledonians.
On this double claim, as well as on the controversy
concerning the authenticity of the poems, there is
so much candour and good sense in the following re¬
marks of T. F. Hill, published in the 53d volume of
the Gentleman’s Magazine, that we cannot deny our¬
selves the pleasure of making them conclude the ar¬
ticle.
Mr Hill travelled through the Highlands of Scot¬
land during the summer months of 1780. He seems
to have been very ardent in his inquiries concern¬
ing Ossian, and to have conducted those inquiries
with great judgment. The consequence was, that he
received different accounts in different places, and
picked up various songs relating to Fingal and his
heroes.
“ From this collection, it is evident (says he) that
there are many traditional songs preserved in the High¬
lands relating to Fingal and his heroes, as well as to
several other subjects. It is also evident, that these
songs contain portions of the very poems published by
Mr Macpherson and Mr Smith, under the name of
Ossian. We may therefore justly conclude, that these
poems are not wholly the forgery of their editors, but
compiled at least from original songs. I by no means
think it worth my while to notice the various conces¬
sions in favour of this conclusion, which the minor anta¬
gonists of Ossian have of late been forced to make. I
myself have given proofs of it, which need I hope no ex¬
ternal confirmation. To these proofs might be added,
that I met with many traditional preservers of these
songs, in every different part of the Highlands : some
of whom, especially in Argyleshire, Lochaber, and on
the rest of the western coast, were said to possess various
poems attributed to Ossian, although I had neither lei¬
sure nor opportunity to collect copies from them.—But
enough has already been said on this subject, if my testi¬
mony deserves regard.
“ These principles being established, it remains to be
considered how far the poems published by Macpher-
son and Smith deserve to be considered as tbe works oi
Ossian.
“ The songs attributed to that bard, which contain
passages of the Ossian of Macpherson and Smith, are by
no means uniformly consistent with the poems in which
the
)ssian.
OSS [58
the parallel passages are found, but frequently relate to
ditl'erentevents,and even contain different circumstances.
From hence it seems most probable, that Mr Macpher-
son and Mr Smith compiled their publications from those
parts of the Highland songs which they most approved,
combining them into such forms as according to their
ideas were most excellent, and preserving the old names
and the leading events. In this process they were sup¬
ported and encouraged by the variety of songs preserved
in the Highlands upon the same subject, and by the
various modes in which the same event is related. Mr
Macpherson may indeed have MSS. of all the poems he
has published; which MSS. may either have been com¬
piled by himself or by some former collector ; or they
may possibly contain entire poems really ancient. But
Mr Smith lias honestly acknowledged, that he himself
compiled his Ossian in the manner above described.
4 After the materials were collected (says he), the next
labour was to compare the different editions ; to strike
off several parts that were manifestly spurious ; to bring
together some episodes that appeared to have a relation
tb one another, though repeated separately ; and restore
to their proper places some incidents that seemed to have
run from one poem to another:—and hence it was una-
r oidably necessary to throw in sometimes a few lines or
sentences to join some of the episodes together.—I am
sensible that the form of these poems is considerably
altered from what is found in any one of the editions
from which they are compiled. They have assumed
somewhat more of the appearance of regularity and art
—than that bold and irregular manner in which they
are originally delivered.’
“ Mr Smith also speaks of the Ossian of Mr Mac-
pherson in a somewhat similar manner: 4 That we have
not the whole of the poems of Ossian, or even ot the
collection translated by Mr Macpherson, we allow:
vet still we have many of them, and of almost all a
part. The building is not entire, but we have still the
grand ruins of it.’
“ What portion, therefore, of the Ossian of Macpher¬
son and Smith is original, no man can determine except
themselves. Smith indeed says, that he has mentioned
all his material alterations, transpositions, and additions,
in his notes ; and that,yb;- the most part, he was guided
in them by the Sgeulachds, or traditionary tales accom¬
panying the songs ; but there are few such notes in his
book, and perhaps as few such Sgeulachds in the mouths
of the Highlanders. In Macpherson and Smith also we
see these poems divested of their idiomatic peculiarities
and fabulous ornaments ; which renders it impossible to
discover what manners and opinions are really ancient,
and what are of modern invention. Yet it is remark¬
able, that in spite of all the objections to their authen¬
ticity, necessarily produced by such a treatment of
them, they still possess an internal evidence of origin¬
ality which has enabled them hitherto to withstand all
the torrent of opposition.
“ The Ossian of Macpherson andSmith appears there-
i ] OSS
fore to be a mutilated work, even though we should Ossian.
suppose that the songs they originally compiled fromV““
were the undoubted works of that celebrated bard^
But this is far from being the case; for even allowing
that an Ossian ever existed and wrote, yet time must
have introduced such material changes in his works if
preserved merely by tradition during so long a period,
that their own author would hardly know them again.
I think it however doubtful, whether such a being as
Ossian ever appeared in the world.
“ All the songs which I met with in the Highlands
relative to the Feinne or Fingalians were attributed to
Ossian : his name seems merely a common title, which
is ascribed to all the poetic annals of his race.
“ From these considerations, we seem authorized
finally to conclude, that the Ossian of Macpherson and
Smith is a mutilated compilation from Highland songs,
ascribed indeed to that hard, yet very little likely to be
his composition. Out of these they selected the best
parts, and rejected such as they thought might discre¬
dit the character of Highland antiquity ; attributing
them to later times, and the ignorant bards of the
fifteenth century. Perhaps even the works of Homer
himself, which had so many difterent editions, very con¬
siderably varying from each other, were compiled by a
somewhat similar process from the ancient Greek songs.
“ Another question remains to be considered : Whe¬
ther these songs are the compositions of the Highlands
or of Ireland ; and, whether Ossian was an Irish or a
Caledonian Scot ? It is my opinion, that the songs in
this collection evidently manifest a connection with
Ireland, though their traditional preservation in Scot¬
land has sometimes introduced the name of Scotland
in its stead. One of their principal personages is St
Patrick, the peculiar apostle of Ireland, which alone
seems sufficient to mark their origin (a). If therefore
we may reason from a part to the whole, it is just to
conclude, that all the other songs preserved in the
Highlands relative to the Fingalians are also Irish.
They are wholly confined to the western coast of the
Highlands, opposite Ireland; and the very traditions
of the country themselves acknowledge the Fingalians
to be originally Irish. The genealogy of Fingal was
there given me as follows: Fion Mac Coul, Mac
Trathal, Mac Arsht Riogh Erin, or king of Ireland;
thus attributing the origin of his race to the Irish. I
am inclined to believe that these notions about Fingal
were common to the Scots in the most ancient times,
and brought by them from Ireland to Scotland, the
hereditary superstition of both races ; for, notwithstand¬
ing it may appear most probable that Ireland should
receive colonies from Scotland than the contrary, we
have direct historic evidences that Scotland received
them from Ireland ; and no bare theoretic probabi¬
lity deserves to be opposed to the positive assertions of
history.
“ With regard to the Erse manuscripts, about which
so much has been said, it becomes me to acknowledge,
that
(a) “ The Scots indeed lay claim to the birth of St Patrick, and boast also his burial-place. Camden, edit.
Gibson, 1695, pp. 921, 1014. And so also do the Britons, ib. p. 631, 1014; hut his life and miracles all
agree to attribute it to Ireland. In Gough’s edition of Camden, the account of St Patrick is in vol. iii. p. 612,
6x8. See Patrick,
o s s
[ 582 3
OSS
Ossian.
that I have never seen enough of them to give any
1 decided opinion: those which I have seen induced me
to think they principally owe their existence to Ire-
land. . ,
“ I shall not repeat what others have said to prove the
Fingalians Irish *, though the connection of Fingal with
Ireland has been already warmly asserted.
“ But an unnoticed though curious, passage in Cam¬
den affords us the most remarkable, and perhaps the most
convincing proof that Fingal is an Irish hero, which de-
monstrates at least that he was indisputably claimed by
the Irish 200 years ago. It is contained in an extiact
(already mentioned) made by Camden, from an account
of the manners of the native Irish, written by one Good,
a schoolmaster at Limerick, in 1566. ‘ They think,
savs he, speaking of Ireland and its inhabitants, ‘ the
souls of the deceased are in communion with famous men
of those places, of whom they retain many stories and
sonnets j as of the giants Fin-Mac-Huyle, Oskir-Mac-
Oschin, or Oschin-Mac-Owim 5 and they say, through
illusion, that they often see them.’
« The very material importance of this curious pas¬
sage, with relation to the present subject, it is unneces¬
sary to urge ; for every eye must see it. We also obtain
from it new information in respect to the last part of the
history of Fingal and his heroes j as it enables us to de¬
termine who they were with a precision which must
otherwise have been wanting, to complete these remarks
on the Highlands songs.
« The singular agreement of this passage with the ac¬
counts of Ossian which were taught me in Scotland is
worthy particular remark j it confirms them even in the
most novel and peculiar instances. The Fingalians were
generally represented as giants: but the most remarkable
occurrence is in the mythologic character attributed by
both to Fingal, Oscar, and Ossian. In proof of this, I
have to observe, that Mac Nab described I ingal as the
Odin of the Scots, and that a song called Urnigh Ossian
evidently speaks of him as such. rLhis curious passage
represents him exactly in the same character; a hero
with whom the spirits of the deceased are in communion,
who is their chieftain, and the lord of their feasts. The
gods of all the northern nations seem to have been of
this class } mighty heroes, esteemed once to have been
invincible on earth, though perhaps not ever strictly
men, nor yet constantly regarded as giants. Such are
Odin, Thor, and the other Teutonic gousj such are Fin¬
gal, Oscar, and the rest of the Fingalians among the an¬
cient Scots j such are Hercules, Bacchus, and even Ju¬
piter himself, with all his sons and daughters, among the
original Greeks, a people who agreed in many particu¬
lars with our own ancestors in northern Europe. The
notions entertained about ghosts, as an intermediate or¬
der of beings between men and divinities, endowed with
some share of power to do evil, is also remarkably con¬
gruous with this mythology.
44 As Fingal was a divine hero, so Ossian seems to
have been a divine bard. Some of the gods of the
Teutons were bards in like manner; the god Niord
and his wife Skada quarrelled in elegant verse of
their own composition ; and Odin is the relator of his
own Edda. Apollo, the poetic deity of Greece, like¬
wise sung the history of his fellow-deities to men on
earth, as well as Orpheus his son. The bards and tradi¬
tional preservers of songs in Scotland and Ireland have
Ossiati
ever been fond of ascribing all ancient poems to this
Ossian, and especially those relating to his own race j '«■
and from this cause the poems ascribed to Ossian are be¬
come so voluminous. The ancient Egyptians had a
similar custom of ascribing their works to Hermes: «
Kfcel^oi fr^efevoi rot xvlav tus o-opicK; iv^pctlu xvlu tuflirtitmi
egftov Tret via Tot 6ikux ov{%(>ctptp'Ot]et iTrovop&a^ovlis, says Jam-
blichus, S. I. c. 1. which rendered the Hermetic writ¬
ings equally voluminous. The Egyptians, who possessed
the art of writing, deposited their rvorks in the adyta of
their temples j as the Arabians deposited their poems of
old in the temple of Mecca: but because the Egyptians
affixed to them no author’s name, except that of Hermes,
to him, as to the Scottish Ossian, almost all the national
literature was attributed by religious flattery.
“ I sincerely wish, that some gentleman possessed of
adequate abilities and acquaintance with the Erse lan¬
guage, would undertake to collect these Ossianic songs
in their simple original state ; as they undoubtedly
contain much curious, knowledge, accumulated in the
various ages through which they have descended to
us, and would probably afford much new information
on subjects at present very ill understood. I own, how¬
ever, that I should rather choose to seek for them in
Ireland than in Scotland j but neither country should
be unexplored.
“ After having thus freely, though I hope not un-
candidly, delivered my sentiments on the Ossian oi:
Mr Macpherson, it becomes me to acknowledge my¬
self deeply indebted to it for the pleasure in perusal it
has frequently afforded me. I am willing, and indeed
happy, thus publicly to declare myself a warm admi¬
rer of it as a literary composition. TLhe novelty of its
manner, of its ideas, and of the objects it describes,
added to the strength and brilliancy of genius which
frequently appears in it, have enabled me to read it
with more delight, and to return to it mere frequently,
than almost any other work of modern times. And let
it be regarded in what light it may, the praise of ele¬
gant selection and composition certainly belongs to
its editor. If I had not entertained these opinions of
its merit, I should never have taken so much pains to
investigate its authenticity j nor indeed can I believe,
if the general opinion had not concurred with mine,
that the world would ever have wasted so much time
in disputing about it.”
Since what has now been said concerning the authen¬
ticity of the poems of Ossian was written, the same sub¬
ject has been again brought under discussion, and more
keenly and ably agitated than at any former period of
the controversy. Among those who have entered the
lists in this controversy, Mr Laing the historian appears
by far the most powerful opponent of the authenticity of
these celebrated poems. In a historical and critical dis¬
sertation* on this subject, Mr Laing roundly asserts, that * Hwf-
the poems, as ascribed to Ossian, a bard of the third cen- Scotian
tury, are forgeries, and charges Macpherson, as well as
Smith (in our opinion too hastily and rashly), with direct
fraud in imposing on the world their own productions as
the genuine translations of ancient Gaelic poems. The
arguments for the detection of these forgeries are ar¬
ranged under eight different heads; 1. The Roman Hi¬
story of Britain with which Macpherson has connected
the poems by false and incorrect allusions. 2. The tra¬
ditionary poems in the Highlands refer to the middle
1 jjdlioi
;
OSS [ 583 J O S T
tiaii, ages, that is, about the 9th and 10th centuries. 3. The
^ cation difficulty or impossibility of preserving poems by oral
mi* tradition for a period of 1500 years, 4. The remarkable
diversity in the manners of the Highlanders at the period
in which Fingal lived, as described by historians, and as
they are represented by Ossian j and the contradiction of
great refinement at an early age and extreme barbarism in
a future age, are considered by Mr Laing as strong and
decisive proofs of forgery. 5. From tracing the origin
of the poems to other works of Macpherson, particularly
to an epic poem entitled the Highlander, published at
Edinburgh in 1758, which, being unsuccessful, appeared
afterwards as fragments of ancient poetry, Mr Laing
thinks another proof of detection is derived. 6. A sixth
source of detection, in his opinion, may be traced to the
imitation of the classics, scripture, and other writings.
7. Mr Laing asserts that the specimens ot the ori¬
ginal produced by Macpherson were either written or
translated into Erse from the English original, by the
supposed translator himself. 8. From the ambiguous
language which Macpherson seems to have employed at
different times during the progress ol the numerous edi¬
tions of the poems, Mr Laing infers a distinct avowal
of fraud. But for the illustration of the arguments
now noticed we must refer the reader to the dissertation
itself.
It was not to be expected that charges so formally ad¬
duced, and so keenly supported, would pass altogether
unnoticed by the admirers of the poems ol Ossian, or
the believers in theii authenticity. Accordingly, we
find that Mr Laing’s arguments have been combated by
different writers with various success. Among the works
on this side of the question which have fallen in our wray,
the Essay on the Authenticity of the Poems of Ossian by
the Rev. Dr Graham, holds the most respectable place.
But our limits absolutely preclude us even from stating
fiis arguments. We refer therefore to the work itself
which, the reader will not dislike to find, is written with
some degree of elegance, and, what is not usual in con¬
troversy, with a great degree of temper and moderation.
The reader who wishes to pursue this investigation, may
consult also a Treatise on the same subject by Mr Mac¬
donald, the Report on Ossian by n Committee of the
Highland Society of Scotland ', and the Gaelic scholar
has now an opportunity of perusing the Originals, which
have been published by Sir John Sinclair.
OSSIFICATION, in the animal economy, the for¬
mation of the bones, but more particularly the conversion
of parts naturally soft to the hardness and consistency of
bones. Bones, Dr Drake contends, are formed out of
the most comminute or broken parts of the blood ; since
we see that the blood of old men, which by a long course
©f circulation becomes in a manner unfit for the common
office of nutrition, will however ossify, and convert into
bones, many of the tendons and ligaments, and even the
coats of the vessels themselves, whose substance being
next to the bones the most compact, admits only of the
smallest particles of the blood, which therefore soonest
become osseous, as they are frequently found. Dr Nis-
bet’s opinion of ossification is, that in the blood, or a fluid
secreted from it, there is an ossifying juice, having par¬
ticles which are not apparent: that whenever nature de¬
signs an ossification between membranes, or within a car¬
tilage, she occasions a more than usual afflux of this
fluid j which so much distends the vessels •which were
before invisible, as to make them capable of receiving Ossification
the red globules of blood, which is always to be seen
near to the place where ossification is begun. In this
blood gritty bony particles may be felt by the point of
a knife, which have been formed by the attraction and
cohesion of the particles of the ossifying juice obstructed,
along with the other grosser fluids, in the beginning of
the vessels prepared to receive refluent juices. The
blood being capable of forming fine membranes, the
membranous parts of a bone, which acts as a gluten to
keep these particles and fibres together, if there be any
such, that do not arise from the coats of its vessels, are
produced by a cohesion round the cretaceous particles of
a part of the fluid, in which they were generated and
contained. Thus the membranes of cartilages serve as
a bed, between or within which the bony particles are
deposited, or shoot; but without any intermixture of the
particles of the bone and cartilage, or continuation of the
fibres of the one substance to those of the other, as is
evident in cartilages containing bones kept long enough
in water, and then slit j for the bone will, as soon as
the large vessels that enter its substance are divided, slip
as easily, and perhaps easier, from it than an acorn does
out of its cup: and there is a smoothness and polish of
the parts of both cartilage and bone, which show there
is no conjunction of the fibres of the two substances.
While the bones are increasing within cartilages, the
cartilages are extended and spread out; by which, with
the pressure which they suffer, and the great influx of
various fluids, and the nutritious matter being hindered
to flow freely into them, they, decrease continually, and
at last may truly be said to be entirely destroyed. Dr
Buddeus endeavours to prove, that the preternatural
ossifications, which are commonly said to be formed in
different parts of the body, do not deserve that name ;
for that these hard substances have scarcely any other
properties of bone except whiteness and hardness.
OSSORY, the west division of Queen’s-county in
Ireland. '
Ossory, Bale, bishop of. See Bale.
OSSUNA, an ancient and considerable town of An¬
dalusia in Spain, with an university, an hospital, and the
title of a duchy. N. Lat. 37. 8. W. Long. 4. 18.
OSTADE, Adrian Van, an eminent Dutch painter,
born at Lubec in 1610. He was a disciple of Francis
Hals, in whose school Brouwer was cotemporary with
him, where they contracted an intimate friendship. The
subjects of his pencil were always of a low kind, he hav¬
ing nearly the same ideas as Teniers; diverting himself
with clowns and drunkards in stables, ale-houses, and
kitchens. His pictures are so transparent and highly
finished, that they have the polish and lustre of enamel:
they have frequently a force superior to Teniers ; yet it
were to be wished that he had not designed his figures so
short. He is perhaps one of the Dutch masters who best
understood the chiaro obscuro; and he was often employ¬
ed to paint figures for the best landscape painters of his
countrymen. He died in 1685. His works, especially
those of his best time and manner, are very scarce ; so
that when they are to be purchased, no price is thought
too much for them. His prints etched by himself, large
and small, consist of 54 pieces.
OSTALRIC, a town of Catalonia, in Spain, hav¬
ing a strong castle, and seated on the river Tordera, in
E. Long. 2. 45. N. Lat. 24. 44.
6 OSTEND*
ii
Ostalric.
O S T
[
Ostend, OSTEND, a very strong sea-port town of thelSe-
Ostcocolla. therlands, with a good harbour and a magnificent town-
'1'“■ v™■ 1 house, and containing 10,288 inhabitants in 1800. -It
is not very large, but it is well fortified. It was much
more considerable before the long siege of the Spaniaids,
which continued from 1601 to 1604, when it was almost
entirely reduced to ashes. The Dutch lost 50,000 men,
and the Spaniards 80,000. Isabella Eugenia, gover-
nanteof the Netherlands, made avow she would not shut
her smock before Ostend surrendered ; but belore the
town was taken it had greatly changed its colour. How¬
ever, the ladies of the court, to keep her in countenance,
had theirs dyed, that they might be like that of their
mistress. This place was taken by the Dutch in 1706,
hut restored to the emperor in 1724, when an East In¬
dia company was established here, but entirely suppres¬
sed by treaty in 1731. It was taken by the French in
August 1745, after 10 days siege, but restored by the
treaty of Aixda-Chapelle. It was taken again by the
French republicans, under Dumourier, but was quick¬
ly recovered by the allies. The French repossessed it
in 1794. Here the British landed a body of troops in
May 1798, who blew up and destroyed the works of
the Bruges canal j but the wind shifting before they
could re-embark, they were under the necessity of sur¬
rendering to the French. In 1814 it separated fioni
France with the Netherlands. It is 10 miles W. of
Bruges, eight N. E. of Newport, 22 N. E. of Dunkirk,
and 60 N. W. of Brussels. E. Long. 2. 56.. N. Lat.
51* I4*
OSTEOCOLLA, orioKoXXx, in Natural History, a
white or ash-coloured sparry substance, in shape like a
bone, and by some supposed to have the quality of
■uniting broken bones, on which account it is ordered
in some plasters j a supposition, wre fear, which is not
warranted by experience. It is found in long, thick,
and irregularly cylindric pieces, which are in general
hollow, but are sometimes filled up with a marly earth,
and sometimes contain within them the remains of a
stick, round which the osteocolla had been formed ;
but though it is plain from thence that many pieces of
osteocolla have been formed by incrustations round
sticks, yet the greater number are not so, but are ir¬
regularly tubular, and appear to be formed of a flat
cake, rolled up in a cylindric shape. The crusts of
which these are composed do not form regular concen¬
tric circles round the internal cavity, as must have been
the case had they been formed by incrustation. On
the other hand, they plainly show that they were once
so many thin strata, composing a flat surface, which has
afterwards been rolled up, as one might do a paper three
or four times doubled, into two, three, or more spiral
lines*, in which case, each single edge of the paper
would be everywhere a regular point of a continued
spiral line drawn from a given point but they would by
no means be so many detached concentric circles. The
osteocolla is found of different sizes, from that of a crow-
quill to the thickness of a man’s arm. It is composed of
sand and earth, which may be separated by washing the
.powdered osteocolla with water, and is found both in
Jigging and in several brooks, in many parts of Ger¬
many, and elsewhere. It is called hammosteus in many
parts of Germany. It has this name in these places from
its always growing in sand, never in clay, or any solid
soil, nor even in gravel. Where a piece of it any where
2
584 ] 0 s T ,
appears on the surface, they dig down for it, and find the Osteocolli
branches run ten or twelve feet deep. They usually run j|
straight down, but sometimes they are found spreading Qstemld,
into many parts near the surface, as if it were a sub¬
terraneous tree, whose main stem began at 12 feet
depth, and thence grew up in a branched manner till
met by the open air. The main trunk is usually as
thick as a man’s leg, and the branches that grow out
from it are thickest near the trunk, and thinner as
they separate from it. The thinnest are about the size
of a man’s finger. The people employed to collect it,
when they cannot find any mark of it on the surface,
search after the specks of white or little lumps of whitish
soft matter, which they find lying in various parts on the
top of the sand. These always lead them either to a bed
of perfect osteocolla, or to some in the formation. If they
miss of it, they still find a substance like rotten wood ;
which when traced in its course, is found to proceed
from a main trunk, at the depth of that of the osteocolla,
and to spread itself into branches in the same manner.
The diggers call this substance the flower of osteocolla,
or hammosteus.
The osteocolla found in the earth is at first soft and
ductile, but in half an hour’s time, if exposed to the
air, it becomes as hard as we find it in the shops. The
. method to take up a perfect piece for a specimen is to
open the ground, clear away the sand, and leave it so
for an hour or thereabouts: in this time it will harden,
and may be taken out whole. It is certain, that the
osteocolla is produced at this time ; for if a pit be clear¬
ed of it, there will more grow there in a year or two,
only it will be softer, and will not harden so easily in
the air as the other. What the rotten substance resemb¬
ling the decayed branches of trees is, we cannot deter¬
mine, unless it really be such ; but the opinion of the
common people, that rt is the root of something, is absurd,
because its thickest part always lies at the greatest depth,
and the branches all run upwards. The osteocolla is a
marly spar, which concretes round this matter , but what
it is that determines it to concrete no where on the same
ground but about these branches, it is difficult to say.
The rottenness of this substance, which forms the basis
of the osteocolla, renders it very liable to moulder and
fall away -, and hence it is that we usually see the osteo¬
colla hollow. Sometimes it is found solid ; but in this
case there will be found to have been a vegetable matter
serving as its basis, and instead of one branch, it will be
found in this case to have concreted about a number of
fibres, the remains of which will be found in it on a close
examination. See Phil. Trans. N° 39.
OSTEOLOGY, that part of anatomy which treats
of the bones. See Anatomy, Part I.
OSTERVALD, John Frederic, a famous Prote¬
stant divine, was born at Neufchattel in 1663 ; and
made such rapid progress in his studies, that he became
master of arts at Samur before he was 16 years of age.
He afterwards studied at Orleans and at Paris. At his
return to Neufchattel in 1699, he became pastor of the
church there -, and contracted a strict friendship with the
celebrated John Alphonsus Turretin of Geneva, and the
illustrious Samuel Werenfels of Basil. The union of
these three divines, which was called the Triumvirate of
the divines of Swisserland, lasted till his death. Mr
Ostervald acquired the highest reputation, by his virtues,
his zeal in instructing his disciples, and restored eccle¬
siastical
O S T
DMervald sinstical discipline. He wrote many books in French 5
|| the principal of which are, 1. A Treatise concerning the
iOstiacks. ^ Sources of Corruption, which is a good moral piece.
¥ 2. A Catechism, or Instruction in the Cliristian Reli¬
gion ; which has been translated into German, Dutch,
and English j and the Abridgement of the Sacred Hi¬
story, which he prefixed to it, was translated and print¬
ed in Arabic, in order to be sent to the East Indies,
by the care of the Society for the Propagation of the
Gospel •, and that Society established in London, paid
him a high compliment, by admitting him an honorary
member. 3. A treatise against impurity. 4. An edi¬
tion of the French Bible of Geneva, with Arguments
and Reflections, in folio. 5. Ethica Christiana. 6. Theo-
fogict Compendium, &c. He died in 1747, regretted by
all who knew him.
OSTIA, a town situated at the mouth of the Tiber,
about 12 miles to the westward of Rome. It was built
by Ancus Martius, the fourth king of Rome, and was
called Ostia Tiberina, in the plural number, i. e. the two
months of the Tiber, which were separated by the Ho¬
ly Island, an equilateral triangle, whose sides were eacli
of them computed at about two miles. The colony of
Ostia was founded immediately beyond the left or south¬
ern, and the port immediately beyond the right or
northern branch of the river j and the distance between
their remains measures something more than two miles
on Cingolani’s map. In the time of Strabo, the sand
and mud deposited by. the Tiber had choked the har¬
bour of Ostia ; the progress of the same cause has ad¬
ded much to the size of the Holy Island, and gradually
left both Ostia and the port at a considerable distance
from the shore. The dry channels (Jhimi morti), and
the large estuaries (stagno di Pottente, de Levante),
mark the changes of the river, and the efforts of the
sea. Its port was one of the most stupendous works of
Roman magnificence, and it was a long time one of the
best towns on the coast; but having been destroyed by
the Saracens, and the harbour choked up, as mention¬
ed above, it has not been able since to recover itself.
Though it be an inconsiderable place, and but poorly
inhabited by reason of the badness of the air, yet it is
the see of a bishop, who is always deacon of the cardi¬
nals, and crowns thot Pope. The old Ostia, where are
seen the ruins of the ancient harbour, is beyond New
Ostia, towards the sea •, the latter is but a little cluster
of houses, with a small castle. It is 12 miles S. W. of
Rome. E. Long. 12. 24. N. Lat. 41. 44. There
were saltworks in Ostia, called Satina Ostiensis, as early
as the times of Ancus Martius (Livy); from which the
Via Solaria, which led to the Sabines, took its name,
(Varro). It gave name to one of the gates of Rome,
which was called Ostiensis (Ammian).
OSTIACKS, a people of Siberia in Asia. They
live upon the banks of the rivers Oby and Yenisey, and
on those of some other rivers which fall into these.
Vol. XV. Part II. t
O S T
These people are Very poor, and very lazy, and in the O-tlaA-.
summer time live mostly upon fish. They are of a mid* 1 v——
die size, with broad faces and noses, and yellowish or
red hair. All their garments from top to toe are made
of fish skins, for they have neither linen nor woollen :
and indeed they might almost as well go naked. Their
greatest diversion is hunting; and they go together in
crowds, with a weapon like a large knife fastened in
a stick. In summer they take and dry the fish which
serves them in winter; and when that season begins,
they go into the woods with their bows and arrows,
their dogs and nets, to kill sables, ermines, bears, rein¬
deer, elks, matrtens, and foxes. Part of tbe furs of these
is paid as a tax to the empress of Russia, and the rest arc
sold at a stated price to the Russian governors, but some¬
times they areal lowed to dispose ofthem to private persons.
They chiefly live upon venison, wild fowl, fish, and
roots, for they have neither rice nor bread. They drink
for the most part water, and it is said they can Very
well relish a draught of train oil. They are immode¬
rately fond of tobacco, and of swallowing the smoke,
which soon intoxicates them. In the winter they build
their huts in woods and forests, where they find the
greatest plenty of game, and dig deep in the earth to
secure themselves from the cold, laying a roof of bark
or rushes over their huts, which are soon covered with
snow. In summer they build above ground on the
banks of the rivers, to enjoy the convenience of fishing,
and make no difficulty ol‘ forsaking their habitations.
They have a sort of princes amons them, in one of
whose houses some European travellers found four wives
(a). One of these had a red cloth coat on, and was
set off1 with all sorts of glass beads. There was no other
furniture than cradles and chests, made of the bark of
trees sewed together. Their beds consisted of wood
shavings, almost as soft feathers, and their children
lie naked upon them in cradles. They can neither read
nor write, nor do they cultivate the land ; and seem to¬
tally ignorant of times past. They have neither tem¬
ples nor priests; and their boats are only made of the
hark of trees sewed together. Their religion is Pagan;
and they have some little brazen idols, tolerably well
cast, representing men and animals, made of wood and
earth, all of which are dressed in silks in the manner of
Russian ladies. In general, however, they are ill made,
every man being bis own carver. They place them on
the tops of hills, in groves, and in the pleasantest places
their country affords, and sometimes before their huts;
yet they have no set time for performing religious wor¬
ship, but apply to their gods for success in all-their un¬
dertakings. As they have no regular priests, every old
man may devote himself to that service, and the office
is frequently performed by the masters and heads of
families. Strahlenberg says, that when he was among
them he shav one of their temples, Avhich was built of
wood in an oblong form, like a great barn, covered at
(a) They may ha\'e as many wives as they please, and make no scruple of marrying their nearest relations.
They purchase a Avife of her relations for three or four rein-deer, and take as many as they please, returning them
again if they do not like them, only losing what they gave for the purchase. Upon the birth of their children,
some give them the name of the first creature they happen to see afterward. Thus the child has frequently the
name of an animal, and you hear a man call his son perhaps Sabatski, or my little dog; others call their children
according to the order of their birth, as First, Second, Third, &c.
[ 585 ]
o s
Ostiacks the top with birch bark.   „ . ,
|| porting the gable was a kind of altar, made ot timber,
Ostracism. otl which were placed two idols, representing a man
     and woman, dressed in all sorts of rags ; and round these
were other small figures, as deer, foxes, and hares, all
which were roughly carved in wood, and also clothed
in rags. They did not appear to have much devotion,
nor any great reverence for their idols. When they offer
sacrifices, they present the beast to the idol *, and having
bound it, an old man puts up the petitions of those who
brought the offering ; he then lets fly an arrow at the
beasf, and the people assist in killing it. It is then drawn
three times round the idol *, and the blood being recei¬
ved into a vessel, they sprinkle it on their houses; they
afterwards dress the flesh and eat it,'rejoicing and sing¬
ing their country songs : they also besmear the idol with
the blood of the sacrifice, and grease their mouths with
the fat. What they cannot eat they carry home to
their families, and make presents of it to their neigh¬
bours : they as often sacrifice a fish as a beast. At the
conclusion of the feast they shout, to show their gratitude
to the idol for his attending and accepting their devo¬
tions j for they are persuaded that the saint or hero re¬
presented by the image always attends their sacrifices,
which when over he returns to his abode in the air.
There is nothing more surprising, nor, improperly im¬
proved, is there any thing more instructing, than the
history of superstition. It is with this view that we have
given so enlarged a view of the Ostiacks, longer, some
may imagine, than their importance demands. It
would, however, in our opinion, be improper to let such
an opportunity slip of exhibiting the extreme weakness
of unassisted reason, and the consequent necessity of a
divine revelation. That the religion of these ignorant
and misguided Pagans is the corruption of a primitive
revelation, we think at least probable •, nor do we see
any way of so satisfactorily accounting for the universal
use of sacrifices. The Ostiacks are obliged to take an
oath of fidelity to the Russian government ; and on
these occasions they use the following ceremony. Af¬
ter laying down a bear skin and an axe, and holding
over it a piece of bread and a knife, they say, “ In case
I do not to my life’s end prove true and faithful to the
supreme government of the country, or if I knowingly
and willingly break through my allegiance, or he want¬
ing in the duty I owe to the said supreme government,
may the bear tear me to pieces in the wood j may the
bread I eat stick in my throat and choke me ; may the
knife stab me, and the axe cut off my head.” The like
ceremony is used among them in the deposition of a
witness.
OSTRACION, a genus of fishes belonging to the
order Cartilaginei. See Ichthyology, p. 103.
OSTRACISM, in Grecian antiquity, denotes the
banishment of such persons whose merit and influence
gave umbrage to the people of Athens, lest they should
attempt any thing against the public liberty. This
punishment was called ostracism, from the Greek word
which properly signifies a “ shell but when ap¬
plied to this object, it is used for the billet on which the
Athenians wrote the names of the citizens whom they
intended to banish. The learned are divided with re¬
gard to the substance of which this billet was formed :
some insist that it was a small stone, or a piece of brick ;
some that it was a piece of bark; and others assert, that
t [ 586 ] o s T
At the end of the wall sup- it was a shell. The word admits most of these ihterpre- Ostracism;
tations. But what determines its true sense, is the epi-
thet given it by ancient authors, of ceramite mastix;
which words signify, “ The punishment of potter’s
clay and this expression seems to us a proof, that the
word when applied on this occasion, signifies a
“ piece of baked earth, in the form of a shell j” and un¬
doubtedly the Latin authors had this idea of the word
heres for they translated it by testula.
The ancients are likewise divided with regard to the
time when ostracism was instituted. But they all agree,
that the person who moved the law was its first vic¬
tim. B'ut as to the name of its patron, and the time of
its establishment, they differ extremely. Many are of opi¬
nion, that ostracism owes its origin to very remote times.
However that be, the punishment of ostracism was in¬
flicted by the Athenians when their liberty was in dan¬
ger. If, for instance, jealousy or ambition had sowed
discord among the chiefs of the republic , and if differ¬
ent parties were formed, which threatened some revolu¬
tion in the state ; the people assembled to propose mea¬
sures proper to be taken in order to prevent the conse¬
quences of a division which in the end might be fatal
to freedom. Ostracism was the remedy to which they
usually had recourse on these occasions ; and the consul¬
tations of the people generally terminated with a decree,
in which a day was fixed for a particular assembly, when
they were to proceed to the sentence of ostracism. Then
they who were threatened with banishment, omitted no
assiduity or art which might gain them the favour of the
people. They made harangues to evince their inno¬
cence, and the great injustice that would be done them
if they were banished. U hey solicited, in person, the
interest of every citizen ; all their party exerted them¬
selves in their behalf: they procured informers to vilify
the chiefs of the opposite faction. Some time before
the meeting of the assembly, a wooden inclosure was
raised in the forum, with ten doors, i. e. with as many
as there were tribes 111 the republic j and when the ap¬
pointed day was come, the citizens of each tribe enter¬
ed at their respective door, and threw into the middle
of the inclosure the small brick on which the citizen’s
name was written whose banishment they voted. The
archons and the senate presided at this assembly, and
counted the billets. He who was condemned by 6000
of his fellow citizens, was obliged to quit the city with¬
in ten days *, for 6coo voices, at least, were requisite to
banish an Athenian by the ostracism.
The Athenians, without doubt, foresaw the inconve¬
niences to which this law was subject) but they chose
rather, as Cornelius Nepos hath remarked, sometimes to
expose the innocent to an unjust censure, than to live
in continual alarms. Yet as they were sensible that the
injustice of confounding virtue and vice would have
been too flagrant, they softened, as much as they could,
the rigour of ostracism. It was not aggravated with
the circumstances which were most dishonourable and
shocking in the ordinary mode of exile. They did not
confiscate the goods of those who were banished by
ostracism. They enjoyed the produce of their effects
in the places into which they were banished ; and they
were banished only for a certain time. But in the com¬
mon banishment, the goods of the exiles were always
confiscated, and no hopes were given them of ever re¬
turning to Athens.
O S T
,tracism. The scholiast of Aristophanes informs us of a third
« y—' I difference betwixt ostracism and the common banish¬
ment. He says, that a particular place of retirement
was assigned to those who were banished by ostracism,
which was not appointed to the other exiles. We sus¬
pect, however, the truth of this observation •, for The-
mistocles was certainly not limited in his banishment.
That great man, as we are told by Thucydides, though
his chief residence was at Argi, travelled over all the
Peloponnesus.
Tfiiis punishment, far from conveying the idea of in¬
famy, became, at Athens, a proof of merit, by the ob¬
jects on which it was inflicted j as Aristides the sophist
justly observes, in his second declamation against the
Gorgias of Plato, where he says, that ostracism was not
an effect of the vindictive spirit of the people against
those whom it condemned ; that the law, whether good
or bad, (for he enters not into an examination of the
question), was only meant to prune the luxuriant growth
of transcendent merit: that it condemned to an exile of
ten years, only those illustrious men who were accused
of being exalted far above other citizens by their con¬
spicuous virtue j and that none of that public indigna¬
tion was shown to the exiles by ostracism, which com¬
monly breaks out against criminals.
Such were tbe mitigations with which this law was in¬
troduced among the Athenians: and by them we see that
they were sensible of all the inconveniences to which it
was subject. They were indeed too enlightened a peop.Ie,
not to foresee the many instances of injustice which it
might produce 3 that if in some respects it would be fa¬
vourable to liberty, in others it would be its enemy, by
condemning citizens without allowing them a previous
defence, and by making a capricious and envious people
arbiters of the fate of great men 3 that it might even
become pernicious to the state, by depriving it of its
best subjects, and by rendering the administration of
public affairs an odious employment to men of capital
talents and virtue.
However great the inconveniences of ostracism were,
it would not have been impossible to avoid them 3 and
•we may add, that this law would have been of service
to the state, if the people by whom it was instituted had
always had discernment enough only to give it force on
such occasions as endangered liberty. But its fate was
like that of almost all other laws which the wisest legi¬
slators have planned for the good of communities. l)e-
stined by their institution to maintain order, to repress
injustice, and to protect innocence, men have found ways
to pervert their application, and have made them instru¬
ments to gratify their private passions. Thus ostracism
was established to prevent the dangerous enterprises of
the great, and to preserve the vigour of the democracy 3
butthe people of Athens, naturally jealous and envious, ex¬
erted that law, to remove men of eminent merit from the
state, by whose presence they w'ere reproved and inti¬
midated. The fear of tyranny w7as commonly hut a spe¬
cious pretext with which they veiled their malignity. The
repeated victories which they had gained over the Per¬
sians, had rendered them, says Plutarch, proud and inso¬
lent. Intoxicated with their prosperity, they arrogated
all its glory to themselyes 3 they w'Ci’e jealous of those
citizens whose political and military talents were the
subjects of public eulogium. They thought the glory
■acquired by great men diminished their own reputation.
t 587 ]
o s w
An Athenian no sooner distinguished himself by a splen- Osiracbin
did action, than he was marked out as a victim by pub- |]
lie envy. His reputation was a sufficient reason for his Oswestry,
banishment.
OS 1RACITES, in Natural History, a name used for
the fossil oysters, common in many parts of England.
They are of various shapes and kinds 3 and the name is
by some authors made to signify the shell itself, when
preserved in its native state and condition 3 as is the
case with those about Woolwich and Blackheath 3 and
by others, the stones cast or formed in those shells, or
in cavities from whence they have been washed away.
OSTREA, the Oyster, a genus of shell-fish belong¬
ing to the order of vermes testacea. See Ostrea, CoN-
choeogy Index.
OSTRICH. See Struthio, Ornithology In¬
dex.
OSPROVIZZA, in Dalmatia (see Dalmatia),
supposed by some to he the Arauzona, and by others the
Stlupi of the ancients, though probably it has no con¬
nection with either the one or the other. It was pur¬
chased in 1410 by the republic of Venice, for 5000
ducats, and some pieces of land besides. Its fortress,
which was seated on a rock, perpendicularly cut all
round, and deservedly reckoned impregnable before the
use of artillery, was taken by Soliman in 1524, but soon
after restored to the dominion of Venice. At present,
no traces of its fortification remain, and it is only a bare
and isolated mass. It now belongs to Austria.
OS 1 UNI, a town of Italy, in the kingdom of Na¬
ples, and in the Terra di Otranto, with a bishop’s see.
Its territory is well cultivated, and abounds with olives
and almonds. It is seated on a mountain near the gulf
of Venice, in E. Long. 17. 49. N. Lat. 49. 59.
OSWEGO, a fort of North America, seated on the
east side of a river of the same name, and on the south
side of the lake Ontario, in W. Long. 76 30. N. Lat.
43- 15*
OSWETZEN, a town of Austrian Poland, in the pa¬
latinate of Cracovia, formerly having the title of a dm hy.
It carries on a great trade in salt, and is seated on the
river Vistula. E. Long. 19 47. N Lat. 50. 1.
OSWESTRY, an old town of Shropshire, in Eng¬
land, 172 miles from London, with a castle, a wall, and
a ditch, and was anciently a borough. It is a place ce¬
lebrated in Saxon history and legendary piety. On this
spot, August 5. 642, was fought the battle between the
Christian Oswald, king of the Northumbrians, and the
pagan Penda, king of the Mercians, in which O-wald
was defeated, and lost his life. The barbarian victor
cut the body of the slain prince in pieces, and stuck
them on stakes dispersed over the field as so many tro¬
phies 3 but, according to others, h is head and hands on¬
ly were thus exposed. A prince so dear to the church
as Oswald, and so attached to the professors of the mo¬
nastic life, received every posthumous honour they could
bestow. He was raised to the rank of a saint, and his
sanctity confirmed hy numberless miracles, which are too
numerous and too trifling to admit of particular descrip¬
tion. Its church, which is of no great antiquity, was
formerly a monastery, and was called Blancminster. It
is, however, spacious, and has a handsome plain tower.
In 1542 and 1567, it suffered much hy fire. It is go¬
verned by two bailiff’s, burgesses, &c. and once had a
great trade in Welch cottons and flannels 3 but this is
4 E 2 novf
O S Y
[ 588 ] OTA
Oswestry, now miiclt decayed. Its population in 1801 was 2672,
Osymandes. and in 1811 it was 3479- But besides a good gram-
v“‘"—v 1 niar school, it is noted for an excellent charity-
school for 40 boys, besides girls, which has the best
methods for exciting the emulation of the children in
their learning ; for 20 of the hoys are set to strive
against 20 others for shoes, and the 20 who perform
their task best have shoes first ■, then 10 of the boys are
set against 10 others for the like premium, and so on till
they are all shod : so in the girls school a shift is put up
for the best spinner, a head-dress for the best sempstress,
a pair of stockings for the best knitter, a Bible for the
best reader, and a copy-book for the best wi itei. In
the Avail with which the town was fortified there were
four gates. That called the Block-gate is demolished ;
the New-gate, Willow-gate, and the Beatrice-gate, still
remain. The last is a handsome building, with a guard-
room on both sides. There are only two fragments of
the castle remaining. It stood on an artificial mount,
surrounded by a fosse, extending to the WilloAV-gate.
OSYiVIANDES, a famous king of Egypt, was, ac¬
cording to some authors, the first monarch who collect¬
ed a great number of books for the purpose of form-
ino- a library. To this curious collection he gave the title.
Pharmacy of the Soul. Of all the monuments of
Bromley's the kings of Thebes, that of Osymandes is one of the
Hist, of the most magnificent. “ He appears (says an elegant au-
Fine Arts, tjj0r) to have been a prince of great elegance and taste
Xo1' U in his day. Diodorus Siculus describes many sumptuous
edifices erected by him; among those edifices his palace
or mausoleum, whichsoever it was, has been eminently
distinguished for the paintings and sculptures with which
it was adorned. When we look to the subject of those
works, avc shall have reason to think that no man in
any age could discover a fairer and more enlightened
judgment than he did in the employment of the genius
around him, Avhich Avas not tamely devoted to dull or
contracted objects, nor lavished on scenes ol savage life,
nor wholly engrossed in allusions to himself, but sensibly
enlarged to a variety of contemplation which might be¬
come a great sovereign v and in each, ol those parts the
'* Hiod. Sic.subject Avas characteristically great.
Hb. p. 45. “ * In one place was represented, in a multitude of
<3(1 it. ttho- sculptures, his expedition against the Baetrians, a people
4Pin., 0f Asia, Avhom he had invaded with 400,000 foot, and
20,000 horse, and Avhom he conquered. In another
part was displayed the variety of fruits and productions,
with which Fan, the great source of all things, had en¬
riched the fertile land over Avhich Osymandes reigned.
A third group of figures represented the monarch hi ms
self, as the high priest of the country, offering to the
gods the gold and silver which he dreAV every year from
the mines of Egypt. In another part of the edifice Avas
exhibited, in an infinite number of figures, an assembly
of judges, in the midst of a great audience attentive to
their decisions $ the president or chief of those judges,
surrounded hy many books, wore on his breast a pic¬
ture of Truth with her eyes shut—.those emphatic em¬
blems, beyond which no age could go for the impres¬
sion of that Avisdom and impartiality which ought to
prevail in administrative justice.”
In short, avc cannot Avithout astonishment read the ac¬
count which DiodorusSiculus givesof the almost incredi¬
ble magnificence of this prince, and of the immense
&una.$ which he spent upon those grand works. Amongst
a variety of other surprising curiosities, Avas to be seenOsymandJ
a statue in the attitude of sitting, Avhich was the largest ||
in all Egypt, the length of one of the feet being seven Qtahcitc. ^
cubits. Not only the art of the sculptor, hut also the v 1 i
beauty of the stone, Avhich Avas perfect in its kind, con¬
tributed to render this a masterpiece of sculpture. It
bore the following inscription : I am OSYMANDES,
king of kings ; whoever will dispute with me this title,
let him surpass me in amj of my works.
Indeed (to use the words of the same elegant author
quoted above) “ the palace or mausoleum of this ac¬
complished prince most give us a striking assurance of
the progress Avhich had been made in the arts at that
time-, whether he lived, as some have thought* the*See7?o/
immediate successor of the first Busiris, Avhich Avas some- tin’s Anc.
what later than the period of Semiramis or, as others
have conceived t, subsequent to Sesostris, Avhich would i^rshair.
be 400 years later. Diodorus Siculus, Avho describes
that edifice, says nothing of the age in which Osyman-vo!< jj.
des lived } every opinion, therefore, on that point mustp. 141,
he conjecture. We shall only remark, that there is no¬
thing in the Avorks of art in that edifice which should
appear too much for the earliest age in which that mo¬
narch has been placed, Avhen avc look back to Avhat Avas
done of those works in a period full as early hy Semira¬
mis in Assyria.”
OTACOUSTIC instrument, or Auricular Tube,
an instrument to facilitate the hearing. See Acou¬
stics.
OTAHEITE, a celebrated island of the South
sea, situated in W. Long. 149. 13. S. Eat. 17.46.
It Avas discovered by Captain Wallis in 1767 j after-
Avards Mr Bougainville touched here and it Avas visited
by Captain Cook in 1773 and 1774, who had in 1769
sailed round the island in a boat to observe the transit
of Venus.
The island consists of two distinct kingdoms, which
are united by a narrow neck of land 5 the larger be-
inp- called by the natives Tiarrabou,or O-TaheiteeNue;
the smaller one Opoureonou, or O-Taheitee-Ete. The
circumference of both islands is about 40 leagues 5 the
larger kingdom being divided into 43 districts. The
country has a delightful romantic appearance. The ^ of
coast, viewed from the sea, presents a most beautiful county,
prospect, being elevated like an amphitheatre. The
island is skirted with a reef of rocks, and toAvards the
sea is level, being covered with fruit trees of various
kinds, particularly the cocoa-nut. At the distance of
about three miles from the shore, the country rises in¬
to lofty hills that are covered with wood, and termi¬
nate in peaks, from which large rivers are precipitated
into the sea. The stones everyAvhere appear to have
been burnt, not one being found Avhieh did not give
manifest signs of fire ; so that there is great reason for
supposing that this and the neighbouring islands are ei¬
ther the shattered remains of a continent, or Avere torn
from rocks, Avhich from the creation of the Avorld have
been the bed of the sea, and thrown up in heaps to a
height which the waters never reach. What is further
extraordinary, the water does not gradually groAV shal-
Ioav as avc approach the shore, but is of immense depth
close by the land; and the islands in this neighbourhood
are almost everywhere surrounded by reefs Avhich appear
to be rude and broken in the manner that some violent
cqncussion would naturally leave the solid substance ol
the
OTA [ 589 1 OTA
itahcitc. the earth •, ami Mr Foster saw a rock with projecting
y—J longitmlinal angles of black compact basaltes. The ex¬
terior ranges of hills are sometimes entirely barren, anti
contain a great quantity of yellowish clay, mixed with
iron ochre} but others are covered with mould and
wood like the mountains in the internal parts of the
country. Pieces of quartz are sometimes met with
here ; but no indications of precious minerals or me¬
tals of any kind have been observed, iron only ex-
t cepted.
jimate. The air is extremely healthy and pleasant j the heat
is not troublesome ; and fresh meat will keep very well
for two days, and fish one day. The winds do not
blow constantly from the cast, but generally a little
breeze from east to south-south-east. The tide rises
very little } and, being governed by the winds, is very
uncertain. “ The climate,” says M. Bougainville, “ is
so healthy, that notwithstanding the hard labour of the
ships companies while on shore, though the men were
continually in the water, and exposed to the meridian
sun, though they slept upon the bare soil, and in the
open air, none of them fell sick 5 those who were af¬
flicted with the scurvy, and were sent on shore, regain¬
ed their strength: although they were obliged to assist
in the erecting of a fort, and had scarce one uninter¬
rupted night, yet they were so far recovered in the short
space of time they continued there, that they were af¬
terwards perfectly cured on board.”
Notwithstanding the great height of the inland moun-
santains. tains of Otaheite, none of their rocks have the appear¬
ance of barrenness, every one of them being covered
with woods. “ We hardly believed our eyes,” says M.
de Bougainville, “ when we saw a peak covered with
woods up to its highest summit, which rises above the
level of the mountains in the interior parts of the south¬
ern quarter of this island. Its apparent size seemed to
be more than 30 toises in diameter, and grew less in
breadth as it rose higher. At a distance it might have
been taken for a pyramid of immense height, which the
hand of an able sculptor had adorned with garlands and
foliage.” One of the mates of the Dolphin, with a
party of marines and seamen, penetrated into the inte¬
rior parts of the island *, and having ascended, with great
difficulty, a mountain which they supposed to be a mile
high, they discovered mountains before them so much
higher, that with respect to them they seemed to be in
a vallev: towards the sea the view was enchanting, the
sides of the hills were beautifully clothed with wood,
villages were everywhere interspersed, and the valleys
between them afforded a still richer prospect; the houses
stood thicker, and the verdure was more luxuriant j and
Mr Foster, with other gentlemen, ascended to the sum¬
mit of one of the highest mountains in the island, from
whence they had a prospect of the island of Huahine,
and some others lying at the distance of 40 leagues j
from which we may form some judgment of the prodi¬
gious height of that mountain. The view of the fertile
plain below them, and of a river making innumerable
meanders, was delightful in the highest degree. The
vegetation on the upper part of the mountains was luxu¬
riant, and the woods consisted of many unknown sorts
^ of trees and plants.
>il and The soil of this island is a rich fat earth, of a blackish
odufce. colour.. It produces spontaneously, or with the slightest
culture imaginable, a great variety of the most excellent
fruits; such as bread-fruit,-cocoa nuts, bananas of 13 Otalreitc.
sorts, plantains, potatoes, yams, a fruit known here by "v 
the name 01 jambu, and reckoned most delicious ; sugar-
canes, which; the inhabitants eat raw; ginger; turmeric;
a root of the salep kind, called by the inhabitants pea ;
a plant called ethee, of which the root only is eaten ; a
fruit that grows in a pod like that of a large kidney
bean, by the natives called a/ice ; a tree called tvjiarra,
which produces fruit something like the pine-apple, and
which is known in the East Indies by the name of pan-
danes; a shrub called nono; the morinda, which also
produces fruit ; a species of fern ; a plant called there ;
and the Chinese paper-mulberry, of the bark of which
they make their cloth; an herb which the inhabitants
eat raw, its flavour somewhat resembling that of the
West India spinage called calletoon, hut its leaf very
different; a plant which the natives call avu or eavet.,,
from the root of which they express a liquor, which, if’
drank to excess, intoxicates like wine or distilled spirits.
Here are a sort of shady trees covered with a dark green
foliage, hearing golden-coloured apples, which, in juici¬
ness and flavour, resemble the ananas or pine-apple. One
of the most beautiful trees in the world received here-
the name of Barringtonia ; it had a great abundance of
flowers larger than lilies, and perfectly white, excepting
the tips of their numerous chives, which were of a.deep
crimson. Such a quantity of these flowers were seen
dropped off, that the ground underneath the tree was
entirely covered with them. The natives called the
tree buddov ; and said, that the fruit, which is a large
nut, when bruised and mixed up with some shell-fish,
and thrown into the sea, intoxicates the fish for some
time, so that they come to the surface of the water, and
suffer themselves to be taken with people’s hands. Se¬
veral other maritime plants in tropical climates are
found to have the same quality. Mr Dalrymple de¬
scribes the method of catching fish with these plants as
follows : the plant is thrust under the coral rocks or hol¬
lows where the fish haunt; the effect is most sensible in
still water, though it is effectual in the open sea ; for
the same gentleman says, he has seen fish soon after
float on the surface of the water half dead, and some
totally without life ; and where the effect is less vio¬
lent, the fish will be seen under the water to have
lost their poise, without coming up to the surface. Fish
caught in this manner are not in the least noxious or ill
tasted. ^
In this island they have domestic poultry exactly re-Animals*,
sembling those of Europe : besides which there are
wild ducks; also beautiful green turtle doves ; large
pigeons of a deep blue plumage and excellent taste ;
a small sort of paroquets, very singular on account of
the various mixture of red and blue in their feathers ;
also another sort of a greenish colour, with a few red
spots ; the latter are frequently tamed, and are valued
on account of their red feathers. Here is a king¬
fisher of a dark green, with a collar of the same hue
round his white throat; a large cuckoo, and a blue
heron. Small birds of various kinds dwell in the shady
trees ; and, contrary to the generally received opinion
that birds in warm climates are not remarkable for
their song, have a very agreeable note. There were
no quadrupeds but dogs, hogs, and rats : and for these
last the natives were said to have a scrupulous regard,
insomuch that they would by no means kill them;
however,,
OTA
t 59° ]
OTA
Oialicxte.
6
Descrip
tants, Sec.
however, Captain Cook, in 1773* turned about 14 cats
on the island, which have probably reduced the num¬
ber of these vermin. No frogs, toads, scorpions, cen¬
tipedes, or any kind pf serpent, have been found here *,
the ants, however, are troublesome, but not very nu¬
merous. When the Endeavour first arrived heie in
1769, the flies were found excessively troublesome } but
musqueto nets and fly-flaps in some measure removed the
inconvenience. Sydney Parkinson, in his journal, says,
that notwithstanding these flies are so great a nuisance,
the natives, from a religious principle, will not kill
them. But there is a strange disagreement in the ac¬
counts of different voyagers concerning this matter.
For M. Bougainville says, “ this island is not infested
with those myriads of troublesome insects that are the
plague of other tropical countries.” And Mr Forster
says, “ not a gnat or musqueto hummed unpleasantly
about us, or made us apprehensive of its bite.” Ibis
•inconvenience must therefore be felt at certain seasons
.-of the year, and in certain districts of thercountry, more
sensibly than at other times and places. T-here is great
variety of excellent fish j and according to Aitourou, a
native who embarked with M. de Bougainville, there
are sea-snakes on the shore ot Otaheite, whose bite is
mortal.
 r The inhabitants of Otaheite are a stout, well-made,
lion of the active, and comely people. The stature ot the men, in
inhabi- general, is from five feet seven to five feet ten inches*,
the tallest man seen by Captain Wallis measured six
feet three inches and a half j and Captain Cook, in his
second voyage, describes O-Too, the king of Otaheite,
to be of that height. “ In order to paint a Hercules or
:a Mars,” says M. de Bougainville, “ one could nowhere
find such beautiful models.” They are of a pale brown
complexion } in general their hair is black, and finely’
frizzled j they have black eyes, flat noses, large mouths,
and fine white teeth *, the men wear their beards in
many fashions, all of them plucking out a great part,
and have prominent bellies. Most of them smell strong
of the cocoa-nut oil. The women in general are much
smaller, especially those of the lower rank or tawtows,
-which is attributed to their early and promiscuous inter¬
course with the men ; whilst the better sort who do not
gratify their passions in the same unbridled manner, are
above the middle stature of Europeans. Their skin is
most delicately smooth and soft: they have no colour
in their cheeks •, their nose is generally somewhat flat,
but their eyes are full of expression, and their teeth
beautifully even and white. “ The women,” says M.
de Bougainville, “ have features not less agreeable than
the generality of Europeans, and a symmetry of body
and beautiful proportion of limbs which might vie with
any of them. The complexion of the men is tawney j
but those who go upon the water are much more red
than those who live on shore. Some have their hair
brown, red, or flaxen, in which they are exceptions to
all the natives of Asia, Africa, and America, who have
their hair black universally; here, in the children of
both sexes, it is generally flaxen. The strongest expres¬
sion is painted in the countenances of these people y
their walk is graceful, and all their motions are per¬
formed with great vigour and ease,” “ I never beheld
statelier men, (says Sydney Parkinson). The men of
consequence on the island wear the nails of their fingers
long, which they consider as a very honourable badge
of distinction, since only such people as have no occasion otahciic.
to work can suffer them to grow to that length. I his 'v—~i
custom they have in common with the Chinese j but the
nail of the middle finger on the right hand is always
kept short, the meaning for which peculiarity could not
be learned. Only’ one single cripple was met with
among them, and he appeared to have been maimed by
a fall. Tbe women always cut their hair short round
their heads. Both sexes have a custom of staining their
bodies, which they call tattowing ; both men and wo¬
men have the hinder part of their thighs and loins
marked very thick with black lines in various forms;
these marks are made by striking the teeth of an instru¬
ment somewhat like a comb just through the skin, and
rubbing into the punctures a kind of paste^ made of soot
and oil, which leaves an indelible stain. I he boys and
girls under twelve years of age are not marked 5 a few
of the men, whose legs were marked in chequers by the
same method, appeared to be persons of superior rank
and authority. Mr Banks saw the operation of tattow¬
ing periormed upon the backside of a girl about thnteen
years old. The instrument used upon this occasion had
thirty teeth j and every stroke, of which at least a hun¬
dred were made in a minute, drew an ichor or serum
a little tinged with blood. Ihe girl bore it with most
stoical resolution for about a quarter of an hour j but
the pain of so many hundred punctures as she had re¬
ceived in that time, then became intolerable. She first
complained in murmurs, then wept, and at last burst
into loud lamentations, earnestly imploring tbe operator
to desist. He was, however, inexorable 5 and when she
began to struggle, she was held down by two women,
who sometimes soothed and sometimes chid her 5 and
now and then, when she was most unruly, gave her a
smart blow. Mr Banks staid in a neighbouring house
an hour, and the operation was not over when he went
away y yet it was performed but upon one side, the other
having been done some time before y and the arches up¬
on the loins, in which they most pride themselves, and
which gave more pain than all the rest, were still to be
done. Both men and women are not only decently but
gracefully clothed, in a kind of white cloth that is made
of the bark of a shrub, and very much resembles coarse
China paper. Their dress consists of two pieces of this
cloth •, one of them, having a hole made in the middle
to put the head through, hangs from the shoulders to
the mid-leg before and behind *, another piece, which is
between four and five yards long, and about one yard
broad, they wrap round the body in a very easy man¬
ner : This cloth is not woven j but is made like paper,
of the macerated fibres of the inner bark spread out and
beaten together. Their ornaments are feathers, flov’ers,
pieces of shell, and pearls ; the pearls are worn chiefly
by the women. In wet weather they wear matting of
different kinds, as their cloth will not bear wetting.
The dress of the better sort of women consists of three
or four pieces : one piece, about two yards wide and
eleven long, they wrap several times round their waist,
so as to hang down like a petticoat as low as the middle
of the leg •, and this they call parou. This simple
drapery affords the sex an opportunity of displaying
an elegant’figure to the greatest advantage, accoiding
to the talents and taste of the wearer : no general fa¬
shions force them to disfigure instead of adorning them¬
selves, but an innate gracefulness is the companion ot
simplicity.
OTA
[ 59' I
OTA
taheite. simplicity. To this cloth they give a very strong per-
ume.
The chief use which they make of their houses is to
sleep in them ; for unless it rains, they eat in the open
air under the shade of a tree. These houses are no other
than sheds, all built in the wood between the sea and
the mountains 5 they ai'e erected on an oblong square ;
their width is nearly half of their length 5 they are
nothing more than a roof, not quite four feet from the
ground, raised on three rows of pillars, one row on
each side, and one in the middle. The roof resembles
our thatched houses in England, and consists of two
flat sides inclining to each other. Their thatch con¬
sists of palm-leaves. The floor of their dwelling is
covered with hay, over which they spread mats. Some
of these erections are furnished with a stool, which is
appropriated solely to the use of the master of the fami¬
ly ; they consist of no other furniture except a few
blocks of wood, which being square, one side is hol¬
lowed into a curve •, and these they use as pillows, and
with their apparel they cover themselves. In these open
dwellings the whole family repose themselves at night.
The size of the house is proportioned to the number that
constitutes the family. The established order in these
dormitories is, for the master and his wife to sleep in the
middle ; round them the married people ; in the next
circle the unmarried women •, and in the next, at the
same distance, the unmarried men; and the servants at
the extremity of the shed j but in fair weather the lat¬
ter sleep in the open air. Some few dwellings, how¬
ever, constructed for greater privacy, are entirely in¬
closed with walls of reeds, connected together with
transverse pieces of wood, so as to appear somewhat
like large bird cages closely lined 5 in these houses there
is commonly a hole left for the entrance, which can be
closed up with a board.
Their candles are made of the kernels of a kind of
oily nut, which they stick one above another on a
skewer that is thrust through the middle of them ; the
upper one being lighted burns to the second, at the
same time consuming that part of the skewer that goes
through it ; the second taking fire burns in the same
manner down to the third, and so to the last; they
burn a considerable time, and afford a pretty good
light. The natives generally retire to rest about an
hour after it is dark.
The food of the common people entirely consists of
vegetables. These are, the bread-fruit, with bananas,
plantains, yams, apples, and a sour fruit, which, though
not pleasant by itself, gives an agreeable relish to roasted
bread-fruit, with which it is frequently beaten up. The
flesh, which is reserved for the tables of the great, is ei¬
ther poultry, hogs, or dogs *, the flesh of their fowls is
not well-tasted, but that of dogs is esteemed by the na¬
tives beyond pork. The smaller fish are generally eaten
raw, as we eat oysters : every thing that can be proem*-
ed from the sea is made an article of their food j for
they will eat not only sea-insects, but what the seamen
call blubbers, though some of them are so tough that
they are obliged to suffer them to become putrid before
they can be chewed. A very large shark being caught
by the Dolphin’s people was given to the natives ; who
soon cut it to pieces, and carried it away with great
satisfaction.
They kill the animals they intend for food by suffo-
8
>d, me-
i of
isery.
eating them, 'which is done by stopping the mouth and Otaheite
nose with their hands 5 they then singe off the hair, by -y”—
holding the animal over a fire, and scraping him with a
shell : with this instrument they qut him up, and take
out the entrails } which are washed, and put into cocoa-
nut shells, together with the blood. Dogs are eaten
that are fed wholly upon bread-fruit, cocoa-nuts, yams,
and other vegetables, and are never suffered to taste any
animal food *, and those who have tasted the flesh of a
dog thus fed, have declared it to be little inferior to
English lamb. In order to dress their food, they kindle
a fire, by rubbing the end of one piece of dry wood upon
the side of another, in the same manner as a carpenter
with us whets a chisel. They then dig a pit about half
a foot deep, and two or three yards in circumference }
they pave the bottom with large pebble stones, which
they lay down very smooth and even, and then kindle
a fire in it with dry w ood, leaves, and the husks of co¬
coa-nuts. When the stones are sufficiently heated, they
take out the embers, and rake up the ashes on every
side; they then cover the stones with a layer of green
cocoa-nut leaves, and wrap up the animal that is to be
dressed in the leaves of the plantain. If it is a small
hog, they wrrap it up whole $ if a large one, they split
it. W hen it is placed in the pit, they cover it with the
hot embers, and lay upon them bread-fruit and yams,
which are also wrapped up in the leaves of plantain.
Over these they spread the remainder of the embers,
mixing among them some of the hot stones, with more
cocoa-nut tree leaves upon them, and then close up all
with earth, so that the beat is kept in ; the oven is kept
thus closed a longer or shorter time according to the
size of the meat that is dressed. The meat, when taken
out, is said to be better dressed than any other wray.
They use shells for knives; and carve very dexterously
with them, always cutting from themselves. One of
the principal attendants on Oberea, attempting the use
of the knife and fork, could not feed himself therewith j
but by the mere force of habit, his hand came to his
mouth, and the victuals at the end of his fork went
away to his ear.
They are quite unacquainted with the method of
boiling water, as they have no vessels among them that
will bear the fire. Whilst the noble Oberea was one
morning at breakfast with Captain Wallis on board
the Dolphin, the surgeon filled the tea-pot by turning
the cock of a vase that stood upon the table. One of
the lady’s attendants observed this practice very atten¬
tively, and soon after turning the cock himself, received
the water upon his hand 5 he no sooner felt himself
scalded, than he roared and danced about in an extrava¬
gant manner. The other Indians, unapprised of the
cause of these emotions, stood gazing at him in amaze¬
ment, and not without some mixture of terror : but the
gentlemen in company, who soon perceived the cause of
the outcry, dispelled the apprehensions of their visitants j
and some ointment being applied to the scald, good hu¬
mour and confidence were again restored. The gunner
of the ship, who was appointed comptroller of the mar¬
ket which was established on shore with the natives,
used to dine on the spot; the astonishment of these peo¬
ple was very great to see him dress his pork and poul¬
try in a pot; at length an old man, who was extremely
serviceable in bringing down provisions to be exchanged,
was put into possession of an iron pot, and from that
time
OTA
[ 592 1
OTA
time he and his friends ate boiled meat every day. Se¬
veral iron pots were likewise given to Oberea and some
of the chiefs : which were in constant use, and drew
every body to see them j but although the particulars
of two successive Voyages of Captain Cook to tins islan
are circumstantially related, we hear no more ot tins
improvement in the culinary art, or ot the iurther as¬
sistance which has been rendered those people m supply¬
ing them with pots for boiling 5 but however desirous
the natives might be to eat boiled meat, it rvas not ai -
viseable to have such an article for barter as iron kettles,
when a few spike nails, or a common hatchet, would
procure one ol their largest bogs. .
Salt water is the usual sauce to their food 5 those
who live near the sea have it furnished as it is wanted,
others at a distance keep it in large bamboos. Ihe
kernels of the cocoa-nuts furnish them with another
sauce these, made into a paste something of the con¬
sistence cf butter, are heat up with salt water, whic.i
has a very strong flavour j but though at first it seemed
very nauseous, yet when the taste became familiar, it
was much relished.
Their general drink is water, or the milk ot the co-
vcoa-nut. They showed in general an aversion to strong
liquors ; and whenever any one of them happened to
drink so freely with any of the ship’s company as to he
intoxicated, he resolutely refused to taste any thing that
was likely to produce the same elfect again 5 hut they
have a plant which they call ova avo, from the root ot
which they procure a liquor which has an inebriating
quality. Their manner of preparing this strong drink
is as simple as it is disgusting to an European. Several
of the people take some of the root, and chew it till it
is soft and pulpy j they then spit it out into a platter or
other vessel, every one into the same: into this general
receptacle water is poured according to the quantity
prepared. The juice thus diluted is strained through
some fibrous stuff like fine shavings, after which it is
fit for drinking, and it is always prepared for present
use : it has a pepperish taste ; drinks Hat, and rather
insipid j and though it intoxicates, yet Captain Cook
saw but one instance where it had that effect, as the
natives generally drink it with great moderation, and
but little at a time. Sometimes they chew this root
as Europeans do tobacco, and sometimes they will eat
it wholly.
They eat alone, or at least only in company with a
guest that happens to call in $ and the men and women
never sit down together to a meal: the shade of a spread¬
ing tree serves them for a parlour $ broad leaves spread
in great abundance serve for a table-cloth j and if a
person of rank, he is attended by a number of servants
who seat themselves round him : before he begins his
meal, he washes his mouth and hands very clean, and
repeats this several times whilst he is eating. The quan¬
tity of food which these people eat at a meal is prodi¬
gious. Captain Cook says, he has seen one man devour
two or three fishes as big as a perch j three bread¬
fruits, each bigger than two fists; 14 or 15 plantains,
or bananas, each six or seven inches long and four or
five round, and near a quart of the pounded bread-fruit.
Men of rank are constantly fed by their women ; and
one of the chiefs who dined on board the ships in 1769,
showed such reluctance to feed himself, that one of the
servants was obliged to feed him to prevent his returning
5
without his meal. In one of the excursions which the Otakite.
gentlemen of the ships made into the country in 1773,'—sr—J
they arrived at a neat house, where a very fat man,,
who seemed to be a chief 0! the district, was lolling on
his wooden pillow; before him two servants were pre¬
paring his dessert, by heating up with water some bread¬
fruit and bananas in a large wooden howl, and mixing
with it a quantity of fermented sour paste called mahic.
While this was doing, a woman, who sat down near
him, crammed down his throat by handfuls the remains
of a lar^e baked fish, and several bread-fruits, which
he swallowed with a voracious appetite: his countenance
was the picture of phlegmatic insensibility, and seemed
lo testifv that all his thoughts centered in the gratifica¬
tion of his appetite. He scarce deigned to look at
the strangers ; and a few monosyllables which he utter¬
ed, were extorted from him to remind his feeders of
their duty, when by gazing at them they grew less at¬
tentive to him.
That these people, who are remarkably fond of so¬
ciety, and particularly that ot theirjwomen, should ex¬
clude- its pleasures from the table, where, among all
other nations, whether civil or savage, they have been
principally enjoyed, is truly inexplicable. How a meal,
which everywhere else brings families and friends to¬
gether, comes to separate them here, was a singula¬
rity much inquired about, hut never accounted for.
“ They ate alone (they said), because it was light;
hut why it was right to eat alone, they never attempt¬
ed to explain. Such, however, was the force of habit
in this instance, as it is in every other, that the} ex¬
pressed the strongest dislike, and even disgust, at theii
visitants eating in society, especially with women, and
of the same victuals. “ At first (says Captain Cook;
we thought this strange singularity arose from some
superstitious opinion ; hut they constantly affirmed the
contrary. We observed also some caprices in the cu¬
stom, for which we could as little account as the
custom itself. We could never prevail with any of the
women to partake of the victuals at our table, when
we were dining in company ; yet they would go five
or six together into the servants apartments, and there
eat very heartily of whatever they could find : nor w'ere
they in the least disconcerted if we came in while they
were doing it. W hen any ot us have been alone vvit
a woman, she has sometimes eaten in our company;
but then she has expressed the greatest unwillingness that
it should be known, and always extorted the strongest
promises of secrecy. Among themselves, even two
brothers and two sisters have each their separate ba¬
skets of provisions, and the apparatus of their meal.
When they first visited us at our tents, each brought
his basket with him ; and when we sat down to table,
they would go out, sit down upon the ground, at two
or three yards distance from each other, and turning
their faces different ways take their repast without
exchanging a single word. The women not only ab¬
stain from eating with the men, and of the same vic¬
tuals, but even have their victuals separately prepared
by boys kept for that purpose, who deposit it in a se¬
parate shed, and attend them with it at their meals.
But though they would not eat with us, or with each
other, they have often asked us to eat with them, when
we have visited those with whom we were particularly
acquainted at their houses; and we have often upon
OTA [ 593 ] OTA
‘iti tdbcitp. 8Uch occasions eaten out of the same basket* and drank
v —y—< out of the same cup. The elder women, however, al-
Avays appeared offended at this liberty ; and if we hap¬
pened to touch their victuals, or even the basket that
contained it, they would throw it away.”
After meals, and in the heat of the day, the middle-
aged people of the better sort generally sleep. They are
indeed extremely indolent”, and sleeping and eating are
almost all that they do. Those that are older are less
drowsy, and the boys and girls are kept awake by the
9 natural activity and sprightliness of their age.
iseases. These islanders, who inhabit huts exposed to all the
winds, and hardly cover the earth, which serves them
for a bed, with a layer of leaves, are remarkably healthy
and vigorous, and live to an old age without enduring
any of its infirmities j their senses are acute, and they
retain their beautiful teeth to the last. M. de Bougain¬
ville describes an old man, whom they saw on their
landing, who had no other character of old age, than
that respectable one which is imprinted on a fine figure.
H is bead was adorned with white hair, and a long
white beard ”, all his body was nervous and fleshy j he
had neither wrinkles, nor showed any other tokens of
decrepitude. This venerable man seemed displeased at
the arrival of these strangers $ he even retired without
making any returns to the courtesies they paid to him j
Init he gave no signs either of fear, astonishment, or
Curiosity: very far from taking any part in the rap¬
tures which the multitude expressed, his thoughtful and
suspicious air seemed to indicate, that he feared the ar¬
rival of a new race of men Would interrupt the happi¬
ness he had so long enjoyed. From whence it may be
inferred, that his mind was not a whit more impaired
than his body. There are, however, several sorts of
leprous complaints on this island, which appear in cu¬
taneous eruptions of the scaly kind; some were seen
that had ulcers upon different parts of their bodies ;
yet they seemed little regarded by those who were af¬
flicted with them, and no application whatever was
used to them, not so much as to keep off the flies.
But instances of them are rare, as the excellency of
their climate, and the simplicity of their vegetable food,
prevent almost ail dangerous and deadly disorders.
They are sometimes afflicted with the cholic, and
coughs are not unknown among them ; and the chiefs,
who fare more sumptuously, as a punishment for their
voluptuousness are sometimes attacked with a disorder
similar to the gout, in which the legs are swelled and
excessively painful. M. de Bougainville’s surgeon as¬
sured him, that he had seen many with marks of the
Smallpox.
The usual method employed here to restore the sick
to health, is by pronouncing a set form of words ; after
which the exorcist applies the leaves of the cocoa-tree
plaited to the fingers and toes of the sick; so that na¬
ture is left to conflict with the disease, without being
assisted with any salutary application of art. But
though they seem utterly destitute of medical know¬
ledge, they appear to be no inconsiderable proficients in
surgery, which they had an opportunity of proving
while the Dolphin lay here. One of the seamen, when
on shore run a large splinter into his foot; and the sur¬
geon not being at hand, one of his comrades endeavour¬
ed to take it out with a pen-knife : but after putting the
poor fellow to a great deal of pain, he was obliged to give
Vox. XV. Part II. *
it over; an old native, who had been very active and OtaLeite.
successful in establishing a good understanding between l——y—i~
the ship’s company and his countrymen, happening to
be present, called a man from the other side of the
river, who having examined the lacerated foot, fetched
a shell from the beach, which he broke to a point with
his teeth; with which instrument he laid open the
wound, and extracted the Splinter. Whilst this opera¬
tion was performing, the old man went a little way into
the wood, and returned with some gum, which he ap¬
plied to the wound upon a piece of the cloth that was
wrapped round him, and in two days time it was per¬
fectly healed. This gum was produced by the apple-
tree ; the surgeon of the ship procured some of it, and:
used it as a vulnerary balsam with great success. Cap¬
tain Cook, in 1769* saw many of the natives with dread¬
ful scars; one man, in particular, whose face was almost
entirely destroyed; his nose, including bone, was perfect¬
ly flat; and one cheek and one eye were so beaten in,
that the hollow would almost receive a man’s fist; yet
no one ulcer remained,
The venereal disease is said to have been entailed up¬
on these people by the crew of M. de Bougainville’s
ships, who visited this island a short time after Cap¬
tain Wallis had left it. In 1769, more than one-half
ot the crew in Captain Cook’s ship had contracted it,
during a month’s stay here. The natives distinguished
it by a name of the same import with rottenness, but
of a more extensive signification. They described, in
the most pathetic terms, the sufferings which the first
victims to its rage endured; and told him that it cau¬
sed the hair and the nails to fall off, and1 the flesh to
rot from the bones ; that it spread universal terror
and consternation among the inhabitants, so that the
sick were abandoned by their nearest relations, lest the
calamity should spread by contagion, and were left to
perish alone in such misery as till then had never been
known among them. But there seems to be some rea¬
son to hope that they had found out a specific cure for
it, as none were seen on whom it had made a great
progress; and one who went from the ship infected,
returned, after a short time, in perfect health. Both
Captain Cook and Mr Forster, in their relations of
their voyage in the Resolution, endeavour to establish
the opinion that this scourge of licentiousness was felt
in the South sea islands previous to any of the mo¬
dern voyages that have been made thither, and that it
was an indigenous disease there. But if that conclusion
be well founded, how comes it, that at all the places
where the Resolution touched in 1773, which had be¬
fore been visited by the Endeavour in 1769, such as
New Zealand, for instance, the crew, more or less, be¬
came infected by their commerce with the women,
and not at all so at places which they visited, for the
first time, in the Resolution ?
The principal manufacture among the Otahekeana
is their cloth. This is made of the bark of trees,tures-
which are of three kinds, vix. the Chinese mulberrv-
tree, or aoula ; the bread-fruit tree, or ooroo ; and one
that is described by Dr Hawkesworfh as resembling
the wild-fig tree of the West Indies. Of all these the
paper mulberry affords the best cloth ; what is made
from that being both finer, softer, whiter, and better
suited to take a colour; the ooroo produces cloth much
inferior in contexture; and the1 last is very coarse, in
4 F colour
OTA
C S94 ]
OTA
otahcite. colour resemUtag the darkest brown paper, but this
V last is the only kind that withstands water: (bee the
article Bark)—They likewise prepare a red dye j
which is made by mixing the yellow juice ot a small
species of fig, which the natives call mattee with the
greenish juice of a sort of fern or bindweed, or ol se¬
veral other plants, which produce a bright crimson :
and this the women rub with their hands, if the piece
is to be uniformly of a colour 5 or they make use of a
bamboo reed if the piece is to be marked or sprinkled
into different patterns. The colour lades very soon,
and becomes of a dirty redj but notwithstanding this
defect, and its being liable to be spoiled by ram, the
cloth thus stained is highly valued, and is worn only
by the principal inhabitants of the country. I he in¬
habitants perfume their cloths with certain plants j
concerning which, Mr Forster made al possible in¬
quiry. Tahea, a friendly native, showed him several
plants which are sometimes used as substitutes j but the
most precious sort, he either could not, or would not,
point out: and from the account of Omai it appears
that there are no less than 14 different sorts of plants
employed for this purpose.
Matting is another Otaheitean manufacture: and in
this they are so dexterous, that they produce finer mats,
than any made in Europe. Rushes, grass, the bark ot
trees, and the leaves of a plant called whurrou, are the
materials which they work up for this purpose. Ihe.r
matting is applied to various uses: the coarser kind is
employed for sleeping on in the night, or sitting on
through the day 5 the finer sort is converted into gar¬
ments in rainy weather, their cloth being soon pene¬
trated by wet. They are very dexterous in making
basket and wicker-work: their baskets are of a vast
number of different patterns, many of them exceeding¬
ly neat; and the making them is an art practised by
every one, both men and women. .
Instead of hemp, they make ropes and lines of the
bark of a tree 5 and thus they are provided with fish¬
ing nets ; the fibres of the cocoa-nut furnish them with
thread with which they fasten the different parts of
their canoes, &c. The bark of a nettle which grows
in the mountains, and is called orawa, supplies them
with excellent fishing lines, capable of holding any
kind of fish; and their hooks are made ol mother-of-
pearl to which they fix a tuft of hair, made to re¬
semble the tail of a fish. Instead of making them
bearded, the point is turned inwards. They make also
a kind ef seine of a coarse broad grass, the blades ot
which are like flags. These they twist and tie toge¬
ther in a loose manner, till the net, which is about as
wide as a large sack, is from 60 to 80 fathoms long.
This thev haul in smooth shoal water} and its own
weight keeps it so close to the ground, that scarcely a
single fish can escape. They make harpoons of cane,
and point them with hard wood •, with which they can
strike fish more effectually than an European can with
one headed with iron.
The tools used by the Otaheiteans for all their pur¬
poses are, an adz.e made of stone ; a chisel or gouge
made of bone, generally the bone of a man’s arm be¬
tween the wrist and elbow, a rasp of coral, and the
skin of a sting-ray also coral and sand, as a file or po¬
lisher : and with these they fell timber, cleave and po¬
lish it, and hew stone. The stone which makes the
4
11
Working
tools.
blade of their adzes is a kind of basaltes, of a gray or Oiahcite,
blackish colbur, not very hard, but of considerable * r—'
toughness j they are formed ol different sizes j some
that are intended for felling, weigh from six to eight
pounds j others that are used for carving, not more
than as many ounces : but it is necessary to sharpen
these rude tools almost every minute 5 tor which pur-
jiose a cocoa-nut shell full of water and a stone are
always at hand. With such tools they generally take
up several days in felling a tree 5 but after it is down,
and split into planks, they smooth them very dexter¬
ously and expeditiously with their adzes, and can take
off a thin coat from a whole plank without missing a
stroke. 12
Their weapons are slings, which they use with great Weapons:
dexterity 5 pikes headed with the skins of sting-rays j
and clubs of about six or seven feet long, made of a
very hard wood. Thus armed, they are said to fight
with great obstinacy -, and to give no quarter to man,
woman, or child, who happens to fall into their bands
during the battle, nor for some tune afterwaids, till
their passion subsides. They have likewise bows and
arrows •, but the arrows are good tor nothing except to
bring down a bird, being headed only with stone, and
none of them pointed. They have targets of a semicir¬
cular form, made ot wicker-work, and plaited strings
of the cocoa-nut fibres, covered with glossy, bluish-
green feathers belonging to a kind of pigeon, and orna¬
mented with many shark’s teeth, arranged in three con¬
centric circles. 13
Their boats or canoes are of three different sorts. Canoes.
Some are made out of a single tree, and hold from
two to six men. These are principally employed
in fishing: the others are constructed of planks very
dexterously sewed together ; they are of different sizes,
and will hold from 10 to 40 men; they generally lash
two of these together, and set up two masts between
them or if they are single, they have an out-rigger on
one side, and only one mast in the middle, and in these
vessels they will sail far beyond the sight of land.
The third sort seems to be principally designed for
pleasure or shew. These are very large, but have no
sail -, and in shape resemble the gondolas of Venice.
The middle is covered with a large awning-, and some
of the people sit upon it, and some under it. 'J he
plank of which these vessels are constructed, is made-
by splitting a tree, with the grain, into as many thin
pieces as possible. Ihe boards aie hi ought to the
thickness of about an inch, and are afterwards fitted
to the boat with the same exactness that might be ex¬
pected from an expert joiner. To fasten these planks
together, holes are bored with a piece of bone, fixed
into a stick for that purpose. Through these holes a
kind of plaited cordage is passed, so as to hold the
planks strongly together. The seams are caulked with
dry rushes; and the whole outside of the vessel is paint¬
ed over with a kind of gummy juice, which supplies
the place of pitch. 14
The Otaheiteans are a very industrious people, andfharactei^
friendly in their dispositions ;'but like all other nations manners,
not fully civilized, their passions are extremely vio-Sc¬
lent, and they are very fickle. The manner of singling
out a man here for a chosen friend is by taking off a;
part of your clothing and putting it upon him.. Iheir
usual manner of expressing their respect to strangers, or
• their
OTA [ 595 ] OTA
italieite. their superiors, at a first meeting, is hy uncovering them-
.--v——^ selves to the middle. They have a custom of saluting
those who sneeze, by saying evaroeia-eatoua, “ May
the good eatoua awaken you,” or “ May not the evil
eatoua lull you asleep !”
Their propensity to theft is very great, insomuch,
that M. Bougainville says, “ even in Europe itself one
cannot see more expert filchers than the people of this
country 5 and indeed, in all the voyages made by
Captain Cook and others, they had abundant expe¬
rience of this disposition of the natives, which often
produced quarrels, and sometimes even fatal effects. In
their behaviour they are extremely lascivious, almost
beyond credibility. A woman of distinction who vi¬
sited Mr Banks, used the following ceremony on her
first approach to the stranger. After laying down se¬
veral young plantain leaves, a man brought a large
bundle of cloth j which having opened, he spread it
piece by piece on the ground, in the space between
Mr Banks and his visitants. There were in all nine
pieces : having spread three pieces one upon ano¬
ther, the lady came forward, and, stepping upon
them, took up her garments all around her to her
W'aist $ she then turned three times round, after which
she dropped the veil : when other three pieces were
spread, she practised the same ceremony ; and so the
third time, when the last three pieces were laid out *,
after which the cloth was again rolled up, and deliver¬
ed to Mr Banks as a present from the lady, who with
her attending friend came up and saluted him. From
the unbridled licentiousness of these people, the French
gave this island the name of the New Cythera. Nay,
to such a degree do they carry their libidinous excesses,
that a number of the principal people, it is related, have
formed themselves into a society, in which every woman
is common to every man. This society is distinguished
by the name of Arreoy, the members of which have
meetings from which all others are excluded. At these
meetings the passions are excited bv a studied course
of sensuality, and the coarsest and most brutal plea¬
sures are enjoyed by the whole company. If, however,
notwithstanding these excesses, any of the female mem¬
bers of this community should prove with child, unless
she can procure some man to adopt the child as his
own, not all the strong affections of a mother, if such
are not entirely eradicated by a course of life subver¬
sive of the feelings as well as the modesty of nature,
can save the life of the precondemned innocent ; but
the child as soon as born is smothered, and the mo¬
ther is left at liberty to renew her former course of ex¬
ecrable prostitution. Should any man be found to co¬
operate with a woman in saving the life of a child, they
are both excluded for ever from the arreoy, and are
considered as man and wife. The woman from that
time is distinguished by the term whamiow-now, “ the
bearer of children which in this part of the world
only is considered as a term of reproach ; and so de¬
praved are those people, that being a member of such
a society is boasted of as being a privilege, instead of
being stigmatized as the foulest crime. The arreoys
enjoys several privileges, and are greatly respected
throughout the Society islands, as well as at Oca-
heite •, nay, they claim a great share of honour from
the circumstance of being childless. Tupia, one of the
most intelligent natives, when he heard that the king
of England had a numerous offspring, declared that otaheite.
he thought himself much greater, because he belonged v —■
to the arreoys. That this society indulge themselves
in promiscuous embraces, and that every woman is
common to every man, is contradicted by Mr Forster.
He says, that these arreoys choose their wives and
mistresses from among the prostitutes $ and from this
circumstance, as well as their extreme voluptuousness,
they have seldom any reason to dread the intrusion of
children. He had the following circumstances related
to him by Omi or Omiah, one of the natives, who
was brought to England. He said, that the pre-emi¬
nence and advantages which a man enjoyed as arx’eoy
were so valuable as to urge him against his own feel¬
ings to desti'oy his child 5 that the mother was never
willing to consent to the murder 5 but that her husband
and other arreoys persuaded her to yield up the child j
and that where entreaties were not sufficient, force was
sometimes made use of. But, above all, he added, that
this action was always perpetrated in secret j insomuch,
that not even the totows or attendants of the house were
px-esent $ because, if it were seen, the murderers would
be put to death.
Both men and women constantly wash their whole
bodies three times a-day in running water, and are re¬
markably cleanly in their clothes. They are most ex¬
pert swimmers, being accustomed to die water fiom
their infancy. Captain Cook relates the following re¬
markable instance of their expertness. On a part of
the shore where a tremendously high surf broke, inso¬
much that no Eux-opean boat could live in it, and the
best European swimmer, he was persuaded, would have
been drowned, as the shore was covered with pebbles
and large stones, yet here were 10 or 12 Indians swim¬
ming for their amusement. Whenever a surf broke
near them, they dived under it, and rose again on the
other side. The steni of an old canoe added much to
their spoxt. This they took out before them, and
swam with it as far as the outei'most breach 5 when two
or three getting into it, and turning the square end to
the breaking wave, were driven in towards the shore
with incredible x’apidity, sometimes almost to the beach j
but generally the wave bx-oke over them before they
got half way ; in which case they dived, and rose to
the other side with the canoe in their hands, and swim¬
ming out with it again were again driven back. This
amazing expertness drew the Captain’s attention for
more than half an hour; during which time none of
the swimmers attempted to come ashoi’e, but seemed to
enjoy the sport in the highest degree. At another
time, one of the officei's of the quartei'-deck intending
to dx-op a bead into a canoe for a little boy of six years
of age, it accidentally missed the boat, and fell into
the sea ; but the child immediately leaped overboard,
dived after it, and i-ecovered it. I'o reward him for
this feat, some more beads were dropped to him; which
excited a number of men and women to amuse the of¬
ficers with their amazing feats of agility in the watei-,
and not only fetched up several beads scatteied at once,
but likewise large nails, which, from their weight, de¬
scended quickly to a considerable depth. Some of these,
people continued a considerable time under water ; and
the velocity with which they were seen to go down, the
water being extremely clear, was very surprising. Here
a green branch of a tree is used 3s an emblemn of peace.
O T A
[ 596 ]
OTA
Otaheite. in exact conformity to the custom of the ancient nations.
We shall add an extract here from Captain Cook’s last
voyage to the Pacific ocean.
“ Nothing could make a stronger impression at first
sight, on our arrival here, than the remarkable con¬
trast between the robust make and dark colour of the
* One of people of Tongataboo*, and a sort of delicacy and
the Friend-whiteness which distinguish the inhabitants of Ota-
ly islands. Jieite. It was even some time before that difference
could preponderate in favour of the Otaheiteans j and
then only, perhaps, because as we became accustomed
to them, the marks which had recommended the others
began to be forgotten. Their women, however, struck
us as superior in every respect; and as possessing all
those delicate characteristics which distinguish them
from the other sex in many countries. The beard,
which the men here wear long, and the hair, which
is not cut so short as is the fashion at Tongataboo,
made also a great difference 5 and we cannot help
thinking, that on every occasion they showed a greater
degree of timidity and fickleness. The muscular ap¬
pearance, so common amongst the Friendly islanders,
and which seems a consequence of their being accus¬
tomed to much action, is lost here, where the superior
fertility of their country enables the inhabitants to
lead a more indolent life ; and its place is supplied by
a plumpness and smoothness of the skin j which, though
perhaps more consonant with our ideas ol beauty, is
jjo real advantage, as it seems attended with a kind
of languor in all their motions, not observable in the
others. This observation is fully verified in their box¬
ing and wrestling, which may be called little better
than the feeble efforts of children, if compared to the
vigour with which these exercises are performed at the
Friendly islands.
“Personal endowments being in greatesteem amongst
them, they have recourse to several methods of im¬
proving them, according to their notions of beauty.
In particular, it is a practice, especially amongst the
arreoy, or unmarried men of some consequence, to un¬
dergo a kind of physical operation, to render them
fair. This is done by remaining a month or two in the
house j during which time they wear a great quantity
©f clothes, eat nothing but bread-fruit, to which they
ascribe a remarkable property in whitening them.
They also speak, as if their corpulence and colour, at
other times, depended upon their food j as they are ob¬
liged, from the change of seasons, to use different sorts
at different times.
“ The graceful air and firm step with which these
people walk are not the least obvious proof of their per¬
sonal accomplishments. They consider this as a thing
so natural, or so necessary to be acquired, that nothing
used to excite their laughter sooner, than to see us fre¬
quently stumbling upon the roots of trees, or other ine¬
qualities of the ground.
“ Their countenances very remarkably express the
abundant mildness or good nature which they possess,
and are entirely free from that savage keenness which
jnarks nations in a barbarous state. One would, in¬
deed, be apt to fancy that they had been bred up under
the severest restrictions to acquire an aspect so settled,
and such a command of their passions, as well as steadi¬
ness in conduct. But they are at the same time frank,
cheerful, and good-humoured, though sometimes, in the
presence of their chiefs, they put on a degree of gravi- otalidte.
ty, and such a serious air, as becomes still and awk-' ■' y-—
ward, and has an appearance of reserve.
“ Their peaceable disposition is sufficiently evinced
from the friendly reception all strangers have met with
who have visited them. Instead of offering to attack
them openly or clandestinely, as has been the case with
most of the inhabitants of these seas, they have never
appeared in the smallest degree hostile, but on the con¬
trary, like the most civilized people, have courted an
intercourse with their visitors by bartering, which is
the only medium that unites all nations in a sort of
friendship. They understand barter (which they call
fukkatoii) so perfectly, that at first we imagined they
might have acquired the knowledge of it by commercial
intercourse with the neighbouring islands j but we were
afterwards assured, that they bad little or no traffic ex¬
cept with Feejee, from which they get the red feathers,
and some fewT other articles which they esteem. Per¬
haps no nation in the world traffic with more honesty,
and less distrust. We could always safely permit them
to examine our goods, and to hand them about one to
another} and they put the same confidence in us. If
either party repented ol the bargain, the goods were
re-exchanged with mutual consent and good humour.
Upon the whole, they seem possessed ol many of the
most excellent qualities that adorn the human mind,
such as industry, ingenuity, perseverance, affability,
and perhaps other virtues which our short stay with
them might prevent our observing.
“ The only defect sullying their character that we
know of is their propensity to thieving, to which we
found those of all ages and both sexes addicted, and
to an uncommon degree. It should, however, be con¬
sidered, that this exceptionable part ol their conduct
seemed to exist merely with respect to us j for in their
general intercourse with one another, I had reason to
be of opinion, that thefts do not happen more frequent¬
ly (perhaps less so) than in other countries, the dishonest
practices of whose worthless individuals are not supposed
to authorize any indiscriminate censure on the whole bo¬
dy of the people. Great allowances should he made for
the foibles of these poor natives of the Pacific ocean,
whose minds we overpowered with the glare of objects,
equally new to them as they were captivating. Steal¬
ing, amongst the civilized and enlightened nations ol
the world, may well be considered as denoting a charac¬
ter deeply stained with moral turpitude, with avarice
unrestrained by the known rules of right, and with pro¬
fligacy producing extreme indigence, and neglecting the
means of relieving it. But at the Friendly and other
islands which we visited, the thefts so frequently com¬
mitted by the natives, of what we had brought along
with us, may be fairly traced to less culpable motives.
They seemed to arise solely from an intense curio¬
sity or desire to possess something which they had not
been accustomed to before, and belonging to a sort of
people so different from themselves. And, perhaps, if
it were possible that a set of beings seemingly as supe¬
rior in our judgment as we are in theirs should appear
amongst us, it might he doubted, whether our natural
regard to justice would he able to restrain many from
falling into the same error. That I have assigned the
true motive for their propensity to this practice, appears
from their stealing everv thing indiscriminately at first
sight,
Juki'1
OTA [S97] OTA
sight, before they could have the least conception of
converting their prize to any one useful purpose. But I
believe, with us, no person would forfeit his reputation,
or expose himself to punishment, without knowing be.-
fore-hand how to employ the stolen goods. Upon the
whole, the pilfering disposition of these islanders, though
certainly disagreeable and troublesome to strangers, was
the means of atlording us some information as to the
quickness of their intellects. For their small thefts were
committed with much dexterity j and those of greater
Consequence with a plan or scheme suited to the import¬
ance of the objects. An extraordinary instance of the
last sort was, in their attempts to Carry away one of the
Discovery’s anchors at mid-day.
Their common diet is made up of at least nine-tenths
of vegetable food j and I ladieve more particularly the
tnahec, or fermented bread-fruit, which makes part al¬
most of every meal, has a remarkable effect upon them,
preventing a costive habit, and producing a very sensi¬
ble coolness about them, which could not be perceived
in us who fed on animal food. And it is, perhaps,
ow ing to this temperate course of life that they have so
few diseases among them. See N° 8.
“ They only reckon five or six which might be called
chronic or national disorders ; amongst which are the
dropsy, and the ^.vfl/’, or indolent swellings, before men¬
tioned as frequent at Tongataboo. But this was be¬
fore the arrival of the Europeans •, for we have added
to this short catalogue a disease which abundantly sup¬
plies the place of all the others, and is now almost uni¬
versal. For this they seem to have no effectual remedy.
The priests, indeed, sometimes give them a medley of
simples, but they own that it never cures them. And
yet they allow7 that in a few cases nature, without the
assistance of a physician, exterminates the poison of this
fatal disease, and a perfect recovery is produced. They
say, that if a man is infected with it he will often com¬
municate it to others in the same house, by feeding out
of the same utensils, or handling them, and that, in this
case, they frequently die, while he recovers j though
we see no reason why this should happen. See N° 9.
“ Their behaviour on all occasions seems to indicate
a great openness and generosity of disposition. Omai,
indeed, who, as their countryman, should be supposed
rather willing to conceal any of their defects, has often
said that they are sometimes cruel in punishing their
enemies. According to his representation, they tor¬
ment them very deliberately 5 at one time tearing out
small pieces of flesh from different parts •, at another tak¬
ing out the eyes ; then cutting oft’the nose j and lastly,
killing them by opening the belly* But this only hap¬
pens on particular occasions. If cheerfulness argues a
conscious innocence, one w'ould suppose that their life is
seldom sullied by crimes. This, however, I rather im¬
pute to their feelings, which, though lively, seem in no
case permanent *, for I never saw them in any misfortune
labour under the appearance of anxiety after the criti¬
cal moment was past. Neither does care ever seem
to wrinkle their brow7. On the contrary, even the ap¬
proach of death does not appear to alter their usual vi¬
vacity. I have seen them when brought to the brink of
the grave by disease, and when preparing to go to bat¬
tle j hut in neither case ever observed their countenances
overclouded with melancholy or serious reflection. Such
a disposition leads them to direct all their aims only to
what can give them pleasure and case. Their arouse- Otaheite.
ments all tend to excite and continue their amorous pas- —v——J
sions j and their songs, of which they are immoderately
fond, answ7er the same purpose. But as a constant suc¬
cession of sensual en joyments must cloy, we found that
they frequently varied them to more refined sub jects, and
had much pleasure in chanting their triumphs in war,
and their occupations in peace j their travels to other
islands and adventures there ; and the peculiar beauties,
and superior advantages of their ow n island over the rest,
or of different parts of it over other less favourite dis¬
tricts. This marks that they receive great delight from
music ; and though they rather expressed a dislike to
our complicated compositions, yet were they always de¬
lighted with the more melodious sounds produced singly
on our instruments, as approaching neai’er to the simpli¬
city of their own. Neither are they strangers to the
soothing effects produced by particular sorts of motion,
which in some cases seem to allay any perturbation of
mind with as much success as music. Of this I met
with a remarkable instance. For, on walking one day
about Matavai Point, where our tents were erected, 1
saw a man paddling in a small canoe so quickly, and
looking about with such eagerness on each side, as to
command all my attention. At first I imagined that
he had stolen something from one of the ships, and w-as
pursued j but on waiting patiently saw him repeat his
amusement. He went out from the shore till he was
near the place where the swell begins to take its rise;
and, watching its first motion very attentively, paddled
before it with great quickness till he found that it over¬
took him, and had acquired sufficient force to carry his
canoe before it, without passing underneath. He then
sat motionless, and was carried along at the same swift
rate as the wave, till it landed him upon the beach.
Then he started out, emptied his canoe, and went in
search of another swell. I could not help concluding,
that this man felt the most supreme pleasure, while he
was driven on so fast and so smoothly by the sea j espe¬
cially as, though the tents and ships were so near, he
did not seem in the least to envy, or even to take any
notice of the crowds of his countrymen collected to
view them as objects which were rare and curious. Du¬
ring my stay, two or three of the natives came up, who
seemed to share his felicity, and always called out when
there was an appearance of a favourable swell, as he
sometimes missed it, by his back being turned, and
looking about for it. By them I understood that this
exercise, which is called ehorooe, was frequent amongst
them j and they have probably more amusements of this -•
sort, which afford them at least as much pleasure as •
skaiting, which is the only one of ours with whose ef¬
fects I could compare it.”
The language of these islanders is soft and melodious ; Language;
it abounds with vowels, and the pronunciation of it is&c.
easily acquired : but it was found excessively difficult
to teach the natives to pronounce a single English word ;
probably not only from its abounding with consonants,
but from some peculiarity in its structure •, for Spanish
and Italian words, if ending in a vowel, they pronoun¬
ced w7ith the greatest ease. A sufficient acquaintance 1
has not been formed with it to determine whether it is
copious or not j but it is certainly very imperfect, being
totally without inflexion either of nouns or verbs. Few
of the nouns have more than one case, and few of the
verbs
OTA
t 598 3
OTA
Otaltcite. VCrhs more than one tense. It was impossible to teach
^ 1/——' the islanders to pronounce the names ot their guests.
They called Captain Cook ToOte\ Mr Hicks, the first
lieutenant, Hctc, &c. and in this manner they formed
names for almost every man in the ship. In some,
however, it was not easy to find any traces of the origi¬
nal *, and they were perhaps not mere arbitrary sounds,
formed upon the occasion, but signified words in their
own language ; and it seems that they could perfectly
remember these appellations at the distance ol four years,
by their enquiries after such gentlemen as were absent on
the second vovage by name. Mr Monkhouse, a midship¬
man, they called Matte, which in their language signi¬
fies dead; because he commanded a party that killed a
man for stealing a musket. The nearest imitation they
could reach of King George, was by calling him hi-
Jiiargo. We have the following observations on this
subject, in vol. ii. of Cook’s last voyage to the Pacific
ocean: “ The language of Otaheite, though doubtless
radically the same with that of New Zealand and the
Friendly islands, is destitute of that guttural pronuncia¬
tion, and of some consonants, with which those latter
dialects abound. The specimens we have already given
are sufficient to mark wherein the variation chiefly con¬
sists, and to show, that, like the manners of the inhabi¬
tants, it has become soft and soothing. During the for¬
mer voyage, I had collected a copious vocabulary, which
enabled me the better to compare this dialect with that
of the other islands •, and during this voyage I took
every opportunity of improving my acquaintance with it,
bv conversing with Omai before we arrived, and by my
daily intercourse with the natives while we now remained
there (a). It abounds with beautiful and figurative ex¬
pressions, which, were it perfectly known, would, I have
no doubt, put, it upon a level with many of the languages
that are most in esteem for their warm and bold images.
For instance, the Otaheiteans express their notions of
death very emphatically, by saying, “ that the soul goes
into darkness*, or rather intonight.” And, if you seem
to entertain any doubt, in asking the question, “ if such
a person is their mother?” they immediately reply with
surprise, “ yes, the mother that bore me.” I hey have
one expression that corresponds exactly with the phrase¬
ology of the scriptures, where we read of the “ yearning
of the bowels.”—They use it on all occasions, when the
passions give them uneasiness, as they constantly refer
pain from grief, anxious desire, and other affections, to
the bowels, as its seat*, where they likewise suppose all
operations of the mind are performed. Their language
admits of that inverted arrangement of words which so
much distinguishes the Latin and Greek from most of
our modern European tongues, whose imperfections re¬
quire a more orderly construction, to prevent ambigui¬
ties. It is so copious, that for the bread-fruit alone, in
its different states, they have above 20 names j as
many for the taro root*, and about xo for the cocoa-
nut. Add to this, that, besides the common dialect,
they often expostulate in a kind of stanza or recitative,
•which is answered in the same manner.”
A map of Otaheite, engraved for Captain Cook’s first
voyage, was taken out, and laid before Tuahow the high- Otalicite.
admiral, without informing him of what it was j however, w—
he immediately found it out, and was overjoyed to see a
representation of his own country. He pointed out all the
districts of it, naming every one of them in their order.
These people have a remarkable sagacity in foretel¬
ling the weather, particularly the quarter from whence
the wind will blow. In their long voyages they steer
by the sun in the day, and in the night by the stars j
all of which they distinguish by separate names, and
know in what part of the heaven they will appear in
any of the months during which they are visible in
their horizon. They also know the times of their an¬
nual appearing and disappearing, with more precision
than would easily be believed by an European astrono¬
mer. Their time they seem to reckon by moons, 13
of which make a year. The day they divide into six
parts, and the night into an equal number. They
judge of the time of the day by the height of the sun,
but they cannot ascertain the time of the night by the
stars. In numeration, the greatest length they can go
is 200 , that is, when they have counted each of their
fingers and toes ten times over. When they take the
distance from one place to another, they express it by
the time which is required to pass it. lS
The government of the Otaheiteans seems greatly to Govera-
resemble the early state of the European nations underment*
the feudal system. Their orders of dignity are earee-
rakie, which answers to the king ’7 earee, baron j ?na-
nahouni, vassal; and toivtow, villein. There are two
kings in the island, one being the sovereign of each of
the peninsulas of which it consists. Each of them is
treated with great respect by all ranks, but does not
appear to be invested with so much power as is exerci¬
sed by the earees in their own districts. When the
king, whom they called O-'Too, made a visit to Captan
Cook, the chiefs, who happened to be there before him,
immediately stripped themselves in great haste. Cap¬
tain Cook took notice of it; upon which they said earee,
earee, signifying, that it was on account of O-Too be¬
ing present j but this was the only outward token of
respect they paid him, for they never rose from their
seats, or made any other obeisance.
The cartes are lords of one or more of the districts
into which each of the peninsulas is divided, and of
which there are 43 in the larger one. These parcel
out their territories to the manahounis, who superin¬
tend the cultivation of the ground. The lowest class,
called towtows, seem to be nearly under the same cir¬
cumstances with the villeins in feudal governments.
They do all the laborious work, cultivate the land,
catch hsh, fetch wood and water, &c. Each of the
earees keeps a kind of court, and has a great number
of attendants, chiefly the younger brothers of their
own tribe, and among these some hold particular of¬
fices, but of which little more is known than some of
their names.
In this country a child succeeds to his father’s titles
and authority as soon as he is born: and thus the king
no sooner has a son born, than his sovereignty ceases.
A
1
(a) See this vocabulary at the end of the second volume of Captain Cook’s second voyage. Many correc¬
tions and additions to it were now made by this indefatigable inquirer) but the specimens ol the language of Ota¬
heite, already in the hands of the public, seem sufficient for every useful purpose.
OTA L 599 l OTA
tiheite. A regent is then chosen ; ami the father generally re-
-v——, tains his power under that title, until his child be¬
comes of age. The child of the baron succeeds to the
titles and honours of its father, as soon as it is born, as
well as the son of the king j so that a baron who was
yesterday called earee, and was approached with the ce¬
remony of lowering their garments, so as to uncover the
upper part of the body, is to-day, if his wife happens to
be delivered of a child, reduced to the rank of a private
man •, all marks of respect being transferred to the child,
if it is suffered to live, though the father still continues
possessorandadministratorof his estate. But the acquies¬
cence which the lower class of people, or toivtows, yield
to the command of their chiefs, is very remarkable. They
are not suffered to taste any animal food, although they
are employed in feeding it for their lords. They en¬
dure patiently very severe blows, if, when collected in¬
to a large body, they in any manner press upon or an¬
noy the king or a chief in his progress j and all this
passive spirit is preserved without any power being lodged
in the hands of the king to exact it; for he uses no mili¬
tary force, nor is even attended with body guards.
There are but few actions which are reckoned crimes
among the Otaheiteans. Adultery, however, is some¬
times punished with death : but in general, the woman
escapes with a severe beating, and the gallant passes un¬
noticed. The regulation of public justice is not confined
to the magistrate; for the injured party redresses his own
wrong by inflicting whatever punishment he can upon
the offender : but in matters of notorious wrong the
chiefs sometimes interpose. The nobility have livery for
their servants 5 and in proportion as the master’s rank is
more or less elevated, these sashes are worn higher or
lower, being fastened close under the arms of the servants
belonging to the chiefs, and going round the loins of
those belonging to the lowest class of nobility. Several
parts of the island seem to be private property, which
descend to the heir of the possessor on his death, and the
descent seems to fail indifferently on man or woman.
Captain Cook was of opinion that the number of inhabi¬
tants on the whole island amounted to 204,000 including
women and children.
The religious language of the Otaheiteans, like that
of the Gentoo Bramins, is different from what is used in
common discourse 5 but, according to the accounts we
17 have of their notions concerning the origin of the world,
%’ion. nothing can be more ridiculous. They imagine that the
Supreme Deity, besides a great many female descendants,
has one son named Tune; and to him they direct their
worship, though they do not believe that the good or
bad conduct of mankind here on earth makes them
more or less acceptable to this divinity. They believe
the existence of the soul after death, and of a greater or
lesser degree of happiness to be then enjoyed : but they
seem to have no conception of a state of punishment or
of suffering hereafter. The share of happiness which
they imagine every individual will enjoy in this future
state, will be assigned to him according to the rank he
holds on earth We are not, however, told wherein
they suppose he happiness of this future state to consist j
but it is most probably a pretty exact imitation of a
Mohammedan paradise, for these voluptuaries can hard¬
ly be supposed capable of imagining any pleasure inde¬
pendent of the intercourse of the sexes.
The priesthood seems to be hereditary in one family
or tribe ; and as it.is said to be numerous, probably those Otalieite.
of that order are restrained from becoming members of "—v—
the arreoy: but whether or not any peculiar decorum
is necessary to be observed, hath not yet appeared. These
priests are professedly the men of science 5 but their
knowledge is altogether frivolous and useless ; for it con¬
sists in being conversant with the names of their dif¬
ferent divinities, and such absurd traditions as have been
handed down among them from one generation to ano¬
ther. Their religious notions being deposited in an un¬
known tongue, they are respected because they are not
understood *, and as the cure of the soul is no object of
regard, the most important concern to these people, the
cure of their bodies, is committed to the priests, and
much parade is used in their attempts to recover the
sick, though their remedies consist of ridiculous cere¬
monies and enchantments rather than any thing else.
The marriages of these people are merely secular con¬
tracts ; but no one has a right to perform the operation
of tattowing except the priests ; and this being a custom
universally adopted by the natives, it may be supposed
that performing it is a very lucrative employment. The
males in general undergo a kind of circumcision, which
it is disgraceful not to comply with, and which is like¬
wise the exclusive privilege of the priests to perform.
But what most establishes the credit of this order of men
is their skill in astronomy and navigation.
Captain Cook, who had some reason to believe that
among the religious customs of this people, human sacri¬
fices were sometimes ofiered up to their deities, w'ent to
a morai, or place of w'orship, accompanied by Captain
Furneaux, having with them a sailor who spoke the lan¬
guage tolerably well, and several of the natives. In the
morai was a tupapow, a kind of bier, with a shed erect¬
ed over it, on which lay a corpse and some provisions.
Captain Cook then asked if the plantain w'ere for the
Eatua?' If they sacrificed to the Eatua hogs, dogs, fowls,
&c. P To all of which an intelligent native answered in
the affirmative. He then asked if they sacrificed men to
the Eatua ? He was answered, taatorno, “ bad men thev
did ; first tiparrahij, beating them till they were dead.’’
He then asked if good men w'ere put to death in this man¬
ner ? His answer was no, only taaio eno. The Captain
then asked if any earees were ? The native replied, they
had hogs to give the Eatua, and again repeated taato eno.
He was then asked if towtows, w'ho had no hogs, dogs,
or fowls, but yet were good men, were ever sacrificed to
the Eatua ? The answer still wras no, only bad men.
Many other questions were put to him ; all his answers
to wdiich seemed to confirm the idea that men for cer¬
tain crimes were condemned to be sacrificed to the gods,
provided they did not possess anv property which they
might give for their redemption. However, in pursuing
such inquiries as these, no certain information could be
obtained; on account of the slight knowledge which had
been acquired of the language of the country : but ac¬
cording to farther accounts which Captain Cook receiv¬
ed from Omai, it seems to rest with the high priest to
single out the victims for sacrifice ; who, when the peo¬
ple are assembled on any solemn occasion, retires alone
into the house of God, and stays there for some time j
when he comes out, he informs the assembly that he has
seen and conversed with the great god (the high priest
alone having that privilege), and that he has asked for a,
human sacrifice y and tells them he has desired such a
person,.
OTA
[ 600 ]
O T A
OtaheUe. person, naming a man present, who has most probably,
h. —v 1 .1 on some account or other, rendered himself obnoxious to
this ghostly father- The words are no sooner gone out
of his mouth, than the devoted wretch is put to death ;
for his guilt cannot be doubted, alter the oracle has pio-
nounced his doom.
On this island was seen the figure of a man constructed
of basket work, rudely made, but not ill designed: it was
something more than seven feet high, and rather too bulky
in proportion to its height. This wicker skeleton was
completely covered with feathers, which were white
where the skin was to appear, and black in the parts
which it is their custom to paint or stain, as well as upon
the head, which was designed to represent hair. Upon
the head also were four protuberances, three in trout,
and one behind, which the Indians called tate cte, little
men. The image was called Manioc; it was a repre¬
sentation of Mauwey one of their Eatuas, or gods ot the
second class, and was said to be the only one of the kind
on Otaheite.
These people pray at sunrise and sunset. 1 hey have
also a number of superstitious practices, in order to con¬
ciliate the influence of evil genii. E-Tee, a chief,-who
seemed to be the king’s prime minister in 1774, very
seriously asked Mr Forster whether they had a god
(Eatua) in their country, and whether they prayed to
him (epore?) When he' told them that they acknow¬
ledged a divinity who had made every thing, and was
invisible, and that they were accustomed to address their
, petitions to him, he seemed to be highly pleased, and
repeated his words with comments of his own, to several
persons who sat round him •, seeming thereby to intimate,
that the ideas of his countrymen corresponded with theirs
in this respect.
The morais are used both as burying-grounds and
places of worship ; they are approached with the most
wonderful expressions of reverence and humility j and
this, it should seem, not because any thing there is
esteemed sacred, but because they there worship an in¬
visible being, for whom they entertain the most reVe
rential respect, , although not excited by the hope ot
reward or the dread of punishment. Though they do
not appear to have any visible object ot worship, yet,
says Captain Cook, this island, and indeed the rest that
lie near it, have a particular bird, some a heron, and
others a king’s-fisher, to which they pay a particular
regard, and concerning which they have some super¬
stitious notions, respecting good or bad fortune, as we
have of the swallow and robin redbreast, and will on
no account, molest or kill them. One ot these ceme¬
teries, or places of worship, was known to Captain
Cook, on his first voyage, by the name of Tootahah’s
morai, then the regent *, but when, on his second voy¬
age, after the death of that chief, he called it by that
name, Maratata, a chief that accompanied the party,
interrupted him, intimating, that it was no longer
Tootahah’s after his death, but was then known as
O-Too’s morai, the then reigning prince. A fine mo¬
ral for princes ! daily reminding them of mortality
whilst they live, and teaching them, that after death
they cannot call even that ground their own which their
dead corpse occupies! The chief and his wife, on passing
by it, took their upper garments from their shoulders.
From hence it would seem, that the royal family have a
particular morai, and that it always bears the name of Oukit*.
the reigning prince. ^
An Indian who had snatched away a musket from a^^,
sentry whilst on duty, was, by the inhumanity of a mid- e a*
shipman who commanded the guard, pursued and shot.
The unhappy late of this poor fellow gave an opportu¬
nity for seeing the manner in which these people treat
their dead. They placed the corpse in the open air till
the bones became quite dry : a shed was erected close
by the house where the deceased had resided j it was
about 15 feet long, and 11 broad j one end was left
quite open ; the other end, and the two sides, were
partly inclosed with a sort of wicker-work. The bier
was a frame of wood, like that on which the sea-beds,
called cots, are placed, with a matted bottom, and sup¬
ported by four posts, at the height of about four feet
from the ground. The body was covered first^with a
mat, and then with white cloth by the side of it lay a
wooden mace, one of their weapons of war •, and near
the head of it, which lay next to the close end of
the shed, lay two cocoa-nut shells; at the other end a
bunch of green leaves, with some dried twigs, all tied
together, were stuck in the ground, by which lay a stone
about as big as a cocoa-nut. Near these lay one of the
young plantain-leaves thatare used foremblemsof peace,
and close by it a stone axe. At the open end of the shed,
also hung, in several strings, a great number of palm
nuts } and without the shed was stuck up in the ground
a stem of a plantain tree, about six feet high, upon the
top of which was placed a cocoa-nut shell full of fresh
water j against the side of one of the posts hung a small
bag, containing a few pieces of bread-fruit ready roasted,
which had not been put in all at one time, some being fresh
and others stale. This minute examination of their man¬
ner of treating their dead, seemed to be very unwelcome
to the natives. The food so placed by the corpse is de¬
signed as an offering to their gods. They cast in, near
the body, small pieces of cloth, on which the tears and
blood of the mourners have been shed ; for in their pa¬
roxysms of grief it is an universal custom, to wound them¬
selves with a shark’s tooth. The mourner is always a
man ; and he is dressed in a very singular habit. When
the bones are strippedof their flesh, and become dry, they
are buried. This regard to their dead is very remarkable:
one of the ship’s company happening to pull a flower from
a tree which grew on one of their sepulchral inclosures,
an Indian came suddenly behind him and struck him
and a party of sailors, who were sent to get some stones
for ballast for the ship, had like to have been embroiled
bv the natives, by pulling down some part of an inclosure
of this kind. This shed under which their dead are laid
is called tupapow; the inclosure in which their bones are.
deposited is called morai; these latter, as has been already
related, are also places of worship. As soon as a native
of Otaheite is known to be dead, the house is filled with
relations, who deplore their loss j some by lound lamen¬
tations, and some by less clamorous, but more genuine
expressions of grief. Those who are in the nearest de¬
cree of kindred, and are really affected by the event,
are silent; the rest arc one moment uttering passionate
exclamations in a chores, and the next laughing and
talking without the least appearance of concern. In
this manner the remainder of the day on which they
assemble is spent, and all the succeeding night. Un the
*1
OTA [ 601 ] OTA
next morning the body is shrouded in their cloth, and
conveyed to the sea-side on a bier, which the bearers
support upon their shoulders, attended by the priest, who
having prayed over the body,repeats bis sentences during
the procession. When it arrives at the water’s edge, it
is set down upon the beach; the priest renews his prayers,
and taking up some of the water in his hands, sprinkles
it towards the body, hut not upon it. It is then carried
back 40 or 50 yards j and soon after brought again to
the beach, where the prayers and sprinkling are re¬
peated. It is thus removed backwards and forwards
several times ; and while these ceremonies have been
performing, a bouse has been built, and a small space of
ground railed in. In the centre of this house, or tupa-
poiv, as they term it, posts are set up to support the bier,
which is at length conveyed thither, and placed upon it j
and here the body remains to putrefy, till the flesh is
wholly wasted from the bones, These houses of corrup¬
tion are of a size proportioned to the rank of the person
whose body they are to contain. Those allotted to the
lower class are just sufficient to cover the bier, and have
no railing round them. The largest that was seen was
ix yards longj and such are ornamented according to
the abilities and inclination of the surviving kindred, who
never fail to lay a profusion of good cloth about the
body, and sometimes almost cover the outside of the
house. Garlands of the fruit of the palm nut, or pan-
danus, and cocoa-leaves, twisted by the priests in myste¬
rious knots, with a plant called by them et/iee vo moral,
which is particularly consecrated to funeral solemnities,
are deposited about the place ; provision and water are
also left at a little distance. As soon as the body is de¬
posited in the tupapow, the mourning is renewed. The
women assemble and are led to the door by the nearest
relation, who strikes a shark’s tooth several times into
the crown of her head ; the blood copiously follows, and
is carefully received upon pieces of linen, which are
thrown under the bier. The rest of the women follow this
example j and the ceremony is repeated at the interval
of two or three days, as long as the zeal and sorrow of
the parties hold out. The tears also which are shed
upon these occasions are received upon pieces of cloth,
and offered as oblations to the dead. Some of the
younger people cut oft’ their hair, and that is thrown
under the bier with the other offerings. This custom
is founded on a notion, that the soul of the deceased,
which they believe to exist in a separate state, is hover¬
ing about the place where the body is deposited} that it
observes the actions of the survivors, and is gratified by
such testimonies of their aftectionate grief. Whilst these
ceremonies are carrying on by the women, the men seem
to be wholly insensible of their loss’, but two or three days
after, they also begin to perform a part. The nearest
relations take it in turn to assume the dress, and perform
the offices.
The chief mourner carries in his hand a long flat stick,
the edge of which is set with sharks’ teeth j and in a
frenzy, which his grief is supposed to have inspired, he
runs at all he sees, and if any of them happen to be
overtaken, he strikes them most unmercifully with his
indented cudgell, which cannot fail to wound them in a
dangerous manner. The pi ocessions continue at certain
intervals for five moons j but are less and less frequent,
by a gradual diminution, as the end of that time ap¬
proaches. When it is expired, what remains of the body
Vol. XV. Part II. t
is taken down from the bier j and the bones, having been
scraped and washed very clean, are buried, according to
the rank ol the person, either within or without a morai.
If the deceased was an earee, or chief, his skull is not
buried with the x-est of his bones, but is wrapped up in
fine cloth, and put in a kind of box made for that pur¬
pose, which is also placed in the morai. This coffin is
called ewharre no te orcmetua, “ the house of a teacher,
or master.” After this the mourning ceases, except some
of the women continue to be really afflicted at the loss,
and in that case they will suddenly wound themselves
with the shark’s tooth wherever they happen to be. The
ceremonies, however, do not cease with the mourning ;
for prayers are still said by the priest, and offerings made
at the morai. Some of the things, which from time to
time are, deposited there are emblematical 5 a young
plantain is said to represent the deceased, and a bunch
of feathers the Deity who is invoked The priest places
himdf over against the symbol of the god, accompanied
by some of the relations, who are furnished with a small
oft’ering : he repeats his orison in a set form, consisting of
separate sentences : at the same time weaving the leaves
of the cocoa-nut into dift’erent forms, which he afterwards
deposits upon the ground where the hones have been in¬
terred : The Deity is then addressed by a shrill screech,
which is used only upon that occasion. When the priest
retires, the tuft of feathers is removed, and the provisions
are left to putrefy, or be devoured by the rats.
This ceremony of mourning, as described above, was
performed by Tirope, one of the wives of Tubourai
Tamaide j who, when the bleeding from the wounds
which she bad thus given herself ceased, looked up
with a smile on the company round her, and who bad
before inquired of her, very earnestly, the cause of her
behaviour, without receiving any answer, or having been
at all noticed by her. She then began to pick up some
small pieces of cloth which she bad spread to catch the
blood ; and having got them all together, she went to
the shore, and threw them into the sea. She then plunged
into the river j and having washed her whole body, re¬
turned to the company as cheerful as ever. To add to
the singularity of this conduct, the Indians who stood
round her all the time that this frantic distress was
performing, conversed with great indifference and jocu¬
larity.
There is not a more ancient custom handed down to
us than that of cutting the body to express grief and
distress, of mind. In the code of laws delivered by
Moses to the Israelites, 1400 years before the Christian
era, this practice is expressly forbidden to that people:
“ Ye shall not cut yourselves, or make any baldness be¬
tween the eyes for the dead,” Deut. xiv. i. Hence it
may be supposed that this rite prevailed in Egypt, from
whence the Jews derived most of those propensities which
were inhibited by their great legislator. We are told
likewise in the book of Kings, of the priests of Baal
wounding themselves, after they had long waited in vain
for thesupematural intervention of their idol D’Arvieux
informs us, that the modern Arabs retain the same custom,
and that the part they chiefly wound is their arms. The
difference in the practice as now prevailing in Otaheite
and Arabia seems to be, that iu the first none but the
women make use of it, and in the latter it is confined
to the men, and generally used to express their despe¬
rate passion for some favourite mistress.
4 G The
Ctuhcite.
OTA [ 60
Oufieitc. Tlie mourning ivliich is worn liere is a head dress of
y i.. feathers, the colour of which is consecrated to death, and
a veil over the face. This dress is called eeva. I he
whole nation is said to appear thus on the death ot
their king. The mourning for fathers is very long.
The women mourn lor their husbands, but not the hus¬
bands for their wives. _
We shall conclude this account of Otaheite with the
history of Omai, or, as he is improperly called Omiah,
who was brought over to England. He was a native of
Ulietea, or Raietea; and embarked at Huaheine with
Captain Furneaux, on hoard the Adventure, in Septem
ber 1773 ; and the two ships separating in a storm on
the coast of New Zealand a few months afterwards, the
voyage of the Adventure was brought to a much earlier
conclusion than thatol the Resolution, for she aruved at
Spithead the 14th of July following. Ihis youth is said
to have had some property in his native soil, of which he
was dispossessed by the people ol Bolabola : but he was^
not one of the earees, or gentry of that country, but of
the middling class of people. He was eminent neither
for figure, shape, nor complexion ; his colour being ol a
deep hue, resembling a towtow, or one of the common
people •, and both Captain Cook and Mr Forster agree
in thinking him no proper sample of the inhabitants of
those islands, in respect of personal beauty. However,
they are both of opinion, that the qualities of his heai t
and head resembled those of his countrymen in general,
and that no one of the natives would have given more
general satisfaction by his behaviour whilst he lemamed
in England. He is described as possessing a good under¬
standing, quick parts, and honest principles : not an ex¬
traordinary genius like I upiaj yet not at all deficient in
intelligence, which appears from his knowledge ot the
game of chess, in which he made an amazing proficiency.
His principal patrons, whilst in England, were, the earl
of Sandwich, Mr Banks, and Doctor Solander. His
noble patron introduced him to his majesty at Kew, and,
during his stay in England, he was caressed by many of
the principal nobility. He naturally imitated that easy
and elegant politeness which is prevalent among the
great, and which is one ot the ornaments of civilized so¬
ciety. Indeed he adopted the manners, the occupations,
and amusements of his companions in general, and gave
many proofs of a quick perception and a lively fancy.
Fie appears, however, to have been treated, whilst he
resided here, rather as a fashionable exhibition, than
as a rational being. No attention seems to have been
paid to the enriching his mind with useful knowledge,
such as might have rendered him a valuable acquisition
to his country on his return thither } no means were
vised to instruct him in agriculture, or any mechanical
art or useful manufacture ; and, above all, to possess
him with a moral sense : to teach him the exalted ideas
of virtue, and the sublime principles of revealed reli¬
gion. After a stay of two years in England, and ha¬
ving been inoculated for the smallpox, he embarked
with Captain Cook, on board the Resolution, on his
return home, loaded with a prolusion of presents. At
parting with his friends here, his tears flowed plenti¬
fully, and his whole behaviour bespoke him to be sin¬
cerely affected at the separation : but though be lived
in the midst of amusement during his residence in
England, his return to his native country was always
in his thoughts j and though lie was not impatient to
2 ] O T H
go, he expressed a satisfaction as the time of his return Otalieite
approached. 11.
Such is the account of this people which our limits ,
permit us to give. In the history of mankind it is not
without importance : and in the hands of the philoso¬
pher, the moralist, or the divine, it may be useful. The
subject, because but new, has been much agitated, and
is pretty generally known. Such of our readers as make
men and manners their peculiar study, will be anxious
for further information ; we must refer them, however,
to those authors who have written particularly and co¬
piously on the subject. Cook and other voyagers of emi¬
nence wTill at least command attention. We may just
remark, that there must surely be something extremely
fascinating in the persons, manners, or customs of the
inhabitants, or in the soil and appearance of the country,
that could tempt the greater part of a ship’s crew to re¬
sist authority, and forcibly to return to Otaheite ; yet
such we know was the case •, and the sufferings of the
commander, and those who refused to join in this vile
conspiracy, and who were therefore exposed in an open
boat, were indeed shocking. An account of it has been
published.
OTALGIA, the Ear-ach. See Medicine Index.
OTELANDS, or Oaixands, in England, in the
county of Surrey, near Weybridge, was formerly a royal
palace, wherein Henry duke ot Gloucester, third son to
King Charles I. was born ; and had a deer park, which
in the civil wars was by the parliament laid open, and
the house demolished. In 1673 there was a brick wall
remaining,which encompassed ten acres; but there were
then small traces of the chief pile, besides the gardener’s
lodge, wherein was the silk-worm room raised by King
James I.’s queen. It is now a most magnificent build¬
ing, and commands a most extensive and beautiful pro¬
spect. In the park there was a paddock, where Queen
Elizabeth used to shoot with a cross-bow. It is now
the property of his royal highness the duke of A ork,
who purchased it for 43,003k of the duke of New¬
castle, 1781).
ORTFORD, a village in England, in the county of
Kent, which stands at the bottom of a hill. In 793
there was a battle at this place, between the two Saxon
kings, Oft a of Mercia, and Alrick of Kent, who was
killed by Ofta; and another in 1016, wherein the
Danish king Canute was routed by King Edmund Iron¬
side. The said Offa, to atone for the blood he had shed
in that battle, first gave this place to Christ-church,
Canterbury (as the deed says) in pascuaporcorum, “for
the support of the archbishop’s hogs and so it remain¬
ed in the archbishop’s liberty, till exchanged with King
Henry VIII. for other lands. There was a chantry
founded at the Ryebouse in this parish. Jhe church
was once a chapel to Shoreham.
OTHNIEL, in sacred history, the son of Kenaz, of
the tribe of Judah. We are told (Josh. xv. 17.), that
Othniel was brother to Caleb; and (Judges i. 13.) it is
expressly said, that he was Caleb’s younger brother.
There are, however, some difficulties in this : for it
Caleb and Othniel had been brothers, the latter could
not have married his niece Achsah the daughter of
Caleb. Secondly, the scripture never assigns to Caleb
and Othniel the same father; it always names Kenaz as
father to Othniel, and Jephunneh as the father of Caleb.
Lastly, Caleb must be much older than Othniel, since
Othnicl,
Othtf.
O T H
lie gave Othniel his daughter Achsah in marriage.
it seems much better to supposeKenaz. and Jephunneh to
' be two brothers, and that Othniel and Caleb were cou-
sin-germans, and in this sense to he nearly related, or
brothers, according to the language of scripture. Thus
Achsah being but second cousin in respect of Othniel,
he might marry her without doing any thing contrary
to the letter of the law.
Caleb having received his portion in the mountains
of Judah, in the midst of a country that was possessed
by giants of the race of Anak, after he had taken the
city of Hebron, he advances towards Debir, otherwise
called Kirjath-sephcr, and declares that he would give
his daughter Achsah in marriage to him that should
take Kirjath-sepher. Othniel took it, and had Achsah
to wife.
After the death of Joshua, the Israelites not giving
themselves the trouble to exterminate the Canaanites
that wrere then in the land, and not having continued
in their fidelity to the Lord, he delivered them over to
Chushan-rishathaim king of Mesopotamia (Judges iii.
8, &c.) to whom they continued in subjection for eight
years. Then they cried to the Lord, who raised them
up a deliverer in the person of Othniel the son of Ke-
naz, who was filled with the spirit of Cod, and judged
Israel. He came into the field and gave battle to
Chushan-rishathaim, beat him, and delivered Israel, in
the year of the world 2599 •, and the country was at
rest for 40 years. After this Othniel died 5 but the
precise year of his death is not known.
O FHO, M. Salvius, a Roman emperor, born A. D.
32, of a family descended from the ancient kings of
Etruria. He was among the number of Nero’s favou¬
rites, and accordingly was raised to the highest offices
of the state, and made governor of Pannonia by the in¬
terest of Seneca, who wished to remove him from Rome,
lest Nero’s love for Poppaea should prove his ruin. Af¬
ter Nero’s death, Otho conciliated the favour of Galba
the new emperor; but when he did not gain his point,
and when Galba refused to adopt him as his successor,
he resolved to make himself absolute, without any regard
to the age or dignity of his friend. The great debts
which he had contracted encouraged his avarice ; and
he procured the assassination of Galba, and made him-
sell emperor. He was acknowledged by the senate and
the Roman people; but the sudden revolt of Vitellins in
Germany rendered his situation very precarious, and it
was mutually resolved that their respective right to the
empire should be decided by arms. Otho obtained three
victories, but in a general engagement near Brixellum,
his forces were defeated, and he stabbed himself when
all hopes of success had vanished. This happened about
the 37th year of his age, after a reign of about three
months. It has been justly observed, that the last mo¬
ments of Otho’s life were those of a philosopher. He
comforted his soldiers who lamented his fortune, and he
expressed his concern for their safety when they earnest¬
ly solicited to pay him the last friendly offices before he
stabbed himself; and he observed, that it was better
that one man should die than that all should be involved
in ruin on account of his obstinacy. His nephew was
much affected, and feared exceedingly the anger and
haughtiness of the conqueror ; but Otho comforted him,
#nd observed, that Vitellius wrould be kind and affec-
[ 603 ] O T H
Thus tionate to the friends and relations of Otho, since Otho
wTas not ashamed to say, that in the time of their great- '
est enmity the mother of Vitellius had received every
friendly treatment from his hands. He also burnt the
letters which, by falling into the hands of Vitellius,
might provoke his resentment against those who had
favoured the cause of an unfortunate general. These
noble and humane sentiments in a man who was the as¬
sociate of Nero’s shameful pleasures, and who had stain¬
ed his hand in the blood of his master, have appeared
to some wonderful, and have passed for the features of
policy, and not of a naturally virtuous and benevolent
heart. His father was a favourite of Claudius.
Otho, a tribune of the people, who, in Cicero’s con¬
sulship, made a regulation to permit the Roman knights
at public spectacles to have the 14 first rows attei the
seats of the senators. This was opposed with virulence
by some, but Cicero ably defended it, &c.
Otho, Venius, a very celebrated Dutch painter. He
was descended of a considerable family in Leyden, and
was born in I55^- 'va‘’ carefully educated bv his
parents in the belles lettres, and at the same time learn¬
ed to design of Isaac Nicholas. He was but 15 when
the civil wars obliged him to leave his country. He
retired to Liege, finished his studies, and there gave the
first proofs of the excellence of his mind. He was well
known to Cardinal Gronsbeck, who gave him letters of
recommendation when he- went to Rome, where he wras
entertained by Cardinal Maduccio. His genius was so
active, that he applied himself to philosophy, poetry,
mathematics, and painting, all at once. He became a
great proficient in designing under Frederico Zuchero.
He acquired an excellence in all the parts of painting,
especially in the knowledge of the claro-obscuro; by
which means he came to be accounted one of the most
ingenious men of his age. He lived at Rome seven
years, during which time he performed several rare
pieces ; and then passing into Germany, was received
into the service of the emperor. After this the duke of
Bavaria and the elector of Cologne employed him ; but
all the advantages he got from the courts of foreign
princes could not detain him there. He had a desire
to return into the Low Countries, of which Alexander
Farnese, prince of Parma was then governor He drew
the prince’s picture, armed cap a-pee, which confirmed
his reputation in the Netherlands. After the death of
that prince, Venius yeturned to Antwerp, where he a-
dorned the principal churches with his paintings The
archduke Albert, who succeeded the prince of Parma
in the government of the Low Countries, sent foi him
to Brussels, and made him master of the mint, a place
which occupied much of his time, yet he found some
time for the exercise of his profession. He drew the
archduke and the infanta Isabella’s portraits at large,
which were sent to James I. of Great Britain : and, to
show his knowledge of polite learning likewise, he pub¬
lished several treatises, which he embellished with cuts
of his own designing. Louis III. made him very great
offers to tempt him into his service; but he would never
leave his own country, satisfying himself with the cha¬
racter and employments he held there. He wa~ the
first, after Polydore Caravaggio, who reduced the claro-
obscuro to a principle of the art of painting. Rubens
perfected what he began, and the whole Flemish school
4 G 2 learned
Otlio.
o
Otlio
TO [ 604 ] O T R
Venius died at Brussels, 1634, the Otodini, except those on the line of the wall of Se-
Otodini
learned it of him.   _ -
in his 78th year. He had two brothers, Gilbert,
who was a graver, and Peter a painter. He had al¬
so the honour of breeding np the lainous Rubens in lus
31OTHONNA, a genus of plants belonging to the
svngenesia class j and in the natural method ranking
under the 49th order, Composite. See Botany Index.
OTHRYADES, one of the 300 Spartans who fought
against 300 Argives, when those two nations disputed
their respective right to Thyreata. Two Argives, Al-
cinor and Cronius, and Othryades, survived the battle.
The Argives -went home to carry the news ol their vic¬
tory ; but Othryades, who had been reckoned among
the number of the slain on account of his wounds, re¬
covered himself, and carried some of the spoils of which
he had stripped the Argives into the camp of his coun¬
trymen •, and after he had raised a trophy, and had writ¬
ten with his own blood the word vici on his shield, he
killed himself, unable or unwilling to survive the death
of his countrymen.
OTIS, a genus of birds belonging to the order of
gallinae. See Ornithology Index.
" OTLEY, a town of England, in the west riding
of Yorkshire, under a cliff called Chevin, on the south
side of the river Wherfe. The adjacent parts are rec¬
koned the most delightful in England. Its church has
lately been elegantly fitted up, in which are several
good old monuments. The adjacent country is much
improved, and from the Chevin is a most beautiful view
of an extensive scope of undescribed mansions. This
manor was given by Athelstan to the see of ^ ork,
whose archbishop had a palace here, with several exten¬
sive privileges. There is a free grammar school in this
place, founded by Mr Cave, 1611, called Prince Henry's
School. In 1811 the inhabitants amounted to 2602. In
1673, it sufl'ered much by an inundation; which car¬
ried awray several bridges, mills, &c. as well as much
corn, &c. W. Long. I. 50. N. Lat. 53. 54.
OTODINI,ancient Britons, seated, as some suppose,
to the north-east of the Brigantes, in the countries now
called Northumberland, Merse, and the Lothians. As
the Otodini are not mentioned by any of the Roman his-
* vol i torians, but only by Ptolemy, it is uncertain whether
S cV°&.c! they formed a distinct independent state, or were united
with the Brigantes. They were however, a consider¬
able people, and possessed a long tract of the sea-coast,
from the river Tine to the frith of Forth. Their name
is derived by Baxter from the old British words Ot 0
dineu, which signify “ a high and rocky shore de¬
scriptive enough of their country. They were probably
reduced by Agricola at the same time with their more
powerful neighbours the Brigantes ; but as they lived
without the wall of Severus, they were, like the rest of
the Maeatse, engaged in frequent revolts. In the most
perfect state of the Roman goveimment in this island,
the country of the Otodini made a part of the Roman
province called Valentia; which comprehended all that
large tract between the two walls. As this province
was never long together in the peaceable possession of
the Romans, they had but few stations in the country of
verus.
Henry's
Jlist Hr
Brit. vol. i
P-
Various authors have derived the name of this people
in various ways, and it is very difterently spelled; and
various opinions still seem to be entertained among the
learned respecting their real situation : and it is even
doubtful whether their country was in England or in
Scotland. The celebrated Drummond of Hawthornden
contends for the latter.
OTRANTO, or T KRRA d’Otranto, a province of
Italy in the kingdom of Naples ; bounded on the north
by the Terra di Bari and by the gull ol Venice, on the
east by the same gulf, and on the south aud west by a
great bay which is between that and the Basilicata. It
is a mountainous country, abounding in figs, olives, and
wine. It is often visited by locusts, and by Algerine
pirates, who carry oft all the people they can catch into
slavery. But to keep them off, there are a great many
forts on the coasts.
Otranto, a city of Italy, in the kingdom of Naples,
and capital of the province of the same name, with a
commodious harbour, an archbishop’s see, and a strong
citadel, where the archbishop resides. Mr Swinburne *
gives this account ot it: “ It is (says he) small, staI,fts SjCj/,-£S)
on a hill, and contains only 3000 inhabitants. Its little yoi.;,
harbour is not so bad but it might induce more people
to settle here, as no port on the coast lies so convenient
for traffic with Greece. The Adriatic gull is here but
60 miles wide. I climbed to the top of a tow’er to get
a sight of the Acroceraunian mountains ; but a vapour
hanging over the sea, along the horizon, hid them from
my view: in a clear morning, their snowy tops are said
to be very visible. The cathedral of Otranto is Gothic,
and, according to the Puglian fashion, has its subterra¬
neous sanctuary. The columns are of beautiful marble
and granite; the pavement, a rude species of mosaic,
commonly called Saracenic: As it is to be met with in
all churches founded by the Norman kings of Sicily,
the artists who laid it were probably Saracens, or at
least Greeks, their scholars. These mosaics are com¬
posed of pieces of porphyiy, serpentine, and cubes of
gilt glass,—disposed in stars, circles, or chequers. The
compartments of the stalls are bordered with them ; and
the small twisted columns, which support the pulpits and
canopies, are ornamented with a spiral stripe of the same
work. It is a pity so much durability, compactness, and
beauty of materials, should have been lavished on such
barbarous designs. Otranto was a Roman colony, as is
certified by an inscription, almost the only monument of
antiquity left there (a). In the 10th century it was
made an archbishop’s see. In 1480, Laurence de Me¬
dici, to deliver himself from the attacks ot the king of
Naples, persuaded Mahomet II. to invade the realm ;
and Otranto was the unfortunate place where the Turks
landed. It was invested, stormed, and pillaged. Its
prelate was slain at the door of his church ; 8co prin¬
cipal citizens dragged out of the gates and butchered ;
their bodies left 12 months unburied, till the duke ot
Calabria retook the city, and committed them to hal¬
lowed earth. About 100 years after, a devout person
affirmed, that these bones had appeared to him m a
dream j
1
toy.
(a) “ Num. Hydr,—iER Caput barb, et laureat. TAPONTINS2N.= Tridens, cum duobus delphinibus.”
into
O T W ( 605 j OVA
dream j and, upon the strength of his vision, they be¬
came, for the vulgar, objects of almost equal veneration
with the relicks of the primitive martyrs.”
OTRICOLI, a small town of Italy, in the ecclesia¬
stical state, and in the duchy of Spoletto, in E. Long. 12.
23. N. Lat. 42. 26. situated on a rising ground on the
frontiers of the patrimony of St Peter. From this town
is seen a fine plain, and some of the windings ©f the fa¬
mous river Tiber. The ruins that are scattered here
and there at the entrance of the plain, descending from
Otricoli, are thought to be the remains of the ancient
Otricolum •, they consist of some shapeless fragments of
columns, cornices, and otiier pieces of marble. In the
middle of the great street of Otricoli, there is a marble
pedestal, upon which you see an inscription, showing
they had erected a statue to Julia Lucilla, who had
built public baths at Otricoli at her own expence.
OTTER. See Mustela, Mammalia Index.
Otter of Roses. See Roses.
OTTERBURN, in England, near Ellesdou, in the
county of Northumberland, was the field of battle be¬
tween the English and Scots in 1388, wherein Henry
Percy, called Hotspur, wTas taken prisoner, and Dou¬
glas the Scotch general was killed. On this battle was
founded the delightful old balled of Chevy chase j the
village being situated by the river Rhead, on the south
side of the Cheviot hills. The entrenchments are still
visible and a number of tumuli scattered over the ad¬
jacent ground mark to future ages the slaughter made
there.
OTTERY, Sr Mary’s, a market town in Devon¬
shire, situated 159 miles west of London, and 10 miles
east of Exeter. The church is very ancient, and some¬
what resembles a cathedral A very extensive woollen
manufactory was lately established here by Sir George
Yonge, and Sir John Duntze, Barts. It has no corpo¬
ration. It derived its name, as some suppose, from the
river Otter, and that from the otters formerly found in
it. This town was given by King Edward the Confes¬
sor to the church of St Mary at Rouen in Normandy $
but was afterwards bought by Grandison bishop of Exe¬
ter j who made of it a quarter college in io Edward
III. and therein placed secular priests, with other mini¬
sters, to whom he gave the whole manor, parish tythes,
fines, spiritual profits, &c. which amounted to 304I. 2s.
lod. yearly. The population in 1811 was 2880.
OTWAY, Thomas, an eminent tragic poet, was
the son of Mr Humphry Otway, rector of Wolbeding
in Sussex j and was born at Trottin in that county
on the 3d of March 1651. He was educated at Ox¬
ford y when, leaving the university without a degree,
he retired to London, when he commenced player,
but with indifferent success. However, the sprightli-
ness of his conversation gained him the favour of Charles
Fitz-Charles earl of Plymouth, who procured him a
cornet’s commission in one of the new raised regiments
sent into Flanders ; but he returned from thence in very
necessitous circumstances, and applied himself again to
writing for the stage. In comedy he has been deemed
too licentious j which, however, was no great objection
to his pieces in the profligate days of Charles II. But,
in tragedy, few English poets have ever equalled him j
and perhaps none ever excelled him in touching the
passions, particularly the tender passion. There is ge¬
nerally something familiar and domestic in the fable of
his tragedies, and there is amazing energy in his expres- otwav
sion.—The heart that doth not melt at the distresses of ||
his Orphan must be hard indeed ! But though Otway Ovation,
possessed in so eminent a degree the rare talent of writ-
ing to the heart, yet he was not very favourably re¬
garded by some of his cotemporary poets, nor was he
always successful in his dramatic compositions. After
experiencing many reverses of fortune in regard to his
cirumstances, but generally changing for the worse, he
at last died wretchedly in a public house on Tower-hill j
whither, it is supposed, he had retired, in order to avoid
the pressure of his creditors. Some have said, that down¬
right hunger compelling him to fall too eagerly on a
piece of bread, of which he had been for some time in
want, the first mouthful choked him, and instantly put
a period to his days. Dr Johnson gives this account of
the matter: “ He died in a manner which I am unwil¬
ling to mention. Having been compelled by his ne¬
cessities to contract debts, and hunted, as is supposed by
the terriers of the law, he retired to a public house or
Tower-hill, where he died of want; or, as it is related
by one of his biographers, by swallowing, after a long
fast, a piece of bread which charity had supplied. He
went out, as is reported, almost naked, in the rage of
hunger, and finding a gentleman in a neighbouring cof¬
fee-house, asked him for a shilling. The gentleman
gave him a guinea ; and Otway going away bought a
roll, and was choked with the first mouthful. Ail this,
I hope, is not true ; but that indigence, and its conco¬
mitants, sorrow' and despondency, brought him to the
grave, has never been denied.”
Johnson speaks of him in nearly these terms : Otway
had not much cultivated versification, nor much reple¬
nished his mind with general knowledge. His principal
power was in moving the passions, to which Dryden in
his latter years left an illustrious testimony. He ap¬
pears, by some of his verses, to have been a zealous
royalist; and had what was in those times the common
reward of loyalty j he lived and died neglected.—His
dramatic writings are nine in number j the most admi¬
red of which are, The Orphan, and Venire Preserved.
He had also made some translations, and wrote seve¬
ral miscellaneous poems. His whole works are print¬
ed in two pocket volumes. Fie wrote four acts of a
play which are lost.
OVAL, an oblong curvilinear figure, otherwise called
ellipsis. (See Ellipsis). However, the proper oval,
or egg shape, differs considerably from that of the ellip¬
sis, being an irregular figure, narrower at one end than
at another: whereas the ellipsis or mathematical oval,
is equally broad at each end ; though it must be own¬
ed, these two are commonly confounded together; even
geometricians calling the oval a false ellipsis.
OVARY, in Anatomy, that part of a female animal
wherein the ova or eggs are formed or lodged. See
Anatomy, N° hi.
OVARIUM, in Botany, a name by which botanists
who ai’e fond of assimilating the animal and vegetable
kingdoms have distinguished the germen or seed bud,
as containing the rudiments of the future eel
OVATION, in the Roman antiqn’ty, a lesser tri¬
umph, allowed to commanders for victories won with¬
out the effusion of blood; or for defeat ing a mean and
inconsiderable enemy. The show ge erally began at
the Alban mountain, whence the general with his
retinue
O vation
Overall.
O V E [ 606
retinue made his entry into the city on foot, with
many flutes or pipes sounding in concert as he passed
along, and wearing a garland or myrtle as a token of
peace. The term ovation, according to Servius, is
derived from ovis, a ‘‘ sheep 5” because on this occasion
the conqueror sacrificed a sheep, as in a triumph he sa¬
crificed a bull. The senate, knights, and principal ple¬
beians, assisted at the procession ; which concluded at
the Capitol, where rams were sacrificed to Jupiter. 'I he
first ovation was granted to Publius Posthumius, lor his
victory over the Sabines in the the 253d year of Rome.
OUUE. a province of Hindostan Proper, subject to
a nabob, whose dominions lie on both sides ot the Ganges,
occupying the flat country between that river and the
northern mountains, as well as the principal part of
that fertile tract, lying between the Ganges and Jumna,
to within 40 miles of the city Delhi. Oude is about
250 miles in length, by 100 miles in breadth. It is
flat, well watered, and fertile in wheat, barley, rice,
sugar-canes, indigo, and poppies. 'I he inhabitants are
tall, strong, and warlike. Since I765> a British force
has been stationed in the nabob’s territories, and paid
by him. But from the disorderly state of the nabob’s
government and finances, it was thought proper, in
1801, to put a great part of the country under the im¬
mediate government of the Company, and to relieve the
nabob from all pecuniary claims. The gross revenue
of the districts ceded, amounted to 13,523,474 Sicca
rupees. Oude is also the name of a large town in tins
province. Lucknow is the capital.
OUDENARDE, a rich and strong town, in the
kingdom of the Netheilands, in the province of Flan¬
ders, in E. Long. 3. 30. N. Lat. 50. 54. fifteen miles
south of Ghent, and eighteen from Tournay. It is a
large well fortified town, having a very considerable tort
in the middle of it, situated on the river Scheldt, which
divides it into two parts. It is almost encompassed by
meadows, only there is a hill which commands it on
the south side. The buildings are pretty good, the
streets wide and handsome, and it contained 4COO inha¬
bitants in 1800. The market place is adorned with a
beautiful town-house, and a fine large fountain. There
are several good churches and monasteries well worthy
of the notice of travellers. The town has a trade in
fine linen and tapestry, and is the capital of a castellany,
which contains 33 villages. The French laid siege to
it in 1708, which brought on an obstinate engagement,
wherein they were defeated by the allies under the com¬
mand of the duke of Marlborough. It was taken by
the French in 1794, and remained under their power
till 1814.
OVEN, a kind of domestic furnace, used for baking
bread, pies, tarts, &c. of a circular structure, with a
very low roof, well lined, both on the top, bottom,
and sides, with stone ; it has a small entrance in the
front, fitted with a door, which being clapped to the
mouth of the oven confines the heat, while bread, pies,
or puddings, are baking. Over this, pastry cooks have
another oven built much in the same manner, which is
used for such things as require a less degree of heat.
Ovens are heated by burning dry wood, faggots, &c.
in them, till all the parts are equally hot.
OVERALL, John, a celebrated English bishop,
was born in 15595 and, after a proper foundation in
grammar learning, was sent to St John’s college, Cam-
] O V E
bridge, and was elected a scholar of that society : but
afterwards removing to Trinity, was chosen fellow of'
that college. In 1596 he was made regius professor
of divinity, when he took the degree of D. D. and
about the same time was elected master of Catherine-
hail. In 1601 he was raised to the deanery of St
Paul’s, London, by the recommendation of his patron
Sir Fulk Greville, and Queen Elizabeth 5 and in the
beginning of King James’s reign, he was chosen pro¬
locutor of the lower house of convocation. In 1612
he was appointed one of the first governors of the
Charter-house hospital, then just founded by Thomas
Sutton, Esq. In April 1614 he was made bishop of
Litchfield and Coventry 5 and in 1618 he was trans¬
lated to Norwich, where he died in May 1619, aged,
as it is reported, 60 years. He was buried in that
cathedral, where he lay unnoticed and forgotten till
some time after the restoration of Charles II. when
Cosin, bishop of Durham, who had been his secretary,
erected a monument in 1669, with a Latin inscription,
in which he is said to be, “ Vir undequaque doctissi-
mus, et omni incomio major.”
Wood observes, that he had the character of being-
the best scholastic divine in England 5 and Cosin, who
perhaps may be thought to rival him in that sort of
learning, calls himself his scholar, and absolutely says
that he derived all his knowledge from him. He
is also celebrated by Smith for his distinguished wis¬
dom, erudition, and piety. In the controversy which
in his time divided the reformed churches about predes¬
tination and grace, he held a middle opinion, inclining
perhaps to Arminianism. He seems indeed to have
paved the way for the reception of that doctrine in Eng¬
land, where it was generally embraced a few years af¬
terwards, chiefly by the authority and influence ot Arch¬
bishop Laud. Overall cultivated a particular friend¬
ship with Gerard Vossius and Grotius 5 and was much
grieved to see the love of peace, and the projects of this
last great man to obtain it, so ill repaid. He laboured
heartily himself to settle the differences in Holland, up¬
on what is known by the name of the Qmnquarticular
controversy ; as appears in part by his letters to the two
learned correspondents just mentioned, some of which
are printed in the Epistolee preestantium virorum, &c.
The bishop is known in England chiefly by his Con¬
vocation Book, of which Bishop Burnet gives the fol¬
lowing account : 4< rI his book wras wrote on the subject
of government, the divine institution of which was very
positively asserted. It was read in convocation, and
passed by that body, in order to the publishing of it; in
opposition to the principles laid down in the famous
book of Parsons the Jesuit, published under the name of
JDoleman. But King James did not like a convocation
entering into such a theory ot politics ; so he discouraged
the printing of it, especially since, in order to justify the
owning of the United Provinces, who had lately thrown
off the Spanish yoke, to be a lawful government, it was
laid down, that when a change of government was
brought to a thorough settlement, it was then to be own¬
ed and submitted to as a work of the providence of God.
Here it slept, till Archbishop Sancrolt, who had got
the book into his own hands, and not observing the last-
mentioned passage in it, resolved to publish it in the
beginning of King William’s reign, as an authentic
declaration the church of England had made in the
uoint
Overall,
o v e [ 607 ] o v r
erall, P0’0* °f non-resistance. Accordingly it was publisii-
rbury ed in 4to, as well as licensed, by him, a very few days
-''before he was under suspension for not taking the
oaths.
OVERBURY, Sir Thomas, a learned Englishman,
was born in 1^81 ; and studied at Queen’s college,
Oxford, after which he removed to the Middle-Temple,
London, tie afterwards travelled for some time, and
returned a most accomplished person ; when he contract¬
ed an intimate acquaintance with Sir Robert Carr,
knight of the Bath, who being soon after taken into
his majesty’s favour, had Mr Overbury knighted at
Greenwich. Sir Thomas perceiving the familiarity
which subsisted between his patron Carr, now made
Viscount Rochester, and the lady Frances, the wife of
Robert earl of Essex, was so much displeased at it, that
he endeavoured to dissuade him from keeping her com¬
pany, and from proceeding in the base design he had
formed of having her first divorced from her husband,
and then marrying her. The viscount, resenting this
honest advice, told what he had said to the lady, who
was as remarkable for her wickedness as for her beauty;
on which they immediately resolved on his destruction.
About this time, the king wanting to send an ambassa¬
dor abroad, the viscount recommended Sir Thomas
Overbury. His majesty approving the choice, the vis¬
count imparted the king’s intentions to Sir Thomas ;
but, under a treacherous show of friendship, dissuaded
him from accepting of that employment, as it might
hinder him from a better way of advancement, promi¬
sing that he would prevent his majesty from being dis¬
pleased at his refusal. The viscount then went to the
king, and artfully incensing his majesty aga'nst Sir
Thomas for refusing to obey his commands, that gen¬
tleman was committed to the Tower for his contempt,
on the 21st of April 1613, where he continued till he
was despatched by poison on the 15th of September
following, and his body was interred in the Tower-
chapel the same day. About two years after, the
whole contrivance of bis death was discovered. On
this several persons were condemned and executed ;
but though Carr, earl of Somerset, and the ladv
Frances his countess, were condemned to death for
contriving the murder, and hiring the persons who
were concerned in it, the king only banished them
from court, and afterwards pardoned them. Sir Tho¬
mas Overbury wrote several poems, &c. and an account
of his travels.
H is character is represented by a historian of those
times ; who, after relating the occasion and circum¬
stances of his death, proceeds in the following terms :
“ In this manner fell Sir Thomas Overbury, worthy
of a longer life and a better fate ; and, if I may com¬
pare private men with princes, like Germanicus Cae¬
sar, both by poison procured by the malice of a wo¬
man, both about the 33d year of their age, and both
celebrated for their skill and judgment in poetry, their
learning, and their wisdom. Overbury was a gentle¬
man of an ancient family, but had some blemishes
charged upon his character, either through a too great
ambition, or the insolence of a haughty temper. 
After the return from his travels, the viscount Ro¬
chester embraced him with so entire a friendship, that
exercising by his majesty’s special favour the office of
secretary provisionally, he not only communicated to
Sir Thomas the secrets, but many times gave him the Overbury
packets and letters unopened, before they had been
perused by the king himself: which as it prevailed Oviedo,
too much upon his early years, so as to make him, in v'-—'
the opinion of some, thought high and ambitious;
yet he was so far from violating his trust and confidence,
that he remains now one example among others who
have suffered in their persons or their fortunes for a free¬
dom of advice, which none but sincere friends will give,
and which many are such ill friends to themselves as not
to receive.”
OVER-haulikg, the act of opening and extending
the several parts of a tackle, or other assemblage of
ropes, communicating with blocks or dead eyes. It is
used to remove those blocks to a sufficient distance from
each other, that they may be again placed in a state of
action, so as to produce the effect required.
OrER-Haaling, is also vulgarly expressed of an exa¬
mination or inspection into the condition of a person or
thing.
Over-Rake, among seamen : When a ship riding at
anchor so overbeats herself into a high sea, that she is
washed by the waves breaking in upon her, they say
the waves over-rake her.
0\ ERSMAN, in Scots Law, a person appointed
by arbiters, or by the parties submitters, to determine
the matter submitted, in case the arbiters disagree in
their opinion.
OVERT, the same with Open : Thus an overt act
signifies an act which, in law, must be clearly proved;
and such is to be alleged in every indictment for high
treason.
OVERTURE, or Ouverture, opening or pre¬
luding : a term used for the solemnities at the begin¬
ning of a public act or ceremony ; an opera, tragedy,
comedy, concert of music, &c. The overture of the
theatre or scene, is a piece of music usually ending
with a fugue : the overture of a jubilee is a general
procession, &c.
OVERYSSEL, one of the Seven United Provinces,
so named from its situation beyond the river Yssel,
bounded on the east by the bishopric of Munster, on
the north by Friesland and the territory of Gronin¬
gen, on the west by the river Yssel, and on the south
by the county of Zutphen and the bishopric of Mun¬
ster. It is divided into three distinct parts; which are
the territories of Drense, Twente, and Salland. There
are many morasses in this province, and but few inha¬
bitants, in comparison of the rest. Its greatest riches
consist in turfs; which are dug up here, and sent to
the neighbouring provinces, particularly Holland. It
extends near 60 miles in length from north to south,
and 40 in breadth from east to west. The whole
country is low and marshy, but it produces a tolerable
quantity of corn. It was formerly a dependence of the
bishopric of Utrecht, before Henry of Bavaria, bishop
of that see, transferred the sovereignty of it to the em¬
peror Charles V.
OVIEDA, a genus of the angiospermia order, be¬
longing to the didynamia class of plants; and in the na¬
tural method ranking under the 40th order, Personatce.
See Botany Index.
IEDO, a town of Spain, and capital of Astu¬
rias d’Oviedo, with a bishop’s see, and an university ;
and containing about 7JCO inhabitants. It is seated at
the
O V I [ 6°8
the confluence of the rivers Ove ami Devs, wliicli Covin
the Acsta, to miles north-west of Leon, ami 20o noith-
ivest of Madrid. W. Long. 5. 47- N; Lat. 4^. 23‘
OUGHTRED, William, an eminent mathemati¬
cian, was born at Eton in 1573, and educated in the
school there, whence he was elected to King s-college
in Cambridge, of which he afterwards became fellow.
Being admitted to holy orders, he left the university
about the year 1603, and was presented to the rectory
of Aldbury, near Guildford in Surry j and about the
year 1628 was appointed by the earl of Arundel to
'instruct his son in the mathematics. He kept a corre¬
spondence by letters with some of the most eminent
scholars of his time upon mathematical subjects •, and
the most celebrated mathematicians of that age owed
most of their skill to him, whose house was full of
voung gentlemen that came from all parts to receive
his instruction. It is said that, upon hearing the news
of the vote at Westminster for the restoration of King
Charles II. he expired in a sudden transport of joy,
aged 88. He wrote, l. Clavis Mathcmatica; which
was afterwards published in England. 2. A description
of the double horizontal dial. 3. Opmcula Mathema-
tica ; and several other works. He left also behind him
a great number of papers upon mathematical subjects,
which are now in the museum of William Jones, Esq.
F.R. S. , . , ru
David Lloyd, in his Memoirs, has given the follow¬
ing short character of him : “ That he was as facetious
in Greek and Latin, as solid in arithmetic, geometry,
and the sphere of all measures, music, &c. exact in his
style as in his judgment •, handling his tube and other
instruments at 80 as steadily as others did at 30 } ow¬
ing this, as he said, to temperance and archery i Pn“'
cipling his people with plain and solid truths, a,s he did
the world with great and useful arts ; advancing new
inventions in all things but religion, which, in its old
order and decency, he maintained secure in his privacy,
prudence, meekness, simplicity, resolution, patience, and
contentment.” He had one son ; whom he put an ap¬
prentice to a watchmaker, and wrote a book of instruc¬
tions in that art for his use.
OVID, or Publius Ovidius Naso, a celebrated
Latin poet of the Augustan age, was a Roman knight,
born at Sulmo, in the 43d year before the Christian
era. He studied rhetoric under Aurelius I uscus, and
for some time frequented the bar. His progress in
the study of eloquence was great, but the father’s ex¬
pectations were frustrated j his son was born a poet,
and nothing could deter him from pursuing his natural
inclination to write poetry, though he was often re¬
minded that Homer lived and died in the greatest po¬
verty. Every thing he wrote was expressed in poeti¬
cal numbers, as he himself says, Et quod tentabam scri-
bere versus erat. A lively genius and a fertile imagina¬
tion soon gained him admirers *, the learned became
his friends : Virgil, Propertius, Tibullus, and Horace,
honoured him with their correspondence, and Augustus
patroniz' d him with the most unbounded liberality.
These fa- ours, however, were but momentary j for
after having obtained the esteem of Augustus, he in¬
curred his displea ure, and was banished to Tomos, a
city on die Foetus Kjuxinns, near the mouth of the Da¬
nube, when he wa 5' years of age. The true cause
of this sudden exile is unknown. Some attribute it to
S
] O V I
a shameful amour with Livia the wife of Augustus,
while others suppose that it arose from the knowledge 1
which Ovid had of the unpardonable incest of the
emperor with his daughter Julia. These reasons are in¬
deed merely conjectural ; the cause was of a very pri¬
vate and very secret nature, of which Ovid himself is
afraid to speak. It was, however, something improper
in the family and court of Augustus, as these lines seem
to indicate:
Cur aliquid vidi? Cur noxia lumina feci .3
Cur imprudenti cognita culpa mihi est ? *
Inscius Actceoji vidit sine veste Dianam,
Prcedafuit canibus non minus Me suis.
Again,
Inscia quod crimen viderunt lumina plcctor,
Peccatumque oculos est habuisse meum.
And in another place,
Perdiderunt cum me duo crimina, carmen et error,
Alterius J'acti culpa silenda mihi est.
In his banishment, Ovid betrayed his pusillanimity
in a great degree } and however affecting and distressed
his situation was, yet the flattery and impatience which
he showed in his writings are a disgrace to his pen, and
lay him more open to ridicule than to pity. Though
he prostituted his pen and his time to adulation, yet
the emperor proved deaf to all entreaties, and refused
to listen to his most ardent friends at Rome who wish¬
ed for his return. Ovid, who really wished for a Bru¬
tus to deliver Rome of her tyrannical Augustus, still
continued his flattery even to meanness j and when the
emperor died, he was so mercenary as to consecrate a
small temple to the departed tyrant on the shore of the
Euxine, where he regularly offered frankincense every
morning. Tiberius proved as regardless as his predeces¬
sor to the entreaties which were made for the poet, and
he died in the seventh or eighth year of his banishment,
in the 57th year of his age. He was buried at Tomos.
In the year 1508 of the Christian era, the following
epitaph was discovered at Stain, in the modern kingdom
of Austria.
Hie situs est votes quern T)ivi Ccesarts ira,
Augusti patria cedere jussit humo.
Scepe miser voluit patriis occumbere terris,
Sedfrustra ! hunc Mifata dedere locum.
This, however, is an imposition to render celebrated
an obscure corner of the world, which never containe
the bones of Ovid. The greatest part of his poems
are remaining. His Metamorphoses, in 15 books, are
extremely curious, on account of the great variety oi
mythological facts and traditions which they relate,
but they can have no claim to epic honours. In com¬
posing this the poet was more indebted to the ex¬
isting traditions, and to the theogony of the ancients,
than the powers of his own imagination. Hvs fastia
were divided into 12 books, like the constellations in
the zodiac, but of these six are lo->t •, and the learned
world have reason to lament the loss of a poem which
must have thrown so much light upon the religious
rites and ceremonies, festivals and sacrifices, of tne an¬
cient Romans, as we may judge from the six that have
survived the ravages of time and barbarity. His 1 ns-
tut,
0 V I
Ovid, "liich are divided into five books, contain much
jDviedo. elegance and softness of expression j as also his Elegies
—v ' on different subjects. The Heroides are nervous, spirit¬
ed, and diffuse ; the poetry is excellent, the language
varied, but the expressions are often too wanton and
indelicate a fault which is very common with him.
H is three books Amorutn, and the same number de
Arte A mandi, with the other de Rcmedio Amor is, are
written with peculiar elegance, and contain many flow¬
ery descriptions ; but the doctrine which they hold
forth is dangerous, and they are to be read with cau¬
tion, as they seem to be calculated to corrupt the
heart, and to sap the very foundations of virtue and
morality. His Ibis, which is written in imitation of a
poem of Callimachus of the same name, is a satirical
performance. Besides these, there are extant some frag¬
ments of other poems, and among these part of a tra¬
gedy called Medea. The talents of Ovid as a dramatic
Writer have been disputed, and some have remarked
that he who is so often void of sentiment was not born
to shine as a tragedian. He has attempted, perhaps,
too many sorts of poetry at once. On whatever he
has written, he has totally exhausted the subject. He
everywhere paints nature with a masterly hand, and
adds strength even to vulgar expressions. It has been
judiciously observed, that his poetry after his banish¬
ment from Rome was destitute of that spirit and viva¬
city which we admire in those which were written be¬
fore. His Fasti are perhaps the best written of all his
poems; and after them we may fairly rank his love
verses, his Heroides, and after all his Metamorphoses,
which were not totally finished when Augustus banish¬
ed him. His Epistles from Pontus are the language
of a weak and sordid flatterer. However critics may
have cause to censure the indelicacy and the inac¬
curacies of Ovid, it is to be acknowledged that his
poetry contains great sweetness and elegance, and like
that of Tibullus, charms the ear and captivates the
mind.—Another person of the name of Ovid accom¬
panied his friend Caesonius when banished from Rome
by Nero.
OVIEDO, John Gonsalvez de, born at Madrid
about the year I47^» was educated among the pages of
Ferdinand king of Arragon and Isabella queen of Ca¬
stile $ and happened to be at Barcelona in 1493, when
Christopher Columbus returned from his first voyage to
the island Haiti, which he called Hispaniola, and which
now goes by the name of St Domingo. He formed an
intimate acquaintance with Columbus and his compa¬
nions, and was at pains to inform himself of everything
relating to the new discoveries. He rendered such es¬
sential service to Spain during the war of Naples, that
Ferdinand determined to send him to the island of Hai¬
ti, as intendant and inspector general of the trade of
the New World. The lavages which the venereal dis¬
ease had made during that war, induced him to inquire
into what were the most efficacious remedies for this
malady, which was supposed to have come from the
West Indies. His inquiries were extended to every thing
which regards the natural history of these regions; and,
©n his return to Spain, lie published Summario de la Hi-
stona general y natural de las Indias Occidentales,
which he dedicated to Charles V. He afterwards
made some additions to this work, which he published
under the title of La Historia general y natural de las
Vol. XV. Part II. f
O U P
Indias Occidentales; Salamanca, 153?, folio. It was
translated into Italian, and afterwards into French; Pa¬
ris, 1556, folio. In this work, Oviedo says that the
French pox is endemical in the island of Haiti, and that
it has passed from thence into Europe. He greatly ex¬
tols the use of the wood of guaiacum for the cure of
this disease ; but whether the disease is now become
mere obstinate, or the remedy does not possess that effi¬
cacy which is ascribed to it, it is at present in little es¬
timation.
OVILIA, or Septa, in ancient Rome, a place in
the Campus Martius, at first railed in like a sheep-pen,
whence its name. Afterwards it was mounted with
marble, and beautified with walks and galleries, as also
with a tribunal or seat of justice. Within this pre¬
cinct or inclosure the people were called to give their
suftrages for the election of magistrates. The ascent
into the ovilia was not by stairs, but by pontes, or nar¬
row boards, laid there for the occasion ; on which ac¬
count, de ponte dejici signified “ to be deprived of the
privilege of voting;” and persons thus dealt with were
called depontani.
OVIPAROUS, a term applied to such animals as
bring forth their young from eggs ; as birds, insects,
&c.
0\ IS, the Sheep, a genus of the rnammaria class*
and of the order of Pecora. See Mammalia Index.
OUNCE, a weight, the 16th part of a pound avoir¬
dupois, and the I2th part of a pound troy. The word
is derived from the Latin, uncia, “ the twelfth part of
any whole,” called as ; particularly in geometrical mea¬
sures, an inch, or 12th part of a foot. See Inch and
As.
Ounce. See Felts, Mammalia Index.
OVOLO, or Ovum, in Architecture, a round mould¬
ing, whose profile or sweep, in the Ionic and Composite
capitals, is usually a quadrant of a circle: whence it is
also commonly called the quarter-round. It is usually'
cut with representations of eggs and srt^ow-heads or an¬
chors placed alternately.
OU-poey-tse, a name given by the Chinese to a
kind of nests made by certain insects upon the leaves
and branches of the tree called ycn-fou-tse. These nests
are much used in dyeing, and the physicians employ
them for curing many distempers. Some of these nest®
were brought to Europe, and put into the hands of the
celebrated Mr Geoffrey. After having examined them
with the utmost attention, this learned academician
thought he perceived some conformity in them to those
excrescences which grow on the leaves of the elm, and
which the vulgar call elm-bladders: he found these nests
so sharp and astringent to the taste, that he considered
them as far superior to every other species of galls used
by the dyers. According to him, they are the strongest
astringents existing in the vegetable kingdom.
It is certain that there is a great affinity between the
ou-poey-tse and the elm-bladders. The form of both ig
unequal and irregular; they are covered on the outside
with a short down, which renders them soft to the touch;
within they are full of a whitish-gray dust, in which may
be observed the dried remains of small insects, without
discovering any aperture through which they might have .
passed. These nests or bladders harden as they grow
old ; and their substance, which appears resinous, be¬
comes brittle and transparent; however, the Chinese do
4 £1 net
[ 609 ]
<3 use.
Ouster.
f
o U S [ 610 ]
not consider the ou-poey-tse, notwithstanding^ their re¬
semblance to elm-bladders, as excrescences ot the tree
' yen-fou-tse, upon which they are found. -They are per¬
suaded, that insects produce a kind of wax, and consti uc
for themselves on the branches and leaves of ™1S free
f the sap of which is proper for their nourishment) little
retreats, were they may wait for the time of their me¬
tamorphosis, or at least deposit in safety their eggs, which
compose that fine dust with which the ou-poey-tse are
filled. Some of the ou-poey-tse are as large as one s
fist; hut these are rare, and are generally produced by
a worm of extraordinary strength, or which has associa¬
ted with another, as two silk worms are sometimes seen
shut up in the same ball. The smallest ou-poey-tse are
of the size of a chesnut; the greater part ol them are
round and oblong ; but they seldom resemble one ano¬
ther entirely in their exterior configuration. At first,
they are of a dark green colour, which afterwards
changes to yellow j and the husk, though pretty hrm,
becomes then very brittle.
The Chinese peasants collect these ou-poey-tse betore
the first hoar-frost. They take care to kill the worm
inclosed in the husks, and to expose them for some time
to the steam of boiling water. Without this precaution,
the worm might soon break through its weak prison,
which would immediately burst and be useless. ri he
ou-poey-tse are used at Pekin for giving paper a dura¬
ble and deep-black colour; in the provinces of Kiang-
nan and Tche-kiang, where a great deal of beautiful
satin is made, they are employed for dyeing the silk
before it is put on the loom. The Chinese literati
also blacken their beards with them when they become
white.
The medicinal properties of the ou-poey-tse, are very
numerous. The Chinese physicians introduce them into
the composition of many of their remedies. They re¬
commend them for stopping bloodings of every kind •,
they consider them as an excellent specific for curing in¬
flammations and ulcers, and for counteracting the efiects
cf poison and they employ them with success in the
dropsy, phthisis, epilepsy, catarrhs, sickness, fluxions
of the eyes and ears, and in many other disorders.
Greater OUSE, a river which rises nearFitwell in
Oxfordshire, and proceeds to Buckingham, Stony-Strat-
ford, and Newport-Pagnel, in Buckinghamshire ; from
thence it proceeds to Bedford, and turning north-east it
passes on to Huntingdon and Ely,till at length it arrives
at Lynn-Regis in Norfolk, and falls into the sea. It is
navigable to some distance above Downham, where there
is a good harbour for barges y and a considerable trade
is carried on by it to Lynn and other towns.
S/nailer Ouse, rises in Suffolk, and, separating that
county from Norfolk on the south-west, discharges itself
into the great Ouse near Downham. There is still ano¬
ther of the same name, which rises in the west north¬
west side of Yorkshire ; and chiefly running to the
south-east, at length falls into the Humber.
OUSTER, or Dispossession, in Law, an injury
which carries with it the amotion of possession ; for
by means of it the wrong doer gets into the actual pos¬
session of the laud or hereditament, and obliges him that
hath a right to seek a legal remedy, in order to gain
possession, together with damages. This ouster may ei¬
ther be of the freehold by abatement, intrusion, disseisin,
discontinuance, and deforcement} or of chattels real,
O U T
as an estate by statute-merchaBt, statute staple, or ele- Ouster
git, or an estate for years. 11
Ouster le Main, amovere manum, in Law, denotes ,0utlawry
a livery of lands out of the king’s hands ; or a judge-^^
ment given for him that traversed, or sued, a monslrans
le droit. When it appeared, upon the matter being dis¬
cussed, that the king had no right or title to the land
seized, judgment was given in chancery, that the king’s
hand be amoved •, and ouster le main or amoveas ma¬
num, was therefore awarded to the eschator, to restore
the land, &c. All wardships, liveries, ouster le mains.
See. are now taken away and discharged by statute 12
Car. II.
QUSTIOUG, a town of the Russian empire, and
capital of a province of the same name, with an arch¬
bishop’s see and a castle ^ seated on the river Suchana,
over against the mouth ot the Jug, m E. Long. 43*
N. Lat.61.48.
Gustioug, a province of theRussian empire, bounded
on the north by Dwina, on the east by the forest of
Zirani, on the south by Wologda, and on the west by
Cargapol and Waga. It is divided into two parts by
the river Suchatia *, is full ot forests y and the rivers
yield plenty of fish, which the inhabitants dry in tbe
sun, and which make their principal nourishment.
OUT-posts, in a military sense, a body of men post¬
ed beyond the grand-guard, called out-posts, as being the
rounds or limits of the camp.
OUTLAW, signifies one that is deprived of the be¬
nefit of the law, and therefore held to be out of the
king’s protection.
Bracton asserts, that an outlaw forfeits all he has 5
and that, from the time of his outlawry, he wears a
wolf’s head ^ and anybody may kill him with impuni¬
ty, especially if he defend himself or fly. But m Ld-
ward III.’s time it was resolved by the judges, that it
should not be lawful for any man, but the sheriff alone
(having sufficient warrant for it), to put to death a man
that was outlawed.
OUTLAWRY, the punishment of a person who be¬
ing called into law', and lawfully, according to the usual
forms, sought, does contemptuously refuse to appear.
The efleet of being outlawed at the suit of another,
in a civil cause, is the forfeiture of all the person’s goods
and chattels to the king, and the profits of his land,
while the outlawry remains in force. If in treason or
felonv, all the lands and tenements which he has in fee,
or for life, and all his goods and chattels, are also for¬
feited, and besides, the law interprets his absence as a
sufficient evidence of guilt •, and without requiring far¬
ther proof, accounts the person guilty of the fact, on
which ensues corruption of blood, &.c. And then, ac¬
cording to Bracton, he may perish without law, See.
However, to avoid inhumanity, no man is entitled to
kill him wantonly or wilfully j but in so doing he is
guilty of murder, unless it happens in endeavouring to
apprehend him } for anybody may arrest an outlaw,
either of his own head, or by writ or warrant of capias
vtlagatum, in order to bring him to execution.
If after outlawry in civil cases, the defendant pub¬
licly appear, he is to be arrested by a writ of capias ut-
lagatum, and committed till the outlawry be reversed :
which reversal may be had by the defendant’s appearing
in court (and in the king’s-bench, by sending an attor¬
ney, according to statute 4 and 5 W. and M.cap.
OWE [ <
utlawry and any plansitle circumstance, however trifling, is in
II general sufficient to reverse it; it being considered only
-)wen , as a process to force appearance. The defendant must,
p however, pay full costs, and must put the plaintiff in the
same condition as if he had appeared before the writ of
exigi facias was awarded. It is appointed by magna
dharta, that no freeman shall he outlawed, but according
to the law of the land. A minor or a woman cannot be
outlawed.
In Scotland outlawry anciently took place in the case
of refusal to fulfil a civil obligation, as well as in crimi¬
nal cases. At present, however, it only takes place in the
two cases of flying from a criminal prosecution, and of
appearing in court attended by too great a number of
followers. But the defender, upon appearing at any di¬
stance of time and offering to stand trial, is entitled cle
jure to have the outlawry reversed, and to be admitted
to trial accordingly, and even to bail if the ofl'ence be
bailable. See Waive.
OVUM anguinum. See Anguinum.
OUTWORKS, in Fortification, all those works made
without-side the ditch of a fortified place, to cover and
defend it. See Fortification.
OUSEL, a species of Motacilla. See Ornitho¬
logy Index.
OWEN, Thomas, a judge of the common-pleas,
son of Richard Owen, Esq. of Condover in Shropshire,
was educated at Oxford. Having taken a degree in
arts, he left the university, and entered himself of Lin¬
coln’s inn in London, where in process of time he be¬
came an eminent counsellor. In 1583 he was elected
Lent-reader to that society. In 1590 he was made ser¬
geant at law, and queen’s sergeant soon after. He arri¬
ved at length at the dignity of judge of the common-
pleas ; which office he is said to have executed, during
five years, with great abilities and integrity. He died
in 1598 ; and was buried on the south side of the choir
in Westminster abbey, where a monument was erected
to his memory. He had the reputation of a learned
man, and a patron of literature. He was the author of
“ Reports in the common pleas, wherein are many
choice cases, most of them thoroughly argued by the
learned sergeants, and after argued and resolved by the
grave judges of those times, with many cases wherein
the differences of the year-books are reconciled and ex¬
plained.” Lond. 1656, folio.
Ch VEN, Z)r John, an eminent and learned dissenting
minister, was born in 1616, at Hadham, in Oxfordshire,
of which place his father was vicar. He made such
surprising proficiency in learning, that at twelve years of
age he wras admitted into Queen’s college, Oxford, and
in 1635 was made master of arts: but soon after, disap¬
proving the new regulations made by Archbishop Laud
their chancellor, with which he refused to comply, he
was obliged, in 1737, to leave the university: when ta¬
king orders, he became chaplain to Sir Robert Dormer
of Ascot in Oxfordshire, and was at the same time tutor
to his eldest son. He was afterwards chaplain to John
Lord Lovelace of Hurley in Berkshire. When the civil
war broke out, he openly avowed the cause of the par¬
liament ; which was so resented by an uncle who had
intended to leave him his estate, that he discarded him,
and left it to another. Yet though Lord Lovelace joined
the king, he treated his chaplain with great civility: but
on his taking the field with the royal army, Mr Owen
ill ] O W H
went to London, and soon after joined the non-confor- Owen,
mists. In 1642 he published his book, intitled, AOwhyhce.
of Arminianism, which laid the foundation of his future 
advancement: lor the committee for purging the church
of scandalous ministers ivere so pleased with it, ihat Mr
White their chairman sent him a presentation of the li¬
ving of Fordham in Essex : but when he had been there
about a year and a half, the patron hearing that the se¬
questered incumbent was dead, presented another to the
living; upon which the earl of Warwick gave Mr
Owen the living of Coggeshal. " He had not, however,
been long at that town before he left the Presbyterians;
and, joining the Independents, formed a church there.
He was now sent for several times to preach before the
parliament; and among the rest on the 28th of Febru¬
ary 1648-9, the day of humiliation for the intended ex¬
pedition to Ireland. Cromwell, who was present at this
Last discourse, and had never heard him before, was ex¬
tremely pleased with it, and desired his company into
Ireland, and that he would reside in the college of
Dublin. This he did ; but returned in about half ti
year. Soon after Cromwell sent him into Scotland ;
but he also returned from thence after about half a
year’s stay at Edinburgh. He was then promoted to
the deanery of Christ-church, Oxford, whither he went
in 1651 ; and Cromwell, being now chancellor of the
university, nominated him his vice-chancellor. The
next year he was created doctor of divinity by diploma.
Dr Owen enjoyed the post of vice-chancellor five years j
during which he behaved with the greatest moderation;
for, though often solicited, he never molested the meet¬
ing of the royalists at the house of Dr Willis the phy¬
sician, where divine service was performed according to
the liturgy of the church of England: and though he
was a commissioner for ejecting scandalous ministers, he
frequently overruled his brethren in favour of those
royalists who were distinguished bv their merit. At the
death of Cromwell, he ivas remo\ ed from the vice-chan¬
cellorship ; and at the Restoration was ejected from
his deanery of Christ-church. But he had provided
himself a comfortable retreat at an estate, he had pur¬
chased at Hadham. He now employed himself in
preaching as often as he had an opportunity, and in
writing books; one of which, intitled Fiat Lux, tailing
into the hands of Lord Clarendon, he was so pleased
with it, or (as is said) from policy pretended to be so,
that he sent for Dr Owen, and acknowledging the ser¬
vice he had done by it to the Protestant religion, offer¬
ed to prefer him in the church if he would conform ;
but he desired to be excused.—His moderation drew
him respect from persons of opposite principles ; and in
the number of his friends were Dr Wilkins bishop of
Chester, and Dr Barlow bishop of London. He died
at Ealing in 1683. His works are printed in seven vo¬
lumes folio.
Wood, after censuring him in many respects, says ne¬
vertheless, that, “ to speak impartially, he was a per¬
son well skilled in the tongues, Rabbinical learning, and
Jewish rites and customs ; that he had a great command
of his English pen, and was one of the genteelest and
fairest writers who have appeared against the church oi
England.”
OWHYHEE, the easternmost, and by far the lar¬
gest, of the Sandwich islands. Its greatest length from
north to south is 284- leagues, its breadth 24, and its
4 H 2 circumference
O W H [6]
circumference nearly 300 English miles. It is divided
into six large districts j two of which on the north-east
side are separated by a mountain, that rises in three
peaks, which is perpetually covered with snore, and may
be seen clearly at 40 leagues distance. To the north of
this mountain, the coast consists of high and steep cliffs,
down which fall many beautiful cascades of water. T-he
whole country is covered with cocoa-nut and bread-fiuit
trees. The peaks of the mountain on the north-east
side appear to be about halt a mile in height, and en¬
tirely covered with snow. To the south of this moun¬
tain, the coast presents a prospect of the most dreary
kind, the whole country appearing to have undergone
a total change by means of some dreadful convulsion.
The ground is everywhere covered with cinders, and
intersected in many places with black streaks, which
seem to mark the course of a lava that has flowed not
many ages since from the mountain to the shore. The
southern promontory looks like the mere dregs of a vol¬
cano. The projecting headland is composed of broken
and craggy rocks, piled irregularly one upon another,
and terminating in sharp points ; yet amidst these ruins,
there are many pieces of rich soil, which are carefully
laid out in plantations, and the neighbouring sea afterds
a vast variety of excellent fish : so that this quarter is
much better inhabited than those which are more ver¬
dant. The fields are inclosed with stone fences, and are
interspersed with groves of cocoa nut trees. We are
told indeed by some of Cook’s people who walked
through a considerable part of it, that they did not ob¬
serve a spot of ground, that was susceptible of improve¬
ment left unplanted 5 and indeed the country, from
their account,, could scarcely be cultivated to greater ad¬
vantage for the purposes of the natives. They were sur¬
prised at seeing several fields of hayj and upon their in¬
quiry, to what particular use it was applied, they were
informed, that it was intended to cover the grounds
where the young taro grew, in order to preserve them
from being scorched by the rays of the sun. They ob¬
served among the plantations a few huts scattered about,
which afforded occasional shelter to the labourers j but
they did not see any villages at a greater distance from
the sea than four or five miles. Near one of them,
which was situated about four miles from the bay, they
discovered a cave forty fathoms in length, three in
breadth, and of the same height. It was open at each
end5 its sides wrere fluted as it wrought with a chisel;
and the surface was glazed over, perhaps by the action
of fire. There are supposed to be on this island about
150,000 inhabitants. So long as the name of Captain
Cook shall be remembered, this island will not be for¬
gotten ; for he here fell a victim to a strange concatena¬
tion of events. See Cook.
We have the following account of the inhabitants of
this island in Ellis’s Authentic Narrative, &c. “ The
men are above the middle size, stout, well made, and
fleshy, but not fat. Corpulency is not altogether so
great a mark of distinction in these as in the Society
isles ; and tallness, for which the Otaheiteans have great
partiality, is also overlooked. Their colour is in gene¬
ral brown olive. The women are in general masculine,
though there are some delicately made, and the voice
of them all is soft and feminine. The hair both of the
head and beard is black ; that of the head the men wear
2 ] o W H
in the form of a helmet, that is, a long frizzled ridge Owliyfoe,,
from the forehead to the neck, the sides being muchy-—.t
shorter. This fashion seems to prevail only among the
principal people, that of the inferior sort being of an
equal length in every part. Most of them were very
desirous of parting with their beards, which, they said,
were disagreeable and troublesome, and were fond ol
being shaved by our people. Some ol the priests wore
their beards long, and would not on any account part
with them. The women wear their hair long before,
but very short behind, which is not the most becoming
mode ; and, like those of the Friendly isles, they have
a way of rendering it of different colours, red, yellow,
and brown. The features of both sexes are good, and
we saw some of the females who might really be called
fine women. Their teeth are even, and perfectly white.
In general, they seem to be very healthy, and we obser¬
ved several who appeared to be ol great age. As to
diseases we saw none who laboured under any during
our stay, except the venereal complaint ; coughs and
colds indeed were pretty general, and one man died.
From what we could learn of his disorder from the na¬
tives, it was a violent griping or colic.
“ Both men and women appeared to be of a good
disposition, and behaved to each other with the tenderest
regard : when they did fall out, which sometimes was
the case, occasioned by the upsetting ol a canoe, or some
such trilling accident, they only scolded a little, and this
was soon over and lorgotten. We never saw them
strike each other upon any occasion. rIhey are all
thieves, from the aree to the towto, but not quite so
expert at it as our Otaheite friends.
“ The custom of tattowing prevails greatly among
these people, but the men have a much larger share of
it than the women; many (particularly some of the na¬
tives of Mow’vvhee) have one halt ol their body, Iromhead
to foot, marked in this manner, which gives them a most
striking appearance. It is done with great regularity,
and looks remarkably neat: seme have only an arm
marked in this manner, others a leg ; some again have
both arm and leg, and others only the hand. The wo¬
men are for the most part marked upon the tip of their
tongue ; but of these we saw but few. Both sexes have
a particular mark according to the district in which they
live ; or it is rather the mark ot the arec, or principal
man, under whose jurisdiction they more immediately
are. w e never saw the operation ol tattowing perlonn-
ed, nor could we procure a sight of the instruments used
upon this occasion ; but it is likely they are much the
same as those of the Friendly and Society isles.
“ Both men and women are very cleanly in their
persons; the latter wash their whole bodies in fresh wa¬
ter twice and sometimes three tunes a-day ; but the wo¬
men of Otaheite have the advantage of them in one
point of cleanliness, which is eradicating the hairs from
under the arm-pits. This is a custom we observed no¬
where but at the Society isles.
“ There are no people in the world who indulge
themselves more in their sensual appetite than these: in
fact, they carry it to a most scandalous and shameful de¬
gree, anil in a manner not proper to be mentioned. I he
ladies are very lavish of their favours ; but are far from
being so mercenary as those of the Friendly or Society
isles? and some of their attachments seemed purely the
effect-
O W H [6
jiv),ee< efl'dict of affection. They are initiated into this way of
-y—' life at a very early period 5 we saw some who could not
be more than ten years old.
“ Their clothing consists of cloth of diflerent kinds j
that worn by the men, which is called marro, is about
half a yard wide, and four yards long j that of the wo¬
men three quarters of a yard wide, and of the same
length as the men’s: this they call pah-obuwa j they
both wear it round their middle, but the men pass it
between their legs. This is the general dress of both
sexes *, but the better sort sometimes throw a large
piece loosely over their shoulders. Besides the marro,
they have several other kinds of cloth, which derive
their names either from the different uses they are ap¬
plied to, or their different texture and pattern 5 all,
however, as far as we could learn, are made from the
Chinese paper mulberry tree. The principal of these
is the cappa, which is about 10 or 12 feet long, and
nearly as many wide, and is thick and warm j they
wrap themselves up in this when they retire to sleep.
They have another kind, which is white, and much
thinner j this, as has been before observed, they throw
loosely over their shoulder 5 it is sometimes 20 or 30
yards long, and wide in proportion. The marro and
pah oouvva are curiously painted of various patterns,
but the others are generally white, or dyed red, black,
and yellow.
“ The principal ornaments of the men are the
feather caps and cloaks ; some of the latter reach down
to their heels, and have a most magnificent appear¬
ance. They are made for the most part of red and
yellow feathers, which are tied upon fine net-work.
The caps are composed of the same kind of feathers,
which are sometimes intermixed with black ; they tire
secured upon a kind of basket-work, made in the form
of a helmet. Both caps and clocks are made of va¬
rious patterns and sizes. The cloaks are not all com¬
posed of the same kind of feathers, but are sometimes
varied with the long tail feathers of the cock, with a
border of yellow or red, and sometimes with those of
the tropic bird. Both caps and cloaks, however, are
only to be seen in the possession of the principal people.
They have also a kind of fly-flap, made of a bunch of
feathers fixed to the end of a thin piece of smooth
and polished wood : they are generally made of the
tail feathers of the cock, but the better sort of people
have them of the tropic bird’s feathers, or those belong¬
ing to a black and yellow bird called mo ho. The
handle is very frequently made of one of the bones of
the arms or legs of those whom they have killed in bat¬
tle, curiously inlaid with tortoise shell : these they deem
very valuable, and will not part with them under a great
price. This ornament is common to the superiors of
both sexes.
“ The Avomen too have their share in the ornamen¬
tal way : that which they value most is the orai. This
is a kind of ruff" or necklace, made of red, green, black,
and yelloAV feathers, curiously put together, and in
most elegant patterns, which really do honour to the
fancy of the ladies, whose business it is to make them.
They never think themselves dressed without one or
two of these round their necks, and those who can
afford it wear many. Others again are composed of
small variegated shells, disposed in a very neat manner j
and some consist of several roivs of twisted hair, with
3 ] O X F
a piece of carved wood or bone, highly polished, the O why bee
bottoru part forming a curve. The higher the qua- II
lity of the wearer, the greater is the size of the wood . Qxfon^ ^
or bone, and the quantity of the twisted hair. The *
next thing is the poo-remah or bracelet j the most va¬
luable are made of boar’s tusks fastened together side
by side with a piece of string, by means of a hole drill¬
ed through the middle 5 the larger the tusks, the great¬
er the value. Sometimes two shells tied I'ound the wrists
Avith twisted or braided hair, serve the purpose of
bracelets 5 but even in this case they show great nice¬
ty, being particularly careful to match them as near as
possible. They were prodigiously fond of those Ave
gave them, Avhich Avere only a feAv beads, secured by
thread upon a strip of scarlet cloth, and made to but¬
ton round the Avrist. So much did they at first value
them, that a small hatchet and one of these Avould pur¬
chase a hog, Avhich Avithout it could not have been
bought for three large hatchets. The Avomen Avere
perpetually teazing the men to dispose of their various
articles for these bracelets j at least one of them was al-
Avays to make a part of the price.” W. Long. 156. O.
N. Lat. 19: 28.
OWL. See Strix, Ornithology Index.
OWLING, so called from its being usually carried
on in the night, is the offence of transporting avooI or
sheep out of this kingdom, to the detriment of its sta¬
ple manufacture. This Avas forbidden at common laAV,
and more particularly by statute 11 EdAV. III. c.
Avlien the importance of our Avoollen manufacture was
first attended to; and there are uoav many later sta¬
tutes relating to this ofl’ence, the most useful and prin¬
cipal of which are those enacted in the reign of Queen
Elizabeth and since. The statute 8 Eliz. c. 3. makes
the transportation of live sheep, or embarking them on
board any ship, for the first oft’ence forfeiture of goods,
and imprisonment for a year, and that at the end of
the year the left hand shall be cut oft’ in some public
market, and shall be there nailed up in the openest
place j and the second ofl’ence is felony. The statutes
12 Car. II. c. 32. and 7 and 8 Will. III. c. 28. make
the exportation of wool, sheep, or fullers earth, liable
to pecuniary penalties, and the forfeiture of the inte¬
rest of the ship and cargo by the OAvners, if privy j and
confiscation of goods, and three years imprisonment to
the master and all the mariners. And the statute 4
Geo. I. c. 11. (amended and farther enforced by 12
Geo. II. c. 21. and 19 Geo. II. c. 34.), makes it
transportation for seven years, if the penalties be not
paid.
OXALIS, Woodsorrel, a genus of plants belong¬
ing ta the decandria class, and in the natural method
ranking under the 14th order, Gruinales. See Bo¬
tany Index.
OXFORD, the capital of a county of the same namp
in England, celebrated for its university, and pleasant¬
ly situated in a plain, in the middle of a fine fruitful
country. The composition of the name is obvious. In
the British times it seems to have been a place of study.
“ The wisdom of our ancestors (says Camden) as ap¬
pears in our history, consecrated even in the British
times this city to the muses, translating them fromGreek-
lade (now a small toAvn in Wilts) hither, as to a more
fruitful nursery. For Alexander Necham* writes, “Italy* De Nat
claims superior knowledge of civil laiy ; but the study Re-
1 6 a£r«m, lib. it:
O X F [ 6‘
Oxford. divinity and the liberal arts proves, that the university
w—-y—‘ of Paris deserves the preference to all others. Agree¬
able also to Merlin’s prophecy, Wisdom has flourished at
the Ford of Oxen, and will in its due time pass over also
into Ireland.” But in the following Saxon age, when
so many cities were destroyed, it underwent the com¬
mon fate, and for a long while was famous only lor the
relicks of Frideswide, who was ranked among the saints
for her holy life, merely because she had solemnly de¬
voted herself to God ; and Prince Algar, soliciting her
in marriage, was miraculously, as they say, deprived ot
his eye-sight.”
Perhaps the following additional extract from Cam¬
den will be more to the purpose in developing the
ancient state of learning in this city, than any thing
which we could bring forward of our own. “ When
the storm of the Danish war was over, the most reli-
4-A.D.86(J.gious Prince Alfred f restored their retreats to the
long-exiled muses, by founding three colleges, one for
grammarians, another for philosophy, and a third ior
divinity. This will be more fully explained by the fol¬
lowing passage in the old annals of the New Monastery
at Winchester. 4 In the year of our Ford 8c6, the
second year of the arrival ot St Grimbald in Pngland,
the university of Oxford was begun j the first who
presided and read divinity lectures in it being St Neoth,
an abbot and able divine, and St Grimbald, a most
eminent professor of the incomparable sweetness ot the
sacred pages *, Asser the monk, an excellent scholar,
professing grammar and rhetoric •, John monk of the
church of St David giving lectures in logic, music,
and arithmetic 5 and John the monk, colleague ot St
Grimbald, a man of great parts, and an universal scho¬
lar, teaching geometry and astronomy before the most
glorious and invincible King Alfred, whose memory
will dwell like honey in the mouths of all.” Soon al¬
ter, as we find in an excellent MS. of the said Asser,
who was at that time professor here, ‘ broke out a
sharp and fatal quarrel between Grymbold and those
verv learned men whom he had brought thither with
him, and the old scholars whom he found there j who,
on his coming, unanimously refused to receive the
rules, methods, and forms ot lecturing, that Grymbold
introduced. Three years had passed without any great
ditference between them ; but the secret aversion after¬
wards broke out with the utmost violence. In order
to quell it, the invincible King Alfred, as soon as he
heard of it by the messages and complaints from Grym¬
bold, went in person to Oxford to put an end to the
dispute, and he took the greatest pains to hear the
causes and complaints on both sides. The foundation
of the ditference was this : The old scholars maintain¬
ed, that before Grymbold came to Oxford, learning
had flourished there, though the scholars at that time
were fewer than in more ancient times, the greater
part being driven out by the cruelty and oppression of
the Pagans. They also proved and showed, and that
bv the undoubted testimony of ancient chronicles, that
the ordinances and regulations of the place were esta¬
blished by certain religious and learned men, such as
Gildas, Melkinnus, Ninnius, Kentigern, and others,
• who had all lived to a good old age in these studies,
having settled matters there in peace and harmony j
and also that St Germanus came to Oxford, and staid
there half a year in his journey over Britain to preach
4
4 ] O X F
against the Pelagian heresies, and wonderfully approved Oxtbrf.
their plan and institution. The king, with unheard-->r~
of condescension, gave both parties attenti ve hearing,
and repeated his pious and seasonable advice to main¬
tain mutual union and concord, and left them with the
prospect that both parties would follow his advice and
embrace his institutions. But Grymbold, offended at
this proceeding, immediately retired to the monastery
at Winchester lately found by King Alfred. He al¬
so caused his tomb to be removed to Winchester, in
which he had intended to lay his bones when his course
of life was ended, in the vault under the chancel of St
Peter’s church at Oxford, which church himself bad
built from the ground, of stone polished in the most
costly manner.’
This happy restoration of learning was followed
in a few years by various calamities. The Danes in
the reign of Edward plundered and burnt the place ;
and soon after Harold Harefoot practised the most in¬
human barbarities here in revenge for some ol his men
who were killed in an affray ; so that the most melan¬
choly remove of the students ensued, and the univer¬
sity remained almost extinct, a lamentable spectacle, till
the time of William the Norman. Some have falsely
supposed this prince took the city, misled by a wrong
reading in some copies ot Oxoviu ior Exoniu. At that
time, however, it was the seat of an university, as we
learn from these words of Ingulphus, who lived at that
time. ‘ 1 Ingulphus settled first at Westminster, was
afterwards sent to study at Oxford, hav ing made greater
proficiency than many of my own age in Aristotle,
Stc.’ What we call an university, they in that age
called a study.'1'1 Many are of opinion that it was de¬
serted till about the year 1x29, and that this desertion
was in consequence ot its having been besieged and
taken by William the Conqueror. About this year,
however, Robert Pulen began to read lectures in divi¬
nity, or (as it is expressed in the chronicle ot Oseney
abbey) the Holy Scriptures, which had fallen into ne¬
glect in England ; and such was the resort ot students
to it, that in the reign of King John there were not
fewer than 3000. Robert d’Oily, a Norman, to whom
William the Conqueror had given the greatest part ot
it, built a castle on the west side, in 1071 } and he is
also supposed to have surrounded it with walls. In a
palace built by Henry 1. was born Richard I. com¬
monly called Ccei/r de Lion. About the tenth of King
John, there happened a quarrel between the citizens
and students ; in consequence of which many ot the
latter quitted it, but returned again a few years after¬
wards. Here Henry III. held a parliament to settle
the difference between him and his barons j when he
confirmed the privileges granted to the university by
his predecessors, and added others of his own. In this
reign the students are said to have been 30,000, who
were all excommunicated by the pope lor some rude¬
ness to his legato. In the time ot Duns Scotus, we
are told that 30,000 scholars attended his lectures.
Matthew Paris styles the university of Oxford, ‘ the
second school of the church after Paris, and the very
foundation of the church.’ The popes had before
this honoured it with the title of University, which
they had conferred by their degrees on no other but
that of Paris, this of Oxford, and those of Bologna
and Salamanca. It was decreed in the council of Vi¬
enne,,
O X F [ 615 .] O X F
Oxford, emie, that * schools for the study of the Hebrew, A-
—v—""^ rabic, and Chaldee languages, should be erected in the
studies of Paris, Oxford, Bologna, and Salamanca (as
the most considerable), that the knowledge of these
languages might prevail by their being thus taught;
and that Catholic persons be chosen, sufficiently versed
therein, two in each language. For those in Oxford,
the bishops, monasteries, chapters, convents, colleges,
exempt and not exempt, and the rectors of churches
throughout England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, were
to provide a competent maintenance.” In Edw. III.’s
time, the scholars were split into two factions, called
the northern and southern men ; a division which was
attended with many disorders and much violence, but in
a short time concord and harmony again prevailed.
As colleges began about this time to be founded and
endowed, we shall here present our readers with a list
of them, together with the time when, and the persons
by whom, they were founded.
Colleges.
University.
Baliol.
Merton.
Oriel.
Exeter.
Queen’s.
New College
Lincoln.
Founders. Kings reigns*
King Alfred. Alfred.
C Sir J°hn H diol, father to tlieVj m
l king of Scots. y J
C Walter Merton, lord chancellor f
and bishop of Rochester. j
Edward II. Edw. II.
Walter Stapleton, bishop. Edw. II.
Robert Egleslield, II. I). Edw. III.
^William of Wickham, bishop of p , ...
1 Winchester, lord chancellor. 5" ^ VV‘
^ Richard Fleming, bishop of Lin- } He
coin. 3 y '
., C Hugh Chichcley, archbishop of t TT ...
All-Souls. -} Canterbury. £ Henry VI.
Magdalen.
Brazen-Nose.
C William Wainflcet, bishop of / „ yr
( Winchester, lord chancellor, j en ^
C William Smith, bishop of Lincoln, ^
• 1 and Richard Sutton, Esq. £ ‘
,, t Richard Fox, bishop of Winche-7 rT
Corpus Chnstiq sler, and lorf p,iV, seal. ^ "‘ ,1' V111'
Christ.Ch.rch.i Vl11- ani Ci“'di““l Wo1-1 lieu. VIII.
7 soy- 3
Trinity. Sir I’liomis Pope. Mary.
St John Bap- ^ Sir Thomas White, merchant of 7 •. j,
tist. 7 London. 3 dI^'
Queen Elizabeth.
Nicolas and Dorothy Wadham.
Jesus.
Wadham.
Pembroke.
Elizabeth.
James I.
C Thomas Tisdale, Esq. and D1-7 T
\ Richard Whitwiek. § James I.
Worcester was called Gloucester-hall till lately, that it was en¬
dowed by Sir Thomas Coke and made collegiate.
Hartford was Hart-hall till 1740, that it was erected into a col¬
lege by Dr Richard Newton.
All these are richly endowed, and have fine gardens,
libraries, chapels, &c. The halls in which the stu¬
dents maintain themselves, except a few that have ex¬
hibitions, are these : St Edmund’s, belonging to Queen’s
college ; Magdalen, to Magdalen college ; St Al¬
ban’s, to Merton ; St Mary’s, to Oriel ; New-Inn, to
New-college. Several persons have been great bene¬
factors to particular colleges, as Or Ratcliffe to Uni¬
versity college j Colonel Codrington and Or Clarke,
to All-Souls j Queen Caroline, to Queen’s 5 the before-
mentioned Dr Clarke and Mrs Eaton, to Worcester ;
Or Wake, archbishop of Canterbury, to Christ-church.
The most considerable of these colleges are Magdalen’s
and Christ-church, which are as noble foundations as
any in the world. The church of the latter is the ca¬
thedral, and has a dean, eight canons, eight chaplains,
eight singing men, eight choristers, a teacher of mu¬
sic, and an organist. Each of the colleges has its vi- Oxford,
sitor appointed by its statutes, except Christ-church, Oxtord-
which is subject to the visitation of the Sovereign alone., shire.
The other remarkable buildings belonging to the uni- ^
versity are, first, the public schools •, secondly, the Bod¬
leian or public library j thirdly, Ratcliffe’s library, a
most elegant structure, for building and furnishing
which, Or Ratcliffe left 40,000!. j fourthly, the theatre,
built by Sheldon, archbishop of Canterbury; fifthly,
the museum, in which is an elaboratory and a reposi¬
tory for natural and artificial rarities and antiquities j
sixthly, the Clarendon printing-house, so called, be¬
cause it was built partly with the money arising to
the university by the sale of Lord Clarendon’s histoxv.
To the south of Magdalen college lies the physic gar¬
den, instituted by the earl of Oanby, and much im¬
proved by Or Sherrard. It contains five acres, in
which is a complete series of such plants as grow natu-
rally, disposed in their respective classes; together with
two neat and convenient green-houses, stocked with a
valuable collection of exotics, and a hot-house, where
various plants brought from the warmer climates are
j-aised. The whole body of the university, including
professors, fellows, and students of all sorts, exceeds
3000. Each college has its particular statutes and
rules for government. There are four terms in the
year for public exercises, &.c. and particular days and
hours for public lectures by the several professors. The
university is governed by a chancellor, high-steward,
vice-chancellor, two proctors, a public orator, (see Pu~
hlic Orator) ; a keeper of the archives, a register,
three esquire beadles, and three yeomen beadles. As
to the city, it has had the same privileges granted to
it as London, particularly an exemption from toll all
over England. It was made an episcopal see in I ^r,
when Robert King, the last abbot of Oseney, was
elected bishop. It is governed by a mayor, bigh-stew-
ard, recorder, four aldermen, eight assistants, two
bailiffs, a town-clerk, two chamberlains, all that have
borne the office of bailiff and chamberlain, and 24 com¬
mon-council men; but these are subject to the chancel¬
lor or vice-chancellor of the university in all affairs of
moment; and the mayor, the principal citizens, and
sheriff of the county, take an oath to maintain the pri¬
vileges of the university. The city, including the col¬
leges, is a place of considerable magnitude, having 13
parish-churches, besides the cathedral, well built, clean,
and regular. The number of inhabitants in 1811
wras 12,931. At the entrance of the town from the
Woodstock and Banbury roads, a neat hospital was
erected by the trustees of Or Ratcliffe’s benefaction, out
of the surplus money remaining after defraying the ex-
pence of his library. The male line of the family of
Vere, to whom the city had given the title of earl for
500 years, failing in Aubrey de Vere, who was twen¬
tieth earl, Queen Anne conferred the title upon Robert
Harley, a descendant of the Veres, in whose family it
still continues. The chief trade of the city is in malt,
conveyed in barges to London. It is impossible, in the
narrow bounds necessarily prescribed to this article, to
give so particular an account of this celebrated place as
its importance demands: but we shall refer our readers
to the article University, when this seminary, amongst
others, shall be more particularly described.
OXFORDSHIRE, which made part of the ter-
titotv
0 X t
[ 61
a county of England,
Oxfordshire I’itory of tlie ancient Dobuni, . ~
11 bounded on the west by Gloucestersu.re *, on the south.
Oxygen. wi,ere it i3 broadest, the river Isis divides it from J3erk-
      shire : on the east, it is bounded by Buckinghamshire
and on the north, where it terminates in a narrow
point, it has on the one side Northamptonshire, and
on the other Warwickshire. It extends 50 miles from
north to south, and 35 from east to west, making
about 1^0 in circumference: within which are con¬
tained one city, 15 market towns, 280 parishes, 14
hundreds, and 534,000 acres. The number of inhabi¬
tants in 1811 was 119,191. The air is sweet and plea¬
sant, and the soil rich and fertile. 1 he lower parts
consist of meadows and corn-fields, and the higher were
covered with woods till the civil wars •, in which they
were so entirely destroyed, that wood is now extremely
scarce and dear, except in what is called the Uultern,
and so is coal. The county is extremely well watered •,
for besides the Isis, Tame, Cherwell, Evenlode, and
Windrush, there is a great number of lesser rivers and
brooks. One of the four great Roman ways passes quite
through this county, entering at the parish ol Chinner,
and going out at that of Goring. There is another lesser
one, that extends between Colnbrook and Wallintord,
called Gremesdike. The county sends nine members to
parliament, viz. two for the shire, two for the city, two
for the university, two for New Woodstock, and one
for Banbury. See Oxfordshire, Supplement.
OXGANG, or Oxgate, is generally taken, in our
old law-books, for 15 acres, or as much ground as a
single ox can plough in a year.
OXUS, or JlHUN, a large river of Asia, much
taken notice of in ancient histories, but does not rise
in the north of India, as most writers affirm *, for,
according to the best and latest maps made by those
who have been upon the spot, it ran a course of about
260 miles from the Caspian sea to the lake Aial,
whose dimensions have lately been discovered, .and is
but very lately known to the Europeans 5 but, as it
.passes through a desert country abounding with sands,
the inhabitants so diverted its course, that the old chan-
pel can hardly be discovered.
OXYCRATE, an old term, in Pharmacy, denot¬
ing a mixture of vinegar and water, proper to assuage,
cool, and refresh. The usual proportion is oUe spoon¬
ful of vinegar to five or six spoonfuls ol water.
OXYDE, or Oxide, in Chemistry, is the term used
to denote a very numerous class of bodies formed by the
union ot certain bases with a smaller proportion^ of oxy¬
gen than what is necessary for their conversion into
acids. The most remarkable ot these bodies are what
were formerly called metallic calces, and have for their
base some metallic substance. It is in this state that
metals are often contained in the ores, from which
they are extracted, and converted into the metallic form,
by the process called reduction. Metals are converted
into oxides by combustion, and by solution in acids j
and many of them assume this form from the action of
the atmosphere alone, but more readily when this is as¬
sisted by moisture. See the history of the metals under
Chemistry.
OXYDATION, or Oxidation, is a term employ¬
ed to express the process by which bodies are converted
into oxides. See Metals under Chemistry.
OXYGEN, a term adopted in the new chemical
2
6 ] O Z A
nomenclature, to express the acidifying principle *, from Oxygen
“ acid,” and yttofMtt, “ to generate.” It is not H
found naturally in a separate state, but always combined , Qzanam.
with some other substance. In its aeriform or elastic V~"~J
state, it is called oxygenous gas, and is the same as the
dephlogisticated air of Priestley and Cavendish, the em¬
pyreal air of Scheele, the vital and put'e air of other
chemists. See Oxygen, Chemistry Index.
OXYGLYCU, a species of drink prepared of the
sweetest honey-combs macerated and boiled. 1 he combs,
from which all the honey has been expressed, are put
into a pot with pure water, and boiled till they seem
to have deposited all their contained honey in the wa¬
ter. This liquor is to be kept •, and, when diluted
with cold water, is to be drank in the summer time,
in order to remove thirst.
OXYMEL, in Pharmacy, a composition of vinegar
and honey.
OYER, in law-books, seems to have been anciently
Used for what is now called assises. See Assise.
OYES, a corruption of the French Oyez, hair
ye; a term or formula frequently used by the criers
in our courts on making proclamations, or to enjoin
silence.
OYSTER, a shell fish. See Ostrea, CqnchologY
Index.
O yster- Catcher. See Haim at opus, Ornithology
Index.
OvsTERSy Fossil, The largest bed that is known of
fossil oysters is that near Riding in Berkshire. I heir
shape is entire, and they consist of the same substance
with recent oyster-shells and yet since the oldest hi¬
stories that mention the place give an account of them,
we must suppose they have lain there for a long time,
They extend over no less than six acres of ground ", and
just above them is a large stratum of a greenish loam,
which some writers call a green earth, and others a
green sand. It is composed of a crumbly marie, and Philos.
a large portion ot sand. Under them is a thick st.n- T™n&
turn of chalk. They all lie in a level bed $ and the^ ^
strata above the shells are natural, and appear never
to have been dug through till the time of finding the
shells.
OZiENA, a foul and malignant ulcer of the nose,
distinguished by its feetor, and often accompanied with
a caries of the bones of the nose.
OZANAM, James, an eminent French mathe¬
matician, born at Boligneux in Bresse, in 1640, of a
wealthy family. His father gave him a good educa¬
tion, and designed him for the church but some ma¬
thematical books falling into his hands, inspired him
with a love for that science ; and though he had no
master to instruct him, he made such progress in it,
that, at 15 years of age, he wrote a piece in mathema¬
tics, which lie thought proper to insert in the works
he afterwards published. He at length taught that
science at Lyons j and his mathematical lessons brought
him in a considerable revenue, till the year 1701 : at
which period, a war breaking out on the Succession to*
the crown of Spain, he lost almost all his scholars, and
was reduced to a very melancholy situation ; and bis
wife dying the same year, he was so afflicted, that he
never perfectly recovered it. In 1702 he was admit¬
ted into the Royal Academy of Sciences j and died
of an apoplexy in 1717.—He was of a mild and se-
r ^ rene
O Z I [ 617 ] o z o
izanam rcne temper, of singular generosity, and of a cheerful
|| disposition.—He would not allow himself to know
^i!iilK‘ , more of religion than the common people. He used
* to say, that “ it was the business of the doctors of the
Sorbonne to dispute, of the pope to decide, and of a
mathematician to go to heaven in a perpendicular line.”
His works are very numerous, and have met with the
approbation of the learned. The principal are, 1. Prac¬
tical Geometry, I 2mo. 2. A mathematical dictionary,
3. A course of mathematics, 5 vols. 8vo. 4. Mathe¬
matical and philosophical recreations, the most complete
edition of which is that which was improved by Mon-
tucla, and afterwards enlarged by Dr Charles Hutton,
published in 1803, in four vols. 8vo. 5. An easy me¬
thod of surveying. 6. New elements of algebra, a work
much commended by Mons. Leibnitz. 7. Theoretical
and practical perspective, &c.
OZELL, John, a well-known translator, educated
in Christ’s Hospital, was possessed of a competent for-
kme, and always enjoyed good places, being auditor-
general of the city and bridge accounts, of St Paul’s
cathedral, and of St Thomas’s hospital. Notwithstand¬
ing his attention to business, he stii! retained a love for
polite literature : and though he did not appear as an
original author, yet having made himself master of most
ef the living languages, he favoured the world with
many translations from these, as well as from the Latin
and Greek ; which, if they are not the most elegant,
are generally faithful and true to the originals. He
died in the year 1743.
OZIAS, in sacred history, the son of Micha, of
the tribe of Simeon, one of the governors of Bethu-
]ia when it was besieged by Holofernes. He vigo-
tously supported the siege against this general, and
received Achior into his house, when he had been
driven from the Assyrian camp. Finding however at
length that the city was reduced to great necessity Ozias,
for water, and that the people mutinied against him, Ozola-
he promised to surrender the place in five days, if in 1 “"'■r—
that time God did not send him relief. Judith (vi.
vii. viii. ix. and x.) being informed of this resolution,
sent to speak with Ozias, and the other leading men
of the city ; made a prudent remonstrance upon their
seeming to prescribe a time to the Lord, in which he
must succour them; encouraged them to patience;
and without discovering her design, told them that
she would go out in the night. Ozias being at the
gate of the city when Judith departed, opened it to
her, and waited in the city for the success of her un ¬
dertaking, praying with her people to God that he
would be pleased to deliver them. See the article
Judith.
OZOLiE, or Ozoli, a people who inhabited the
eastern parts of iF.tolia which were called O'zolea. This
tract of territory lay at the north of the bay of Co¬
rinth, and extended about 12 miles. They received
their name from the bad stench («£>)) of their bo¬
dies and clothes, which were the raw hides of wild
beasts. Some derive it from the stench of the stag¬
nated water in the neighbouring lakes and marshes.
According to a fabulous tradition, they received their
name from a very different circumstance : During the
reign of a son of Deucalion, a bitch brought into the
world a stick instead of whelps. The stick was planted
into the ground by the king, and it grew up to a large
vine, and produced grapes, from which the inhabitants
of the country were ca'led O'Zola?, not from oguv, “ to
smell bad,” but from e£oc, “ a branch or sprout.” The
name Ozola?, on account of its indelicate signification,
was highly disagreeable to the inhabitants j they there¬
fore exchanged it soon for that of iEtolians.
P.
T) THE 15th letter and nth consonant of the al-
3 phabet j the sound of which is formed by ex¬
pressing the breath somewhat more suddenly than in
torming the sound of b; in other respects these two
sounds are pretty much alike, and are often confound¬
ed one with another. W hen p stands before t or
its sound is lost, as in the words psalms, psychology, pto-
Icmaic, ptisan, &c. When placed before h, they
both together have the sound f; as in philosophy, phy-
$ic, &c.
P and B are so like each other, that Quintilian de-
elares, that in the word oblinuit, his reason required
him to put a b, but that his ears could hear nothing but
a p, optinuit: hence in ancient inscriptions, and old
glossaries, it appears that these two letters have often
been confounded. Several nations still pronounce one
for the other, the Welch and Germans particularly,
Vol. XV. Part II. +
who say, pnnum vinum, for bonum vinum. Plutarch
observes, it was usual for those of Delphi to say fioHuv
for ttxIiw for ?n*g«v j and among the Latins, as
often as an s iollowed, the b was changed into ap, as
scribo, scripsi.
As an abbreviation, P stands for Publius, Pondo, &c.
PA. DIG. for Patricia Dignitas; P. C. for Patres
Conscripti; P. F. for Pubtii Fifius; P. P. for Proposi-
tum, or Propositum publice ; P. R. for Populus Roma-
nus ; P. R. S. for Prcetoris sententia, P. R. S. P. for
Pi •eeses provincice.
P. M. among Astronomers, is frequently used for
post meridiem, or “ afternoon and sometimes {ox post
mane, “ after the morning,” i.e. after midnight. P was
also used among the ancients as a numeral lei ter, signi¬
fying the same with the G, viz. a hundred > according
to the verse of Ugutio.
PAG
[ 618 ]
PAD
Pack.
P similem cum G namerum mmstratur habere.
Pack
Though Baronins thinks it rather stood for seven.
When a dash was added a-top of p, it stood for four
hundred thousand. , TT , e j
St Jerome observes on Daniel, that the Hebrews had
no P; but that the ph served them instead thereof; ad¬
ding that there is but one word in the whole Bible read
with a P, viz. apadno. The Greek signified 80. On
the French coins, P denotes those that were struck at
Jn the Italian music, P stands for piano, or “ softly:”
and P. P. P- for pianissimo, or “ very softly.”
Among physicians, P stands for pugi/, or the eighth
part of an handful P.-/E. partes cequales, or equal
parts of the ingredients •, P. P. signifies palvis pati um,
or Jesuit’s bark in powder; and ppt. preparatus or pre¬
pared.
PABULUM, among natural philosophers, the same
with Fuel.
Paca, see Mus, Mammalia Index.
PACE, a measure taken from the space between the
two feet of a man in walking j usually reckoned two
feet and a half, and in some men a yard or three feet.
The geometrical pace is five feet} and 60,000 such
paces make one degree on the equator.
Pace, in the manege, is of three kinds, viz. walk,
trot, and gallop} to which may he added an amble, be¬
cause some horses have it naturally.
Horses which go shuffling, or with mixed paces be¬
tween the walk and amble, are for the most part of no
value } which commonly proceeds from their fiery tem¬
per, but sometimes from a weakness in their reins or
legs.
PACHAMAC, a valley of Peru, in South America,
ten miles south of Lima } celebrated for its pleasantness
and fertility, but more on account of a magnificent tem¬
ple built by the Incas of Peru, to the honour of their
gods. When the Spaniards conquered Peru, they found
immense riches therein.
PAC HSU, a small island in the Mediterranean sea }
near the coast of Epirus, and in European Turkey. It
lies south of Corfu, and is subject to Venice.
PACIFIC ocean, that vast ocean which separates
Asia from America. It is called Pacific, from the mo¬
derate weather the first mariners who sailed in it met
with between the tropics} and it was called South sea,
because the Spaniards crossedthe isthmus of Darien from
north to south when they first discovered it } though
it is properly the Western ocean with regard to Ame¬
rica.
Geographers call the South sea Mare Pacificum, u the
Pacific ocean,” as being less infested with storms than
the Atlantic •, but M. Frezier affirms it does not deserve
that appellation, and that he has seen as violent storms
therein as in any other sea •, but Magellan happening
to have a very favourable wind, and not meeting with
any thing to ruffle him when he first traversed this vast
ocean in I 5 20, gave it the name which it has retained
ever since. Maty, however, adds, that the wind is so
regular there, that the vessels would frequently go from
Acapulco to the Philippine islands without shifting a
sail.
PACK, in commerce, denotes a quantity of goods
3
made up in loads or bales for carriage. A pack of wool
is 17 stone and 2 pounds, or a horse’s load. I|
PACKAGE, is a small duty of one penny in the t Paddoc.
pound, paid for all goods not particularly rated. y ^
PACKET, or Packet Boat, a vessel appointed by
the government to carry the mail of letter, packets,
and expresses from one kingdom to another by sea in
the most expeditious manner. Thus, the packet-
boats, under the direction of the postmaster-geueral
of Great Britain, carry the mails from Dover to
Calais, from Falmouth to Lisbon, from Harwich to
Helvoetsluys, and from Parkgate to Dublin. See
Post.
PACOS, or Paco, in Zoology, a species of camel,
commonly, though improperly, reckoned a species of
sheep } and known among many by the name of the /«-
dian sheep, or Peruvian Sheep. See Camelus, Mam¬
malia hidex.
This creature has been accounted a sheep, because its
hair is so long as to resemble wool, and it is prodigiously
thick, its head and neck alone having more wool on
them than the whole body of our largest sheep. Its body
is clothed in the same proportion with a woolly hair
equally fine.
PACTOLUS, in Ancient Geography, a river of Ly¬
dia, called Chrysorrhoas, from its rolling down golden
sand, according to Herodotus, Plutarch, Pliny, and
Strabo } rising in Mount ’Imolus (Strabo), from this
river Croesus is thought to have had all his riches. In
Strabo’s time it ceased to roll down any. It ran through
Sardis •, after which it fell into the Hermus, and both
together into the jEgean sea at Phocsea in Ionia. A
river celebrated by Virgil, Ovid, Lucan, Lycophron,
Horace, Appollonius. ^ .
PACUVIUS, Marcus, of Brundusium in Calabria,
a tragic poet in high reputation about the year of Rome
600. He was nephew of Ennius} published several
theatrical pieces, though we have only some fragments
of his poetry remaining} and died at Tarentum at above
00 years of age. , . r
PAD AN-ARAM (Bible), literally the plains of
Aram, or Syria; translated by the Seventy simply Meso¬
potamia, or Mesopotamia of Syria ; by the Vulgate, Sy-
rice ; the Syrians on this and on the other side of the
Euphrates, not differing remarkably from each other m
language and manners, as Josephus allows.
PADDOC, or PADVOC-Course, a piece of ground
encompassed with pales or a wall, and taken out of a
park, for exhibiting races with greyhounds, for plates,
wagers, or the like. -
A paddoc is generally a mile long, and a quarter ot
a mile broad : at the one end is a little house where the
dogs are to be entered, and whence they are slipped}
near which are pens to inclose two or three deer for the
sport. Along the course are several posts, viz. the low
post, which is 160 vards from the dog-house and pens}
the quarter of a mile post, half-mile post, and pinching
post} besides the ditch, which is a place made to receive
the deer, and preserve them from farther pursuit. And
near this place are seats for the judges chosen to decide
Tbe^keepers, in order to slip the dogs fairly, put &
falling collar upon each, slipped round a ring • the
deer being turned loose,
and put forward by a teazer,
as
PAD
[ 619 ]
PAD
aidoc, as soon as lie is arrived at the low post, the dog-house
derborn, door is thrown open, and the dogs slipped. If now the
““‘V""—' deer swerve so much, as that his head is judged nearer
the dog-house than the ditch before he arrive at the
pinching-post, it is no match, and must be run over
again three days after : but if the deer runs straight
beyond the pinching post, then that dog which is
nearest when he swerves, or is blanched by any acci¬
dent, wins the match $ but if no such swerve happens,
then the match is won by the dog who first leaps the
ditch.
PADERBORN, a duchy of Germany in the circle
of Westphalia, has the county of Lippe on the north
and west j Hesse-Cassel and Waldeck,on the south; and
.Munster, with the duchy of Westphalia on the west. Its
greatest length from east to west is about 40 miles, and
its breadth where widest 30. Some parts of it yield
good pasture, and breed abundance of cattle; but it is
not very fruitful in corn. There is a heath called the
Senne or Sende, of great extent, but very barren and
desolate. There are, however, good iron mines in the
country, with salt and medicinal springs, plenty of deer
and other game ; and it is watered with several rivers
abounding with fish, as the Weser, the Dimer, the Bi-
ver, the Nette, the great Emmer, the Lippe, the Alme,
and the Pader. It contains 54 parishes, in which are
25 market towns and 16 monasteries. The Roman Ca¬
tholic is the predominant religion of the country, yet
there are also many Protestants in it. The bishopric
was erected by Charlemagne, towards the close of the
eighth century, and the cathedral was consecrated by
Pop.e Leo in person, anno 796. The bishop was sovereign
of the country, a prince of the empire, and suffragan of
the archbishop of Mentz. His revenue ivas about 30,000
pounds a-year, and he was able to raise 3000 men. In
the matricula his assessment is 18 horse and 34 foot, or
.352 florins monthly in lieu of them. Towards the
charges of the sovereign courts of the empire, he paid
for each term 162 rix-dollars and 29 kruitzers. The
chapter consisted of 24 capitular canons, who must prove
their noble extraction by four descents. At the settling
of the indemnities in 1802 this bishopric was secularised
and given to Prussia. It was afterwards annexed to
the kingdom of Westphalia, but was restored to Prussia
in 1814. It is reckoned to contain 76,000 inhabitants.
It was in this bishopric that Quintilius Varus, with the
Roman army under his command, was routed by the
Germans under Arminius.
Paderborn, the capital of the above bishopric. It
stands 40 miles north-west of Cassel, 50 south-east of
Munster, and 60 south-west of Hanovey ; being a large,
populous, well built, and well fortified city. Its name
is compounded of padei', a rivulet, which rises just under
the high altar of the cathedral, and lorn, i. e. a spring.
It was one of the Hanse-towns; and, till 1604, at) im¬
perial city. The cathedral is a grand fabric, inferior
to few in the empire. There is a gold crucifix in it of
60 pounds weight, presented by Otho II. The univer¬
sity, of which the Jesuits have the direction, was found¬
ed in 1592, and the walls wmre built in the beginning
of tjie I tth century. In 1530 at) attempt was made to
introduce Lutheranism ; but 16 of the principal citi¬
zens who had embraced it rvere executed, and the rest
obliged to abjure it. Duke Christian of Brunswick car-
Paduano.
ried off from hence, in 1692, the silver images of the paderbom
twelve apostles, and the silver coffin of St Lotharios ;
and had them coined into money, with this inscription,
God's Friend, the Priest's EnctJiy. The trade of this
town, though formerly great, is now inconsiderable ; and
the inhabitants subsist mostly by agriculture and breed¬
ing of cattle. Though the bishop had a palace in the
city, he resided at Neuhaus, seven miles off, where he
had a magnificent castle. Charlemagne and other em¬
perors sometimes resided here, and held diets of the
empire. Paderborn contains about 12,000 inhabitants.
PADOGI, a punishment used in Russia. The body
of the criminal is stripped to the waist, and then laid
upon the ground ; one slave holds the head of the person
to be punished between his knees, and another the lower
part of the body ; then rods are applied to the back till
some person gives notice to desist, by crying out, enough.
This punishment is considered in Russia merely as a cor¬
rection of the police, exercised on the soldier by military
discipline, by the nobility on their servants, and by per¬
sons in authority over all such as are under their com¬
mand. After the accession of Elizabeth to the throne
of Russia, the punishments were reduced to two kinds,
viz. the padogi and Knout.
PADUA, an ancient, large, and celebrated city of
Italy, with a university and a bishop’s see. It is also
capital of the Paduano ; but is much less considerable
than it was formerly : for it now contains no more than
30,000 inhabitants, whereas it formerly had 100,000,
and many of the houses are gone to ruin. The cathe¬
dral church, and the college of the university, are in
that part called the Old Town ; and there are piazzas
under all the houses, where persons may wralk without
being exposed to the weather. The garden of the uni¬
versity is curious, on account of the number of plants.
Here a student may take his degrees, let him be of
what sect of Christianity he will; nay, though he should
be a Jew or a Turk. The patron of this city is St An¬
thony, who lies in the cathedral; they have such a ve¬
neration for him, that the beggars do not ask charity
in the name of God, but for the love of St Anthony.
The Jews live in a distinct part of the city ; and the
neighbouring mountains produce excellent wine and oil,
with delicious fruit. It was taken by the Venetians in
1706, and now belongs to Austria. It is seated on the
rivers Brentac and Bachiglionc, in a fine plain, and is
about seven miles in eircumference. E. Long. 11. 55.
N. Lat. 45. 24.
PADUAN, among medalists, a modern medal struck
in imitation of the antique, or a new medal struck with
all the marks and characters of antiquity. This name
is properly applicable to those medals only that were
struck in the seventh century by an Italian painter born
at Padua ; who succeeded so well in the imposture, that
the best judges are at a loss to distinguish his medals
from the genuine ones. Though it is frequently used
in general for all medals of this kind.
PADUANO, a small province of Italy, in the Aus¬
tro-Venetian territories, bounded on the east by the
Dogado, on the south by the Polesino di Rovigo, on the
west by the Veronese, and on the north by the Vicenti-
no. Its soil is well watered, and is one of the most fer¬
tile in Italy. The province is about 40 miles in length,
and 35 in breadth. Padua is the capital town.
4 I 2 PADUS,
PililllS
II
Pagan.
PAG f 620 ]
TADUS, now the Po, anciently called tridanus, es- courage and conduct,
peciaily by the Greeks •, a river famous for the fable of
Phaeton (Ovid). It rises in Mount Vcsulus, in the
' Alpes Cothise, from three springs, dividing the Cisalpine
Gaul into the Transpadana and Cispadana, (Strabo) j
and swelled by other rivers falling into it on each side
from the Alps and Apennines, it discharges itsell with
a course from west to east, at seven months, into the A-
driatic (Mela). The lake through which it discharges
itself into the sea, is called by the natives the Seven
& Padus, a species of cherry. See Prunus, Botany
Index. c
P/EAN, among the ancient pagans, was a song ot
rejoicing sung in honour of Apollo, chiefly used on oc¬
casions of victory and triumph. See Apollo.
PiEAN, in the ancient poetry, a foot consisting of four
syllables j of which there are lour kinds, the psean pri¬
mus, secundus, &c.
The prean primus consists of one long syllable and
three short ones, or a trochseus and pyi rhichius, as t m-
poribus ; the paean secundus consists ol a short syllable,
a long, and two short, or an iambus and a pyrrhichius,
as poicnlia ; the pecan tertius consists of two short syl¬
lables, a long and a short one, or a pyrrhichius and a
trocheeus, as animatus; the paean quartus consists^of
three short syllables and a long one, or a pyrrhichius
and iambus, as celeritas.
PiEDEROTA, a genus of plants belonging to the
pentandria class, and in the natural method ranking un¬
der the 30th order, Contortce. See Botany Index.
PiEDO BAPTISM *, infant baptism, or that conferred
on children : from waif, infant, and baptism.
This has been the subject of great controversy in the
church. See Anabaptists, Baptists, &c.
PyEONIA, PiONY, a genus of plants belonging to
the polyandria class, and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 26th order, Multisiliquee. See Botany
Index.
PiESTUM, called Posidonia by the Greeks, a town
of Lucania, on the Sinus Paestinus •, an ancient colony
prior to the first Punic war, according to Livy ; but
later, according to Velleius. Pcestanez rosee were in
great esteem, and produced twice a-year (Virgil,
Ovid.)
PAGAN, Blaise Francois Comte de, an emi¬
nent French mathematician, was born at Avignon in
Provence, March 3. 1604’, and took to the profession
of a soldier at fourteen, having been bred to it with the
greatest care. In 1620 he was engaged at the siege of
Caen, in the battle of Pont de Ce, and the reduction
of the Navareins, and the rest of Bearn *, where he sig¬
nalized himself, and acquired a reputation far surpassing
his years. He was present, in 1621, at the siege ol St
John d’Angeli, as also that of Clarac and Montauhan,
where'he lost his left eye by a musket-shot. At this
sico-e he had another loss, which equally afflicted h m,
-viz^ that of the constable of Luynes, who died there ot
a scarlet fever The constable was a near relation, and
had been his patron at court. He did not, however,
sink under the misfortune, but on the contrary took
fresh spirits from the necessity he was now in of trusting
solely to himself. Accordingly there happened after
this time neither siege, battle, nor any other occasion,
in which he did not signalize himself by some effort of
PAG
  6   At the pas- age of the Alps and Pa
the barricade of Suza, he put himself at the head of the < 
forlorn hope, consisting of the bravest youths among the
guards ; and undertook to arrive the first at the attack,
by a private way which was extremely dangerous •, when,
having gained the top of a very steep mountain, he
cried out to his followers, “ See the way to glory I”
He slipt along this mountain ; and, his companions fol¬
lowing him, they came first to the attack, as they wished
to do." They immediately began a furious assault; and,
the army coming to assist, they forced the barricades.
He had afterwards the pleasure of standing on the left
band of the king, when his majesty related this heroic
action to the duke of Savoy with the deserved com¬
mendations, in the presence of a very full court. M hen
the king laid siege to Nancy in 1633, our hero had the
honour to attend his sovereign, in drawing the lines and
forts of circumvallation. In 1642 his majesty sent him
to the service in Portugal, in the post ot field marshal.
In this same year he unfortunately lost his eye sight by
a distemper. But though he was thus disabled from
serving his country with his conduct and courage, he
reassumed, with greater vigour than ever, the stm.y of
the mathematics and fortification 5 and in 1645, gave
the public a treatise on this latter subject. It was ai-
lorved by all who understood the science, that nothing
had then appeared that was preferable to it ; and, in¬
deed, whatever improvements have been made since,
they have perhaps been derived chiefly from this tre“~
tise, as conclusions from their principles. In 1651 he
published his Geometrical Theorems, which show a per¬
fect knowledge of all the parts of the mathematics. In
16 CC he printed A Paraphrase, in French, of the Ac¬
count, in Spanish, of the River of the Amazons, by Fa¬
ther de Rennes, a Jesuit*, and we are assured, that
though blind, he drew the chart of that river and the
parts adjacent which is seen in this work. In 1657 he
published The Theory of the Planets, cleared from that
multiplicity of eccentric circles and epicycles, which
the astronomers had invented to explain their motions.
This work distinguished him among astronomers as much
as that of fortifications did among engineers ; and he
printed, in 1658, his Astronomical Tables, which are
verv succinct and plain. Few great men are without
some foible: Pagan’s was that of a prejudice in favour
of judicial astrology, and though he is more reserved
than most others, yet we cannot put what he did on tha
subject among tho e productions which do honour to his
understanding. He was beloved and respected by all
persons illustrious for rank as well as science : and Ins
house was the rendezvous of all the polite and wort iy
both in city and court. He at PaiIS> ^°v' j *
166 c ; and was never married. The king ordered his
first physician to attend him in his illness, and gave se¬
veral marks of the extraordinary esteem which he had
for his merit. . , . . 1 , •
He had an universal genius ; and, having turned him
self entirely to the art of war, and particularly to the
branch of fortification, he made extraordinary progress
in it. He understood mathematics not only better than
is usual for a gentleman whose view is to push his for¬
tune in tin army, but even to a degree ot perfection su¬
perior to that of the ordinary masters who teach that
science. He had so particular a genius for this kindot
learmng, that he obtained it more readily by meuiUt
PAG
than by reading authors upon it ; and accordingly spent
U less time in such books than he did in those of history
hjrninus. and geography. He had also made morality and poli-
‘'■Y——* tics his particular study; so that he maybe said to have
drawn his own character in his Homme Heroique, and
to have been one of the completest gentlemen of his
time. Louis XIII. was heard to say several times,
that the count de Pagan was one of the most worthy,
best turned, most adroit, and most valiant men, in his
kingdom.—That branch of his family, which removed
from Naples to France in 1552, became extinct in his
person.
Pagan, a heathen, centile, or idolater ; one who
adores false gods. See Mythology.
PAGANALIA, certain festivals observed liy the an¬
cient Romans in the month of January. They were in¬
stituted by Servius Tullius, who appointed a certain
number of villages {pagi), in each of which an altar
was to he raised for annual sacrifices to their tutelar
gods; at which all the inhabitants were to assist, and
give presents in money, according to their sex and age,
by which means the number of country people was
known. The servants upon this occasion offered cakes
to Ceres and Ttllus, to obtain plentiful harvests.
PAGANELLUS, a species of fish. See Gobius,
Ichthyology Index.
PAGANISM, the religious worship and discipline
of pagans : or, the adoration of idols and false gods.
See Idolatry, Mythology, and Polytheism.
PAGEANT, a triumphal car, chariot, arfdi, or
other like pompous decoration, variously adorned with
colours, flags, &c. carried about in public shows, pro¬
cessions, &c.
PAGI, Antony, a very famous Cordelier, and one
of the ablest critics of his time, was horn at Rogne in
Provence in 1624. He took the habit in the convent
at Arles in 1641, and was at length four times provin¬
cial of his order; hut his religious duties did not prevent
his vigorous application to the study of chronology and
ecclesiastical history, in which he excelled. His most
considerable work is, A Critique upon the Annals of
Baronins ; where, following the learned cardinal year
by year, he has rectified an infinite number ol mistakes
both in chronology and in the representation of facts.
He published the first volume in 1689, dedicated to the
clergy of France, who allowed him a pension: the
whole was printed after his death, in 4 vols folio, at
Geneva, in 1705, by the care of his nephew Francis
Pagi, of the same order. He wrote some other things
before bis death, which happened in 1699; and had the
character of an able historian as well as oi a learned and
candid critic. His nephew Francis, above mentioned,
wrote a Chronological Abridgement of the History of
the Popes, in Latin, 3 vols 410. Francis had also a
nephew, Anthony Pagi, who added three more volumes
to the History of the Popes ; of which two more were
intended, if not executed.
PAGNINUS, SanctES, an Italian dominican, emi¬
nent for his skill in oriental languages and biblical learn¬
ing, was born at Lucca in 1466, and became afterwards
PAG
an ecclesiastic of the order of St Dominic. He was Pagnhnts^
deeply and accurately skilled in Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Hago.
Chaldee, and Arabic ; but he was particularly excellent
in the Hebrew'. He applied himself to examine the
vulgar translation of the Scriptures ; and believing it to
be either not of Jerome, or greatly corrupted, he under¬
took to make a new one from the present Hebrew text;
in which he meant to imitate St Jerome, who set about
making a new translation at a time when the church
would admit no other hut the Septuagint. This design
of Pagninus, so early after the restoration of letters,
seemed a hold one ; yet such was the reputation of the
man, that it was approved by Pope Leo X. who promi¬
sed to furnish him with all necessary expences for caily¬
ing on the work : and, besides, we find at the beginning
of his translation, which was printed at Lyons in 1527,
two letters of the succeeding popes, Hadrian VI. and
Clement VII. which licensed the printing of it. Pag¬
ninus, in his Letters to Pope Clement, for the printing
of this translation, openly declares, that the Vulgar edi¬
tion, as it is at present, is not St Jerome’s ; yet adds,
that he has retained in his translation as much of it as
he could. It appears by a letter of Picus Mirandula to
Pagninus, that he had spent 25 years upon this transla¬
tion. It is the first modern translation of the Bible from
the Hebrew text ; and the Jew's who read it affirmed,
that it agreed exactly with the Hebrew, and was in
some respects superior to the ancient translations. The
great fault of Pagninus was, that he adhered with too
great servility to the original text; and this scrupulous
attachment made his translation, says Father Simon,
“ obscure, barbarous, and full of solecisms. He imagi¬
ned, that to make a faithful translation of the Scriptures,
it was necessary to follow exactly the letter according to
the strictness of grammar. This, however, is quite con¬
trary to his pretended exactness, because two languages
seldom agree in their ways of speaking ; and therefore,
instead of expressing the original in its proper purity, he
defaces and robs it of all its ornaments.” Father Simon
nevertheless allows the great abilities and learning of
Pagninus; and all the later commentators and transla¬
tors of the Scriptures ha\e agreed in giving him his just
praise. Huetius, though he thinks Father Simon’s criti¬
cism of him just and well grounded, yet proposes his
manner as a model for all translators of the sacred books:
Scriptut'<e interpretandee rationis utile nobis exemplar
proposuit Sanctus Pagninus. He alsotranslated the New
Testament from the Greek, as he had done the Old from
the Hebrew, laying the Vulgar all the while before
him ; and dedicated it to Pope Clement VII. He was
author of a Hebrew Lexicon, and a Hebrew Grammar:
which Buxtorf, who calls him vir linguarvm Orienta-
Hum peritissimus, made great use of in compiling his.
He died in 1 536, aged 70. Luther spoke of him and
his translations in terms of the highest applause.
PAGO, an island in the gulf of Venice, separated
from the continent of Morlachia by a narrow channel.
The ancient geographers have left us no description of
it: though (as Fortis observes) its form (a), extent,
and rich produce, unquestionably deserved it.” And
[ 621 ]
(a) Its figure is indeed remarkably irregular, its breadth being in no proportion to its length ; for one of the
Extremities, called Puntadi Loni, is above ten miles long, and less than one broad. Almost all the circumference
* Travels
into Dal¬
matia.
PAG [62
this is the more unaccountable, as we know the Romans
were well acquainted with it j and on the other islands
adjoining to it are many vestiges of buildings, inscrip¬
tions, tiles, and hewn stones, all sure signs of Roman
habitations. Its ancient name was in all probability
Portunata. “ This island (says Mr Fort is*) is extend¬
ed from north to south over against maritime Croatia,
or the mountain Morlacca. It is about 50 miles long ;
its breadth is unequal. One particular circumstance di¬
stinguishes it from all the other islands of the Adriatic,
and is a large internal salt-water lake 15 miles long from
south to north, into which the sea enters by a canal not
above a quarter of a mile broad in some places. This
lake is frequented by the tunny fish, which, when once
in, cannot return again to the sea. There are also two
smaller lakes on the island ; one near Vlassich, abound¬
ing in fish, particularly eels; and one near the hamlet
of Slabine.
u In this island the winter is dreadfully cold, and the
summer scorchingly hot. 1 hose who have been there
in the winter time speak of it as a Siberia quite covered
with snow and ice, and always exposed to the cold north
wind *, I, who was there in the hot season, thought it
equal to the most scorching parts of the world. The na¬
ked rocks, which not only form the organization, but
also the superficies of almost all the island ; the narrow¬
ness of the valleys; the reverberation of the water of
the lake, generally quite calm in summer ; multiply the
heat so prodigiously among those stones, that the vines,
which are planted all round the lake, ripen their grapes
by the beginning of August; and the other products
that grpw there anticipate the usual time of maturity in
the same manner. The meteors are exceedingly irre¬
gular in the summer time ; sudden whirlwinds are fre¬
quent, and heavy showers of rain : the last are hurtful
to the inhabitants of one part of the island, and are fa¬
vourable to the cultivation of the opposite end.
“ They cultivate neither com nor oil on this island ;
but it produces plenty of wine, and an immense quan¬
tity of salt. The other products are wool, honey, and
a little salt fish. The quantity of wine amounts annual¬
ly, on a medium, to 40,000 Venetian barrels ; and from
the husks, they distil 2000 barrels of rakia or brandy.
The salt, in 1663, amounted to •800,000 Venetian stare.
The salt works are well contrived and well kept: they
extend along a shallow pool, which forms the eastern
extremity of the lake within for four miles in length and
about half a mile in breadth. On the sides of this fen
the best part of the vines lie ; but the upper part of the
hills on each side is altogether naked and barren ; there
is not even a sufficiency of fire-wood, and the inhabi¬
tants are obliged to provide themselves elsewhere. The
soil at the foot of the hills, where the vines are planted,
2 ] PAG
is full of gravel and small stones : and hence the wine
is of good quality. The air is not unhealthful, notwith?
standing the vicinity of the salt pits; but the frequent
high winds carry off the noxious exhalations. The most
considerable product of the island is the salt. The great*
est part of the people of Pago live by working in the
salt pits, and have a comfortable subsistence regularly
paid by the government : it is therefore a very import¬
ant circumstance for the inhabitants of the city to have
a dry summer; and hence the ignorant vulgar look up¬
on rain as a mischief brought upon the country by the
force of witchcraft. In consequence of this idea, they
elect a friar to exercise the meteors, and keep the rain
off the island. If, notwithstanding the poor friar’s en¬
deavours, the summer happens to be rainy, he loses his
reputation and his bread ; but if two or three dry sea¬
sons follow successively, he meets with great reverence
and advantage. Part of the salt works belongs to the
government, and the rest to private proprietors ; they
are meliorated every year; and for that end the public
lends money to those proprietors who want it, and who
without that assistance could not make the requisite im¬
provements.
“ Many vestiges of ancient habitations still remain on
the island of Pago, as well as of walled places, which
either have been destroyed by the incursions of enemies
or by time. Historians say that the island was often
abandoned by its inhabitants ; and indeed it is rather to
be wondered at how men ever could resolve to settle in
so wretched a country. The small number of inhabi¬
tants, after so many years of peace and tranquillity un¬
der the Venetian government, evidently proves how
little the island is really habitable. The towrn of Pago
was built by the Venetians about 300 years ago ; and
contains upwards of 2000 inhabitants, and all the rest of
the island scarcely 900. The difficulty of access to the
city of Pago, and the ill accommodation that strangers
meet with, make it very little frequented. Hence the
inhabitants are as wild and unpolished as if they lay at
the greatest distance fiom the sea and the commerce of
polite people. The gentry, who pretend to show their
manners different from those of the vulgar, are truly
grotesque figures, both in their dress, behaviour, and
insolent pretensions. The ignorance of their clergy is
incredible; a priest of the greatest consequence there,
and who was thought a man of learning, did not know
how Pago was called in Latin. There are two convents
of friars in Pago and one of nuns ; and seyeral churches,
all in very bad order, and ill served. At Terra Veechia
also there is a convent of Franciscan monks j a race of
men who, under various names and disguises, infest eve¬
ry place where credulous ignorance can be persuaded to
maintain the idle and superstitious. One superstitious
custom,
is .dismal, without trees or any kind of visible plants or grass, steep, craggy, and uninhabited. On entering t ic
lake through the channel that communicates with the sea, nothing is to be seen either on the right or left but bare
hanging rocks, so disfigured on the outside by the violent percussion of the waves, that the stratification is bar }
distinguishable. In general, the stone of the island is of the same kind as the Istrian, or breccia ; and, besues,
tthere are large strata of blue and yellowish sandstone. The channel, or inward bay of Pago, is not a harbour j on
the contrary, it is a very dangerous station, and even inaccessible in winter, when the north wind blows with sue 1
£ury, that the inhabitants of the town dare not stir out of their houses, and much less the few that are scattcre
over the country. The sky appears always cloudy in that season, by the thick mist that arises from the reper
cussion of the waves on that long chain of rough and hollow rocks.
PAG
[ 623 ]
PAG
I go,
:2od.
custom, amongst a variety of others, exists among their
women, and particularly among those who have been
u v—' married but a short time : if their husband happens to
die, they tear their hair out in go id earnest, and scatter
it on the coffin •, and this ceremony is so much consecra¬
ted by custom, that no woman, even though she had
notoriously hated her husband, would fail in perform¬
ing it.”
PAGOD, or Pagoda, a name given by the East
Indians to the temples where they worship their gods.
We shall not in this place enter into a full detail of the
several pagodas of different nations, and their peculiar
circumstances. These matters seem to come in more
properly under the religion, or, as others will call it, the
superstition, of the people to whom they belong. We air.
flee
I iw't
! mis,
i::55» Sic.
ably larger than life, attract attention. They represent
considerable persons, and their exploits, many of which v
are now very indistinct through the injuries of time, as¬
sisted by the corroding nature of the sea air; others,
while protected from that element, are as fresh as when
recently finished.
The hill, which is at first of easy ascent, “ is in other
parts rendered more so, by very excellent steps cut out
in several places, where the communication would be
difficult, or impracticable without them. A winding
stair of this sort leads to a kind of temple cut out of the
solid rock, with some figures of idols in high relief upon
its walls, very well finished and perfectly fresh, as it
faces the west, and is therefore sheltered from the sea
This temple our author conjectures to have been
shall therefore content ourselves in the present article
with an account of a paper in the Asiatic Researches,
concerning the sculptures, &c. at Mavalipuram, a few
miles north of Sadras, and known to seamen by the
name of the seven pagodas.
The monuments which Mr Chambers (who commu¬
nicated the paper) describes, appear, he says, to be the
ruins of some great city decayed many centuries ago.
“ They are situated close to the sea, between Covelong
and Sadras, somewhat remote from the high road that
leads to the different European settlements. And when
visited in 1776, there was still a native village adjoining
to them which retained the ancient name, and in which
a number of bramins resided that seemed perfectly well
acquainted with the subjects of most of the sculptures to
be seen there.—The rock, or rather hill of stone, on
which great pai-t of these works are executed, is one of
the principal marks for mariners as they approach the
coast, and to them the place is known by the name of
the Seven Pagodas, possibly because the summits of the
rock have presented them with that idea as they passed :
but it must be confessed that no aspect which the hill
assumes as viewed on the shore, seems at all to authorize
this notion j and there are circumstances, which will be
mentioned in the sequel, that would lead one to suspect
that this name has arisen from some such number of pa¬
godas that formerly stood here, and in time have been
buried in the waves.” The rock here mentioned, as it
rises abruptly out of a level plain of great extent, natu¬
rally engrosses the attention of the eye. It consists
chiefly of a single stone *, and in its shape (which is sin¬
gular and romantic), in a distant view, it has the ap¬
pearance of an antique and lofty edifice. Works of ima¬
gery and sculpture crowd thicker upon the eye on a
nearer approach, and at first sight at least favours the
idea of a petrified town, which, through the credulity
of travellers *, has been supposed to exist in various
parts of the world. “ Proceeding on by the foot of the
hill on the side facing the sea, there is a pagoda rising
out of the ground, of one solid stone, about 16 or 18
feet high, which seems to have been cut upon the spot
out of a detached rock that has been found ot a proper
size for that purpose. The top is arched, and the style
of architecture according to which it is formed, different
from any now used in those parts.” Beyond this a nu¬
merous group of human figures in bass relief, consider-
Pagod.
a place of worship appertaining to a palace ; some re¬
mains of which still exist, and to which there is a pas¬
sage from the temple by another flight ot steps. Ihis
conjecture (for it is brought forward as merely such) is
in some measure favoured by several ruins still remaining,
and by the tradition of the bramins who inhabit the
place. This finishes the objects “ on that part of the
upper surface of the hill, the ascent to which is on the
north ; but on descending from thence, you are led
round the hill to the opposite side, in which there are
steps cut from the bottom to a place near the summit,
where is an excavation that seems to have been intended
for a place of worship, and contains various sculptures
of Hindoo deities. The most remarkable of these is a
gigantic figure of Vishnou (a), asleep on a kind of bed,
with a huge snake wound about in~ many coils by way
of pillow for his head ; and these figures, according to
the manner of this place, are all of one piece hewn from
the body of the rock.” These works, however, al¬
though they are unquestionably stupendous, are, in our
author’s opinion, surpassed by others about a mile and
a half to the southward of the hill. “ They consist of
two pagodas of about 30 feet long by 20 feet wide, and
about as many in height, cut out ol the solid rock, and
each consisting originally of one single stone. Near
these also stand an elephant full as big as life, and a lion
much larger than the natural size, but very well execu¬
ted, each hewn also out of one stone. None of the
pieces that have fallen off in cutting these extraordinary
sculptures are now to be found near or any where in the
neighbourhood of them, so that there is no means of as¬
certaining the degree of labour and time that has been
spent upon them, nor the size of the rock or rocks from
which they have been hewn; a circumstance which rea¬
ders their appearance the more striking and singular.
And though their situation is very near the sea beach,
they have not suffered at all by the corrosive air of that
element, which has provided them with a defence against
itself, by throwing up before them a high bank that
completely shelters them. There is also a great symme¬
try in their form, though that of the pagodas is differ¬
ent from the style of architecture according to which
idol temples are now built in that country. The latter
resembles the Egyptian j for the towers are always py-
ramidical, and the gates and roofs flat and without
arches; but these sculptures approach nearer to the Go¬
thic
(a) See a figure of Vishnou in the plate of Indian gods, with its description, under the article Polytheism.
PAG [ 624 ] PAG
Pttgod. thic taste, being surmounted by arched roofs or domes
——y—that are not semicircular, but composed of two segments
of circles meeting in a point at top.” Our author ob¬
serves, that the lion in this group, as well as one on a
stone couch in what he took to be a royal palace, are
perfectly just representations of the true lion, and the
natives there give them the name which is always un¬
derstood to mean a lion in the Hindoo language, to
wit, sing ; but the figure which they have made to re¬
present that animal in their idol temples for centuries
past, though it bears the same appellation, is a distorted
monster, totally unlike the original j insomuch that it
has from hence been supposed, that the lion was not
anciently known in this country, and that sing was a
name given to a monster that existed only in Hindoo
romance. But it is plain that that animal was well
known to the authors of these works, who, in manners
as well as ai’ts, seem to have differed much from the
modern Hindoos.
“ There are two circumstances attending these monu¬
ments which cannot but excite great curiosity, and on
which future inquiries may possibly throw some light.
One is, that on one of the pagodas last mentioned,
there is an inscription of a single line, in a character at
present unknown to the Hindoos. It resembles neither
the Deyva-nagre, nor any of the various characters
connected with or derived from it, which have come
to the writer’s knowledge from any part of Hindo-
stan. Nor did it, at the time he viewed it, appear to
correspond with any character, Asiatic or European,
that is commonly known. He had not then, however,
seen the alphabet of the Balic, the learned language of
the Siamese, a sight of which has since raised in his
mind a suspicion that there is a near affinity between
them, if the character be not identically the same. But
as these conjectures, after such a lapse of time, are
somewhat vague, and the subject of them is perhaps
yet within the reach of our researches, it is to be hoped
that some method may be fallen upon of procuring an
exact copy of this inscription.
“ The other circumstance is, that though the out¬
ward form of the pagodas is complete, the ultimate
design of them has manifestly not been accomplished,
but seems to have been defeated by some extraordi¬
nary convulsion of nature. For the western side of the
most northerly one is excavated to the depth of four
or five feet, and a row of pillars left on the outside to
support the roof $ but here the work has been stop¬
ped, and an uniform rent of about four inches breadth
has been made throughout the solid rock, and appears
to extend to its foundations, which are probably at a
prodigious depth below the surface of the ground.
That this rent has happened since the work began, or
while it was carrying on, cannot be doubted j for the
marks of the masons tools are perfectly visible on the
excavated part on both sides of the rent, in such a
manner as to show plainly that they have been divided
by it. Nor is it reasonable to suppose, that such a
work would ever have been designed or begun upon a
rock that had previously been rent in two. Nothing
less than an earthquake, and that a violent one, could
apparently have produced such a fissure in the solid
rock: and that this has been the case in point of fact,
may be gathered from other circumstances, which it is
necessary to mention in an account of this curious
1
place. The great rock above described is at some small Pagod.
distance from the sea, perhaps 50 or 100 jards, and —v*—
in that space the Hindoo village before mentioned
stood in 1776. But close to the sea are the remains
of a pagoda built of brick, and dedicated to Sib, the
greatest part of which has evidently been swallowed up
by that element j for the door of the innermost apart¬
ment, in which the idol is placed, and before which
there are always two or three spacious courts sur¬
rounded with walls, is now -washed by the waves, and
the pillar used to discover the meridian at the time
of founding the pagoda is seen standing at some di¬
stance in the sea. In the neighbourhood of this build¬
ing there are some detached rocks, washed also by the
waves, on which there appear sculptures, though now
much worn and defaced. And the natives of the place
declared to the writer of this account, that the more
aged people among them remembered to have seen the
tops of several pagodas far out in the sea, which being
covered with copper, (probably gilt) were particularly
visible at sunrise, as their shining surface used then ta
reflect the sun’s rays, but that now that effect was no
longer produced, as the copper had since become in-
crusted with the mould and verdegrise.”
From these circumstances our author conjectures,
and we think reasonably, that the magnificent city
of which these appear to be part of the ruins, has
been destroyed partly by an earthquake, by which
the rock was rent, and partly by a sudden inunda¬
tion of the sea, occasioned by this commotion of the
earth. The bramins give an account of this matter
peculiar to themselves, filled with extravagance, fable,
and folly } from which, however, with the assistance
of ancient monuments, coins, and inscriptions, some
probable conjectures at least, if not important dis¬
coveries, may, it is hoped, be made on these subjects,
which are far from being uninteresting to us either as
men, philosophers, or Christians. Our author thinks,
therefore, that the inscription on the pagoda mentioned
above is an object which merits considerable attention;
and he defends, by very reputable authorities, the con¬
jecture which places it among the languages of Siam ;
but which it is unnecessary for us either to abridge or to
transcribe. In the course of this inquiry, our author re¬
marks a very near resemblance betw'een Sonwionacodoniy
the idol of the Sia?nese, and the great idol Buddou, held
sacred by the Chingelays ; and this resemblance extends
also to their priests. But from the detail of circum¬
stances which our author brings forward, and to which
we refer, he thinks this a system of religion different
from that of the Veds, and some of them totally incon¬
sistent with the principles and practice ol the bramins ;
none of whom, as far as we can collect from Mr Knox -J-s | c/
exist among the Chingelays, whose religion is totally
different from that of the present Hindoos. The only
part in which there seems te be any agreement is in
the worship of the Debtahs, which has probably crept
in among them from their Tamulian neighbours, but
.that is carried on in a manner very different from
the braminical system, and appears to be held by the
nation at large in very great contempt, if not abhor¬
rence. Knox’s account of it is this : “ Their temples
(i. e. those of the Debtahs) are called cords” which is
the Tamulic word for pagoda. He then goes on to say,
“ a man piously disposed builds a small house at his own
1 charge,
FAG [ 625 ] P A I
jroJ. charge, which is the temple, and himself becomes priest
v—’ thereof. This house is seldom called Gpd's house, but
most usually Jaeo the deviPs” But of the prevailing
religion he speaks in very different terms, and describes
it as carried on with much parade and splendour, and
attended with marks of great antiquity, “ The pago¬
das or temples of their gods (says he) are so many, that
I cannot number them. Many of them are of rare and
exquisite work, built of hewn stone, engraven with ima¬
ges and figures, but by whom and when I could not
attain to know, the inhabitants themselves being ig¬
norant therein. But sure. I am they were built by
far more ingenious artificers than the Chingelays that
now are on the land. For the Portuguese in their in¬
vasions have defaced some of them, which there is
none found that hath skill enough to repair to this
day.” In another place, he says, “ here are some an¬
cient writings engraven upon rocks, which puzzle all
that see them. There are divers great rocks in divers
parts in Cande Uda, and in the northern parts. These
rocks are cut deep with great letters for the space of some
yards, so deep that they may last to the world’s end.
No body can read them or make any thing of them.
I have asked Malabars and Gentoos, as well as Chin¬
gelays and Moors, but none of them understood them.
There is an ancient temple, Goddiladenni in Yatta-
nour, stands by a place where there are of these let¬
ters.” From all which the antiquity of the nation
and their religion is sufficiently evident, and from
other passages it is plain, that the worship of Bud-
dou, in particular, has been from remote times a very
eminent part of their religion j for the same author,
speaking of the tree at Anurodgburro, in the north¬
ern part of the island, which is sacred to Buddou,
says, “ the due performance of this worship they rec¬
kon not a little meritorious : insomuch that, as they re¬
port, 90 kings have reigned there successively, where,
by the ruins that still remain, it appears they spared
not for pains and labour, to build temples and high
monuments to the honour of this god, as if they had
been born to hew rocks and great stones, and lay them
up in heaps. These kings are now happy spirits, hav¬
ing merited it by these labours.” And again he says,
“ For this god, above all others, they seem to have a
high respect and devotion,” &c.
Such is the nature of Mr Chambers’s communica¬
tion, as far as it respects pagodas ; a subject to which
the Asiatic Society will doubtless again direct their at¬
tention ; and from the penetration and assiduity of its
members we have much to expect. Other parts of
this paper shall be brought forwards under other ar¬
ticles, to which we refer. Few researches are of moi’e
service to true religion, than those which give us a
correct view of the false and superstitious modes of
worship practised by men who have had no light but rea¬
son, or weak and corrupted traditions. They are use¬
ful likewise to the philosopher, as they always tend to
give us a minuter view of the real nature of man as he
js in himself, and show with sufficient strength the im¬
becility of the human intellect without some supernatu¬
ral aid. The external pomp of all pagan religions seems
to have been their essence 5 a circumstance which alone
shows the necessity of that, the intention of which is
to reform the heart. See Siam, SoMMONACODON,
Temple, &c.
Vol. XV. Part II.
Pagod, or Pagoda, is also the name of a gold and Pagod,
silver coin, current in several parts of the East Indies. Pain.
PAIN, an uneasy sensation, arising from a sudden and ' v 
violent solution of continuity, or other accident in the
nerves, membranes, vessels, muscles, &c. of the body.
Pain, according to some, consists in amotion of the or¬
gans of sense 5 and, according to others, it is an emotion
of the soul occasioned by those organs.
As the brain is the seat of sensation, so it is of pain.
Boerhaave,and most other authors on this subject, assign
a stretching of the nerves as the only immediate cause
of pain: but as the nerves do not appear to consist of
fibres, this cause of pain does not seem to be well-
founded; nor indeed will it be easy to treat this subject
clearly, but in proportion as the means of sensation are
understood.
Many kinds of pain are met with in authors : such as,
A gravitative pain ; in which there is a sense of weight
on the part aflected, which is always some fleshy part,
as the liver, &c. A pulsatlve pain; which, Galen says,
always succeeds some remarkable inflammation in the
containing parts, and is observed in abscesses while sup¬
purating. A tensive pain, which is also called a distend¬
ing pain ; it is excited by the distension of some nervous,
muscular, or membranous part, either from some humour,
or from flatulence. An acute pain is, when great pain
is attended with quick and lively sensations : A dull
pain is. when a kind of numbness is as much complain¬
ed of as the pain is.
The mediate and more remote causes of pain are ge¬
nerally obvious ; and when this is the case, the cure will
consist for the most part in removing them : for though
in many instances the chief complaint is very distant
from the seat of those causes, yet their removal is the
proper method of relief. See Medicine, passim.
Perhaps all pains may be included, with irritation, in
those that have spasm or inflammation for their source.
M hen pain is owing to inflammation, the pulse is quicker
than in a natural state ; it is also generally full, hard,
and tense ; the pain is equal, throbbing, and unremit¬
ting. If a spasm be the cause, the pulse is rarely affect¬
ed ; at intervals the pain abates, and then returns with
some degree of aggravation; gentle motion sometimes
abates, or even cures, in some instances ; but in inflam¬
matory cases no such effects are ever experienced. See
Dr Lobb’s Treatise on Painful Distempers.
The pain so frequently attendant on women in child¬
bed, called after-pains (from their happening only
after being delivered of a child), arc often occasioned
by attempts to bring away coagulated blood, which is
a needless endeavour. When no improper treatment
in delivering the secundines can be suspected, the irri¬
tability of the uterus alone is to be considered as the
cause. Care should be taken not to confound these
after-pains with, or mistake the pains attending puer¬
peral fevers for the colic. After pains come by fits, and
soon go off; but return at different intervals, which are
longer each day, and after two or three days are usu¬
ally at an end, though sometimes they continue seven
or eight : notwithstanding these pain’s, the lochia flow
properly, and generally more abundantly after the cessa¬
tion of each fit; this does not happen in colicky Com¬
plaints, nor is the belly so free from tumefaction when
the puerperal fever is attendant.
As these pains are of the spasmodic kind, anodynes
+ 4 K and
P A I [
and gentle opiates, with frequent draughts of warm cau¬
dle, chamomile tea, &c. with external fomentation, are
all that are required in order to their relief.
Among the various causes of pain, a singular one is
related in the third vol. of the Land. Med Obs. and Inq.
p 241 &c. Some persons who had taken cold dunng
their being salivated, were afflicted with pains which
626 ] P A I
resisted all the usual methods of relief. At length the
author of the narrative referred to suggested the cause-,
and by exciting a fresh salivation the pains abated
the spitting was kept up a little while, and permitted
to abate with some caution } and thus the cures were
completed.
*
PAINTING.
PAINTING is the art of representing to the eye, by
means of figures and colours, every object in nature
that is discernible by the sight: and of sometimes ex¬
pressing, according to the principles of physiognomy,
and by the attitudes of the body, the various emotions
of the mind. A smooth surface, by means of lines and
colours, represents objects in a state of projection j am
may represent them in the most pleasant dress, and
in a manner most capable of enchanting the senses.
Still farther, the objects which delight us by their ani¬
mation and lively colours, speak to the soul, by giving
us the image of what we hold most dear, or by indica¬
ting an action which inspires us with a taste for innocent
pleasures, with courage, and with elevated sentiments.
Such is the definition, and such are the effects of paint¬
ing. . . c
By an admirable effort of human genius, painting of¬
fers to the eye every thing which is most valuable in
the universe. Its empire extends over every age and
country. It presents to us the heroic deeds of ancient
times as well as the facts in which we are more conver¬
sant, and distant objects as well as those which we daily
see. In this respect it may be considered as a supple¬
ment to nature, which gives us only a view of present
ohiects.
The art of painting is extremely difficult m the exe¬
cution and its merit can only be appreciated by those
who profess the art.
The painter who invents, composes, and colours con¬
ceptions which are only agreeable, and which speak
merely to the eye of the spectator, may be reckoned to
possess the first merit in the style of embellishment and
decoration. _
The painter who is distinguished for noble and pro¬
found conceptions } who, by means of a perfect delinea¬
tion, and colours more capable of fixing the attention
than dazzling the eye, conveys to the spectators the sen¬
timents with which he himself was inspired } who ani¬
mates them with his genius, and makes a lasting im¬
pression on their minds ; this artist is a poet, and
worthy to share even in the glories of Homer.
It is in forming this great idea of his art that the
painter becomes himself great.
But if he seek only to please or astonish by the illu¬
sion of colours, he must rest contented with the second¬
ary merit of flattering the eye with the variety and op¬
position of tints, or of making an industrious assemblage
of a great multiplicity of objects. It is in painting as
it is in poetry. The man who clothes trivial or 00m-
mon ideas in verse, exercises the profession of twisting
syllables into a certain measure. The poet who clothes
in good verse, ideas and sentiments that are merely agree¬
able, professes an agreeable art. But he who by the
maoic of verse, of ideas, of imagery, or of colours, adds
sublimity to the sublime objects of nature, is a great
poet and" a great painter. He deserves the crown winch
the nations have decreed to Homer, Airgil, Milton, Ita-
pbael, and the statuary who modelled the ancient Apol¬
lo. It is reasonable to place in the same class those who
have expressed the same ideas, whether it be in verse or
in colours, on brass or on marble. The painter and sta¬
tuary, who excel in their professions, deserve all the re-
soect due to genius : they are of the number of those
men whom nature, sparing of her best gifts grants but
occasionally to the inhabitants of the earth. If they
are sublime, they elevate the human race } if they aie
agreeable only, they excite those sweet sensations ne¬
cessary to our happiness.
In laying before our readers a succinct account of
this noble art, we shall, first, give the history of paint¬
ing, including its rise, progress, and decline, m ancient
and modern "times j an account of the schools, and of
the different merits of painters 5 and a comparison be¬
tween the ancient and modern painting. Secondly, we
shall lay down the principles of the art, and the order
in which the artist conducts his studies. Thirdly, we
shall enumerate the different classes of painting, with
observations on each. And, Fourthly, we shall treat ot
economical or house painting.
HISTOEY.
ect. I. Bi'se, Progress, and Decline of Painting in
Ancient and Modern Times.
It is to be imagined that men must naturally, and
ery early, have conceived an idea of the first principles
f the art of painting j the shadow of each plant and
nimal, and of every object in nature, must have aflord-
d them the means of conceiving, and pointed out the
ossibility of imitating, the figures of all bodies. I bus
he savage nations, an emblem of what men were in the
nfancy of society, possess the first rudiments of this art,
ven before those which are useful and almost necessary
0 existence; their naked bodies are covered with punc-
ures of various forms, into which they infuse indelible
■olonrs. The next demand for this art, is to preserve
he memory of warlike exploits. It is more natural to-
'orm some representation of an action, than to give aq
iccount of it by means of arbitrary characters. Hence
be picture-writing of the Mexicans, and the more com¬
plex hieroglyphics of Egypt. , .
Painting consisted of simple outlines long before the
expression of relievo, or the application of colour, it
istory. PAIN
^ Pro- was simply drawing j and the master-pieces of painting
, ss, and in that rude period were not superior to the sports of
j lecline. children. Although occupied about a single point, it
was not brought to perfection ; for constant experience
instructs us that men never excel in the inferior parts of
an art till they are capable of carrying the whole to
perfection.
After employing for a long time those simple out¬
lines, the next step in the art of painting was to make
the imitation more complete by applying colours j this
was first accomplished by covering the difi’erent parts of
the figure with different colours, in the same way that
we colour maps ; and several nations, as the Egyptians,
the Chinese, and the different nations of India, have
never painted in a better manner. Other nations, more
ingenious and more attentive to the arts, observing that
the objects of nature have relievo, have invented what is
called claro-obscuro. The Greeks, the most ingenious,
penetrating, and delicate of all, invented this part ante¬
cedent to colours •, than which there cannot he a greater
proof of their exquisite taste, as the glare of colours
without judgment excites more admiration in the minds
of the vulgar and ignorant, than the camaieu or draw¬
ings of one colour executed by the most skilful artist.
These general observations concerning the gradual
improvement of this art, will be best illustrated by a
more particular attention to the ancient nations in which
j it flourished.
luting Plato, who lived 400 years before the Christian era,
i mg the informs us that painting had been practised in Egypt for
3 ptians. ^en t|lousaild years j that some of the productions of that
high antiquity were in existence $ and that they bore
an exact resemblance to those which the Egyptians exe¬
cuted in his time. Without regarding the period of ten
thousand years mentioned by Plato, it is reasonable to
consider it as an indeterminate period, which carries us
hack to very remote antiquity.
The figures either in the painting or sculpture of
Egypt were extremely stiff $ the legs were drawn toge¬
ther, and their arms were pasted to their sides. It ap¬
pears that their only model was their mummies, and that
their skill in anatomy was derived from embalming
them. They were extremely incorrect in every part ot
the head ; they placed the ears much higher than the
nose. Besides, they gave the face the form of a circle
instead of an oval j the chin was short and rounded j the
cheek excessively so ; and they turned upwards the cor¬
ners of the mouth and eyes. Many of these faults may
be ascribed to the formation of the human face in E-
gypt *, but the placing of the ears could only be found¬
ed in caprice or ignorance.
The exactness of the Egyptian proportion is much
celebrated j but although we grant that they observed
the proper length ot the different parts of the human
body, they were still defective artists, since they did not
observe the breadth, and were moreover ignorant alto¬
gether of the shape and size of the muscles. Works
converted to religious purposes chiefly occupied the E-
gvptian painters. They had figures for imitation from
which they would not depart, and those figures were mon¬
strous j the bodies of animals with the heads of men;
the bodies of men with the heads of animals: or it the
figure was more agreeable to nature in its parts, yet it
was so deformed and imaginary, as to have nothing si-
iar to it as a whole in the creation of God.
TING. 627
The monuments of Egyptian painting with which we Rij.C) pru.
are best acquainted (says Winklemann) are the chests gre.ss, and
pf mummies. These works have resisted the injuries of decline,
time, and are still submitted to the examination of the
curious. The white, made of white lead, is spread over
the ground of the piece j the outlines of the figure arc
traced with black strokes, and the colours are four in
number j namely, blue, red, yellow, and green, laid on
without any mixture or shading. The red and bine
prevail most; and those colours seem to have been pre¬
pared in the coarsest manner. The light is formed by
leaving those parts of the ground, where it is necessary,
covered with the white lead, as it is formed by the white
paper in some of our drawings. This description is suf¬
ficient to convince us that the whole art of painting in
Egypt consisted in colouring: but every person knows,
that without tints and the mixture of colours painting
can never arrive at great perfection.
In Upper Egypt there seems to have existed a kind
of colossean painting, which has never been examined,
except by travellers who were no great critics in the
art. Winklemann had some reason to express a desire
that those remains of antiquity, with regard to the man¬
ner of working, the style, and the character, had been
accurately explored. Walls of 24 feet in height, and
pillars of 32 feet in circumference, are wholly covered
with those colossean figures. According to Norden they
are coloured in the same manner with the mummies :
the colours are applied to a ground prepared in manner
of fresco 5 and they have retained their freshness for
many thousand years. Winklemann adds, that all the
efforts of human skill and industry could make as little
impression on them as the injuries of time. His enthu¬
siasm for antiquity has perhaps led him into this extra¬
vagant exaggeration.
It appears that the great employment of the Egyp¬
tian painters was on earthen vessels, on drinking cups,
in ornamenting barges, and in covering with figures the
chests of mummies. They painted also on cloth j but
painting, as an industrious occupation, supposes a work¬
man not an artist : the decoration of temples, house
painting, and that of the figures relative to religion,
are to be considered only in this point of view. The
workmen in Russia who paint our Saviour holding the
globe in one hand, and blessing the people with the other,
are not members of the imperial academy ol fine arts.
Pliny informs us that the Egyptian artists painted
also the precious metals •, that is to say, they varnished
or enamelled them. It is doubtful what this art was,
but most probably it consisted in covering gold or silver
with a single colour.
The Egyptians are supposed to have continued this
coarse style till the reign of the Ptolemies. 2
The Persians were so far from excelling in the arts, in Persia,
that the paintings of Egypt were highly esteemed among
them after they had conquered that country.
The carpets of Persia were of great value in Greece,
even in the time of Alexander the Great, and these
were adorned with various figures ; but this is no proof
that they were well executed, any more than a demand
for several of the Chinese productions is at present a
proof of the taste of that people in the arts. It was the
fabrication of the silk, and not the truth of the repre¬
sentation, which made the Greeks admire the carpets
of the Persians.
4 K 2
The
628
llise, Pro¬
gress, and
Decline.
PAINTING.
3
In India
and Thi¬
bet.
4
In China,
The Persians, as well as the Arabians, had some
knowledge of mosaic work. This is only valuable
when it copies, in a manner that cannot be destroyed,
the works of a great master ; but if the Persians had
no good pictures to copy into mosaic, it was ol no con¬
sequence to be able to arrange, in a solid manner, pieces
of flint one beside another.
There is only one Persian painter whose name has de¬
scended to posterity; and he is preserved, not because
he was a painter, but because he accommodated the an¬
cient doctrine of the two principles to the Christian re¬
ligion. Besides, it is doubted whether Manes was a
Persian or a Greek, and it is still less known whether
he was a painter. He is praised in Asia for drawing
straight lines without a ruler.
The modern Persians have made no kind of progress
in the arts. The emperor Schah Abbas, wishing from
caprice to be instructed in drawing, was obliged to have
recourse to a Dutch painter who happened to be in his
dominions.
The modern Persians paint on cloth, and the artists
in India are their rivals in this branch of industry j but
their paintings are purely capricious. They represent
plants and flowers which have no existence in nature ;
and their only merit consists in the brightness and the
strength of their colours.
Besides this, the art in India, as it was in the most
remote antiquity, is confined to monstrous fignres con¬
nected with their religion, animals not to be found in
the wrorld, and idols with a multitude of arms and heads,
which have neither exactness in their forms nor propor¬
tions. See Polytheism.
The paintings of Thibet discover great patience in
the artist, and are remarkable for the fineness of their
strokes. Their painters might dispute with Apelles and
Protogenes for extreme tenuity of pencil ; but it is in
this alone, without any regard to the art, in which their
merits consists. /
Some of the idols in Thibet are executed in a cer¬
tain style of relievo *, but those productions are not only
imperfect, they are also so destitute of beauty as to for¬
bid every hope of excellence in the art. The same
thing may be observed with regard to many of the east¬
ern nations; they seem to have that want of style
which would for ever condemn them to mediocrity, even
if they should happen to arrive at it.
An obscure Italian painter named GiovanniGhirardi-
ni, Avho travelled into China, whose judgment is more
to be depended on in an art which he practised than
that of other travellers, declares that the Chinese have
not the least idea of the fine arts j and this opinion is
confirmed by every thing which we know of that peo¬
ple.
The Chinese seem not to have the smallest concep¬
tion of perspective. Their landscapes have no plan, no
variety in the appearance of the clouds, and no di¬
minishing of the objects in proportion to their di¬
stance.
The great object of their painting seems to consist in
making their fignres as unlike nature as possible; it is a
serious caricature of the human figure.
To make the art flourish, it is necessary that the ar¬
tist be esteemed and rewarded. In China, there is no
artist so poorly paid as the painter.
The ignorant admire the brightness and purity of
4
History
their colours; but simple colours appear always bright Rise pr(
and pure : The difficulty of the art consists in melting gtess, an,
them into one another in such a manner that the mixture Dec|ine.
shall not be perceived. It must at the same time be L ''
confessed, that their natural colours are more brilliant
than ours; but if there be any merit in this, it is to be
ascribed to their climate, not to their ability.
A Jesuit missionary, who in his youth had been a
grinder of colours, was raised to the greatest eminence
as a painter in the Imperial court of China, and Raphael
himself was never so much respected. 'I he Chinese
battles sent from that country to Paris to be engraved,,
are the work of the Jesuits; and except they were done
by the Chinese themselves, rt is impossible to conceive
that they could be worse executed.
The Chinese, like other eastern nations, have a few
simple strokes which they repeat in all their variety of
figures. In the figures on the earthern ware, they dis¬
cover no knowledge of forms, no expression ot the most
conspicuous muscles, and no idea of proportion. And
in all the paintings of China, anatomy seems to bear no
relation to the art. Some heads done by a Chinese
painter have a sort of resemblance to nature, but they
are in a low and vicious taste : The fulness of the dra¬
pery conceals the parts in such a manner that they do
not seem to exist under it. Sculpture in China is in a
state of no great perfection, but at the same time it is
better executed than their paintings.
The ancient inhabitants ot Etruria, now called TW in Etruria
cany, were the first who connected the arts with the
study of nature. In some of their monuments which still
remain, there is to be observed a first style, which shows
the art in its infancy ; and a second, which, like the
works of the Florentine artists, shows more of great¬
ness and exaggeration in the character than precision
or beauty.
Pliny says that painting was carried to great perfec¬
tion in Italy before the foundation of Borne ; perhaps
he means in comparison with the infancy of the art in
Greece at that period; but it appears that even in his
time the painters of Etruria were held in great reputa¬
tion.
The only Etrurian paintings which remain, have
been found in the tombs of the Tarquins. They consist
of long painted frizes, and pilasters adorned with huge
figures, which occupied the whole space from the base
to the cornice. These paintings are executed on a
ground of thick mortar, and many of them are in a state
of high preservation.
Winklemann is of opinion, that the Greek colonies la Camp
established at Naples and Nola, had at a very early pe-ma.
riod cultivated the imitative arts, and taught them to
the Campanians established in the middle of the country.
This learned antiquarian considers as works purely Cam¬
panian, certain medals of Capua and Teannm, cities of
Campania into which the Greek colonies never pene¬
trated. The head of a young Hercules, and the bead
of a Jupiter, according to Winklemann, are executed
in the finest manner. It is still a question, however,
in the learned world, whether these medals owe their
existence to Carthage or to Campania.
“ But there has been discovered (adds Winklemann)
a great number of Campanian vases covered with paint¬
ing. The design of the greatest part ot th< se vases
(says he) is such, that the figures might occupy a distin¬
guished
jlistory. PAIN
ise Pro- guisfaed place in a work of Raphael. Those vases, when
■ess, and we consider that this kind of work admits of no correc-
Oecline. tion, and that the stroke which forms the outline must
' v remain as it is originally traced, are wonderful proofs
of the perfection of the art among the ancients.”
Winklemann had an opportunity of examining a very
fine Campanian vase, on which was painted a bur¬
lesque representation of the loves of Jupiter and Alc-
mena. But as this must have been derived from
some fragments of a Grecian comedy, the Count de
Caylus is persuaded that the Campanian vases are of
j Greek origin.
mongthe Although the history of Greek painting be more
reeks. fu|}y known than that of the same art among the bar¬
barous nations, it is nevertheless involved in much ob¬
scurity. Pliny is almost the only author who has pre¬
served the materials of its history •, and be complains,
that on this occasion the Greek writers have not disco¬
vered their usual precision. They place, says he, the
first painter, of whom they speak, in the 90th Olympiad,
624 years before the Christian era. It is certain that
painting in dry colours existed at the time of the siege
of Troy, or at least when Homer wrote the account of
it. The buckler of Achilles is a sufficient proof that
the Greeks were then acquainted with the basso relie¬
vo, a kind of sculpture which bears a near affinity to
painting.
In the Iliad, Helen is represented as working at a
tapestry, whereon she figured the numerous combats of
which she was the cause. When Andromache was in¬
formed of her husband’s death, she was occupied in re¬
presenting on tapestry flotvers of various colours. From
these facts, it is certain that painting was not confined
to simple strokes, nor even to the camaieu •, and hence
it is reasonable to conclude, that what is called linear?/
painting was practised long before the time of Homer.
Polygnote of Thasos, who lived about 420 years before
the Christian era, was the first painter of any eminence
in Greece. Pliny informs us that he was the first who
clothed his female figures, who varied the colours of the
different parts of their dress, or who opened their mouths
in such a manner as to show their teeth. Aristotle, who
flourished in a subsequent period, allows this painter to
have excelled in expression. But the art of painting
may be still considered in it§ infancy in Gi’eece, till
about 400 years before the Christian era, when Zeuxis
and Parrhasius flourished. In the contest between these
eminent painters, Zeuxis declared himself to be over¬
come, because in a cluster of grapes which he painted
he had deceived the birds \ whereas Parrhasius in a cur¬
tain which he executed deceived his rival. The princi¬
pal works of Zeuxis are his Penelope, in which, accord¬
ing to Pliny, he appears to have expressed the manners
of that princess; a Jupiter surrounded by the gods; a
Hercules strangling the serpents in the presence of Am-
phitrion and Alcmena; an Helen, and a Marsyas bound.
From this enumeration of these works, and from the
fame which they have acquired, it is evident that the
difficult parts of the art and those which in the execu¬
tion render it estimable, were now begun to be studied.
By Apelles, Protogenes, and Euphranor, it was carried
to the greatest height of perfection. Grace, and
symmetry, and proportion, and illusion, were now ad¬
ded by the greatest masters to the noblest objects of
nature.
TING. 629
We have already seen, that before the foundation of Rise, Pro-
Rome the arts were cultivated in Etruria. They were gress, and
also early introduced into Latium ; but whether that, Decline',,
country employed its own artists or those of Etruria, g
remains altogether uncertain. One need not be asto- Among the
nished, that at a period when the arts were in their infan- Romans,
cy in Greece, they were raising statues to their kings in
Rome: but at that period all their artists were Etruri¬
ans or Latins ; and when they conquered Italy, they
made all the nations ol it as barbarous as they were
themselves.
In the year 259 from the building of the city of
Rome, and 494 years before the Christian era, Appius
Claudius consecrated a number of shields in the temple
of Bellona, which contained in basso relievo the por¬
traits of his family. This example was followed ; and
in process, of time it was common among the Romans
to place those images in private houses. The execution
in basso relievo is a proof that they had an idea of paint¬
ing, at least with one colour. As long as the Romans
employed artists of other nations, they had little desire
to cultivate the arts ; but towards the year of Rome
450, and 303 years before Christ, one of the Fabii
thought it no discredit to a noble family to employ
himself in painting. He painted the temple of Safety ;
and his works remained till that temple was destroyed
by hre, in the reign of Claudius. It is worthy of re¬
mark, that the same man was the first painter and the
first historian in his country.
The example of Fabius, surnamed Victor from his
profession, did not excite his fellow citizens to imitation.
A century and a half elapsed before the tragic poet
Pacu vius, nephew of Ennius, painted the temple of
Hercules in the forum boarium. The glory which he
had acquired by his dramatic works shed some lustre on
the art, which he condescended to exercise ; but did not
confer on it that respect which could recommend it to
general practice. The paintings of Fabius were the
works, or rather the recreations of his youth ; those of
Pacuvius, the amusements of his old age : but paint'-
ing is a difficult art, which requires the whole atten¬
tion, and which can never be prosecuted with, success,
except those who love it are solely devoted to the per¬
formance.
It appears that there were no eminent painters at
Rome till the time of the emperors ; but as the national
spirit was changed, the profession of the fine arts acqui¬
red more respectability. The Romans, during the time
of the republic, were animated with the spirit of liberty
and the desire for conquest. When these two passions
were weakened, the love of the arts obtained among
them. As a proof of this it is sufficient to say, that
Nero himself gloried in being an artist. A colossean
picture of 1 20 feet was painted at Rome by the com¬
mand of this emperor, which was afterward destroyed
by lightning. The name of the painter is not recorded,
and there are various opinions concerning the merit of
the performance ; but the thing chiefly worthy of ob¬
servation is, that this is the only painting on cloth men¬
tioned by ancient authors. ^
The paintings of the ancient artists were either move- Of the
able, or on the ceilings or compartments of buildings, modes of
According to Pliny, the most eminent were those whoPainting^
painted moveable pictures. The latter were either on ancients.G
fir wood, larch, boxwood, or canvas, as in the colossean
picture
630
Jlise, Pro¬
gress, and
Decline.
PAINTING.
picture mentioned above, and sometimes on marble.
When they employed wood, they laid on in the hrst in¬
stance a white ground. Among the antiquities cl 1 er-
culaneum are four paintings on white marble.
Their immoveable paintings on walls were either 1
fresco or on the dry stucco in distemper. Indeed all the
ancient paintings may be reduced to,fresco pamt-
incr; secondly, water colour, or distemper painting
a dry ground •, and, thirdly, encaustic painting.
The ancient fresco paintings appear to have been al¬
ways on a white stucco ground, the colours inlaid very
deep, and the drawing much more bold and free than
any similar performance of modern art. The outlines
of the ancient paintings on ffrCsco were probably done
at once, as appears from the depth of the incision and
the boldness and freedom of the design, equal to the
care and spirit of a pencilled outline.
In general the ancients painted on a dry ground even
in their buildings, as appears from the Herculaneum an¬
tiquities, most of which are executed in this manner.
At Rome and Naples, the first (deepest) coat is of true
iiuzzolana, of the same nature with the tarras now used
in mortar required to keep out wet, about one finger
thick •, the next of ground marble or alabaster, am
sometimes of pure lime or stucco, in thickness about
one third of the former. Upon this they appear to have
laid a coat of black, and then another of red paint 5 on
which last the subject itself was executed. Such seems
to have been their method of painting on walls j but in
their moveable pictures, and in the performance of their
first artists, and where effect of shade and light were-
necessavy, they doubtless used white.
The colours employed they seem to have mixed up
with size, of which they preferred that made by boil¬
ing the ears and genitals of bulls. This appears to have
made the colour so durable and adhesive, that the an¬
cient paintings lately found bear washing with a soft
cloth and water*, and sometimes even diluted aquafortis
is employed to clean their paintings on fresco. Rimy
says that glue dissolved in vinegar and then dried, is
not again soluble. . .
What the encaustic painting of the ancients was, lias
been much disputed. From the works of Vitruvius
and Pliny* it appears evidently that it was of three
kinds. # .
First, Where a picture painted in the common way,
was covered with a varnish of wax melted, diluted with a
little oil, and laid on warm with a brush.
Secondly, Where the colours themselves were mixed
up with melted wax, and the mixture used while
warm. And,
Thirdly, Where a painting was executed on ivory
by means of the cestrvm or vinculum.
Some experiments on this last method by Air Cole-
brook may be found in the Phil. Trans, vol. li. and
more particular directions in Muntz’s Treatise on Ln-
caustic Painting. ... , ■
It appears from ancient writings of tlie best authori¬
ty, that in the earliest and purest times of this art, the
painters used few colours, perhaps not more than four.
“ The paintings of the ancients (says Dionysius Hali-
carnasseus) were simple and unvaried in their colouring,
but correct in their drawing, and distinguished by their
elegance. Those which succeeded, less correct in their
drawing, W'ere more finished, more varied in their light
History.
and shades, trusting their effect to the multitude of their IlisC) Pro.
colours.” But no certain conclusion can be drawn, that gress, and
the more early amongthe great painters of the ancients,
Such as Apoliodovus, Zeuxis, rJ imanthes, &.c. bad on¬
ly four different colours, merely because they did not
vise them. On the contrary, it may be conjectured
with some degree of probability, from their chasteness
in design, and from the complaints Pliny makes of the
gaudy taste of the Roman painters, that the Greeks in
general were designedly chaste in their colouring, and
not so merely from necessity, at least about the tune of
Zeuxis and Apelles*, for the former could not have
painted grapes so naturally as he is said to have done
with four colours only *, and the rebuke given by the
latter to one of his scholars who had painted a Helen
very gaudilv, is a confirmation of these observations.
“ Young man (says Apelles), not being ab.e to make
her beautiful, you have made her rich. _
Ofwhite colouring substances, the ancients had
lead variously prepared, a white from calcined egg- ancients
shells, and preparations from cretaceous and argillace¬
ous earths. The moderns, in addition, have magistery
of bismuth, little used j and ought to have the calces of
tin and zinc. . . ..
Of blacks, the ancients had preparations similar to
lamp, ivory, blue, and Francfort black; also to Indian
ink, and common writing ink *, and they used, what we
do not, the precipitate of the black dyers vats.
The ancients possessed a species of w/ wm/zo/i or fines
cinnabar, a coarser cinnabar, red lead, various earths
burnt and unburnt, apparently similar to our red ochre,
Venetian red, Indian red, Spanish brown, burnt ter¬
ra de Sienna, and scarlet ochre *, they had also a sub¬
stance alike in colour and in name to our dragons
blood. . . ,
The yellow pigments of the ancients were genencal-
ly the same with our orpiments, king’s yellow, Naples
yellow, &c. They did not possess turpeth-mineral,
mineral yellow, or gamboge ; nor do they appear to
have known of gall-stone as a pigment. .
Of blue paints they had preparations from the lapis
cyanus and lapis armenius. Indigo they had, and per¬
haps bice and smalt; for they made blue glass, but whe¬
ther from some ore of cobalt or of wolfram must be
uncertain : they had not Prussian blue, verditer, or lit¬
mus, which we have. AVe do not use the blue precipi¬
tate of the dyers vats, or mountain blue, which they
certainly employed. . ,
Of green colours they had verdegrise, terre verte, and
malachite or mountain green. The latter is not m use
among us. Sap-green, green verditer, and Scheele s
green, appear to have been unknown to them : like us,
they procured as many tints, as they pleased from blue
and yellow vegetables. _ , ..
We have no original purple in use : that from gold
by means of tin, though very good when well prepared,
is too dear perhaps, and unnecessary. I heir purple was
a tinged earth. Their orange or sandarac (red orpi-
ment) we also possess. Hence there does not appear to
have been any great want of pigments or any very ma¬
terial difference between the colours they used and such
as we generally employ. Perhaps the full effect of co¬
louring may be obtained without the use of excetdn g
brilliant pigments, depending chiefly on the propoition
and opposition of tints. The
Ilstory. PAIN
lise, Pra- TIip ancients could not know any thing about the spi-
rress, nnd rit varnishes, distillation being a modern invention-, but
iOedind t|iey Were undoubtedly acquainted with the use of the
better oil varnishes, that is, with the use and efl’ect of
fhether resinous gums dissolved in boiling inspissated oils,
j |ieancients One of the best preserved mummies in the British
tinted in Museum has an astonishing brightness of colours on the
outside of the coffin. Thousands of years have not im¬
paired them ; they are as fresh as if they had been laid
on yesterday.
The chalk ground, and the excellency of the colours,
some of which imply a good deal of chemical and metal¬
lurgical knowledge, do not sufficiently account for their
splendour and freshness: it must be owing to other cir¬
cumstances •, either to the mixture of shining colours,
or to a hard glossy skin, which visibly covers them all
over.
From an accurate examination of one of those mum¬
mies belonging to the university of Cambridge, it ap¬
peared, that the varnish which covered the colours could
not be dissolved, or in the least affected by common water;
and that it equally resisted the dissolving power of the
strongest spirits: hence it is reasonable to conclude that
the coffins of the mummies were not covered with ^ize,
white of eggs, simple gums, or any preparation of wax,
but with a fine transparent oil varnish. It was discovered
at the same time, that the colours themselves were not
prepared or mixed with oil ; for where the external
glossy skin was damaged, broken, or rubbed off, even
common water would wash the colours away, and affect
the chalk ground under them.
Pliny has described the general and particular effects
of the varnish of Apelles, under the name of atr amentum,
so indistinctly, that nobody can distinguish the thing or
the mixture he is speaking of. He has mentioned the
shining glossy skin of the varnish which excitestbebrigbt-
ness of the colours, and preserves them against dust j he
observed, that this skin was laid on so thin, that it could
not be discerned at any distance: nor was he less accurate
in reporting the particular effects of that mixture which
Apelles made use of 5 it harmonized and lowered the
tone of the brightest florid colours in an imperceptible
manner, and the whole appeared as if it had been seen
through isinglass. The chemists and connoisseurs are
fully of opinion, that no liquid substance or mixture of
any kind is fit to produce these effects besides the oil
varnishes: and if there are not, Apelles and the Greeks
were certainly acquainted with those varnishes : a fact
which might be strongly urged in behalf of their know¬
ledge of oil colours.
The black outlines of the figures on the most ancient
Greek paintings yet extant, that is, on Etruscan vases,
are so sharp, so thick, and drawn in so easy and masterly
a manner, that one cannot help looking upon them as
having been drawn in oil colours. Had they been in
distemper or water colours on the red clay ground on
which they are applied, they would have been imbibed
and soaked into it. Our china and enamel painters pre¬
pare and apply their colours with spike or other liquid
oils j and the Greek masters seem to have done the same,
unless they should appear to have burnt their vases be¬
fore they painted them, or to have used a mixture of
dissolved wax or gum for giving a body to their colours,
which might have answered the same ends as oils. And
this is the more probable, as there is some reason to be-
TING. 631
lieve that these vases went through two different fires, Pro-
that of baking them, and that of smelting or burning in gr» ss, and
their colours. Decline. ^
The Greek and Roman paintings that have been pre¬
served or discovered at Rome and Herculaneum do not
countenance the supposition of oil colours j at least Turn-
bull and the academists at Naples, who have described
the royal collection at Rortici, Cochin, and many other
authors who have seen and described them, do not hint
any thing of that nature. Ou the other hand, Vitruvius,
who has left us so many valuable notices of the ancient
arts, acquaints us, that there was a kind of paintingwhich
absolutely required a mixture of oil: And Pliny, to the
same purpose, expressly says, “ Sun and moon shine are
inimical and obnoxious to red lead The remedy is to
apply the red wax when hot and melted with some
oil on the well dried walls, which is to be done with
brushes.”
From these observations, the evidence which the an¬
cients have given us in behalf of themselves, and of their
knowledge of oil painting, may be summed up in few
words.
Their having been acquainted with the white chalk
ground, which many modern masters have used for oil
painting on boards, proves no more than that the an¬
cients might have done the same.
The oil varnishes used by the Egyptians and by A-
pelles might have brought them to the discovery of oil
painting 5 but as it appears both from mummies and
from the works of Pliny, that their colours were not
prepared and mixed with that varnish, and as it is plain
rather that this varnish was externally laid over the
finished pictures \ no other conclusion can be drawn, ex¬
cept that they were within sight of the discovery, and
that it is a matter of wonder that they should not have
laid hold of it.
The outlines of the old Greek or Etruscan vases are
merely fallacious appearances.
The old Greek and Roman paintings on walls and
stones are either painted in distemper and fresco, or they
have not been sufficiently examined.
The oil used in the coarser wax and wall paintings
proves at most that experiments had been tried with
oils : but we have no direct proofs of oil painting ha¬
ving been understood or used by the Egyptians, Greeks,
or Romans , and that, however great their skill or in¬
genuity, they might very well have been within sight
and reach of the discovery, and nevertheless have missed
it* _ ' ' 12
The art of painting was revived in Europe about the Fuse, prot¬
end of the 13th or beginning of the 14th century. The£ress, anrf
human mind, however, plunged in profound ignorance,
was destitute of every principle of sound philosophy which painting,
might enable it to determine on the objects of the arts;
andofconsequencethe painters contented themselves with
works adapted to the general taste, without beauty and
without proportion. In Italy, where the first attemjrts
were made, they were employed in representing the my¬
steries of the passion, and subjects of a similar nature, on
the walls of chapels and churches. Their labours were
directed to a vast number of figures, rather than to the
beauty and perfection of each ; and the art in more mo¬
dern times has always preserved somewhat of this absurd
fault which it contracted at that early period. The artist
in. our times is not, like those in Greece, at liberty to
devote.
PAIN
Pro devote Ids trdcnts only to men of knowledge and d'f00™-
and ment ; he is constrained w please those who are rich and
ne* very frequently those who are ignorant. Insteat o pio-
^ posing to himself the perfection of the art as the great
object of his pursuit, he must rest Ins success and cha¬
racter on the facility of his operation and the abundance
of his works. . . , . c . „„„
Painting did not long continue in the imperfect con¬
dition in which it was left by those who first cultivated
it among the moderns. It was natural that their succes-
80rs should endeavour to surpass them, by joining some
decree of theory to the barbarous practice they had ad op¬
ted. The first thing which they discovered, or rather
which they revived after the manner of the ancients,
was perspective. This made the artists capable oi ex¬
pressing what is called foreshortening, and of giving
more effect and more truth to their works.
Dominique Ghirlandaios, a Florentine, was the first
who enriched the style of his composition hy grouping
Ids figures, and who gave depth to his pictures by di¬
stinguishing, by exact gradations, the spaces which Ins
figures occupied 5 but his successors have far surpassed
him in boldness of composition. , _ .
Leonardo da Vinci, Michael Angelo, Giorgian, li-
tian, Bartholomew de St Marc, and Raphael, flourished
about the end of the 14th century. Leonardo da V inci
was the inventor of a great many details m the art :
Michael Angelo, by studying the ancients, and by his
knowledge of anatomy, arrived at great elegance in
drawing the outlines of his figures : Giorgian enriched
the art in general, and gave greater brilliancy to his
colours than his predecessors : Titian, by a careful imi¬
tation of nature, made great proficiency in the truth and
perfection of his tones: Bartholomew de St Marc studied
particularly the part of drapery, and discovered the claro
obscuro, the best manner of giving drapery to lus figures,
and of making the naked to be felt even where they were
covered : Raphael, endowed with a superior genius, be¬
gan with studying carefully all his predecessors and all
his contemporaries. He united in himself all the ex¬
cellencies which they possessed *, and formed a style more
perfect and more universal than any painter who went
before or who has succeeded him. But while he excel¬
led in every part of the art, he was chiefly superior in
those of invention and composition. It is probable that
the Greeks themselves would have been filled with ad¬
miration if they had beheld his chief pieces in the Va¬
tican, where to the greatest abundance of paintings is
joined so much perfection, and purity, and ease.
After painting had arrived at the greatest perfection
among the Greeks by the exertions of Zeuxis and Par-
rhasius, Apelles found nothing to add to the art except
grace } in the same manner among the moderns, after
Raphael had appeared, grace was the only thing wanting
to the art, and Corregio became the Apelles of Europe.
Painting was by him carried to the highest degreeamong
the moderns •, the taste of the best critics and the eye
of the vulgar were equally gratified.
After these great masters a considerable intervalelap-
sed till the time of the Caracci. Those artists born at
Bologna, by studying the works of their predecessors
w-ith great care, and particularly those of Corregio, be¬
came the first and the most celebrated of their imitators.
Hannibal possessed a very correct design, and united
TING. History
somewhat of the ancient style to that of Lewis his bro- Rise, Pro
ther ; but he neglected to inquire into the intricate prin- gress am
ciples and philosophy of the art. 'i he pupils of the Ca-, in^
racci formed a school after their manner ; but Guido, a
painter of an easy and happy talent, formed a style alto¬
gether graceful, and rich, and easy. Guershen formed
after Caravagio, or invented himself, a particular style
of the claro-obscuro, composed of strong shades and vivid
oppositions.
Peter de Cortona succeeded those great imitators of
their predecessors and of nature-, who finding it difficult
to succeed in that kind of painting, and having besides
great natural abilities, applied himsell chiefly to compo¬
sition or arrangement, and to what the aitists call taste.
He distinguished invention from composition appeared
not to have attended to the former, but chiefly to those
parts which are most prominent in the picture, and to the
contrasting of groups. It was then that the practice was
introduced of loading pictures with a great number of
figures, without examining whether or not they agreed
to the subject of the history. The ancient Greeks em¬
ployed a very small number of figures in their works, in
order to make the perfection of those which they admit¬
ted more evident. The disciples or imitators of Cortona
on the other hand, have sought to conceal their imper¬
fections by multiplying their figures. This school of
Cortona is divided into many branches, and has changed
the character of the art. The multiplication of figures,
without a judicious and proper choice, carried back the
art of painting to that point where the first restorers of
it among the moderns had left it 5 while at the same
time the disciples of Cortona were enabled to give to
this first condition of the art a greater degree of perfec¬
tion than the first artists.
About the middle of the 17th century flourished at
Rome Carlo Maratti, who, aiming at the greatest per¬
fection, carefully studied the works of the first painters,
and particularly those of the school of the Caracci.
Although he had already studied nature, he discovered
hy the works of these artists that it is not always proper
to imitate her with a scrupulous exactness. This prin¬
ciple, which he extended to every part of the art, gave
to his school a certain style of carefulness, which how¬
ever is considerably degenerated.
France has also produced great masters, particularly
in the part of composition ; in which Poussin, after Ra¬
phael, is the best imitator of the style of the ancient
Greeks. Charles le Brun and many others distinguish¬
ed themselves for great fertility of genius : and as long
as the French school departed not from the principles
of the Italian school, it produced masters of great merit
in the diflerent branches ot the art.
Men«rs, from whom this account is taken, is not de¬
ceived when he declares the art of painting to have de¬
generated in France after Le Brun -, but he seems to be
mistaken in giving the imitation of the works of Rubens
foundatParis as the causeof this decay. It appears from
this opinion, that the recent French school was not well
known to him. The French, indeed, if we may believe
their own authors, were never much occupied in the imi¬
tation of Rubens ; and they have for a long time despised
him. But the perfection of the dramatic art in France,
the dress of their actors, the magnificence and manners
of the court, have contributed very much to the decay ot
painting.
istory. PAIN
Se Pro- painting. Instead of forming their taste on the beautiful
ess, and simplicity of nature, their painters studied the gestures
ecline. an(] the attitudes of comedians, the fopperies of women
' ^ of fashion, the affected airs of courtiers, the pageantry of
Versailles, and the magnificence of the opera. Mengs
says, “ that the French have formed a national style, of
which ingenuity and what they call esprit are the dis¬
criminating qualities 5 that they have ceased to introduce
Greek, Egyptian, Roman, or barbarian personages into
their paintings j and that after the example of Poussin,
they content themselves with figures altogether French,
as if it were their intention to hand down to posterity
that such a nation once existed.
Since, according to the confession of Mengs, their
figures are altogether French, there is no reason to be¬
lieve that the French painters have imitated Rubens,
whose works are marked much more strongly than those
of his master iEneus with the Flemish character. The
truth is, that their painters, like Cortona and Maratti,
have crowded their pictures with a great number of
figures ; have grouped them in a manner most calcula¬
ted to strike the senses 5 have been more intent on agree¬
able artifices than expression and beauty ; and, finally,
that they have borrowed the manners of the court and
theatre.
The first masters of the great schools of painting, with
the ancients and nature for their guides, and their genius
for their support, carried every part of the art to the
greatest height of perfection. Those who followed them,
and who had the example of their predecessors in addi¬
tion to the first sources of truth and beauty, did by no
means arrive at the same excellence. The Caracci in
their school, Paul Veronese, and all the painters of his
time, Vandyke, and all those who exercised the art in
Italy, in Flanders, and in France, supported it with great
brilliancy. But soon after the number of artists was
multiplied; and slavishly copying men of inferior talents,
they produced works of an inferior nature. Some want-
ingto becolourists, their pieces were exaggerated; others
affecting simplicity, became cold and insipid. At this
period of the art, men of real abilities, and covetous of
fame, who wished to rise superior to the mediocrity of
the times, seem not to have taken the road of truth and
nature. They affected a style of pompous preparation,
and annexed a kind of merit to the expert management
of the pencil. The affected forms of Cortona and of his
pupils, the fantastical attitudes and the poignant effects
ofPiazetta, and in short the ingeniouscontrivancesof the
last masters of the French school, are decide d proofs of
this increasing bad taste.
It appears, that for some time past greater pains have
been taken to form men for the art than to encourage
those who possess the talent. In consequence of this
ruinous practice, schools for drawing, very different from
those formed by able painters, have been exceedingly
multiplied ; and these give the elements according to an
uniform system, by which the mind is laid under a re¬
gular restraint at the very threshold of the profession.
This evil is productive of two inconveniences ; it gives
middling painters, and it multiplies them to that degree,
as to hasten the downfal and bring into contempt the
art itself.
The particular reputation of the Italian painters fur¬
nishes another reason for the decline of the art. I he
first painters of that coutitry were few in number; they
Vol, XV. Part II. ' t
TING. 633
were honoured, and they deserved to be honoured. Their Rise, pro-
distinguished reputation has conferred a value on the ge- gress, and
neral paintings of their countrymen. The desire of pos- Decline,
sessing taste, or of being thought (• possess it, had led ’
the rich and the ignorant of all nations to give a prefe*
rence to the Italian market. Necessity, in this case,
would multiply the painters ; and their abilities must
bear a pretty exact proportion to the discrimination of
those who give the price.
The decline of painting has also arisen from the despo¬
tism which for some time reigned in the academic socie¬
ties. In fact, these have often been ruled by men who
would force every exertion of genius into their peculiar
tract of operation. If they required such or such merit
of execution, the first principles of the art were neglect¬
ed for that peculiar excellency. In this manner the
schools were absolute in behalf of design as long as sta¬
tuary was held in chief estimation. The artist, whose
abilities and inclination led him to colouring, was ob¬
liged to abandon a pursuit which could be of no service
to him, and devote himself to that for which he was not
qualified by nature. On the other hand, if the instruc¬
tions of the schools be confined to colouring, a mind dis¬
posed to the choice and exactness of forms will find no
encouragement, and be for ever lost to the art. In this
manner the ignorance of those who wish to be connois¬
seurs, and the narrow views of those who pretend to di¬
rect the general taste, have equally contributed to the
decline of the arts.
Sfxt. II. Of the Schools.
A School, in the fine arts, denominates a class of
artists who have learned their art from a certain master,
either by receiving his instructions, or by studying his
works ; and who of consequence discover more or less
of his manner, from the desire of imitation, or from the
habit of adopting his principles.
All the painters which Europe has produced since
the renovation of the arts are classed under the follow¬
ing schools : the school of Florence, the school of Rome,
the school of Venice, the Lombard school, the French
school, the German school, the Flemish school, the
Dutch school, and the English school. l3
This school is remarkable for greatness ; for attitudes School of
seemingly in motion ; for a certain dark severity; for an Florence,
expression of strength, by which grace perhaps is exclud¬
ed ; and for a character of design approaching to the
gigantic. The productions of this school may be con¬
sidered as overcharged; but it cannot be denied that they
possess an ideal majesty, which elevates human nature
above mortality. The Tuscan artists, satisfied with com¬
manding the admiration, seem to have considered the art
of pleasing as beneath their notice.
This school has an indisputable title to the veneration
of all the lovers of the arts, as the first in Italy which
cultivated them.
Painting, which had languished from the destruction
of the Roman empire, was revived by Cimabue, born of
a noble family in Florence in the year 1240. This painter
translated the poor remainsof the art from a Greek artist
or two into his own country. His works, as may easily
be imagined, were in a very ordinary style, but they re¬
ceived the applause and admiration ot his fellow-citizens;
and if Cimabue had not found admirers, Florence in all
4 L probability
PAIN
probability would not have been honoured with Michael
Angelo. The number of painters became soon so con¬
siderable in Florence, that in the year 1350 they estab¬
lished a society und-r the protection of St Take.
Massolino, towards the beginning of the 15th century,
gave more grandeur to his figures, adjusted their dress
better, and shed over them a kind ot Hie and expression.
Me was surpassed by Massacio his pupil; who Inst ga\e
foxxe, animation, and relievo, to his works.
Andrew Castagna was the first Florentine who painted
in oil. But Leonardo da Vinci and Michael Angelo,
contemporary painters, were the glory of the school of
Florence. Michael Angelo was superior to Leonardo
in grandeur, in boldness of conception, and in kiyjwledge
of design ; but Leonardo w'as superior to him in all the
amiable parts of the art. Leonardo, possessed of a fine
imagination, and full of sensibility, devoted himsell in
painting to express the affections ol the soul j and if, in
this sublime branch of the art, he was afterwards sur¬
passed by Raphael, he had at least the glory not only of
exceeding all the painters who went before him, but ot
pursuing a path which none of them had attempted.
J-Jis design was pure and neat, and not wholly destitute
of greatness. He never went beyond nature, and he
made a good choice ot objects tor imitation.
Michael Angelo, less formed to experience sweet af¬
fections than vehement passions, sought in nature what
the strength of man might accomplish, not that which
constitutes beauty. He delighted in being great and
terrible, more than in graceful and pleasant attitudes.
Well acquainted with anatomy, he kneiv more exactly
than any other artist in what manner to express the join¬
ing of the hones of the body, and the office and insertion
of the muscles : but too eager to display his knowledge
of anatomy, he seems to have forgotten that the muscles
are softened by the skin which covers them; and that
they are less visible in children, in women, and in young
men, than in confirmed and vigorous manhood. “ In
his figures (says Mengs) the articulations of the muscles
are so easy and free, that they appear to he made for the
attitude in which he represents them. T-he fleshy parts
are too much rounded, and the muscles are in general
too large, and of too equal strength. A ou never per¬
ceive in his figures a muscle at rest; and although he
knew admirably well how to place them, their action is
very frequently inconsistent with their situation.”
“ He did not possess (says Sir Joshua Reynolds) so.
many delightful parts of the art as Raphael ; but those
■which he had acquired weie of a more sublime nature.
He saw in painting little more than what might be at¬
tained in sculpture; and he confined it to exactness of
form and the expression of passions.”
He informs us, in one of his letters, that he modelled
iu earth or wax all the figures which he intended to
paint. This method w’as familiar to the great painters
of his time, and ought never to be abandoned. It ap¬
pears, that in representing them in this manner in re¬
lievo, the painter can imitate them much more exactly
than when they are drawn with a crayon or pencil on a
plain surface.
“ Michael Angelo (continues Sir Joshua Reynolds)
never attempted the lesser elegancies and graces in the
art. Vasari says, he never painted but one picture in
oil; and resolved never to paint another, saying it was
an employment only fit for women and children.
TING. . History.
“ If any man had a right to look down upon the Schools,
lower accomplishments as beneath his attention, it was i—
certainly Michael Angelo •, nor can it be thought
strange, that such a mind should have slighted, or have
been withheld from paying due attention to, all those
graces and embellishments of art which have diffused
such lustre over the works of other painters.”
Ancient Rome, rich with the works brought from Roman
Greece, or finished in its own bosom by Grecian artists,school,
handed down in its ruins the remains of that glory
to which it had been elevated. It was by the study
of these remains that the modern artists were formed ;
they derived from them the knowledge of design, the
beauty of exquisite forms, greatness of style, and justness
of expression, carried to that length only which did
not affect the beauty of the figure. From them also
they derived the principles of the art of drapery •, and
they followed these principles even while they made the
drapery of modern paintings more large and flowing
than what was practised by the ancient sculptors. The
Roman school was altogether devoted to the principal
parts of the art, to those which require genius and vast
conceptions; and was no farther occupied with colours'
than what was necessary to establish a difference be¬
tween painting and sculpture, or rather between paint¬
ing varied with colours and in claro-obscuro.
Raphael Sanzio, born at Urbino in 1483, and scholar
to Pietro Perugeno, was the undoubted founder of this
school. His first manner was that of Perugeno his
master ; but he travelled twice to Florence to study the
great artists who flourished in that city.
It was fortunate for Raphael, says Mengs, that he
was born, in what he terms the infancy of the art,
and that he formed himself by copying nature before
he had access to see the works of any great master.
He began by studying, with great exactness, the simple
truth in his figures. He was then ignorant that any
choice was necessary j but he saw the works ot Leonar¬
do da Vinci, of Massacio, and of Michael Angelo,
which gave his genius a new direction. After this he
perceived that there was something more in the art of
painting than a simple imitation of truth. , But the
works of those masters were not sufficiently perfect
to point out the best choice to make j and he conti¬
nued in uncertainty till he saw at Rome the works
of the ancients. Then he perceived that he had found
the true models which he wanted j and in imitating
them he had only to follow the natural impulse of his
genius.
Habituated by his first manner to imitate nature
with precision, it was not difficult to carry the same
exactness into the imitation of the ancients; and it
was a great advantage to him that he flourished in an
age wherein the artists were not arrived at facility ct
execution at the expence of rigorous exactness. He
never lost sight of nature j but he was instructed l>y
the ancients in what manner she should be studied.
He perceived, that the Greeks had not entered into
minute details, that they had selected what was great
or beautiful, and that one of the chief causes ot the
beauty of their works was the regularity of their pro¬
portions ; he began, therefore, by carefully studying
this part of the art. He saw also that the joinings of
the bones, and the free play of their articulations,
are the causes of all graceful movement; he there-
Kistory.
Schools. f01‘e> a^er ^ie example of the ancients, gave the great-
1 est attention to this part, and was led by these observa¬
tions not to be contented with the simple imitation of
nature.
His design is excellent, but neither so perfect nor
so finished as that of the Greeks. He excelled in re¬
presenting the character of philosophers, apostles, and
other figures of that kind ; but he did not equal the
Greeks in ideal figures, which ought to carry the im¬
pression of divinity. His taste for design was more
Roman than Greek, because he formed it chiefly on
the basso-relievos which he found at Rome On this
account he had the habit of marking strongly the bones
and the articulations, and labouring the fleshy parts
less; but as these basso-relievos are very exact with re¬
gard to the reciprocal proportions of every member, he
excelled in this part, while at the same time he did not
give to his figures all the elegance of the Greek artists,
nor the flexibility of articulation which is admired in
the Laocoon, in the Apollo of Belvidere, and in the
Gladiator.
The manners and spirit of his age, and the subjects
'which he most commonly treated, prevented him from
reaching the ideal of the ancients. Having seldom oe-
'casion to represent figures altogether ideal, he devoted
himself to purity of expression. He knew that the
expression of the passions of the sonl is absolutely ne¬
cessary in an art which represents the actions of men,
since from those affections the actions may be said
truly to originate. To make figures act, and yet ne¬
glect the interior springs of action, is nothing more
than a representation -of automata. The attitudes and
action are evident; but they appear not to act of
themselves, because they are void of those principles
from which alone men are supposed to act- An artist
who neglects expression gives no just representation of
character, even though he should take nature for his
model.
Raphael’s first care, when he wanted to compose a
piece, was to weigh the expression ; that is to say, to
establish, according to the natux-e of the subject, the
passions which were to animate the characters. All
the figures, all the accessories, all the parts of the com¬
position, were moulded to the general expression.
As he had not found examples in the ancient sta¬
tues of the claro-obscuro, he was comparatively weak
in this part; and if there was any thing remarkable in
his distribution of light and shade, he owed it to the
works of the Florentine painters. It cannot be said,
however, even vyith regard to the claro-obscuro, that
lie imitated nature without taste. He delighted in
what are called masses of light; and disposed the great
lights in the most conspicuous places of his figures,
whether naked or in drapery. If this method did not
produce effects highly illusive, it gives his works that
distinctness which makes his figures conspicuous at a
distance ; and this must be allowed to be an essential
part of the art of painting. He did not proceed be¬
yond this ; and content with that kind of claro-ob¬
scuro which comprehends imitation, he never attempted
that which is ideal.
The composition and the ensemble of his figures were
the chief excellencies of Raphael. His philosophical
mind could not be affected with objects which had not
expression. He had too high an idea of painting .to
635
consider it as a mate art ; he made it speak to the Schools
heart and soul: and he could only do this in subjects l——y——»
which required expression. If Raphael did not i-each
the Greek excellence, if he did not possess the art of
embellishing nature in the same high degree, he saw at
least, and imitated her in whatever was expressive and
beautiful. “ The Greeks sailed with majesty (says
Mengs) between earth and heaven : Raphael walked
with propriety on the eai'tli.”
“ Composition is in general (says the same authoi')
of two kinds : Raphael’s is the expx-essive kind ; the
other is the theatrical or pictui-esque, which consists of
an agreeable disposition of the figures. Lanfranc was
the inventor of this last, and after him Pietro de Cor¬
tona. I give the preference to Raphael ; because i'ea-
son presides over all his works, or at least the greatest
part of them. He never allowed himself in common
ideas, and was never allured to give any thing in his
accessory figui’es which might turn the attention front
the principal object of the piece.”
A history of the schools is nothing more than a hi¬
story of the painters who founded them. In those
two which we have ali'eady given, Michael Angelo and
Raphael come readily forward to claim our attention ;
and therefore we cannot do better than conclude the
account by the masterly contrast of these eminent
painters given by Sir Joshua Reynolds. “If we put
those great artists (says he) in a light of compainson
with each other, Raphael had more taste and fancy,
Michael Angelo more genius and imagination. The
one excelled in beauty, the other in energy. Michael
Angelo lias more of the poetical in operation ; his
ideas are vast and sublime ;; his people are a superior
order of beings ; there is nothing about them, no¬
thing in the air of their actions or their attitudes, or
the style and cast of their limbs or features, that puts
one in mind of their belonging to our species Ra¬
phael’s imagination is not so elevated ; his figures are
not so much disjointed from our own diminutive race
of beings, though his ideas are chaste, noble, and of
great conformity to their subjects. Michael Angelo’s
works have a strong, peculiar, and marked character;
they seem to proceed from his own mind entirely; and
that mind so rich and abundant, that he never needed,
or seemed to disdain, to look abroad for foreign help.
Raphael’s materials are generally borrowed, though
the noble structure is his own. The excellency of this
extraordinary man lay in the propriety, beauty, and
majesty of his characters; Ins judicious contrivance of
composition, correctness of drawing, purity of taste,
and the skilful accommodation of other men’s concep¬
tions to his own purpose.”
This school is the child of nature. The Venetian Venetian
painters not having under their eyes like the Roman school,
the remains of antiquity, were destitute of the means
of forming a just idea of the beauty of forms and of
expression. They copied without choice the forms of
nature ; hut they were chiefly delighted with the
beauties which presented themselves in the mixture
and the variety of natural colours. Their attention
not being detached from this part by any thing of
greater importance, colouring was their chief object,
and they succeeded in it. They did not rest content¬
ed with characterizing the objects by comparison, iu
making the colour proper for one of more value by the
4 L 2 colour
PAINTING.
PAIN
colour more proper for another 5 but they endeavoured
still farther, by the agreement and opposition ol the
coloured objects, and by the contrast ot light and
shade, to produce a vigorous effect, to demand and hx
the attention. Dominic, who was said to have pe¬
rished at Florence by the jealousy of Andre Castagna,
and who was the second Italian artist who painted in
oil, bad educated, before he quitted Venice, his native
country, Jacques Beilin, who was remarkable lor no¬
thing but the picturesque education which he gave to
Gentel and John his two sons.
Gentel, who was the eldest, painted chiefly in water
colours. John contributed much to the progress of his
art in pauiting constantly in oil, and after nature. Al¬
though he always retained great stillness in his manner,
he had le>s than his father or brother. Great neatness
of colouring, and an approach to harmony, aie evi¬
dent in his works. His taste in design is Gothic, the
air of his heads is sufficiently noble, his attitudes are
without judgment, and his figures without expression.
He had for scholars Giorgion and Titian, who de¬
serve to be considered as the lounders ot the \ enetian
school.
Giorgion distinguished himself by a design of a bet¬
ter taste than that of his master ; but he chiefly sur¬
passed him in colouring. He died in his 3 2d year j
and excited the emulation ol Iitian, who soon greatly
excelled him.
Tiziano Yecelli, known best by the name of the Titi¬
an, was instructed to copy nature in the most servile
manner in the school ot John Bellm ■, but when he had
seen the works of Giorgion, he began to study the ideal
in colouring. . .
The truth of history is not to be expected in his hi¬
storical paintings, or in those of the artists of the same
school. He seems to have paid little attention to the
consistence of scene, to the costume, to expression
adapted to the subject, or finally, to the accommoda¬
tion of parts which characterise the works of those who
have studied the ancients. He was in short a great
painter and nothing more.
But although he deserves not to be placed among the
most distinguished artists in point ot judgment, yet he
is by no means destitute of great and noble conceptions.
There is often to be found among his male figures a
considerable degree of grandeur : but il he has some¬
times, like Michael Angelo, overcharged his design, it
was more discovered in the swelling of the soil and
fleshy parts than in vigour and muscular strength.
Almost entirely devoted to simple imitation, he had
scarcely greater choice in the claro-obscuro than in de¬
sign. He cannot be justly reproached at the same
time for weakness in this particular; because in en¬
deavouring to imitate the colours of nature, he was ob¬
liged to observe the degrees of light. And in propor¬
tion as he succeeded in the imitation of natural colours
he must be less defective in the claro obscuro; but it is
not in the knowledge of this part of the art that we are
to seek for the beauties of his works. These are to be
found in the happy dispositions of colours both proper
and local, and he carries this to the highest point of
perfection.
The artists in the Florentine and Roman schools
painted most commonly in water colours or in fresco \
TING. History,
and in the exercise of their profession, instead of na- Schools,
ture, thev finished their works from their first sketches.'
Titian painted in oil, and finished from the objects in
nature 5 and this practice, joined to his exquisite ta¬
lents, gave the greatest truth to his colours. His be¬
ing a portrait painter was also ot advantage to him as
a colourist. In this department he was accustomed to
the colours of nature in carnations and draperies. He
was a landscape-painter, and here also he took the
colours from nature.
“ As Titian perceived (says Mengs) that the ob¬
jects which are beautiful in nature have often a bad ef¬
fect in painting, he found it necessary to make a choice
in the objects of imitation ; and he observed, that
these were objects of which the local colours were ex¬
tremely beautiful, which nevertheless were in a great
measure destroyed by the reflection of light, by the
porosity of the body, and by different luminous tints,
&c. He perceived also, that in every object there
was an infinite number ot half tints, which conducted
to the knowledge of harmony. In short, he observed
in the objects of nature, a particular agreement of
transparency, of opacity, ol rudeness, and ot polish, and
that all objects differed in the degrees of their tints
and their shades. It was in this diversity he sought
the perfection of his art*, and in the execution he mo¬
derated the effect of natural colours. For example, in
a carnation which had many demi-tints, he confined
himself to one j and he employed even less than a demi-
tint, where there were few in the natural object. By
this means he obtained a colouring exquisitely fine ;
and in this part he was a great master, and deserves to
be carefully studied.”
Titian has in general little expression in his pictures,
and he sometimes introduces figures which augment the
coldness of the piece 5 for it it be true that the heads,,
even in historical painting, ought to be studied alter
nature, it is true also that an individual nature ought
not to be presented, but one general and ideal. It is
necessary that they should be men, while they resemble
not men we are accustomed to see. The painter fails
in the effect which he ought to produce, if, when he
represents Achilles, Hector, and Caesar, his personages
are familiar to our observation.
The colours of his paintings are so mingled toge¬
ther, as to give no idea of the colours on his pallet j
which distinguishes him from Rubens, who placed his.
colours one at the side of another. It is impossible to
say, on the narrowest inspection, with what colours
he produced his tints. This practice, which enabled
him to imitate so exactly the colours of nature, gives
a marked distinction to his manner of painting. In
the examination of his works, the critics lose an ordi¬
nary source of pleasure, which arises iiom marking
the freedom of hand; but they may console them¬
selves with the natural and exquisite touches of this
artist.
He is of historical painters one of those who have
succeeded in landscape. His situations are well chosen;
his trees are varied in their forms, and their foliage
well conceived. He had a custom of representing some
remarkable appearance in his landscapes to render
them more striking. 16
The distinguishing characteristics of this school are, Lombard
grace, school
it
\
history.
Kjhno's
gracp, an agreeable taste for flesign, without great cor-
J rection, a mellowness of pencil, ami a beautiful mix¬
ture of colours.
Antonio Allegri, called Corregio, was the father and
greatest ornament of this school. He began like the
painters of his time to imitate nature alone *, but, as he
was chiefly delighted with the graceful, he was care¬
ful to purify his design from all short turnings and un¬
necessary angles. He perceived that largeness contri¬
buted to grace ; and therefore he not only rejected all
small figures, but enlarged as much as possible the out¬
lines, avoided acute angles and straight lines, and by
these means give an easy grandeur to his design. He
made his figures elegant and large } he varied the out¬
lines by frequent undulations ; but he was not always
pure and correct.
Corregio painted in oil, a kind of painting suscep¬
tible of the greatest delicacy and sweetness 5 and as
his character led him to cultivate the agreeable, he
gave a pleasing captivating tone to all his pictures.
He sought transparent colours to represent shades con¬
formable to nature, and adopted a manner of glazing
which actually rendered his shadows more obscure.
Obscurity in painting cannot be fully obtained without
transparent colours } for these absorb the rays of light,
and of consequence give less reflection. He laid his co¬
lours very thick on the brightest parts of his pictures, to
make them capable of receiving, by a proper touch, the
greatest degree of light. He perceived, that the reflec¬
tions of light correspond with the colour of the body
from which they are reflected 5 and on these principles
he founded his theory of colours with respect to light
and shade and reflection. But it is chiefly in the co¬
lour of his shades that he deserves to be imitated •, for
his lights are too clear, and somewhat heavy j and his
fleshy parts are not sufficiently transparent.
Harmony and grace are connected together j and
on this account Corregio excelled also in harmony.
As the delicacy of his taste suffered him not to em¬
ploy sh’ong oppositions, he naturally became a great
master in this part, which chiefly consists of easy gra¬
dations from one extreme to another. He was har¬
monious in his design, by making the lines which
formed the angles of the contour arched and undula¬
ted. But in the lights and shades, he placed always
between the two extremes a space which served to
unite them, and to form a passage from the one to
the other. The delicacy of his organs made him per¬
ceive, better than any other artist, what relief was
necessary to the eye after a violent exertion } and he
was therefore careful to follow a bold and prevailing
colour with a demi-tint, and to conduct the eye of the
spectator, by an invisible gradation, to its ordinary
state of tension. In the same manner (says Mengs) does
agreeable and melting music pull one so gently out of
sleep, that the awaking resembles enchantment more
than the disturbing of repose. A delicate taste in co¬
lours, a perfect knowledge of the claro obscuro, the
art of uniting light to light, and shade to shade, to¬
gether with that of detaching the objects from the
ground, inimitable, grave, and perfect harmony, were
the qualities which distinguished Corregio from all
the painters, and placed him near the head of his pro¬
fession.
The Caracci, Lewis, Augustin, and Hannibal, form-
PAINTING. 637
ed what is called the second Lombard school, which is Schools,
frequently distinguished by the name of the school of1 v--" ^
Bologna.
Lewis was the master of the other two •, he had
studied the works of Titian and Paul Veronese at Ve¬
nice, those of Andre del Sarte at Florence, those of
Corregio at Parma, and those of Jules Romaen, at
Mantua ; but he chiefly endeavoured to imitate the
manner of Corregio. Hannibal fluctuated between Cor¬
regio and Titian. Augustin their rival in painting had
his mind cultivated by learning, and devoted part of
his time to poetry and music, to dancing and to other
manly exercises. These three painters often employed
their talents on the same piece j and it was admirable
that their- united labours seemed to be animated with
the same spirit.
They established an academy at Bologna, which their
zeal for the advancement of their art made them call
LAcademia degli Desiderosi; but it was afterward call¬
ed the Academy of the Caracci, because the reputation
which these artists acquired, permitted not a more il¬
lustrious name to be given to an establishment of which
they were the founders. In this school were taught the
art of constructing models, perspective, and anatomy 5
lessons were given on the beautiful proportions of na¬
ture, on the best manner of using colours, and on the
principles of light and shade. They held frequent con¬
ferences, in which not only artists, but men of general
knowledge, were permitted to elucidate points relative
to the art of painting : but they were separated upon
Hannibal’s going to Rome to adorn the gallery of the
cardinal Farnese.
The works of the Caracci are often, from the resem¬
blance of their manner, confounded together ; especial¬
ly those which were finished previous to the residence of
Hannibal at Rome. Meanwhile each of them has a de¬
cided character distinct from the other two. Lewis had
less fire, but more of gracefulness and grandeur; Au¬
gustin had more spirit in his coneeption, and more plea¬
santness in his execution : Hannibal is characterized by
boldness, by a design more profound, by an expression
more lucky, and by an execution more solid.
Sir Joshua Reynolds, who saw the works of Lewis at
Bologna, holds him out in his discourses as the best mo¬
del for what is called in painting; which is the fa¬
culty of disposing colours in such a manner as to express
our sentiments and ideas. “ Lodovico Caracci,” says
he, “ (I mean in bis best works) appears to me to ap¬
proach the nearest to perfection. His unaffected breadth
of light and shadow, the simplicity of colouring, which,
folding its proper rank, does not draw aside the least
. Jga.-t of the attention from the subject, and the solemn
effect of that twilight which seems diffused over his pic¬
tures, appears to me to correspond with grave and dig¬
nified subjects better than the more artificial brillian¬
cy of sunshine which enlightens the pictures of Ti¬
tian.”
Hannibal is esteemed by the best judges as a model
for beauty and design. Those who blame him for be¬
coming less a colourist at Rome than he was at Bologna*
ought to recollect that it is his performances at Rome
which have chiefly secured his reputation. Severe cri¬
tics have maintained that his design is too little varied
in his figures ; that he excels only in male beauty ; that
in imitating ancient statues, he excites some resemblance,,
hut,'
PAIN
Schools, but without arriving at the sublimity of ideas and of
■v...—v n * style which characterize the ancients j or, in other
words, that he hath successfully imitated the exterior
of their manner, but that he was incapable of reaching
the interior and profound reasonings which determined
those admirable artists.
The success of Hannibal, and the reputation which
he acquired, have been pernicious to the art. His suc¬
cessors, deluded by these considerations, have made
him the object of their imitation, without ascending to
the sources from which he derived his knowledge, and
which he never could equal. The result has been,
that, instead of becoming equal to Hannibal, they have
often copied his imperfections.
The French This school has been so different under different ma-
school. sters, that it is difficult to characterize it. Some of its
artists have been formed on the Florentine and Lombard
manner, others on the Roman, others on the \ enetian,
and a few of them have distinguished themselves by a
manner which may be called their own. In speaking
in general terms of this school, it appears to have no
peculiar character *, and it can only be distinguished by
its aptitude to imitate easily any impression ; and it
may be added, speaking still in general terms, that it
unites, in a moderate degree, the different parts of the
art, without excelling in any one of them.
It is equally difficult to determine the progress of
painting in France. Miniature painting, and painting
an glass, were early cultivated in that country *, and in
these two kinds, the Italians had often recourse to the
French artists. When Francis I. encouraged Rosso a
Florentine, and Primatice a Bolognian, the painters in
France were not remarkable for any superior talent j
but they were capable of working under these foreign
artists.
Cousin, a painter on glass, and portrait painter, was
the first who established any kind of reputation in
France. He was correct, but possessed very little ele¬
gance of design.
Painting, for some time encouraged by Francis I.
fell into a state of languor, from which it was not re¬
covered till the reign of Louis XIII. Jacques Blan¬
chard, formed at the Venetian school, and called the
French Titian, flourished about this period. But as
he died young, and without educating any pupils to
perpetuate his manner, he must be regarded as a single
good artist, and not as a founder of the French school.
In the same manner Poussin, one of the greatest
French painters, and who is called the Raphael of
France, educated no pupils, nor formed any school.
His style and character of painting are described by Sir
Joshua Reynolds as simple, careful, pure, and correct.
No works of any modern (adds the same author) have
so much of the air of antique painting as those of Pous¬
sin. His best performances have a remarkable dryness
of manner, which, though by no means to be recom¬
mended for imitation, yet seems perfectly correspondent
to that ancient simplicity which distinguishes his style.
In the latter part of his life he changed from this
TING. History.
manner to one much softer and richer ■, where there is Schools,
a greater union between the figures ami the ground. G—
His favourite subjects rvere ancient fables ; and no
painter was ever better qualified to paint such objects,
not only from his being eminently skilled in the know¬
ledge of the ceremonies, customs, and habits of the an¬
cients, but from his being so well acquainted with the
different characters which those who invented them
gave their allegorical figures.
If Poussin, in the imitation of the ancients, repre¬
sents Apollo driving his chariot out of the sea by way
of representing the sun rising, if be personifies lakes
and rivers, it is no way offensive in him, but seems
perfectly of a piece with the general air of the picture.
On the contrary, if the figures which people his pictures
had a modern air or countenance, if they appeared like
our countrymen, if the draperies were like cloth or silk
of our manufacture, if the landscape had the appear¬
ance of a modern view, how ridiculous would Apollo
appear? instead of the sun, an old man $ or a nymph
with an urn, instead of a river or a lake.
Poussin, however, more admired than imitated, had
no manner of influence in forming the French school.
Simon Vouet, his enemy and persecutor, had this ho¬
nour, because his pupils, in the happy age of the arts
in France, conferred on it the highest splendour. Vouet
was a man of distinguished abilities*, but the school
which he ex*ected would have had no continuance if his
scholars had pursued his manner of painting. He had
a kind of grandeur and facility j but his design was
false with regard to colours,, and without any idea of
expression. It was said of him, that he only needed
to take the pencil in his hand to finish with one stroke
the subject which he had conceived *, and on this ac¬
count one is tempted to he pleased, because he is asto¬
nished. He had the merit of destroying the insipid
manlier which reigned in France, and of pointing the
way to a better taste.
If Vouet laid the foundation of the French school,
Le Brun finished the edifice. W hen Le Brim wras pla¬
ced under the tuition of Vouet, he astonished his master
and the rest of his pupils with the rapidity of his pro¬
gress. At the age of 26 he finished his piece called
the horses of Diomede, which gained a place in the pa¬
lace royal (a), beside those of the most eminent pain¬
ters. H e was afterwards recommended to Poussin *, but
the young artist was more disposed by his natural incli¬
nations to that modern part of the art which is called
the great machine, than to the profound and studied
manner of the Greek artists. Poussin at the same time
was of great service to him in recommending to his
study the monuments, the customs, the dress of the an¬
cients 5 their architecture, theiv rites, their spectacles,
their exercises, their combats, and their triumphs..
Le Brun had a noble conception and a fruitful ima¬
gination. Fie was on no occasion inferior to the vast
compositions which he undertook, and he chiefly excel¬
led in rigorous costume and exact likenesses.
Few* painters have united so great a number of essen¬
tial
(a) Where it may now be is uncertain. Perhaps it perished during the revolutionary frenzy of the French,
which at first threatened the utter destruction of every thing connected with science or the liberal arts.
story.
PAIN
[bool*. t'a' anti acreqsmies of the art ; and if lie had
j superiors, it consisted in this, that they possessed some
particular quality in a more eminent degree.—He was a
good drawer j but his design was far from being so ele¬
gant as that of Raphael, or so pure as that of Dome-
nique, and it was less lively than that of Hannibal Ca-
racci, whom he had taken for a model. In drapery he
followed the Roman school : the clothes which he gave
to his figures were not like those of the Venetian school,
of such and such a stuff; they were draperies and no¬
thing more, and this manner agreed with the heroic
style of his works ; but in this part he was not equal to
the painter of Urbino.—He had studied the expression
of the affections of the soul, as is evident from his trea¬
tise on the character of the passions : but after observing
the general characters, and establishing the principal
strokes of expression, he thought he reached the whole
extent of this subject, which is so infinitely extended.
He always employed the few characters which he had
once found out, and neglected to study the prodigious
variety of gradations by which the interior affections are
manifested in the exterior appearance. He fell then in¬
to the manner of repeating always j and possessed nei¬
ther the delicacy, nor the depth, nor the extreme just¬
ness of Raphael’s expression. He loved and possessed
in a high degree the grand machine of tlie art; lie was
delighted with great compositions : and he gave them
life and animation, and variety ; but he wanted the vi¬
gour and inspiration of Raphael. His compositions are
formed on philosophical principles, but those of Raphael
are created. Le Brun thought well ; Raphael, Poussin,
Le Seur, thought most profoundly.—Le Brun had ele¬
vation, but he was not elevated like Raphael, to the su¬
blime.
In colouring, Le Brun did not imitate the painters of
the Venetian school. The sweet attractions and strong
and solid colours of the schools of Rome and Lombardy
seem rather to have been the object of his imitation yarn!
from them also he learned an easy, agreeable, and bold
management of the pencil.
As Le Brun possessed a great share of lively imagina¬
tion, he delighted in allegory, which gives the greatest
scope for ingenious invention. The fecundity and re¬
sources of his imagination appeared still farther, in his
inventing symbols for his allegorical figoires, without
resting contented with those employed by the ancients.
But fanciful representations of this kind are distant from
the operations of true genius Spirit and thought in the
arts are very different from spirit and thought in literary
productions. A painter of moderate abilities may intro¬
duce into his works a great deal of the invention which
belongs to poetry without enriching his peculiar art.
The true spirit of painting consists in making the figures
appear in the very circumstances and attitudes in which
they are supposed to act, and penetrated with the senti¬
ments with which they ought to be affected. By these
means the spectator is more certainly interested than if
the actions and thoughts were represented by allegorical
symbols. Poussin appears to have less waste of spirit
and imagination than Le Brun, while at the same time
he gives more delight to people of spirit and imagina¬
tion.
Eustach le Sueur was the contemporary and rival of
Le Brun j and no painter approached nearer to Raphael
in the art of drapery, and in disposing the folds in the
TING. 639
most artful and the noblest manner. His design was in Schools.
general more slender than that of Raphael, hut, like his, ' y-—'
it was formed on the model of the ancients. Like Ra¬
phael he represented with art and precision the affections
of the soul ; like him, he varied the air of the head, ac¬
cording to the condition, the age, and the character of
his personages j and, like him, he made the different
parts ol every figure contribute to the general effect.
His intention in composing was to express his subject,
not to make shining contrasts or beautiful groups of fi¬
gures, not to astonish and bewitch the spectator by the
deceitful pomp of a theatrical scene, or the splendour of
the great machine. His tones are delicate, his tints
harmonious, and his colours, though not so attractive as
those of the schools of Venice and Flanders, are yet en¬
gaging. They steal peaceably on the soul, and fix it
without distraction on the parts of the art, superior to
that of colouring.
His preaching of St Paul, and the picture which he
painted at St Gervais, which the critics compare with
the best productions of the Roman school, and the 22
pictures which he painted for the Carthusian monastery .
at Paris, and which were formerly in possession of the
king, are esteemed his best pieces. His contempora¬
ries affirm, that he considered as sketches merely those
excellent performances which are the glory of the
French school.
If Le Sueur had lived longer, or if, like Le Brun, he
had been employed under a court, fond of the arts, and
of learning, to execute the great works of the age, the
French school would have adopted a different and a bet¬
ter manner. The noble beauty of his heads, the simple
majesty of his draperies, the lightness of his design, the
propriety of his expression and attitudes, and the simpli¬
city of his general disposition, would have formed the
character of his school. The deceitful pomp of thea¬
trical decoration would have been more lately introdu¬
ced, or perhaps would never have appeared, and Paris
might have been the counterpart to Rome. But as Le
Brun, by an accidental concurrence of favourable cir¬
cumstances, was the fashionable painter, to be employed
or rewarded it was necessary to imitate his manner ; and
as his imitators possessed not his genius, his faults be¬
came not only current but more deformed.
The French school not long ago changed its princi¬
ples ; and if, when peace shall lie restored to this un¬
happy nation, they continue to follow the road which,
while the artists flourished among them, they marked
out for themselves, they have the chance of becoming
the most rigid observers of the laws imposed on the
Greek artists. The count de Caylus, pupil of Bouchar-
dion, who by his rank and fortune had the means of en¬
couraging the imitators of the ancients, and of the ma¬
sters of the 15th century, first formed the design of re¬
storing a pure taste to the art of painting. He was se¬
conded by the talents of M. Vien, an artist who had on¬
ly occasion to have his lessons and his example laid be¬
fore him.—In this manner commenced a revolution, so
much the more wonderful, as it was scarcely ever known
that any nation substituted a system of simple and rigid
excellence in place of a false and glittering taste. The
history of all nations, on the contrary, discovers a gra¬
dual progress from a rude beginning to perfection, and
afterwards to irremediable decay. The French had the
prospect of stopping short in this ordinary course. They
640
painting.
Schools.
The Ger¬
man school
began in a manner which promised success j and the best
consequences may be expected, from being in possession ot
those precious treasures of sculpture and painting of which
they plundered the countries subdued by their arms.
In Germany there can hardly be said to be a school,
■ as it is a continuation of single artists, who derived their
manner from different sources of originality and imita¬
tion. There were some German painters of eminence,
when the art, emerging from its barbarous state, first
began to be cultivated with success in Europe. As they
were totally unacquainted with the ancients, and had
scarcely access to the works of their contemporaries in
Italy, they copied nature alone, with the exception of
somewhat of that stiffness which forms the Gothic man¬
ner. It is this manner, if we speak of the early Ger
19
The Fle¬
mish
school.
man painters, which characterizes their school. But
this is by no means the case with their successors, part
of whom were educated in Flanders and part in Italy:
For if Mengs or Dietrich were Comprehended in this
school, there would be nothing peculiar to its manner
discovered in their works. And it is therefore necessary
to confine our observations to the more ancient German
painters, in whom the Gothic style is conspicuous.
Albert Durer was the first German who corrected the
bad taste of his countrymen. He excelled in engraving
as well as painting. His genius was fertile, his compo¬
sitions varied, his thoughts ingenious, and his colours
brilliant. His works, though numerous, were finished
with great exactness •, but as he owed every thing to his
genius, and as works of inferior merit were by the false
taste of the times preferred to his, it was impossible for
him altogether to avoid the faults of his predecessors.
He is blamed for stiffness and aridity in his outlines, for
little taste or grandeur in his expression, for ignorance
of the costume of aerial perspective and of gradation of
colours •, but he had carefully studied lineal perspective,
architecture, and fortification.
John Holbeen or Holbein, nearly contemporary with
Albert Durer, painted in oil and water colours. He
excelled chiefly in history and in portrait painting. His
colours are fresh and brilliant, and his w’orks are highly
finished j but in his historical subjects, his draperies are
not in so good a taste as those of Albert Durer.
The Flemish school is recommended to the lovers of
the art by the discovery, or at least the first practice, of
oil painting. Van Mander gives us the account of this
wonderful discovery in the following words: “John
Van Fyck was so excellent a chemist, that he discover¬
ed a method of varnishing his distemper colours with a
varnish, which was made of some oils, and was very
pleasing on account of the gloss and lustre it gave them.
Many artists in Italy had vainly attempted to find out
that secret •, they never hit on the true method. It hap¬
pened once that John, in his usual manner, having high-
History,
than any other. He boiled them with some Other drugs, Schools,
and produced the best varnish in the world. Ever bent
on improvements, he found, after much inquiry, that
colours mixed with these oils worked and dried extreme¬
ly w’ell, and when dried would be water-proof. He ob¬
served likewise, that these oils would animate and give
them a gloss and lustre without any further varnishing.”
The truth, however, of this account is now very much
questioned 5 and it is even proved by the manuscripts of
Theopbilus Presbyter, and also by some old paintings in
England, that this method of painting was discovered
long before the time of John ^ an Eyck. At the same
time we admit, that John and his brother Hubert ma\
have been the first who brought oil painting into gene¬
ral practice, not only by showing the excellence of which
it was susceptible, but also by making several improve¬
ments on the art. And this is the more probable, from
the great reputation which their pictures acquired over¬
all Europe, by the softness and delicacy of their colours.
The attention of the Italian painters was chiefly ex¬
cited, insomuch that Antoine de Messina performed a
journey into Flanders for the express purpose of acquir¬
ing the confidence of John Van Eyck, and of discovei-
ing the secret. .4
John de Bruges was the founder of painting as a pro¬
fession in Flanders 5 Peter Paul Rubens was the founder
of the art. This extraordinary person produced an im¬
mense number of works. He excelled equally m histo¬
rical, portrait, and landscape painting j in fruits, flow¬
ers, and in animals. He both invented and executed
with the greatest facility*, and to show the extent of Ins
powers, he frequently made a great number of sketches
on the same subject altogether different, without allow¬
ing any time to elapse between them. Ihe works of
Rubens were destitute of that soft inspiration, productive
of sweet and pleasant effects, so conspicuous m the
works of Raphael ; but he possessed that sprightliness
of genius and strength of mind which is ever ready to
hurst forth in wonderful and astonishing effects. His
figures appear to be the exact counterpart of his con¬
ceptions, and their creation nothing more than a simple
act of the will.
His talent for design is unjustly censured, for on eve¬
ry occasion his design is noble and easy. He had great
knowledge of anatomy, hut he was hurried away by the
impetuosity of his imagination and the ardour ior execu¬
tion ; he preferred splendour to the beauty of forms, and
sacrificed correctness of design too often to the magic
of colours. In short, his qualities suppose a mind iul
of fire and vigour, rather than accuracy or profound
thought. His drapery may be considered rather as fine
than properly adapted to his figures ; for, in the lan¬
guage of the art, to clothe and to give drapery are not
synonymous terms. A portrait painter^ may exce in
y vyj a j   O/ n
colouring j though in this branch 0
not equalled Titian. He is the first
 : .4. 011/I maipstv ; the
penea once tnat Jotin, m ms usual manner, naving iiign- 111 • Ue of
ly finished one of his pictures on boax-ds, and having var- clothing his personages, while he is to a y mcap
nished it with his new invented varnish, exposed it to giving good drapery to a histoiica painting^
dry in the sun hut whether the boards were not well
joined, or whether the heat of the sun was too violent,
the boards split asunder and opened in the junctures.
John saw with concern that his work was spoiled, and
resolved to contrive something against future accidents
of the same kind. Being disgusted at distemper painting
and varnishing, he thought of a varnish that might dry
without sunshine *, and having tried many oils and sub¬
stances, he found that linseed and nut oil dried better
merit consists in
the art he has not equalled
among painters eminent for pomp and majesty j
first among those who speak to the eye, and the powei
of the art is often carried by him almost to enchant¬
ment* . .
It is evident from the Works of Rubens, that lus me¬
thod of painting was to lay the colours in their place,
one at the side of another, and mix them afterwards by
History.
chools a siiglit touch of the pencil. Titian mingled his tints as
.-v—I. < they are in nature, in such a manner as to make it im¬
possible to discover where they began or terminated 5
the effect is evident, the labour is concealed. Thus Ru¬
bens is more dazzling, and Titian more harmonious. In
this part, the first excites the attention, the second fixes
it. The carnations of Titian resemble the blush of na¬
ture ; those of Rubens are brilliant and polished like sa¬
tin, and sometimes his tints are so strong and separated
as to appear like spots.
“ Rubens (says Sir Joshua Reynolds) is a remarkable
instance of the same mind being seen in all the various
parts of the art. The whole is so much of a piece, that
one can scarce be brought to believe but that if any one
of them had been more correct and perfect, his works
■would not be so complete as they appear. If we should
allow a greater purity and correctness of drawing, his
want of simplicity in composition, colouring, and dra¬
pery, would appear more gross.”
In his composition his art is too apparent. His fi¬
gures have expression, and act with energy, but with¬
out simplicity or dignity. His colouring, in which he
is eminently skilled, is notwithstanding too much of
what we call tinted. Throughout the whole of his works
there is a proportional v?ant of that nicety of distinc¬
tion and elegance of mind, which is required in the
higher walks of painting; and to this want it may be in
some degree ascribed, that those qualities which make
the excellency of this subordinate style appear in him
with their greatest lustre.—Indeed the facility with
which he invented, the richness of his composition, the
luxuriant harmony and brilliancy of his colouring, so
dazzle the eye, that, whilst his works continue before
us, we cannot help thinking that all his deficiencies are
fully supplied.
The Flemish school, of which Rubens is the greatest
master, is remarkable for great brilliancy of colours and
the magic of the cfaro obscuro. To these may be joined
a profound design, which is yet not founded on the most
beautiful forms; a composition possessed of grandeur,
a certain air of nobleness in the figures, strong and na¬
tural expressions j in short, a kind of national beauty,
which is neither copied from the ancients nor from the
Roman nor Lombard schools, but which deserves to
J0 please, and is capable of pleasing.
^ Dutch i’0 speak in general terms, and without regarding a
stool. great number of exceptions, the Hutch school carries
none of the above qualities to great perfection, except
that of colouring. Far from excelling in the beauty of
heads and forms, they seem chiefly to delight in the ex¬
act imitation of the lowest and most ignoble. Their
subjects are derived from the tavern, the smith’s shop,
and from the vulgar amusements of the rudest peasants.
The expressions are sufficiently marked j but it is the
expression of passions which debase instead of ennobling
human nature. One would think that they practised
the art of degrading the bodies and souls of men.
It must be acknowledged, at the same time, that the
Hutch painters have succeeded in several branches of
the art. If they have chosen low objects of imitation,
they have represented them with great exactness ; and
truth must always please. If they have not succeeded
in the most difficult parts of the claro-obsuro, they at
least excel in the most striking, such as in light confined
in a narrow space, night illuminated by the moon or by
Vol. XV. Fart II. ' t
641
torches, and the light of a smith’s forge. The Dutch Schools',
understand the gradations of colours, and by their know- v—
ledge of contrast they have ai’rived at the art of paint^
ing light itself. They have no rivals in landscape paint-
inS» considered as the faithful representation or picture
of a particular scene; but they are far from equalling
Titian, Poussin, Claude Lorrain, &c. who have carried
to the greatest perfection the ideal landscape, and whose
pictures, instead of being the topographical representa¬
tion of certain places, are the combined result of every
thing beautiful in their imagination or in nature. The
Hutch, however, distinguish themselves by their per¬
spective, by their clouds, sea scenes, animals, fruits,
flowers, and insects j and they excel in miniature paint¬
ing. In short, every thing which requires a faithful
imitation, colour, and a nice pencil, is well executed by
the Hutch painters.
Holland has also produced history painters, as Oc¬
tavius Van Been, and Vander Hilst the rival of Van¬
dyke, and perhaps his superior: but it is not in the works
of those artists that we find the character of the Hutch
school.
Neither is the origin of their style to be derived from
the works of Lucas of Leyden, though, from the time
he flourished, viz. about the end of the 15th century, he
may be considered as the patriarch of the Hutch school.
Lucas painted in oil, in water colours, and on glass \ and
the kinds of his painting were history, landscape, and
portrait. His picture of the Last Judgment is pre¬
served in the Hotel-de-Ville of Leyden j it possesses vast
merit in point of composition, and a great variety of
figures.
If miniature painting be considered as a charac-
terisic of the Hutch school, Cornelius Polcmbourg
may be regarded as the father of it. He possessed the
colour, delicacy of touch, and disposition of the claro-
obscuro, which chiefly distinguish this school ; and if
any thing is to be added, it is want of correctness in his
design.
But if the choice of low figures is its chief character¬
istic, this is to be found in the greatest perfection in the
works of the celebrated Rembrandt Vanryn 5 and it is
the more offensive in this artist, as his compositions fre¬
quently required an opposite choice of figures. As his
father was a miller near Leyden, his education must
altogether have depended on the exertion of great ta¬
lents and the study of nature. He studied the gro¬
tesque figure of a Hutch peasant or the servant of an inn
with as much application as the greatest masters of
Italy would have studied the Apollo of Belvjderc or
the Venus de Medicis. This was not the manner of
elevating himself to the noble conceptions of Raphael 5
hut it was acquiring the imitation of truth in vulgar
painting.
“ Rembrandt (says M. Bescamps) may be compared
to the great artists for colour and delicacy of touch and
claro-obscuro. It appears that he would have discover ¬
ed the art, though he had been the first person that ever
attempted it. He formed to himself rules and a method
of colouring, together with the mixture of colours and
the effect of the different tones. He delighted in the
great oppositions of light and shade ; and he seems to
have been chiefly attentive to this branch of the art. His
workshop was occasionally made dark, and he received
the light by a hole, which fell as he chose to direct it
4 M on
PAINTING
642
Schools
at
The Eng¬
lish school.
on the place which he desired to he enlightened. On
particular occasions he passed behind his model a piece
of cloth of the same colour with the ground he wanted j
and this piece of cloth receiving the same ray which en¬
lightened the head, marked the difference in a sensible
manner, and allowed the painter the power of augment¬
ing it according to his principles.
“ Rembrandt’s manner of painting is a kind of magic.
No artist knew better the effects of different colours
mingled together, nor could better distinguish those
which did not agree from those which did. He placed
every tone in its place with so much exactness and har¬
mony, that he needed not to mix them, and so destroy
what mav be called the flower and freshness of the co¬
lours. He made the first draught of his pictures with
great precision, and with a mixture of colours altoge¬
ther particular : he proceeded on his first sketch with a
vigorousapplication,and sometimes loaded his lightswith
so great a quantity of colour, that he seemed to model
rather than to paint. One of his heads is said to have a
nose nearly as much projected as the natural nose which
he copied.” i
Such is the power of genius, that Rembrandt, with
all his faults, and they are enormous, is placed among
the greatest artists by M. Descamps, who saw his
works, and was himself an artist. It is necessary to
observe, that if Rembrandt was ignorant of the essen¬
tial parts of his art, or neglected them, he was yet
acquainted with expression, which alone was capable ol
giving animation to his works. His expressions are not
noble, but they are just, lively, and excited with great
judgment.
John de Laer, a miniature painter, and who made
choice of his subjects from common life, deserves a di¬
stinguished place in the Dutch school. He painted hunt¬
ing-scenes, the attacks of robbers, public festivals,
landscapes, and sea-views; and he ornamented his pic¬
tures with old ruins, and enriched them with figures of
men and animals. He had a correct design, and em¬
ployed vigorous and lively colouring.
Van Ostade, although born at Lubeck, Gerard Dowg
Metz.u, Miris, Wovermans, Berghem, and the cele¬
brated painter of flow'ers Van Huysum, belong to the
Dutch school.
The greater part of the schools of which we have
treated have no longer any existence. Italy alone had
four schools, and there only remain at present a very few
Italian artists known to foreigners. The school of Ru¬
bens is in vain sought for in Flanders. If the Dutch
school still exists, it is not known beyond the precincts
of Holland. Mengs a German artist has made him¬
self famous in our days •, but it was in Italy that he
chiefly improved his talents and exercised his art.
M. Dietrich, another German, has made himself known
to strangers j but two solitary artists do not form a
school.
A new school is formed in our times and in our own
country, called the English school. It is connected with
the academy in London, instituted in 1766 by letters
patent from the king, and formed only in 1769. Sir
Joshua Revnolds is the undoubted founder of it. His
w'orks give him a distinguished rank among the artists
cf the present age, and exhibit a genius in their author
which has seldom been surpassed; but the effects which
PAINTING. - History.
he has contrived to give to them by the formation of a Schools,
new school, and by the good principles which his dis--y—w
courses to academicans, and his example as a painter,
have disseminated, will secure his reputation as long as
England shall esteem the advantages and the worth of
great abilities. The English taste appears to be formed
on the great masters of the Italian and the Ilemish
schools. Sir Joshua was a great admirer ol ]\Iichael
Angelo, and particularly recommends him to the atten¬
tion of the academicans. “ I leel (says Sir Joshua), a
self congratulation in knowing myself capable ol such
sensations as he intended to excite. I. reflect, not with¬
out vanity, that these discourses bear testimony ot my
admiration of that truly divine man j and I should de¬
sire that the last words which 1 should pronounce in
this academy, and from this place, might be the name
Michael Angelo.'" But though he thus enthusiasti¬
cally admired this very great man, yet he allows, what
cannot indeed bo denied, that he was capricious in his
inventions : “ And this (says he) may make some cir¬
cumspection necessary in studying his works j lor though
they appear to become him, an imitation ol them is al¬
ways dangerous, and will prove sometimes ridiculous.
‘ In that dread circle none durst tread but he.’ To me,
1 conless his caprice does not lower the estimation of
his genius, even though it is sometimes, 1 acknowledge,
carried to the extreme j and however those eccentric
excursions are considered, we must at the same time
recollect, that those faults, if they are faults, are such as
never could occur to a mean and vulgar mind j that they
flowed from the same source which produced his greatest
beauties ; and were therefore such as none but himself
was capable ot committing j they were the power¬
ful impulses of a mind unused to subjection of any
kind, and too high to be controuled by cold criti¬
cism.” ' , .
The effect of Sir Joshua’s discourses is visible in the
pictures ot this school. I he Death ot Geneial \Yolfe,
the Departure ot Regulus lor Carthage, the Airival of
Agrippina, and some other subjects, are decided proofs
that the English school is acquainted with greatness of
style, boldness of expression, and the art ol managing
a great number ol figures. It will be fortunate for the
painters of this school, if, more rigid with regard to
their forms, than ambitious of poignant and astonishing
ettects, they support the character which they have
already acquired. But although England had not en¬
joyed this brilliant success in painting, she would have
immortalized herself by the excellency of her engrav-
lllti'S
It is easy to perceive in all those schools the cause
of the character which distinguishes them. In the Ro¬
man school, it is the excellent education of its first
masters, together with the precious remains ot an-
tiquity found in the ruins of ancient Rome. In the
Venetian school, the magnificence derived from the
commerce of the east, the frequency of feasts and
masquerades, and the necessity of painting to the rich
and luxurious, who were accustomed to behold these
magnificent objects, were the causes of its gaudy taste.
In the Dutch school, the peculiarity of its grovelling
manner may be accounted for from the habits 0 the
artists. Accustomed to visit taverns and workshops,
and having most commonly exposed to their view
istory. - PAIN
Schools, low ami grotesque figuresj they represent in their pic-
tures the obiects which wrere most iamilmr to them in
life.
Zncyclop. “ Beauty (says a French writer*) ought to be the
ymxArts, characteristic of the English school, because the artists
iu.i. lliiVe it often exposed to their view. If this beauty is
not precisely similar to that among the ancients, it is
not inferior to it. The English school should also di¬
stinguish itself for truth of expression; because the liber¬
ty enjoyed in that country gives to every passion its na¬
tural and unbiassed operation. It will probably long
preserve its simplicity unpolluted by the pomp of thea¬
trical taste and the conceit of false graces, because
the English manners will long preserve their simpli¬
city.
“ Examine the picture of a Frenchwoman (continues
he) painted by an artist of that nation, and you will ge¬
nerally find, in place of expression, a forced grin, in
which the eyes and the forehead do not partake, and
which indicates no affection of the soul. Examine the
picture of an Englishwoman done by one of their pain¬
ters, and you observe an elegant and simple expression,
which makes you at once acquainted with the character
ef the person represented.”
Sect. III. Comparison between the Ancient and Modern
Painting.
No person of judgment or taste hesitates to give the
superiority to the ancient sculpture j but the Moderns
comfort themselves with refusing the same superiority
to the Greek artists in the art of painting. The small
number of their productions which remain, and the pro¬
bable conjectures which may be formed concerning those
which have perished, go the length to prove that the
Greek painters conducted themselves on other principles
than those which have received the sanction of custom
and the force of laws in our schools. But this censure
might be applied with equal justice to Homer as an
epic poet, and to Sophocles and Euripides as writers of
tragedy.
The principal difference between the ancient and
•modern manner of painting consists in the complica¬
tion of figures, and the pompous decoration of scenery
which prevails in the modern, when compared with
the unity and simplicity of the ancient painters. This
simplicity, however, does not seem to arise from the
want of capacity, but from a choice, as Polygnotus,
one of their most ancient painters, represents in one
of his pieces the siege ef Troy, and in another the
descent of Ulysses into hell; but they soon decided in
favour of simplicity, and their pieces generally contain
one or two figures, and very rarely more than three or
four.
Poetry in this particular is conducted on very dif¬
ferent principles. A poet may with great propriety
multiply his characters, and enter into details of a
variety of actions, because the whole of his characters
and actions do not occupy the mind of his readers at
the same time. The whole of his arts consists in ma¬
king one naturally succeed another; but every part
of the poem which contains a separate transaction
would make a picture capable of fixing the attention.
In painting, the eye takes in the whole ; and it is by
»3 means satisfied if 20 or 30 figures are presented to
TING. 643
it, which it cannot possibly comprehend. It is in Compavi-
vain to group the figures, or to call the attention to lje~
the principal object by a greater degree of light; the ^^ient6
spectator is anxious to examine every object which is all(j Ai(K
presented to him ; and if they are not to be examined, dern.
for what reason are they painted ? An excellent piece, "-v
at the same time, consisting of a great number of fi¬
gures, will give pleasure ; but it is accompanied with
that fatigue which one experiences when he runs over
a gallex-y furnished with a great variety of excellent
pictures.
Those observations on the attention of the spectator
led the Greeks to make similar ones on the attention of
the artists. They perhaps thought that the painter who
had to execute a great variety of figures in the same
work, could not study each of them with equal accuracy
and care; and of consequence that he might produce
something astonishing in the extent, and yet disgusting
in the detail.
This difference, however, between ancient and mo¬
dern painting, cannot give any decided principle to de¬
termine on their comparative merit. We are accustom¬
ed to behold assemblages in nature! and it is a fact, that
even in affecting scenes a great number of figures may
not only be brought together, bat that they may heigh¬
ten the distress. It is supposing a picture to have little
effect, to imagine that we can coolly, and with the same
kind of attention, examine the principal and the acces¬
sory figures. If it is highly finished, our whole soul must
be absorbed in that object which the artist intended to
be most conspicuous ; and if we give any attention to
the surrounding figures, we shall consider them as spec¬
tators of the same scene, and derive from them an addi¬
tion of sympathy and of feeling. The whole question
in this particular point of view amounts to this, that
the moderns have chosen a more difficult part ; and
if they have executed it with success, their merit is
greater. And this observation will hold good, unless it
can be proved that it is utterly impossible to make an
assemblage of figures lead to one general and common
effect.
The proper manner of deciding the comparative me¬
rit of the ancients and moderns, is to consider, as far as
we have sufficient data to go upon, to what degree the
ancients excelled iu the particular departments of this
art. There are two sources from which we can derive
information; namely, from the morsels of antiquity wdiich
yet remain, and from what the ancient writers have said
on the subject of painting, both of which are extremely
defective. It is allowed, however, by every skilful per¬
son who has viewed the remains of ancient paintings,
that none of them appear to be the performances of su¬
perior artists, notwithstanding much merit in the design
and accuracy in the drawing, which indeed seems to
have been habitual to almost every ancient artist. The
best among these paintings (according to Sir Joshua
Reynolds), “ the supposed marriage in the Aldobran-
dine palace,” is evidently far short of that degree of ex¬
cellence undoubtedly implied in the descriptions of an¬
cient authors, and which from them we are fairly led to
expect.
Still more defective, if possible, is this last species of
evidence : for we have no direct treatise remaining on
the subject by any of the ancients, although many were
composed by their artists. The passages from which we
4 M 2 are
6u
Compari¬
son be¬
tween tbe
Ancient
and Mo¬
dem.
* On Paint
ing and
Poetry,
x49-
PAIN
are te decide are, eitliei* Uie cttfSftry remarks of writers
iiot expressly treating on the subject of painting, or the
descriptions of those who at best can rank but as ama¬
teurs of a fashionable art. From these indeed we may
pretty safely assert the degree ot excellence which the
passages imply } but we should reason very inconclusive¬
ly, were we to deny them any higher or any other me¬
rit than appears to be strictly contained in these scatter¬
ed observations. Let any one for a moment place the
modern painters in his mind in the same situation as the.
ancients, and he will quickly decide on the truth of
these remarks.
Nevertheless, it is necessary on this subject to derive
some conclusions from the information which is occa-
sionally given in ancient authors. Ihat the ancients
paid a particular attention to design, would be evident
from the manner in which they speak ol this depart¬
ment of the graphic art, even though the moderns were
not in possession of such remaining proofs of their ex¬
cellence herein (though by artists of an inferior class),
as to place this point beyond the reach of doubt.
Indeed, when it is considered that, with respect to
freedom and correctness of outline, painting and sculp¬
ture are very nearly connected ^ that I hidias and A-
peiles were nearly contemporaries ; that many of the
ancient painters, such as Zeuxis, Protogenes, Apelles,
&.c. were accustomed to modelling for the purpose of
sculpture or of casting', that the extreme elegance of
design in the ancient statues is so notorious as to be
the acknowledged model even for modern artists ; and
that these ornaments of sculpture were well known and
uniyersallv admired among the indents—we shall have
little hesitation in admitting their equality with the mo¬
derns so far as design is concerned. But should any
doubt remain on this point, the drawings from the an¬
tiquities of Herculaneum will be striking proofs that
truth, elegance, and spirit, in a degree rarely to be met
with among the moderns, were habitual even to the
common run of artists in the declining age of ancient
painting.
The ancients excelled moreover not merely in the
common and obvious parts of design j but they appear
to have had no inconsiderable degree of skill in the art
of foreshortening. The performance of Pausanias is a
proof of this: Fecit autem grandes tabulas sicut spectatam
in Pompeii porticibps bourn immolationcm. Earn enim
picturam primus invenit, quam postea imitati sunt multi,
equavit nemo. Ante omnia, cum longitudinem bovis os-
tendere vdlet, adversum eum.pin.xit, non transversum, et
abunde intelligitur ampliiudo. Dein cum omnes qui vo¬
lant eminentia videri, candicantia facuint, coloremque
condani, hie totum bovem atri color is fecit; umbra que
corpus ex ipso dedit; magna prorsus arte in a quo ex¬
tan Via ostendens et in confracto sohdu omnia.
Nor will it be difficult to show, that the ancient pain¬
ters were not inferior to the moderns in expression. The
state of sculpture alone among the ancients would al¬
most furnish a decisive proof that the sister art of paint¬
ing could not be deficient. Among the ancient sta¬
tues which yet remain, expression is carried to a tvon-
derful heightnot merely the features of the face,
but almost every muscle of the body, combining to en¬
force the idea intended to be conveyed.
Mr Webb* very properly observes, that “ the an¬
cients thought characters q.n<\ manners so essential to
TING. History,
painting, that they expressly term painting an art de- Compari.
scriptive of manners. Aristotle in his Poetics says of nm be-
Polygnotus, that he was a painter of the manners', and tween the
objects to Zeuxis, his weakness in this part.” We have
in Philostratus the following description of a picture : dern.
“ We may instantly (says he) distinguish Ulysses by his y
severity and vigilance } Menelaus by his mildness ', and
Agamemnon by a kind of divine majesty. In the son
of Tydeus is expressed an air of freedom j Ajax is known
by his sullen fierceness*, and Antilochus by his alertness.
To give to these such sentiments and actions as are con¬
sequential from their peculiar characters, is the ethic of
painting.”
Another instance of excellence in expression among
the ancient paintings was the Medea of Timomachus.
She was painted about to kill her infant. Ausomus
speaks with admiration of the mingled expression of
ano-er and maternal fondness in her face and man-
C
ner.
Immanem exhausit rerum in diversa laborem
Fingeret affectum matris ut ambiguum,
Ira sub est lachrymis, miseratio non caret ira,
Altere utrurn videus ut sit in altere utro.
It may not be amiss, however, at this period of our in¬
quiry, to make some observations on the testimonies of
ancient authors respecting this subject.
It is certainly true, that when the works of an an¬
cient artist are praised for any real or supposed merit,
the commendations will be relative to the degree of
perfection to which the art had arisen at the time, and
to the opportunities of information, the taste, and judge¬
ment of the person who bestows them. Excellence
will always he ascribed to him who leaves his cotem-
poraries far behind j and those performances will often
be considered as supremely beautiful which exceed in
beauty all that have gone before
In like manner, a person ot natural sensibility, bpt
who has been accustomed all his life to performances of
an inferior stamp, will be in raptures at any which much
exceed the best he has heretofore been taught to admire j
and whatever opportunities of information he may have,
his evidence will not be of much weight, if he do not
possess a sufficient degree of taste and judgment to use
them properly.
In ascertaining therefore the degree of credit due to
the praises bestowed on any performance in a blanch of
the fine arts, we must take into consideration the gene¬
ral state of the art at the time, and the competence of
the person who bestows the praise.
No slight degree of probability, however, may be at¬
tained on^ both those points, by attending to a circum¬
stance not generally noticed, viz. that in an advanced
state of the art, and when the observer is acquainted
with his subject, the praise will seldom be given in loose,
general, and comprehensive expressions j but the terms
m which it is conveyed will be characteristic and deter¬
minate, and often technical', they will frequently show
the state of the art, by marking the subdivisions and the
skill ot the observer by judicious discrimination. When,
added to these, the latter can resort for comparison to
anv existent standard of perfection, his praise may fairly
be'adopted in its full extent, and regarded as evidence
upon the point in question . • • i
' To aoplv these observations to painting, it is clear,
* ^ Tvitn
tory.
PAINTING
^45
his
ns.
with respect ta the most difficult, the most fundamental,
and the highest in rank among the departments of the
art, viz. design and expression, that the ancients were
fully equally to the moderns j and their expressions of
praise must he allowed to imply an equal degree of abso¬
lute skill, with similar expressions, if applied to the great
masters of modern art. It is also clear that painting was
extremely cultivated among the ancients, and that their
good painters were more esteemed than artists of equal
merit in modern times; that what we should term gen¬
tlemen artists were frequent with them Qapud Bomams
qinque honos mature huic arti contigit) ; and that the
expressions of the ancient connoisseurs evince much theo¬
retical and technical knowledge of the art, and display
a distribution of its parts almost as minute, complete,
and scientific, as the present state of it can boast.
With regard to colouring, the praises of the ancient
authors chiefly relate to the style of it as exerted upon
single figures or particular tints. It may therefore be
doubted whether the ancients were possessed of the art
of distributing their colours through the whole of a pic¬
ture, so as to produce an harmony and general tone of
colouring similar to that which we'admire in the Lom¬
bard and Flemish schools. The present remains of an¬
cient paintings do not appear to warrant any such con¬
clusion ; but being undoubtedly the works of inferior
hands, their authority is very small when alleged
against the general or particular merit of the ancient
artists. The following extracts will be sufficient to
evince, that the ancients did attend to this technical
branch of colouring.
Indeed the modern technical expressions appear bor¬
rowed, from the following passage of Pliny, which may
be regarded as decisive on the subject. Tandem sese
ars ipsa distinxit, et invenit lumen atque umbras, diffe¬
rentia colorum alterna vice sese excitante. Dein adjectus
est splendor ; alius hie quam lumen ; quem quia inter hoc
et utnbram esset appellaverunt tonon. Commissuras vero
colorum et transitus, harmogen. The lumen atque um¬
bras of this passage might have been regarded as mere¬
ly descriptive of the light and shade necessary to relieve
single figures, if it were not for the subsequent defini¬
tion of tone. The harmogen of Pliny means the hand¬
ling or skilful blending and softening colours into one
another, rather than what we now call harmony.
Lucian t, in his fine description of that spirited
painting bv Zeuxis of the male and female centaurs,
after relating the treatment of the subject itself, pro¬
ceeds to notice the technical execution of the picture ;
and he praises particularly the truth and delicacy of the
drawing, the perfect blending of the colours, the skilful
shading, the scientific preservation of size and magni¬
tude, and the equality and harmony of the proportions
throughout the whole piece.
Painters, says Plutarch, increase the effect of the
light and splendid parts of a picture by the neighbour¬
hood of dark tints and shades. And Maximus Tyrius
observes, that bright and vivid colours are always plea¬
sant to the eye ; but this pleasure is always lessened if
you omit to accompany them with somewhat dark and
gloomy. These passages seem to imply a knowledge
of the use of cold and dark tints even where a bril¬
liancy of tone is required. The best among the an¬
cient painters, however* seem to have preferred a chaste
and sober style of colouring to the gaudiness and flutter Compari-
of the later artists. son be-
Lpon the whole, therefore, with respect to colour- tweeI} th®
ing as employed upon single figures, as the ancients
were fully as competent to judge of excellence herein dern.
as the moderns ; as the expressions of the ancient con-' —v—
noisseurs are very warm in praise of the colouring of
many of their painters ; as they appear also to have at¬
tended very much to the art of colouring; and more¬
over, as probable evidence can be adduced that they at¬
tended to miniature painting—a considerable degree of
merit may be allowed them in the use of the colours
they possessed.
Chiaro scuro, or the art of placing and proportioning
light and shade in such a manner as to produce a plea¬
sing effect, independently of any other circumstance
connected vtith the picture, has been commonly deem¬
ed a characteristic difference between the knowledge of
ancient and modern painters. On this subject the works
of the ancients now remaining give little or no informa¬
tion ; hence Sir Joshua Reynolds observes, “ that this,
which makes so considerable a part of the modern art,
was to them totally unknown. If the great painters
had posses-ed this excellence, some portion of it would
have infallibly been diffused, and have been discovered,
in the works of the inferior ranks of artists which have
come down to us, and which may be considered as on.
the same rank with the paintings that ornament our
public gardens.” But the accounts of the places where
these paintings have been found, make it evident that
they were thus ornamented at a very considerable ex¬
pence. The generality of them consist of single figures ;
some of them of twm or three figures, generally relieved
by an uniform ground ; and, except in a few instances,
evidently designed as mere reliefs to a compartment,
and answering, as near as maybe, to the stuccoed orna¬
ments in our modern rooms ; nor do any of them seem
the wrorks of artists equal in their day to those at
present employed on the painted ceilings of private
houses.
The Abbe du Bos maintains, on the other hand, that
what Pliny and other ancient writers say concerning the
daro-obseuro and the delightful distribution of light
and shade, is altogether decisive ; and that their wtI-
tings are full of so many probable circumstances, that
it cannot be denied that the ancients at least equalled
the most celebrated of the moderns in this part of the
art.
On the examination of the greater part of the pas¬
sages from antiquity, it is evident that they may re¬
late to the light and shade of single figures, without in¬
volving what is now called the science of the claro-ob-
scuro. The passage of Pliny, however, already quoted,
and several others, go very near to prove that this branch
of painting was understood among the ancients. The
dark, the light, and mezzotint, are evidently and accu-
ratelv described in that passage.
Equally strong is that expression in Quintilian:
Zeuxis luminum umhrarunique rationem invenisse tra-
ditur. This cannot well be otherwise translated than
by the science of light and shade.
That some technical knowledge of the effect produ¬
cible by masses of light and shade was possessed by the
ancients,appears indubitable from the passages adduced:.
te >
646
<Jo:n pari-
son be¬
tween tbe
Ancient
and Mo¬
ri rn
PAINTING.
to what extent it was carried cannot now be ascertained.
In all probability they were much interior in this re¬
spect to the moderns} otherwise, although much science
of this kind could hardly be expected trom the trilling
performances that remain, much more would have oc¬
curred on the subject, it would have been more largely
dwelt on, and more precisely expressed among the ob¬
servations of ancient authors on the best painting of the
ancient masters.
Neither is there sufficient evidence that the ancients
were eminent in that important branch of the compo¬
sition of a picture, which consists in distributing the fi¬
gures and objects in groups, or masses. There are few
examples oi this difficult branch of the art among thc^
remaining antiquities } and indeed from the paucity of
the figures introduced in the generality of these ancient
paintings, there is little room to expect them. But
what makes it still more doubtful whether the ancients
attained any degree of eminence in grouping is, that
among the many paintings of these great masters enu¬
merated by Pliny, Lucian, or Philostratus, there is none
of them praised for this species of excellence. This,
however, it must be confessed, may as well arise from
want of knowledge in the writer as of skill in the artist}
for in a picture found in Herculaneum, which represents
in all probability the education of Achilles, the figure
of an old man holding a child on his knees, together
with that of a woman behind him, form a very agreeable
group. A work of the same collection, painted in one
colour on marble, consists of five figures grouped very
much after the modern idea, if it were not that three of
the heads are at the same height. It is extremely pro¬
bable, that this morsel had been the copy of a picture
finished in the purest times of the art. But although it
Avere proved that the ancients did not attempt grouping
their figures, it is still uncertain whether this might not
arise from their peculiar and perhaps excellent taste in
the arts. Wishing to enjoy in the fullest manner their
painted figures as they enjoyed the aspect of a statue,
they took care that every figure should be detached from
.another in the same picture, which permitted them to
give their objects more relief, and to render them more
distinct to the eye of a distant spectator.
We are not therefore to conclude, that they were en¬
tirely ignorant of grouping, on the one hand } or that
they declined the execution of it from want of skill, on
the other. Indeed it actually appears to have been
technically attended to by them, whatever might be
their comparative excellence in it } for Apelles is ex¬
pressly asserted by Pliny to have been inferior to Me-
lanthius in composition (de dispositione) : and one of
their paintings mentioned by the same author, is said to
have contained one hundred figures 5 but this unwieldy
number must have been ofiensive, if they were not
grouped with some skill.
From the connection behveen the sister arts of poetry,
painting, and sculpture, and the admirable performance
of the ancients in the other two departments of the fine
arts, it is reasonable to conclude that the ancient paint¬
ers were not deficient in invention. Many instances,
were it necessary, might be collected in support of their
well-founded claim to this branch of the art} but it
will be sufficient to observe, that as invention is rather a
natural endowment than an acquired talent, and as the
Ancient
and Mo.
dern.
History,
ancients universally seem to'iie at least equal to the mo- Comnari-
derns in the gifts of genius and good sense, we cannot son be-
but admit, on their part, an equality tvith ourselves so Uve™ the
far as invention is concerned.
Very nearly connected with the subject of invention
is that of the costume ; by which is meant an attention
to probability with respect to times, places, objects,
persons, and circumstances in the transaction repre¬
sented.
The ancient paintings noAV remaining, so far from ex¬
hibiting any proofs of attention to this important branch
of the art,, are full of gross violations of probability,
and representations of impossible connection. But very
little stress is to be laid on these instances-, first, because
they are evidently tbe performances of artists of no re-
potation } secondly, because none of them to which thisji'
objection can be made are regular representations of any 'i-'v
person or transaction } and thirdly, because, as they
were (for tbe most part) manifestly intended as orna¬
ments to apartments, the taste of the owner, and not of
the artist, would of course be chiefly consulted. No¬
thing, however, can be more clear than that the an¬
cients required an attention to probability in the Avorks
of their artists} and from the manner in Avhich their
Avriters express themselves on the subject (not so much
recommending the practice of it as taking it for grant¬
ed), avc may reasonably conclude, that their best paint¬
ers Avere seldom guilty of any gross violation of the cos¬
tume. Sint Jicta simillima veris Avas an apophthegm ge¬
nerally known, and when knoAvn must have been uni¬
versally admitted.
The principles of the costume are Avell expressed and
illustrated by Horace in the first lines ot his Art of
Poetry ; and Vitruvius, lib. vii. chap. 5. says, that no
pictures can be appro\'ed of Avhieh have not a resem¬
blance to truth and nature. Whether the ancient
painters put in practice a greater share of good sense
Avith respect to the costume than the moderns, cannot
noAV be accurately determined} the advantage seems to
be in favour of the former} for, as avc shall have occa¬
sion more particularly to observe afterwards, the most
celebrated of modern painters from Raphael to Sir Jo¬
shua Reynolds have been guilty of such flagrant breaches
of probability, as Avould appear astonishing to those who
are not in the habit of expecting them.
It has been doubted whether the ancients Avere ac¬
quainted Avith the science of perspective : and if the re¬
mains of ancient painting Avere alone to decide the que-
tion, it must be determined against them : for the works
of the ancient painters now in possession of the moderns
afford no proof of attention to the rules of peispectRe
equal to the performance of a modern sign-painter.
The picture of the sacrifice among tbe Herculanean an¬
tiquities, and the fourth of the prints which Bellori has
published and described, taken from the paintings in the
sepulchre of the Nasonii, are barely tolerable } but the
other landscapes (almost the only remaining antique
paintings which admit of perspective) are grossly de¬
fective in this particular } so much so indeed, that con¬
sidering the late period when landscape-painting was in¬
troduced among the ancients, together with this mani-
festimperfection inpointof perspective of such as are yet
extant, avc cannot help suspecting tin Lt’eriority of the
ancients in this respect. In perspectivt, as in the chiaro-
SCU10,
PAIN
mnari scuvo, had goad practice been common, some traces
a be- would have been discovered in the works of their lowest
"'enthe artjsts.
And yet some general knowledge of the principles,
iern. and some degree of attention to the practice, of per-
s -y—^ gpective, cannot well be denied to the ancients. They
were good mathematicians, they were excelle nt archi¬
tects, and some of them are celebrated for their skill in
scene-painting. Geminus the Rhodian, contemporary
with Cicero, was the author of an express treatise on
perspective-, and Euclid, Heliqdorus, Larisseus, Aga-
tharcus, wrote also on the same subject. It is well
known, besides, that the ancients practised the art of
painting in perspective on walls in the same way that it
is now done hy the moderns ; Pliny (Nat. Hist. lib.
xxxv. c. 4.) savs, that one of the walls of the theatre
of Claudius Fulcher, representing a roof covered with
tiles, was finished in so masterly a manner, that the
rooks, birds of no small sagacity, taking it for a real
roof, attempted to light upon it. We are likewise told,
that a dog was deceived to such a degree, by certain
steps in a perspective of Dantos, that expecting to find
a free passage, he made up to them in full speed, and
dashed out his brains. But what is still more, Vitruvi¬
us tells us in express terms by whom and at what time
this art was invented. It was first practised by Aga-
tharcus, a contemporary of TEschylus, in the theatre of
Athens -, and afterwards reduced to certain principles,
and treated as a science, by Anaxagoras and Democri¬
tus j thus faring like other arts which existed in practice
before they appeared in theory.
Portrait painting seems to have been a principal em¬
ployment of the first artist whom the ancients have to
boast of, since Alexander is said to have permitted no
painter but Apelles, and no sculptor but Phidias, to take
his likeness. Pliny particulariz.es several instances of
Apelles as a portrait painter.
In the drawing and colouring of single figures, to
which the ancients paid particular attention, they must be
allowed to be equal, if not superior, to the moderns.
That spirit and animation, case and dignity, were com¬
mon to the performances of ancient artists, the ancient
statues and paintings still remaining most evidently
evince and as they possessed, therefore, all the requi¬
sites to excel in portrait painting, a branch of the art at
all times much in request among them, there is good
T I N G.
reason to infer, in favour of the ancients, at least an
equality with the moderns in this respect.
On the whole, all the principal parts' of the art, as
purity of design, and beauty and expression in the forms,
were not only to he found in the ancient statues, but
were actually the foundation of excellence in modern
painting $ and hence we may conclude that their
painters formed on the same models, and very often
the same men who excelled in sculpture, were not infe¬
rior in those branches of the art. But with regard to
the inferior parts, the allurement of colouring, the inge¬
nuity of the claro-ohscuro, the splendour of composition,
the art of grouping figures, and the nice handling of the
pencil, the moderns are superior to those ancient painters
who have most deserved the notice of their contempora¬
ry writers. It is still to be observed, however, that the
progress of the arts among the ancients, from the prin¬
cipal parts to the more splendid, was somewhat similar
to that among the moderns 5 and as the painters of the
first rank were more immediately the objects of criticism
and delight to authors of genius, it is impossible at this
distance of time to state any accurate comparison be¬
tween the ancients and moderns in what may be termed
the decay of the art. This is particularly the case with
regard to colours, there being in ancient as well as in
modern times two epochs j the one comprehending Po-
Ivgnotus ancMiis immediate successors, and the other the
painters both of Greece and Rome after the art began
to decay. The colouring of Polygnotus was hard, and
his manner had something of wildness 5 but his design
was in the highest style of perfection. In the suc¬
ceeding ages the colouring was more varied, more bril¬
liant, more harmonious, and the handling more agree¬
able but the design was less elegant and exact. And
the true connoisseurs continued to prefer the works of the
ancient school, in the same manner that the best writer’s
in our times prefer the works el the Roman and Vene¬
tian masters to the more brilliant pictures of their suc¬
cessors. From this statement of facts it is abundantly
evident, that from the ancient authors we can form some
comparison between the best ancient and modern paint¬
ers in those things which are most excellent in the art j
while in the inferior parts, from the silence of authors,
and the loss of paintings, we have no grounds upon
which a comparison can be accurately made. See
Arts Fine, Supplement.
Part I. Principles of the Art, and the Order of the Artist’s Studies.
WE have joined these together, because they are
like cause and effect; and comprehend both on what
parts in the execution of the art the painter is to em¬
ploy his chief attention, and also the manner in which
he is to employ it. We shall not therefore be confined
to the dry and abstract, and as it were unembodied prin¬
ciples, but connect them with the useful and agreeable
branches of the art, in that order in which it appears to
us they should be studied.
*
Sect. I. Of Anatomy.
To ask if the study of anatomy is requisite to a
painter, is the same thing as to ask if, in order to learq
any science, a man must first make himself acquainted
with the principles of k. It would be an useless waste
of time to cite, in confirmation of this truth, the autho¬
rities of the ancient masters, and the most celebrated
schools. A man, who is unacquainted with the form
and construction of the several bones which support and
govern the human frame, and does not know in what
manner the muscles moving these bones are fixed to
them, can make nothing of what appears ot them through
the integuments with which they are covered; and
which appearance is, however, the noblest object of the
pencil. It is impossible for a painter to copy faithfully
what he sees, unless he thoroughly understand it. Let
him employ ever so much time and study in the attempt,
it
G48 PAIN
Anatomy, it cannot hat \tc attended with many and great mistakes •
jnst as it must happen to a man, who undertakes to
copy something in a language which he does not un¬
derstand •, or to translate into his own, what he has
•written in another, upon a subject with which he is not
acquainted. _ .
It seldom happens, that nothing more is required or a
painter than to copy exactly an object which he has be¬
fore him. In still and very languid attitudes, in which
every member is to appear motionless and dead, a living
model may, no doubt, yield for a long time a faithful
image, and prove an useful pattern to him. Bat in re¬
gard to gestures any way sudden, motions any way vio¬
lent, or those momentary attitudes which it is more fre¬
quent! v the painter’s business to express, the ease is quite
different. In these a living model can hold but an in¬
stant or two •, it soon grows languid, and settles into a
fixed attitude, which is produced by an instantaneous
concourse of the animal spirits. If, therefore, a painter
possess not so thoroughly all the principles of anatomy,
as to be at all times able to have immediate recourse to
them } if he know not the various manners in which
the several parts of the human body play, according to
their various positions ; living models, tar from proving
an useful pattern to him, will rather tend to lead him
astray, and make him lose sight of truth and nature, by
exhibiting the very reverse of what is required, or at
least exhibiting it in a very faint and imperfect man¬
ner. In living models, we often behold those parts
slow, which should be quick 5 those cold and torpid,
which should have the greatest share of life and spirit
in them.
'Nor is it, as some may be apt to imagine, merely to
represent atliletic and vigorous bodies, in which the parts
are most bold and determined, that anatomy is requisite :
it should be understood to represent persons of the most
delicate frame and condition, even women and children,
whose members are smoothest and roundest, though the
parts made known by it are not to be strongly expressed
in such object j just as logic is equally requisite under
the polished insinuations of the orator, and the rough
arguments of the philosopher.
But it is needless to spend much time in proving, that
a painter should be acquainted with anatomy 5 or in
showing, how far his acquaintance with it should extend.
For instance, it is unnecessary for him to enter into the
different systems of the nerves, blood-vessels, bowels, and
the like-, parts which are removed from the sight, and
which therefore may be left to the surgeon and the phy¬
sician, as being a guide in the operations of the former
and in the prescriptions of the latter. It is enough for
the painter, to be acquainted with the skeleton j in other
words, with the figure and connection of the bones,
which are, in a manner, the pillars and props of a hu¬
man body *, the origin, progress, and shape of the
muscles which cover these bones as also the different
degrees in which nature has clothed the muscles with
fat, for this substance lies thicker upon them is some
places than in others. Above all, be should know in
what manner the muscles effect the various motions and
gestures of the body. A muscle is composed of two
tendinous and slender parts, one called the head% the
other the tail, both terminating at the bones ; and of an
intermediate part, called the belly. The action of a
muscle consists in an extraordinary swelling of this xn-
.5
TING. Parti
termediate part, while the head remains at rest, so as to Anatomy
bring the tail nearer the bead, and consequently the v—.
part to which the tail of the muscle is fixed, nearer to
that part into which the head is inserted.
There are many motions to effect which several of
the muscles (for this reason called co-operating muscles)
must swell and operate together, while those calculated
to effect a contrary motion (and therefore called antago¬
nist muscles') appear soft and flaccid. Thus, for exam¬
ple, the biceps and the brachiaeus interims labour when
the arm is to be bent, and become more prominent than
usual j while the gemellus, the brachiteus externus, and
the anconaius, tv hose office is to extend the arm, conti¬
nue, as it were, flat and idle. The same happens re¬
spectively in all the other motions of the body. W hen
the antagonist muscles of any part operate at one and
the same time, such part becomes rigid and motionless.
This action of the muscle is called tonic.
Michael Angelo intended to give the public a com¬
plete treatise upon this subject-, and it is no small mis¬
fortune, that he never accomplished so useful a design.
This great man, having observed, as we are told in his
life by Condivi, that Albert Durer was deficient on the
subject, as treating only of the various measures and
forms of bodies, without saying a "word of their attitudes
and gestures, though things of much greater importance,
resolved to compose a theory, founded upon his long
practice, for the service of future painters and statuaries.
And, certainly, no one could be better qualified to give
anatomical precepts for that purpose, than he who, in
competition with Da Vinci, designed that famous cartoon
of naked bodies, which was studied by Raphael himself,
and afterwards obtained the approbation of the ^ ati-
can, the greatest school of the art we are now treating
of.
The want of Michael Angelo’s precepts may, in
some measure, he supplied by other books written on
the -same subject by Moro, Cesio, and 1 ortebat; and
lately by Boucherdon, one of the most famous statu¬
aries in France. But nothing can be of equal service
to a young painter, with the lessons of some able dissec¬
tor j under whom, in a few months, he may make him¬
self master of every- branch of anatomy which he need
to be acquainted with. A course of osteology is of no
great length -, and of the infinite number of muscles dis¬
covered by curious myologists, there are not above 80
or 90, with which nature sensibly operates all those mo¬
tions which he can ever have occasion to imitate or ex¬
press. These, indeed, he should closely study, these he
should carefully store up in his memory, so as never to
be at the least loss lor theirproper figure, situation, office,
and motion.
But there is another thing, besides the dissection of
dead bodies, by which a young painter may profit
greatly ; and that is anatomical casts. Of these we
have numbers by several authors -, nay, some which pass
under the name of Buonarroti himself. But there is
one in which, above all the rest, the parts are most di¬
stinctly and lively expressed. This is the performance
of Hercules Lelli, who has perhaps gone greater lengths
in this kind of study than any other master. W e have,
besides, by the same able hand, some casts of particular
parts of the human body, so curiously coloured lor the
use of young painters, as to represent these parts exactly
as tbev appear on removing the integuments j and thus,
bv
art I. PAIN
natomy. by the differenee in their colour as well as configura-
1 tion, render the tendinous and the fleshy parts, the
belly and the extremities of every moscte, surprisingly
distinct; at the same time that, by the various direc¬
tion of the fibres, the motion and play of these muscles
become very obvious y a work of the greatest use, and
never enough to be commended ! Perhaps, indeed, it
would be an improvement, to give the muscles various
tints j those muscles especially which the pupil might
be apt to be mistake for others. For example, though
the mastoideus, the deltoides, the sartorius, the fascia
lata, the gasterocnemii, are, of themselves, sufficiently
distinguishable, it is not so with regard to the muscles
of the arm and of the back, the right muscles of the
belly, and some others, which, either on account of the
many parts into which they branch, or of their being
interwoven one with another, do not so clearly and
fairly present themselves to the eye. But let the cause
of confusion to young beginners be what it will, it may
be effectually removed, by giving, as already hinted,
different colours to the different muscles, and illumin¬
ing anatomical figures ; in the same manner that maps
are coloured, in order to enable us readily to distin¬
guish the several provinces of every kingdom, and the
several dominions of every prince.
The better to understand the general effect, and re¬
member the number, situation, and play of the muscles,
it will be proper to compare, now and then, the anato¬
mical casts, and even the dead body itself, with the li¬
ving body covered with its fat and skin $ and above all
things with the Greek statues still in being. It was
the peculiar happiness of the Greeks, to be able to cha¬
racterize and express the several parts of the human
body much better than we can pretend to do 5 and this,
on account of their particular application to the study
of naked figures, especially the fine living ones which
they had continually before their eyes* It is well
known, that the muscles most used are likewise the most
protuberant and conspicuous y such as, in those who
dance much, the muscles of the legs ; and in boatmen,
the muscles of the back and arms. But the bodies of
the Grecian youth, by means of their constant exertion
of them in all the gymnastic sports, were so thorough-
]y exercised, as to supply the statuary with much more
perfect models than ours can pretend to be.
There are a great many exercises, which a yourig
painter should go through while engaged in the study
of anatomy, in order to make himself more thoroughly
master of that science. For example: The thighs of any
figure, a Laocoon for instance, being given, he should
add to them legs suitable to that state in which the
muscles of the thighs are represented, that is the muscles
which serve to bend and extend the legs, and to effec¬
tuate in them such a precise position and no other.
To the simple contour of an anatome or a statue, he
should add the parts included by it, and give it a sy¬
stem of muscles conformable to the quality of that par¬
ticular contour y for every contour denotes some one
certain attitude, motion, exertion, and no other. Exer¬
cises of this kind would soon establish him in the most
fundamental principles of painting, especially if he had
an opportunity of comparing his drawings with the sta¬
tue or cast from which the parts given him to work up¬
on were taken, and thereby discovering and correcting
Vol. XV. Part II. t
TING, 649
Ills' mistakes. This method is very like that used by Perspec-
those who teach the Latin tongue ; when, having given live,
their scholars a passage of Livy or Caesar already trans-1 ""‘“v - - * *
lated into their mother-tongue, to translate back into
Latin, they make them compare their work with the
original text.
Sect. II. Of Perspective.
The study of perspective should go hand in hand with
that oi anatomy, as not less fundamental and necessary*
In fact, the contour of an object drawn upon paper or
canvas, represents nothing more than such an intersect
tion of the visual rays sent from the extremities of it td
the eye, as would arise on a glass put in the place of the
paper or canvas. Now, the situation of an object at
the other side of a glass being given, the delineation of
it on the glass itself depends entirely on the situation of
the eye on this side of the glass j that is to say, on the
rules of perspective: a science which/ contrary to the
opinion of most people, extends much farther than the
painting of scenes, floors, and what generally goes un¬
der the name of qiiadratura. Perspective, according
to that great master da Vinci, is to be considered as
the reins and rudder of painting. It teaches in what
proportion the parts fly from, and lessen upon the eye y
how figures are to be marshalled upon a plain surface,
and foreshortened. It contains, in short, the whole ra¬
tionale of design.
Such are the terms which the masters best grounded
in their profession have employed to define and com¬
mend perspective: so faf were they from calling it a
Jallacious art, and an insidious guide ; as some amongst
the moderns have not blushed to do, insisting that it is
to be followed no longer than it keeps the high road, or
leads by easy and pleasant paths. But these writers
plainly show, that they are equally ignorant of the na¬
ture of perspective, which, founded as it is on geome^
trical principles, can never lead its votaries astray ; and
of the nature of their art, which, without the assistance
of perspective, cannot, in rigour, expect to make any
progress, nay, not so much as to delineate a simple
contour.
When a painter has formed a scene in his mind, and
supposed, as it is customary, that the capitaFHfigures of
this scene lie close, or almost close, to the hack of his
canvas, he is, in the next place, to fix upon some point
on this side of the canvas, from which he would choose
his piece should he seen. But in choosing this point,
which is called the point of sight, regard should be had
to its situation to the right or left of the middle of the
canvas : but, above all things, to its distance and its
height with respect to the lower edge of the canvas y
which edge is called the base line, and is parallel with
the horizontal line that passes through the eye. For by
assuming the point of sight, and consequently the hori¬
zontal line, too low, the planes upon which the figures
stand will appear a great deal too shallow} as, by assu¬
ming it too high, they will appear ton steep, so as to
render the piece far less light and airy than it ought to
be. In like manner, if the point of sight is taken at
too great a distance from the canvas, the figures will
not admit of degradation enough to be seen with suffi¬
cient distinctness y and if taken too near it, the degra-
4 N datioft
650
Perspec- Nation will be too quick and precipitate to have an
tive agreeable eftect. Thus, then, it appears, that no sma
v attention is requisite in the choice oi this point.
When a picture is to be placed on high, the point of
sight should be assumed low, and vice versa; in order
that the horizontal line of the picture may be, as neai
as possible, in the same horizontal plane with that of
the spectator ■, for this disposition has an amazing effect.
When a picture is to be placed very high, as, amongst
many others, that of the Purification, by Paolo Vero¬
nese, engraved by le Fevre, it will be proper to assume
the point of sight so low, that it may lie quite under the
picture, no part of whose ground is, in that case, to be
visible •, for, were the point of sight to be taken above
the picture, the horizontal ground of it would appear
sloping to the eye, and both figures and buildings as
ready to tumble head foremost. It is true, indeed, that
there is seldom any necessity for such extraordinary
exactness ; and that, unless in some particular cases,
the point of sight had better be rather high than low :
the reason of which is, that, as we are more accustom¬
ed to behold people on the same plane with ourselves,
than either higher or lower, the figures of a piece must
strike us most when standing on a plane nearly level
with that upon which we ourselves stand, lo this it
may be added, that by placing the eye low, and greatly
shortening the plane, the heels of the back figures will
seem to bear against the heads of the foremost, so as to
render the distance between them far less perceptible
than otherwise it would be.
The point of sight being fixed upon according to the
situation in which the picture is to be placed, the point
of distance is next to be determined. In doing this, a
painter should carefully attend to three things : first, that
the spectator may be able to take in, at one glance, the
whole and every part of the composition ; secondly, that
he may see it distinctly j and, thirdly, that the degra¬
dation of the figures, and other objects of the picture be
sufficiently sensible. It would take up too much time
to lay down certain and precise rules for doing all this,
considering the great variety in the sizes and shapes of
pictures} for which reason we must leave a great deal
to the discretion of the painter.
But there is a point still remaining, which will not
admit of the least latitude. This is, the delineation of
the picture, when once the point of sight has been fix¬
ed upon. The figures of a picture are to be consider¬
ed as so many columns erected on different spots of the
same plane ; and the painter must not think of designing
any thing, till he has laid down, in perspective, all those
columns, which are to enter his composition, with the most
scrupulous exactness. By proceeding, in this manner, he
may not only be sure of not committing any mistake in
the diminution of his figures according to their different
distances, but may flatter himself with the thoughts of
treading in the steps ef the greatest masters. It is to the
punctual observance of these laws, that we are to attri¬
bute the grand effect of some paintings by Carpazio and
Mantegna, so careless in other respects j whereas a single
fault against them is often sufficient entirely to spoil the
works of a Guido, in spite of the sublimity and beauty
of his superior style,
Now, as the demonstration of the rules of perspective
depends on the doctrine of proportions, on the properties
of similar triangles, and on the intersection of planes, it
Part I,
will be proper to put ail abridgement of Euclid into the Symmetry.
hands of the young painter, that he may understand these ' r—'
rules fundamentally, and not stand confined to a blind
practice of them : but, then, there is nothing in this
author relative to the art of painting, which may not
be easily acquired in a few months, lor, as it would
be of no use to a painter to launch out into the anatomi¬
cal depths of a Monro or an Albinus, it would be equal¬
ly superfluous to perplex himsell with the intricacies of
the higher geometry with a Taylor, who has handled
perspective with that rich profoundness, which we can¬
not help thinking does a great deal more honour to a
mathematician, than it can possibly bring advantage to a
simple artist.
But though a much longer time were requisite to be¬
come a perfect master of perspective, a painter, surely,
ought not to grudge it; as no time can be too long to
acquire that knowledge, without which he cannot possi¬
bly expect to succeed. Nay, we may boldly affirm, that
the shortest road in every art is that which leads through
theory to practice. From theory arises that great faci¬
lity^ by means of which a man advances the quicker, in
proportion as he is surer of not taking a wrong step -r
whilst those, who are not grounded in the science, la¬
bour on in perpetual doubt } obliged, as a certain author
expresses it, to feel out their way with a pencil, just as
the blind, with their sticks, feel for the streets and turn¬
ings, with which they are not acquainted.
As practice, therefore, ought in every thing to be
built upon principle, the study of optics, as far as it is
requisite to determine the degree in which objects are
to be illuminated or shaded, should proceed hand in
hand with that of perspective : And this, in order that
the shades, cast by figures upon the planes on which
they stand, may fall properly, and be neither too strong
nor too light •, in a word, that those most beautiful ef¬
fects of the chiaro-scuro may run no risk of ever receii-
ing the lie from truth, which sooner or later discovers
itself to every eye.
Sect. III. Of Symmetry.
The study of symmetry, it is obvious, should imme¬
diately follow that of anatomy } for it would avail us
little to be acquainted with the diflerent parts of the hu^
man body, and their several offices, were we at the same
time ignorant of the order and proportion of those parts
in regard to the whole in general, and to each other in
particular. The Greek statuaries distinguished them¬
selves above all others, as much by the just symmetry
of their members, as by their skill in anatomy ; but
Polycletes surpassed them all by a statue, called thepHnii
Rule, from which, as from a most accurate pattern, Nat. Hut’
other artists might take measures for every part of the*‘bg*xa,i
human body. These measures, to say nothing of the
books which treat professedly of them, may now be deriv¬
ed from the Apollo of Belvedere, the Eaocoon, the ^ e-
nus of Medicis, the Faunus, and particularly the Antir
nous, which last was the rule of the learned Poussin.
It is the general opinion of painters, that the ancients
were not so happy in representing the bodies of children,
as they are allowed to have been in representing those of
women and men *, especially those of their gods j in which
they excelled to such a degree, that with these gods were
often worshipped the artists who had carved them. Yet
PAINTING.
"art I. PAIN
ymmetry. tlie Venus of Cjtii'dus by Praxiteles Avas not more famous
—-v~-—' than her Cupid, on whose account alone people flocked
Cl<r ™de ^ ^esP‘9e** children, say they, the ancients knew
I ^£ n®t ^ow t0 *mPart tllat softness and effeminacy which
rabo, riammingo has since contrived to give them, by repre-
I). ix. scnting their cheeks, hands, and feet, sw elled, their heads
te. Nat. large, and with scarce any belly. But such critics seem
txvi c c ior8^ ^^iat these first sketches of nature very seldom
come in the painter’s Avay, and that this puny and deli¬
cate state has not in its form even the least glimmering
of perfection. The ancients never undertook to repre¬
sent children less than four or five years old ; at which
age the superfluous humours of the body being in some
measure digested, their members begin to assume such a
contour and proportion as may serve to point out what
they are afterwards likely to be. This observation is
confirmed by the children which we meet with in an¬
cient basso-relievos and paintings: for they are all doing
one thing or another 5 like those most beautiful little
Cupids in a picture at Venice, who are playing with
the arms of Mars, and lifting up the ponderous sword
of that deity •, or that little urchin in the Danae of
Caracci, who empties a quiver of its arrows in order to
fill it with the golden shower. Now, what can be a
greater blunder in point of costume, than to attribute
actions, which require some degree of strength and
judgment, to infancy, to that raw and tender age so
totally unable to govern and support itself?
Let a young painter consider the Greek statues ever
so often, of whatever character or age they mav be re¬
presented, it is impossible he should ever consider them
Avithout discovering new beauties in them. It is there¬
fore impossible he could copy them too often, accor¬
ding to that judicious motto placed by Maratti on his
print called The school. This truth was acknotvledged
by Rubens himself j for though, like one bred, as he
Avas, in the foggy climate of the Loav Countries, he
generally painted from the life j in some of his Avorks
he copied the ancients; nay, he wrote a treatise on the
excellency of the ancient statues, and on the duty of a
painter to study and imitate them. As to the satirical
print, or rather pasquinade, of the great Titian, in
which he has represented a parcel of young monkeys
aping the group of Laocoon and his sons ; he intended
nothing more by it than to lash the dulness and poverty
of those artists, who cannot so much as draw a figure
Avithout having a statue before them as a model.
In fact, reason requires, that an artist should be so
much master of his art, as seldom to stand in need of a
pattern. To what other purpose is he to sweat and toil
from his infancy, and spend so many days and nights
in studying and copying the best models ; especially the
finest faces of antiquity, Avhich we are still possessed
of; such as the two Niobes, mother and daughter; the
Ariadne, the Alexander, the young Nero, the Silenus,
the Nile : and likewise the finest figures ; for instance,
the Apollo* the Gladiator, the Venus, and others ; all
which (as was said of Pietro Festa), he should have, as
it Avere, perfectly by heart! With a stock of excellen¬
cies like these, treasured up in his memory, he may one
day hope to produce something of his otvn Avithout a
mode! ; form a ritrht judgment of those natural beauties
which fall in his Avav; and, when occasion offers, avail
himself properly of them.- -
It is very injudicious to send boys to an academy to
TING. 651
draw after naked figures, before they have imbibed a Symmetry
proper relish for beautiful proportions, and have been ^^
well-grounded in the true principles of symmetry.
They should first learn, by studying the precious re¬
mains of antiquity, to improve upon life ; and discern
where a natural figure is faulty through stiffness in the
members, or clumsiness in the trunk, or in any other re¬
spect ; so as to be able to correct the faulty part, and re¬
duce it to its proper bounds. Painting, in this branch,
is, like medicine, the art of taking atvay and adding.
It must not, hoAvever, be dissembled, that the me¬
thods hitherto laid down are attended Avith some dan¬
ger: for by too slavish an attention to statues, the young
painter may contract a hard and dry manner; and by
studying anatomies too servilely, a habit of representing
living bodies as stripped of their skin : for after all, there
is nothing but Avhat is natural, that, besides a certain
peculiar grace and liveliness, possesses that simplicity,
ease, and softness, which is not to be expected in the
Avorks of art, or even in those of nature when deprived
of life. Poussin himself has hoav and then given into
one of these extremes, and Michael Angelo very often
into the other: but from this avc can only infer, that
even the greatest men are not infallible. It is, in short,
to be considered as one instance, among a thousand, of
the ill use those are Avont to make of the best things,
Avbo do not know Iioav to temper and qualify them pro¬
perly Avith their contraries.
But no such danger can arise to a young painter from
confining himself for a long time to mere design, so as
not to attempt colouring till he has made himself master
of that branch. If, according to a great master f, co-f Poussin,
lours in painting are in regard to the eye Avhat numbers ** llis
in poetry are in regard to the ear, so many charms to by
allure and captivate that sense ; may avc not affirm, that
design is in the same art what propriety of language is
in writing, and a just utterance of sounds in music?
Whatever some people may think, a picture designed
according to the rules of perspective and the principles
of anatomy, will ever be held in higher esteem by good
judges, than a picture ill designed, let it be ever so Avell
coloured. Hannibal Carraci set so great a value upon
the art of contour, that, according to some expressions
of his Avhich have reached us, he considered almost every
thing else as nothing in comparison with it. And this
his judgment may be justified, by considering, that na¬
ture, though she forms men of various colours and cam-
plexions, never operates in the motions contrary to the
mechanical principles of anatomy, nor, in exhibiting
these motions to the eye, against the geometrical laAvs
of perspective : a plain proof, that, in point of design,
no mistake is to be deemed trifling. Hence we are en¬
abled to feel all the weight of those Avoids in which
Michael Angelo, after he considered a picture drawn
by a prince of the Venetian school, addressed Vasari :
“ What a pity it is,” said he, “ that this man did not
set out by studying design !” As the energy of nature
shines most in the smallest subjects, so the energy of art
shines most in imitating them.
Sect. IV. Of Imitation.
"When you consider art as the imitation of nature
(says Mengs), it is not to be understood that nature,
which is the object, is more perfect than art Avhich
4 N 2 imitates
652
Imitation, imitates it. Nature, it is confessed, offers some views
of which the imitation must for ever remain impertect,
as in the instance of the claro-obscuro j hut, on the
other hand, in every thing relative to beauty ot form,
imitation may even surpass nature. Nature, in her pi o-
ductions, is subject to many accidents. Art, labouring
on passive and obedient materials, renders perfect the
objects of its creation, chooses every thing in nature the
most excellent, and collects the different parts and the
different beauties of many individuals into one whole. It
is seldom that we find in the same man greatness of soul
and the due proportions of body, vigour, suppleness,
firmness, and agility, joined together. Art constantly
represents what is rarely or never to be met with in hu¬
man nature ; regularity in the outlines, grandeur in the
forms, grace in the attitudes, beauty in the members,
force in the breast, agility in the limbs, address in the
arms, frankness in the forehead, spirit in the eyes, and
affability over the whole countenance. Let an artist
give force and expression to all the parts ol his subject,
let him vary this force and expression as different cir¬
cumstances make it necessary, and he will soon perceive
that art may surpass nature. But although this be
granted, the artist is not to imagine that art is actually
arrived at this supreme degree of perfection, and can pro¬
ceed no farther. The moderns seem never to have per¬
ceived the track pointed out by the ancient Greeks : for,
since the revival of painting, the true and the agreeable,
instead of the beautified, have been the objects ot culti¬
vation. Still, however, imitation is the first part of the
art of painting, though not the most excellent or beauti¬
ful. It is a necessary step in the progress which leads
forward to greater perfection.
A painter ought attentively to consider, compare to¬
gether, and weigh in the balance of reason and truth, all
the different styles of the great masters j but he ought
likewise carefully to guard against too great a fondness
for any one of them in particular that he may think pro¬
per to adopt ; otherwise, to use the expression of a first-
* Do Vinci rate-master *, instead of the child, he would become the
on Paint- grandchild of nature.
'ms‘ Besides, his imitation must be of generals, and not of
particulars. Whatever a young painter’s natural dispo¬
sition may be, whether to paint boldly and freely like
Tintoret and Rubens, or to labour his works, like Ti¬
tian or da Vinci, let him follow it. This kind of imi¬
tation is very commendable. It is thus that Dante, at
the same time that he carefully avoided adopting the
particular expressions of Virgil, endeavoured to seize his
bold and free manner, and at last caught from him that
elegance of style which has done him so much honour.
As to the rest, nothing should hinder an able master
from making use now and then of any antique, or even
modem figure, which he may find his account in em¬
ploying. Sanzio, in a St Paul at Lystra, scrupled not
to avail himself of an ancient sacrifice in basso-relievo ;
nor did Buonarroti himself disdain to use, in his paint¬
ings of the Sextine chapel, a figure taken from the fa¬
mous cornelian which tradition tells us he wore on his
finger, and which was lately in the possession of the most
Christian king. Men like these avail themselves of the
productions of others in such a manner as to make us ap¬
ply to them, what La Bruyere said of Despreaux, that
one would imagine the thoughts of other men had been
of his own creatic®.
PAINTING. Part I,
In genera;!, a painter should have his eye constantly imitatjoa
fixed on nature, that inexhaustible and varied source of-v-—i
every kind of beauty } and should study to imitate her
in her most singular effects. As beauty, scattered over
the whole universe, shines brighter in some objects than
in others, he should never be without his little book
and crayon, in order to make drawings of every beau¬
tiful or uncommon object that may happen to present
itself j and take sketches of every fine building, every
situation, every effect of light, every flight of clouds,
every flow of drapery, every attitude, every expression
of the passions, that may happen to strike him. He
may afterwards employ these things as occasions offer;
and in the mean time will have the advantage of acqui¬
ring a grand taste.
It is by carefully studying the best masters, and imi¬
tating nature, that a painter arrives at the style of per¬
fection which the Italians call gusto grande, the French
le beau ideal, and the English the great style.
“ A mind (says Sir Joshua Reynolds), enriched by an
assemblage of all the treasures of ancient and modern
art, will be more elevated and fruitful in resources in
proportion to the number of ideas which have been care¬
fully collected and thoroughly digested.
“ The aeldition of other men’s judgment is so far from
weakening, as is the opinion of many, our own, that it
will fashion and consolidate those ideas of excellence
which lay in their birth feeble, ill-shaped, and confused 5
but which are finished and put in order by the authority
and practice of those, whose works may be said to have
been consecrated by having stood the test of ages.
“ When we speak of the habitual imitation and con¬
tinued study of masters, it is not to be understood that I
advise any endeavour to copy the exact peculiar colour
and complexion of another man’s mind 5 the success of
such an attempt must always be like his who imitates
exactly the air, manner, and gestures, of him whom he
admires. His model may be excellent, but he himself
will be ridiculous ; and this ridicule arises not from his
having imitated, but from his not having chosen the
right mode of imitation.
“ It is a necessary warrantable pride to disdain to
walk servilely behind any individual, however elevated
his rank. The true and liberal ground of imitation is
an open field, where, though he who precedes has had
the advantage of starting before you, yet it is enough
to pursue his course : you need not tread in his foot¬
steps j and you certainly have a right to outstrip him
if you can.
“ Nor, whilst I recommend studying the art from
artists, can I be supposed to mean that nature is to be
neglected : I take this study in aid, and not in exclusion
of the other. Nature is, and must be, the fountain,
which alone is inexhaustible j and from which all ex¬
cellencies must originally flow.
u The great use of studying our predecessors is to
open the mind, to shorten our labour, and to give us
the result of the selection made by those great minds ot
what is gr and or beautiful in nature : her rich stores are
all spread out before us ; but it is an art, and no easy
art, to know how or what to choose, and how to attain
and secure the object of our choice.
“ Thus the highest beauty of form must be taken
from nature 5 but it is an art of long deduction and
great experience to know how to find it. I cannot
I. PAIN
avoid mentioning here an error which students are apt
1 to fall into.
“ He that is forming himself must look with great
caution and wariness on those peculiarities or prominent
parts which at first force themselves on view, and are
the marks, or what is commonly called the manner, by
which that individual artist is distinguished.
“ Peculiar marks I hold to be generally, if not al¬
ways, defects, however difficult it may be wholly to es¬
cape them.
“ Peculiarities in the works of art are like those in
the human figure ; it is by them that we are cognizable
and distinguished one from another j but they are al¬
ways so many blemishes, which, however, both in the
one case and in the other, cease to appear deformities to
those who have them continually before their eyes. In
the works of art, even the most enlightened mind, when
warmed by beauties of the highest kind, will by degrees
find a repugnance within him to acknowledge any de¬
fects •, nay, his enthusiasm will carry him so far as to
transform them into beauties and objects of imitation.
“ It must be acknowledged, that a peculiarity of
style, either from its novelty, or by seeming to proceed
from a peculiar turn of mind, often escapes blame 5 on
the contrary, it is sometimes striking and pleasing j but
it is vain labour to endeavour to imitate it, because no¬
velty and peculiarity being its only merit, when it ceases
to be new, it ceases to have value.
“ A manner, therefore, being a defect, and every
painter, however excellent, having a manner, it seems
to follow that all kinds of faults as wTell as beauties
may be learned under the sanction of the greatest au¬
thority.”
Sect. V. Of Colouring.
Colouring, though a subject greatly inferior to many
others which the painter must study, is yet of sufficient
importance to employ a considerable share of his atten¬
tion j and to excel in it, he must be well acquainted
with that part of optics which has the nature of light
and colours for its object. Light, how’ever simple and
uncompounded it may appear, is nevertheless made up,
as it were, of several distinct substances ; and the num¬
ber, and even dose of these ingredients, has been hap¬
pily discovered by the moderns. Every undivided ray,
let it be ever so fine, is a little bundle of red, orange,
yellow, green, azure, indigo, and violet rays, which,
while combined, are not to be distinguished one from
another, and form that kind of light called white ; so
that white is not a colour per se, as the learned Ha
Vinci t (so far, it seems, the precursor of Newton) ex¬
pressly affirms, but an assemblage of colours. Now
I4- these colours, which compose light, although immuta¬
ble in themselves, and endued w’ith various qualities,
are continually, however, separating from each other in
their reflection from and passage through other substan¬
ces, and thus become manifest to the eye. Grass, for
example, reflects only green rays, or rather reflects green
rays in greater number than it does those of any other
colour, one kind of wine transmits red rays, and an¬
other yellowish rays : and from this kind of separation
arises that variety of colours with which nature has di¬
versified her various productions. Man, too, has con¬
trived to separate the rays of light by making a portion
TING.
of the sun’s beams pass through a glass prism ; for after
passing through it, they appear divided into seven pure
and primitive colours, placed in succession one by the
other, like so many colours on a painter’s pallet.
Now, though Titian, Corregio, and Vandyke, have
been excellent colourists, without knowing any thing
of these physical subtleties, that is no reason why others
should neglect them. For it cannot but be of great
service to a painter to be well acquainted with the na¬
ture of what he is to imitate, and of those colours
with which he is to give life and perfection to his de¬
signs ; not to speak of the pleasure there is in being-
able to account truly and solidly for the various effects
and appearances of light. From a due tempering, for
example, and degrading, of the tints in a picture 5 from
making colours partake of each other, according to the
reflection of light from one object to another j there
arises, in some measure, that sublime harmony which
may be considered as the true music of the eye. And
this harmony has its foundation in the genuine prin¬
ciples of optics. Now this could not happen in the
system of those philosophers, who held, that colours
did not originally exist in light, but were, on the con¬
trary, nothing else than so many modifications which
it underwent on being reflected from other substances,
or in passing through them j thus subject to alterations
without end, and every moment liable to perish. Were
that the case, bodies could no more receive any hues
one from another, nor this body partake of the colour
of that, than scarlet, for example, because it has the
power of changing into red all the rays of the sun or
sky which immediately fall upon it, has the power of
changing into red all the other rays reflected to it from
a blue or any other colour in its neighbourhood.
Whereas, allowing that colours are in their own na¬
ture immutable one into another, and that every body
reflects, more or less, every sort of coloured rays,
though those rays in the greatest number which are of
the colour it exhibits, there must necessarily arise, in
colours placed near one another, certain particular hues
or temperaments of colour : nay, this influence of one
colour upon another may be so far traced, that three or
four bodies of different colours, and likewise the in¬
tenseness of the light falling upon each, being assign¬
ed, we may easily determine in what situations and how
much they would tinge each other. We may thus, too,
by the same principle of optics, account for several other
things practised by painters ; insomuch that a person,
who has carefully observed natural effects with an eye
directed by solid learning, shall he able to form gene¬
ral rules, where another can only distinguish particular
cases.
But after all, the pictures of the best colourists are,
it is universally allowed, the books in which a young
painter must chiefly look for the rules of colouring j
that is, of that branch of painting which contributes
so much to express the beauty of objects, and is so re¬
quisite to represent them as what they really are. Gi¬
orgio and Titian seem to have discovered circumstances
in nature which others have entirely overlooked j and
the last in particular has been happy enough to express
them with a pencil as delicate as his eye was quick and
piercing. In his works we behold that sweetness of
colouring which is produced by union, that beauty
which is consistent with truth 3 and all the insensible
transmutations.
654
PAINTING.
Part I, art 1
Colouring, transmutations, all the soft transitions, in a word, all
the pleasing modulations, of tmts and colours. W hen
a young painter has, by close application, acquired
from Titian, whom he can never sulftcientiy dwell up¬
on, that art which, of all painters, he has best contri¬
ved to hide, he would do well to turn to Bassano and
Taolo, on account of the beauty, boldness, and ele¬
gance of their touches. That richness, softness, and
freshness of colouring for which the Lombard school
is so justly cried up, may likewise be of great service
to him. Nor will he reap less benefit by studying the
principles and practice of the Flemish school •, which,
chiefly by means of her varnishes, has contrived to give
a most enchanting lustre and transparency to her co¬
lours. .
But whatever pictures a young painter may choose
to study the art of colouring upon, he must take great
care that they be well preserved. There are very few
pieces which have not suffered more or less by the
length, not to say the injuries, of time j and perhaps
that precious patina, which years alone can impart to
paintings, is in some measure akin to that other kind
which ages alone impart to medalsinasmuch as, by
giving testimony to their antiquity, it renders them
proportionably beautiful in the superstitious eyes of the
learned. It must indeed be allowed, that if, on the
one hand, this patina bestows, as it really does, an
extraordinary degree of harmony upon the colours of a
picture, and destroys, or at least greatly lessens, their
original rawness, it, on the other hand, equally im¬
pairs the freshness and liie of them. A piece seen many
years after it has been painted, appears much as it
would do, immediately after painting, behind a dull
<dass. It is no idle opinion, that Paolo Veronese, at¬
tentive above all things, to the beauty of his colours,
and what is called strepito, left entirely to time the caie
of harmonizing them perfectly, and (as we may say)
mellowing them. But most of the old niasteis took that
task upon themselves ; and never exposed their works
to the eyes of the public, until they had ripened and
finished them with their own hands. And who can say
whether the Christ of Moneta, or the Nativity of Bas¬
sano, have been more improved or injured (if we may
so speak) by the touchings and retouchings of time,
in the course of more than two centuries P It is indeed
impossible to be determined. But the studious pupil
may make himself ample amends for any injuries which
his originals may have received from the hands of time,
by turning to truth, and to Nature which never grows
old, but constantly retains its primitive flower of youth,
and was itself the model of the models before him. As
soon, therefore, as a young painter has laid a proper
foundation for good colouring, by studying the best
masters, he should turn all his thoughts to truth and
nature. And it would perhaps be well worth while to
have, in the academies of painting, models for colour¬
ing as well as designing •, that as from the one the pu¬
pils learn to give their due proportion to the several
members and muscles, they may learn from the other
to make their carnations rich and warm, and faithfully
copy the different local hues which appear quite dis¬
tinct in the different parts of a fine body. To illustrate
still farther the use of such a model, let us suppose it
placed in different lights : now in that of the sun, now
in that of the sky, and now again in that of a lamp or
candle $ one time placed in the shade, and another in Drapery,
a reflected light. Hence the pupil may learn all the —y—
.. reflected   --- y i -- -v  
different effects of the complexion in different circum¬
stances, whether the livid, the lucid, or transparent;
and, above all, that variety of tints and half tints, oc¬
casioned in the colour of the skin by the epidermis ha¬
ving the bones immediately under it in some places,
and in others a greater or less number of blood-vessels
or quantity of fat. An artist who had long studied
such a model would run no risk of degrading the beau¬
ties of nature by any particularity of style, or of giving
into that preposterous fulness and floridness of colour
which is at present so much the taste. He would not
feed his figures with roses, as an ancient painter of
Greece shrewdly expressed it, but-with good beef j a Drift, dial,
difference which the learned eye of a modern writer s.
could perceive between the colouring of Barocci and
that of Titian. To practise in that manner, is, ac¬
cording to a great master, no better than inuring one’s
self to the commission of blunders. What statues are
in design, nature is in colouring 5 the fountain-head ot
that perfection to which every artist, ambitious to ex¬
cel, should constantly aspire: and accordingly the Fle¬
mish painters, in consequence of their aiming solely to
copy nature, are in colouring as excellent as they are
wont to be awkward in designing. The best model for
the tone of colours and the degradation of shades is
furnished by means of the camera obscura. See Diop¬
trics, Sect. vi. and ix.
Sect. VI. Of Drapery.
Drapery is one of the most important branches of
the whole art, and accordingly demands the greatest
attention and study. It seldom happens that a painter
has nothing but naked figures to represent ; nay, Ins
subjects generally consist of figures clothed from bead
to foot. Now tlie flowing of the folds in every gar¬
ment depends chiefly upon the relief of the parts that
lie under it. A certain author, we forget his name,
observes, that as the inequalities of a surface are dis¬
coverable by the inequalities in the water that runs over
it, so the posture and shape of the members must be
discernible by the folds of the garment that covers
them. Those idle windings and gatherings, with which
some painters have affected to cover their figures, make
the clothes made up of them look as if the body had
fled from under them, and left nothing in its place but
a heap of empty bubbles, lit emblems of the brain that
conceived them. As from the trunk of a tree theie
issue here ami there boughs ol various forms, so fiom
one mistress fold there always flow many lesser ones :
and as it is on the quality of the tree that the elegance,
compactness, or openness of its branches chiefly depends;
it is, in like manner, by the quality of the stull ot which
a garment is made, that the number, order, and size of
its folds must be determined To sum up all in two
words, the drapery ought to be natural and easy, so as
to show what stuff it is, and what parts it covers. It
ought, as a certain author expresses it, to cover the
body, as it were merely to show it.
It was formerly the custom with some of our masters
to draw all their figures naked, and then drape them ;
from the same principle that they first drew the skele¬
tons of their figures, and aftei wards covered them with
muscles.
I. PAIN
irapery. muscles. Ami it was by proceeding in this manner
1 that they attained to such a degree of truth in expres¬
sing the folds of their drapery, and the joints and di¬
rection of the principal members that lay under it, so
as to exhibit in a most striking manner the attitude of
the person to whom they belonged. That the ancient
sculptors clothed their statues with equal truth and
grace, appears from manv of them that are still in be¬
ing ; particularly a Flora lately dug up in Rome, whose
drapery is executed with so much judgment, and in so
grand and rich a style, that it may vie with the finest
of their naked statues, even with the Venus of Medicis.
The statues of the ancients had so much beauty when
naked, that they retained a great deal when clothed.
But here it must he considered, that it was usual with,
them to suppose their originals clothed with wet gar¬
ments, and of an extreme fineness and delicacy, that,
by lying close to the parts, and in a manner clinging
to them, they might the better show what these parts
were. For this reason a painter is not to confine him¬
self to the study of the ancient statues, lest he should
contract a dry style, and even fall into the same faults
with some great masters who, accustomed to drape with
such light stuffs as sit close to the body, have after¬
wards made the coarsest lie in the same manner, so as
plainly to exhibit the muscles underneath them. It is
therefore proper to study nature herself, and those mo¬
dern masters who have come nearest to her in this
branch ; such as Paolo Veronese, Andrea del Sarto,
Rubens, and above all, Guido Reni. The flow of their
drapery is soft and gentle ; and the gatherings and plaits
are so contrived, as not only not to hide the body, but
to add grace and dignity to it. Their gold, silk, and
woollen stuffs, are so distinguishable one from another,
by the quality of their several lustres, and the peculiar,
light and shade belonging to each, but above all by the
form and flow of their folds, that the age and sex of
their figures are hardly more discoverable by their faces.
Albert Durer is another great master in this branch,
insomuch that Guido himself was not ashamed to study
him. There are still extant several drawings made
with the pen by this great man, in which he has copied
whole figures from Albert, and scrupulously retained
the flow of his drapery as far as his own peculiar style,
less harsh and sharp, hut more easy and graceful, would
allow. It may be said that he made the same use of
Albert that our modern writers ought to make of the
best authors of the 13th century.
To drape a figure well, it is necessary that the folds
he large and few in number; because large folds pro¬
duce great masses of light and shadow, while small ones
multiply the objects of view and distract the attention.
But if the character of the drapery or kind of stuff re¬
quire small folds, they should at least be distributed in
groups, in such a manner that a great number of small
folds shall be subordinate to an equal mass formed by a,
principal fold.
It is also proper to observe, that the colour of the
drapery contributes to the harmony of the whole, and
produces effects which the claro obscuro cannot do
alone. At the same time, the principles of the claro
obscuro shall preside over, or at least regulate, the
art of drapery. If the folds of the stuff which cover
the members exposed to the light are too strongly shad-
TING. 655
ed, they will appear to enter into the members, and cut Drapery,
them. >- ‘
Drapery contributes to the life, to the character, to
the expression of the figures, provided all the move¬
ments of the folds announce the lively or more tran¬
quil movement of those figures. The colour, and the
kind of stuff, concur also to promote the general ex¬
pression ; brilliant or fine drapery cannot be properly
introduced in a mournful subject, nor the opposite in a
gay one.
The drapery must also agree with the age and cha¬
racter oi the figures: And if nature in any instance is
found to contradict those principles, it is because they
relate to the ideal of the art; and it is this ideal which
carries it to the greatest perfection.
Great attention is also necessary to the situation in
which the figures are placed, and the actions about
which they are employed. If they are in the act of,
ascending, a column of air weighs down the drapery ;
if, on the contrary, they are descending, the drapery
is supported and spread out. The folds placed on
every member, and the general play of the drapery,
should indicate whether the figure is in action or about
to be so ; whether action be beginning or ending ; and
whether it be slow, or quick, or violent. All this is
agreeable to nature ; but it also partakes of the ideal,
since nature never can be copied in such fluctuating si¬
tuations. The practice of the Roman schools, first to
draw after nature, and then to paint after the drawing,
cannot he adopted by colourists ; because nature, ac¬
cording to the kind of the stuffs, produces tones and
lights which give more perfection and truth to the
work. Meanwhile Raphael, who followed this prac¬
tice, enjoys the first reputation for giving play to his
drapery, and disposing the folds in the best order. In.
this part he has even attained the height of ideal beau¬
ty. He is the greatest painter of drapery, as the Ve¬
netians are the greatest in painting* stuffs.
Raphael, says Mengs, imitated at first his master
Perugin’s manner of drapery ; and he brought this
manner to perfection, by studying the works of Ma¬
saccio and of Bartholomew: but he departed en¬
tirely from the taste of the school in which he was
educated when he had seen the works of the ancients.
It wms the basso-relievo of antiquity which pointed out
to him the true flowing of drapery, and he w'as not,
backward to introduce it. He discovered, by attend¬
ing to the principles of the ancients, that the naked is-
the principal part; that drapery is to be regarded al¬
together as an accessory, and that it is. intended to
cover not to conceal ; that it is employed from necessi¬
ty, not caprice; that of consequence the clothes should
not be so narrow as to constrain the members, nor so
ample as to embarrass them ; but that the artist should
adapt them to the size and attitude of the figures in--
tended to uTear them.
He understood that the great folds should be placed
at the large places of the body ; and where the nature
of the drapery required small folds, that it was neces-,
sary to give them a projection, which indicates a sub-,
ordination to the principal parts.
He made his ample diaperies without useless folds,,
and with bendings at the articulations. It was the form
of the naked figure which pointed out to him the form.
of
656
PAINTING.
Part 1
Landscape of his folds, and on the great muscles he formed great
and Archi- masses. When any part required to be foicshm tened,
lecture. iie COVered it rvith the same number of folds as it it had
been straightbut then he crowded them in proportion
to the foreshortening.
He frequently discovered the border of ms drapery,
to show that his figures were not dressed in a simple
sack. The form of the principal parts, and the spec 1 tic
weight of the air, were always the causes ot lus olds
1 It was easy to discover in his works, by the iolds ot
his drapery, the attitude of the figure previous to the
one in which it was placed ; and whether, for example,
the arm was extended or otherwise, immediately be¬
fore the action. This was an expression which he had
carefully studied on all occasions, because he found it in
nature •
When the drapery was to cover the leg or arm but
half, or in an imperfect manner, he made it cut ob¬
liquely the member which was partly to be covered.
His folds were of a triangular form. The reason ot
this form is in nature : for all drapery has a tendency
to enlarge itself and be extended •, and as at the same
time its own weight obliges it to fall back on itsell, it
is naturally formed into triangles.
He knew perfectly that the movements ot the body
and of its members are the causes of the actual situa¬
tion of drapery, and of the formation of its folds. A
his practice is nothing else but the unfolding and de¬
monstrating of this theory, and drapery executed in
any other manner must be in a false and vicious taste.
Sect. VII. O f Landscape and Architecture.
When our young painter has made a sufficient pro¬
gress in those principal branches of his art, the design¬
ing, perspective, colouring, and drapery of human fi¬
gures, he should turn his thoughts to landscape and ar¬
chitecture ; for, by Studying them, he will render him¬
self universal, and qualified to undertake any subject j
so as not to resemble certain literati, who, though great
masters in some articles, are mere children in every thing
The most eminent landscape painters are Poussin,
Ijorense, and Titian. _ _
Poussin was remarkable for his great diligence. H is
pieces are quite exotic and uncommon j being set off
with buildings in a beautiful but singular style; and
with learned episodes, such as poets reciting their verses
to the woods, and youths exercising themselves in the
several gymnastic games ol antiquity ; by which it
plainly appears, that he was more indebted for his sub¬
jects to the descriptions of Pausanias than to nature and
truth.
Lorense applied himself chiefly to express the vari¬
ous phenomena of light, especially those perceivable in
the heavens. And thanks to the happy climate of
Rome, where he studied and exercised his talents, he
iias left us the brightest skies, and the richest and most
gloriously cloud-tipt horizons, that can be well concei¬
ved. Nay, the sun himself, which, like the Almighty,
can be represented merely by his effects, has scarcely
escaped his daring and ambitious pencil.
Titian, the great confidant of nature, is the Homer
of landscape. His m s have so much truth, so much
variety, and such a bloom in them, that it is impossible
2
to behold them, without wishing, as if they were real, Landscape
to make an excursion into them. And perhaps the andAichi-
finest landscape that ever issued from mortal hands, is J^-ture.
the back ground of his martyrdom of St Peter ; where,
by the difference between the bodies and the leaves of
his trees and the disposition of their branches, one im¬
mediately discovers the difference between the trees
themselves; where the different soils are so well expres¬
sed, and so exquisitely clothed with their proper plants,
that a botanist lias much ado to keep his hands from
them. See Part II. sect. ii.
Paolo Veronese is in architecture what Titian is In
landscape. To excel in landscape, we must, above all
things, study nature. To excel in architecture, we must
chiefly regard the finest works of art; such as the fronts
of ancient editices, and the fabrics of those moderns
who have best studied and best copied antiquity. Next
to Brunelleschi and Alberti, who were the first revivers
of architecture, came Bramante, Giulio Romano, San¬
sovino, Sanmicheli, and lastly Palladio, whose works
the young painter should above all the rest diligently
study and imprint deeply on his mind. Nor is \ ignola
to be forgotten; for some think he was a more scrupulous
copier of antiquity, and more exact, than Palladio him¬
self, insomuch that most people consider him as the first
architect among the moderns. For our part, to speak
of him, not as fame, but as truth seems to require, we
cantiot help thinking, that rather than bieak through
the generality of the rules contrived by him to facili¬
tate practice, he has in some instances deviated from
the most beautiful proportions of the antique, and is
rather barren in the distribution and disposition of cer¬
tain members. Moreover, the extraordinary height of
his pedestals and cornices hinders the column from
showing in the orders designed and employed by him,
as it does in those of Palladio. Amongst that great
variety of proportions to be met with in ancient ruins,
Palladio has been extremely happy in choosing the best.
His profiles are well contrasted, yet easy. All the parts
of his buildings hang well together. Grandeur, ele¬
gance, and beauty, walk hand in hand in them. In
short, the very blemishes of Palladio, who was no slave
to conveniency, and sometimes perhaps was too profuse
in his decorations, are picturesque. And we may Rea¬
sonably believe, that it was by following so great V
master, whose works he had continually before his eyes,
that Paolo Veronese formed that fine and masterly taste
which enabled him to embellish his compositions with
such beautiful structures.
The study of architecture cannot fail, m another re¬
spect, of being very useful to the young painter, inas¬
much as it will bring him acquainted with the form ot
the temples, thermae, basilics, theatres, and other build¬
ings of the Greeks and Romans. Besides, from the
basso-relievos with which it was customary to adorn these
buildings, he may gather with equal delight and profit,
the nature of their sacrifices, arms, military ensigns, and
dress. The study of landscape, too, will render familiar
to him the form of the various plants peculiar to each
soil and climate, and such other things as serve to cha¬
racterise the different regions of the earth. 1 bus by
degrees he will learn what we call costume, one ot t ie
chief requisites in a painter ; since by means of it he
may express with great precision the time and place in
which his scenes are laid. SECT*
/
Part I.
Expression
of the
1 passions.
PAINTING.
<557
Sect. \ III. Of the Expression of the Passions.
That language which above all others a painter
should carefully endeavour to learn, and from nature
herself, is the language of the passions. Without it
the finest works must appear lifeless and inanimate. It
is not enough for a painter to he able to delineate the
most exquisite forms, give them the most graceful at¬
titudes, and compose them well together; it is not
enough to dress them out with propriety, and in the
most beautiful colours; it is not enough, in fine, by the
powerful magic of light and shade, to make the canvas
vanish. No ; he must likewise know how to clothe his
figures with grief, with joy, with fear, with anger j he
must, in some sort, write on their faces what they think
and what they feel ; he must give them life and speech.
It is indeed in this branch that painting truly soars, and
in a manner rises superior to itself; it is in this branch
she make.-, the spectator apprehend much more than what
she expresses.
The means employed in her imitations by painting,
are the circumscription of terms, the chiaro-scuro, and
Colours; all which appear solely calculated to strike the
visual faculty. Notwithstanding which, she contrives
to represent hard and soft, rough and smooth surfaces,
which are objects of the touch : and this by means of
certain tints, and a certain chiaro-scuro, which has a
different look in marble, in the bark of trees, in downy
and delicate substances. Nay, she contrives to express
sound and motion, by means of light and shade, and
certain particular configurations. In some landscapes
of Diderich we almost hear the water murmur, and
see it tremble along the sides of the river and of the
boats upon it. In the Battle of Burgogne, we are
really apt to fancy that the trumpet sounds; and we
see the horse, who has thrown his rider, scamper along
the plain. But what is still more wonderful, painting,
in virtue of her various colours and certain particular
gestures, expresses even the sentiments and most hidden
affections of the soul, and renders her visible, so as to
make the eye not only touch and hear, but even kindle
into passion and reason.
Many have written, and amongst the rest the fa¬
mous Le Brun, on the various changes that, according
to the various passions, happen in the muscles of the
lace, which is, as it were, the dumb tongue of the soul.
They observe, for example, that in fits of anger the
face reddens, the muscles of the lips puff out, the eyes
sparkle ; and that, on the contrary, in fits of melancholy,
the eyes grow motionless and dead, the face pale, and
the lips sink in. It may be of seiwice to a painter to
read these and such other remarks ; but it will be of in¬
finitely more service to study them in nature itself, from
which they have been borrowed, and which exhibits
them in that lively manner which neither tongue nor
pen can express.
Upon Le Brun’s Treatise on the Passions, we have
the following just, though severe, criticism by Winckle-
man. “ Expression, though precarious in its nature
(says he), has been reduced into a system, in a Trea¬
tise on the Passions by Charles le Brun, a work gene¬
rally put into the hands of young artists. The plates
which accompany this treatise do not only give to the
£ace the affections of the soul in too high a tone, but
VOL. XV. Part II. 6 f
there are many of the heads in which the passions are Expression
represented in an outrageous manner. He appears to of the
give instructions in expression, as Diogenes gave ex- Passions,
amples of morality : I act like musicians, said that cy- '■“—"v—
nic, who give a high tone, in order to indicate a true
one. But the fervour of youth has naturally more in¬
clination to seize the extreme than the middle ; and
hence it is difficult for the young artist, in copying after
Le Brun, to seize the true tone. Youth in general
may be supposed to have that regard for the calm and
moderate in the arts, which they have for the precepts
ol Wisdom and virtue.”
Other French writers have given instructions re¬
specting the expression of the passions, equally excep¬
tionable with those ol Le Brun. All of them whom
wre have consulted make so many divisions and subdi¬
visions ol passions, that a philosopher cannot follow
them in metaphysical theory, nor a painter exhibit their
effects upon canvas. Nature therefore must be his
guide, particularly in treating those very minute and
almost imperceptible difi’erences, by which, however,
things very different from each other are often ex¬
pressed. This is particularly the case with regard to
the passions of laughing and crying ; as in these, how¬
ever contrary, the muscles of the face operate nearly
in the same manner. As the famous Pietro de Cor¬
tona was one day finishing the face of a crying child
in a representation, of the Iron Age, with which he
was adorning the floor called the Hot-bath in the royal
palace of Pitti, Ferdinand II. who happened to be
looking over him for his amusement, could not forbear
expressing his approbation, by crying out, “ Oh how
well that child cries!” To whom the artist,—“ Has
your majesty a mind to see how easy it is to make chil¬
dren laugh ? Behold, I’ll prove it in an instant And
taking up his pencil, by giving the contour of the
mouth a concave turn downwards instead of the con¬
vex upwards which it before had, and with little or no
alteration in any other part of the face, he made the
child, who a little before seemed ready to burst its heart
with crying, appear in equal danger of bursting its sides
with immoderate laughter ; and then, by restoring the
altered features to their former position, he soon set the
child a-crying again.”
The different expressions of laughter and weeping qy
are thus described by Le Brun. “ The movements oiPhilip Bal-
laughter are expressed by the eye-brows elevated to^dmaeti m
wards the middle of the eye, and lowered towards the^^^f.
sides of the nose: the eyes, almost shut, appear some- Crmcail
times moistened with tears : the mouth, a little open, Lystrato,
allows the teeth to be seen : the extremities of the &c*
mouth drawn back, make a dimple in the cheeks,
which appear to be swelled : the nostrils are open :
and the face becomes red. The changes which weep¬
ing occasions are equally visible. The eye-brow is
lowered on the middle of the forehead ; the eyes are
almost shut, moistened, and lowered towards the sides of
the cheeks : the nostrils are swelled, and the veins of
the forehead very apparent: the mouth shut, by the
lowness of its sides, occasions wrinkles in the cheeks;
the under lip is turned down, and presses at the same
time the upper lip : the whole contenance is wrinkled
and becomes red ; especially the eye-brows, the eyes,
the nose, and the cheeks.”
According to Leonardo da Vinci, the best masters
4 O that
658
Expression
oi' the
Passions.
PAIN
that a painter ean have recourse to in this branch ate
those dumb men who have found out the method of
expressina; their sentiments by the motron ot their hands,
eves, eve brows, and in short every other part ot the
body W If this advice be at all proper, such gestures
must be imitated with great sobriety and moderation,
lest thev should appear too strong and exaggerated ; and
the piece should show nothing but pantomimes when
speaking figures alone are to be exhibited j and so be¬
come theatrical and second-hand, or, at best, look like
the copy of a theatrical and second-hand nature.
The artist will reap greater benefit from studying
such fine ancient heads as those ot Mithridates, Sene¬
ca, Alexander dying, Cleopatra, Niohe, &c. and above
all, from attentively observing such movements ot na¬
ture as we daily meet with in the world. But let him
chiefly consult his looking-glass, and study alter his
own face, what, in certain expressions, are the muscles,
the lineaments, the tints, and the accidental circum¬
stances which characterise the situation ot the sou .
It rarely happens that a model, which is alleeted with
no sentiment, presents that to us which we ourselves
feel, and which we are capable of expressing when we
•are our own model, Puget executed the legs ot his
Milo after his own ; and many ingenious artists have
had recourse to a similar expedient. In short, to be
affected ourselves is the true secret of affecting tie
spectator. *
We must not neglect, at the same time, to secuie
the fleeting characters which nature presents to us on
a thousand occasions. We must distrust our memory,
and all the resources which are not easily employed
when we happen to stand in need of them. It is neces¬
sary to watch the circumstances from which we can de¬
rive any useful hint; to seize them when they present
themselves ; and to be careful never to lose, by an ir¬
reparable negligence, the fruit of a happy incident.
Let us also endeavour to possess the feeling ot what
we are to express : whether it be by forming the
image of a thing absent as if it were present, or by
being affected w’kh tbe lively idea of a situation which
we have either experienced, or with which we have
seen another person remarkably affected. We must
never forget, that all the terrible or agreeable, the
violent or slight movements, are to be treated in a na¬
tural manner, and bear a relation to the age, condi¬
tion, sex, and dignity of the person. Ihose grada¬
tions, which art varies according to the nature of the
situation, and the character of men, compose the piin-
eipal ingredients of discernment, knowledge, and taste.
They have been the objects of attention and inq dry
to the most eminent painters of every age *, and they
were of the last importance in assisting them to arrive
at that degree of excellence to which they have carried
expression.
We are told strange things of the ancient painters
of Greece in regard to expression \ especially of Ari¬
stides ; who, in a picture of his, representing a woman
wounded to death at a siege, with a child crawling to
her breast, makes her appear afraid, lest the child,
when she was dead, should, for want of milk, suck her
blood. A Medea murdering her children, by Timoma-
chus, was likewise much cried up, as the ingenious
artist contrived to express, at once, in her countenance,
both the fury that hurried her on to the commission of
4
¥ I N C.
Part I.
so great a crime, and the tenderness 01 a mother that Expression
seemed to withhold her from it. Rubens attempted to of the
express such a double effect in the face of Mary of Me- , 1>ass|o»^
dicis, still in pain from her past labour, and at the same
time full of joy at the birth of a Dauphin. And in
the countenance of Sancta Polonia, painted by liepolo
for St Anthony’s church at Padua, one may clearly
read a mixture of pain from the wound given her by the
executioner, and ot pleasure from the prospect of para?
disc opened to her by it.
Few, to say the truth, are the examples of strong
expressions afforded by the Venetian, Flemish, or Lom¬
bard schools. Deprived of that great happiness, the
happiness of being able to contemplate, at leisure, Re¬
works of the ancients, the purest sources of perfection
in point of design, expression, and character } anti ha¬
ving nothing but nature constantly before their eyes j
they made strength of colouring, blooming complec-
tioils, and the grand effects of the chiaro-obscuro, their
principal study : they aimed more at charming the sen¬
ses than at captivating the understanding. The Ve¬
netians, in particular, seem to have placed their whole
glory in setting off their pieces with all that rich ^a.-
riety of personages and dress, which their capital is
continually receiving by means of its extensive com¬
merce, and which attracts so much tbe eyes ot all those
who visit it. It is much to be doubted, if, in all the
pictures of Paolo Veronese, there is to be found a bold
and judicious expression, or one of those attitudes
which, as Petrarch expresses it, speak without words 5
unless, perhaps, it be that remarkable one in his Mar¬
riage Feast of Cana of Galilee. At one end of the table,
and directly opposite to the bridegroom, whose eyes are
fixed upon her, there appears a woman in red, holding
up to him the skirts of her garment^ as much as to say,
we may suppose, that the wine miraculously produced
was exactly of the colour with the stuff on her back.
And in fact it is red wine we see in the cups and
pitchers. But all this while the faces and attitudes ot
most of the company betray not the least sign of wonder
at so extraordinary a miracle. I hey all, in a manner,
appear intent upon nothing but eating, drinking, and
making merry. Such, in general, is the style of th,e
Venetian school. The Florentine, over which Michael
Angelo presided, above all things curious of design, was
most minutely and scrupulously exact in point ot ana¬
tomy. On this she set her heart, and took singular
pleasure in displaying it. Not only elegance of form,
and nobleness of invention, but likewise strength of ex¬
pression, triumph in the Roman school, nursed as it were
amongst the works of the Greeks, and in the bosom o
a city which had once been the seminary of learning
and politeness. Here it was that Domenichino and
Poussin, both great masters of expression, refined them¬
selves, as appears more particularly by the St Jerome
of the one, and the Death of Germanicus, and the
Slaughter of the Innocents, by the other. Here it was
that Raphael arose, the sovereign master of them a I.
One would imagine that pictures, which are generally
considered as the books of the ignorant, and of the ig¬
norant only, he had undertaken to make the instructors
even of the learned. One would imagine, that he nv
tended in some measure, to justify Quintilian , who * Instil
affirms, that painting has more power over us than all xi.
the arts of rhetoric. There is not, indeed, a sing e pic¬
ture
Inm
I iiii
c.
?;irt I,
PAINTING.
.xpiession ture of HapnaePs, from tile study of which those who
(Passions. are cur‘ous jn point of expression may not reap great be-
v i nefit j particularly his Martyrdom of St Fclicitas, his
Transfigurations, his Joseph explaining to Pharaoh his
dream, a piece so highly rated by Poussin. His School
°fiAthens in the Vatican, is, to all intents and purposes,
a school of expression. Among the many miracles of
art with which this piece abounds, we shall single out
that of the four boys attending on a mathematician,
who, stooping to the ground with his compasses in his
hand, is given them the demonstration of a theorem.
One of the boys, recollecting within himself, keeps back,
with all the appearance of profound attention to the rea¬
soning of the master ; another, by the briskness of his
attitude, discovers a greater quickness of apprehension;
while the third, who has already seized the conclusion,
is endeavouring to beat it into the fourth, who, standing
motionless, with open arms, a staring countenance, and
an unspeakable air of stupidity in his looks, wdll never
perhaps be able to make any thing of the matter. And
it is probable from this very group that Albani, who
studied Raphael so closely, drew the following precept
of his ; “ rI hat it behoves a painter to express more
circumstances than one by every attitude; and so to
employ his figures, that, by barely seeing what they
are actually about, one may be able to guess, both what
they have been already doing, and are next going to
do.” This is indeed a difficult precept; but it is only
by a due observance of it that the eye and the mind
can be made to hang in suspense on a painted piece of
canvas. It is expression that a painter, ambitious to
soar in his profession, must, above all things, labour to
perfect himself in. It is the last goal of his art, as So-
noph. crates proves to Parrhasius, It is in expression that
! morab. dumb poetry consists, and what the prince of our poets
iii. calls a visible language.
Sect. IX. Of Invention.
As the operations of a general should all ultimately
tend to battle and conquest, so should all the thoughts
of a painter to perfect invention. Now, the studies
which we have been hitherto recommending, will prove
so many wings by which he may raise himself, as it
were, from the ground, and soar on high, when desirous
of trying his strength this way, and producing some¬
thing from his own hand. Invention is the finding out
probable things, not only such as are adapted to the
subject on hand, but such, besides, as by their sublimity
and beauty are most capable of exciting suitable senti¬
ments in the spectator, and of making him, when they
happen to be well executed, fancy that it is the subject
itself in its greatest perfection, and not a mere represen¬
tation of it, that he has before him. We do not say
true things, but probable things; because probability or
verisimilitude is, in fact, the truth of those arts which
have the fancy for their object. It is, indeed, the bu¬
siness and duty of both naturalists and historians to draw
objects as they find them, and represent them with all
those imperfections and blemishes, to which, as indivi¬
duals, they are subject. But an ideal painter, and such
alone is a true painter, resembles the poet: instead of
copying, he imitates : that is, he works with his fancy,
and represents objects endued with all that perfection
which belongs to tjje species, and may he conceived In
the archetype.
“ ’Tis nature all, but nature methodis’d ;”
says an eminent poet, speaking of poetry: And the
same may be said of painting ; it is natur/methodised,
and made perfect. Insomuch that the circumstances
ol the action, exalted and sublimed to the highest de¬
gree of beauty and boldness they are susceptible of,
may, though possible, have never happened exactly such
as the painter tancies and thinks properto represent them.
I hus, the piety of ^Eneas, and the anger of Achilles, are
things so perfect in their kind, as to be merely probable.
And it is for this reason that poetry, which is only an¬
other word for invention, is more philosophical, more
instructive, and more entertaining, than history.
Heie it is proper to observe, what great advantages
the ancient had over the modern painters. The history
of the times they lived in, fraught with great and glo¬
rious events, was to them a rich mine of the most
noble subjects, which, besides, often derived no small
sublimity and pathos from the mythology upon which
their religion was founded. So far were their gods
from being immaterial, and placed at an infinite di¬
stance from their worshippers ; so far was their reli¬
gion from recommending humility, penance, and self-
denial, that, on the contrary, it appeared calculated
merely to flatter the senses, inflame the passions, and
poison the fancy. By making the gods partake of
our nature, and subjecting them to the same passions,
it gave man hopes of being able to mix with those
who, though greatly above him, resembled him, not¬
withstanding, in so many respects. Besides, those dei¬
ties of theirs were in a manner visible, and to he met at
every step. The sea was crowded with Tritons and
Nereids, the rivers with Naiads, and the mountains
with Dryads. The woods swarmed with Fauns and
Nymphs, who, in those obscure retreats, sought an
asylum for their stolen embraces. The most potent
empires, the most noble families, the most celebrated
heroes, all derived their pedigree from the greater divi¬
nities. Nay, gods interested themselves in all the con¬
cerns of mankind. Apollo, the god of long arrows,
stood by the side of Hector in the fields of TrOy, and
inspired him with new strength and courage to batter
down the walls and burn the ships of the Greeks.
Ihese, on the other hand, were led on to the fight and
animated by Minerva, preceded by Terror, and fol¬
lowed by Death. Jove nods, his divine locks shake
on his immortal head ; Olympus trembles. With that
countenance, which allays the tempest, and restores
serenity to the heavens, he gathers kisses from the
mouth of Venus, the delight of gods and of men. A-
mong the ancients, every thing sported with the fancy ;
and in those works which depend entirely on the ima¬
gination, some of our greatest masters have thought they
could not do better than borrow from the Pagans, if we
may be allowed to say it, their pictures of Tartarus, in
order tc render their own drawings of hell more striking.
After all, there have not been wanting able inventors
in painting among the moderns. Michael Angelo, not¬
withstanding the depth and boldness of his own fancy,
is not ashamed in some of his compositions, to Danti%c\
as Phidias and Apelles may be said formerly to have
4 O 2 Homerrzed.
PAIN
Webb,
dial. 7.
Homerized. Raphael, too, tutored by the Greeks, has
found means, like Virgil, to extract the quintessence ot
truth ; has seasoned his works with grace and noble-
ness 5 and exalted nature, in a manner, above herself, by
giving her an aspect more beautiful, more animating,
and more sublime, than she is in reality accustomed to
wear. In point of invention, Domenichino and Hanni¬
bal Caracci come very near Raphael, especially in the
pieces painted by them in Rome ; nor does Poussin fall
very short of him in some of his pictures, particularly in
his Esther before Aha.sucrus, anti his Death of Germani-
Cus, the richest jewel belonging to the Barbenne family.
Of all the painters who have acquired any extraordina¬
ry degree ot reputation, no one studied less to set off
his pieces by bold and beautiful circumstances, or was
more a stranger to what is called poetical perfection,
than Jacopo Bassano. Among the numberless instances
we could produce of his carelessness this way, let it suf¬
fice to mention a Preaching of St Paul painted by him
in a place, near that of his birth, called Marostego. In¬
stead of representing the apostle full of a divine en¬
thusiasm, as Raphael has done, and thundering against
the superstitions of the heathen in an assembly of Athen¬
ians ; instead of exhibiting one of his auditors struck
to the quick, another persuaded, a third inflamed ; he
makes him hold forth, in a village of the Venetian state,
to a parcel of poor peasants and their wives, who take
not the least notice of him ; the women especially, who
seem to mind nothing but the country labours in which
he had found them employed.
With regard to invention, painting and poetry re¬
semble each other so much in many other respects, be¬
sides that of combining in every action all the beauty
and elegance it wall admit, that they wrell deserve the
name of sister arts. They differ, however, in one point,
and that too of no small importance. It is this. The
poet, in the representation of his story, relates what has
already happened, prepares that which is still to come,
and so proceeds, step by step, through all the circum¬
stances of the action ; and, to produce the greater ef¬
fect on his hearers, avails himself of the succession of
time and place. The painter, on the contrary, deprived
of such helps, must be content to depend upon one single
moment. But what a moment! A moment, in which
lie may conjure up, at once, to the eyes of the specta¬
tor, a thousand objects •, a moment, teeming w'ith the
most beautiful circumstances that can attend the action j
a moment, equivalent to the successive labours of the
poet. This the works of the greatest masters, which
are everywhere to be seen, sufficiently evince : among
others, the St Paul at Lystra, by Raphael, whom it is
impossible not to praise as often as this picture- is men¬
tioned. In order to give the spectator a thorough in¬
sight into the subject of this piece, the painter has placed
in the front of it the cripple already restored to his
limbs by the apostle, fired with gratitude towards his be¬
nefactor, find exciting his countrymen to yield him all
kinds of honour Round the cripple are some figures
lifting up the skirts of his coat, in order to look at the
legs reduced to their proper -shape, and acknowledging
by gestures full of astonishment the reality of the mira¬
cle *, an invention, says a certain author, a professed ad¬
mirer of antiquity, which might have been proposed as
an example in the happiest age of Greece.
We have another shining instance of the power of
TING. Parti.
painting to introduce a greater variety of objects on the Invention,
scene at the same time, and of the advantage it has in ' v—u
this respect over poetry, in a drawing by the celebrated
La Fage. This drawing represents the descent of iE-
neas into hell. The field is the dark caverns of Pluto’s
kingdom, through the middle of which creeps slowly
the muddy and melancholy Acheron. Nearly in the
centre of the piece appears iFneas with the golden
bough in his hand, and with an air of astonishment at
what he sees. The Sibyl, who accompanies him, is
answering the questions which he asks her. The per¬
sonage there is the ferryman of the pitchy lake, by
which even the gods themselves are afraid to swear.
Those who, crowding in to the banks of the river,
numberless as the leaves shaken off the trees by autum¬
nal blasts, express, with outstretched hands, an impa¬
tience to be ferried to the opposite shore, are the un¬
happy manes, who, for want of burial, are unqualified
for that happiness. Charon, accordingly, is crying
out to them, and with his lifted-up oar driving them
from his boat, which has already taken in a number
of those who had been honoured witli the accustomed
funeral rites. Behind JEneas and the Sibyl we discover
a confused group of wretched souls, lamenting bitterly
their misfortune in being denied a passage •, two of
them wrapped up in their clothes } and, in a fit of den
spair, sunk upon a rock. Upon the first lines of the
piece stands a third group of uninhumed shades. Leu-
caspes, Orontes, and, in the midst of them, the good
old Palinurus, formerly master and pilot of the hero’s
own vessel, who with joined hands most earnestly de¬
sires to be taken along with him into the boat, that
after death, at least, he may find some repose, and his
dead body no longer remain the spoit of winds and
waves. Thus, what we sec scattered up and down in
many verses by Virgil, is here, as it were, gathered into
a focus, and concentrated by the ingenious pencil of the
painter, so as to form a subject well worthy of being ex¬
posed, in more shapes than one, to the eyes of the public.
When a painter takes a subject in hand, be it histo¬
rical, he it fabulous, he should carefully peruse the
books which treat of it, imprint well on his mind all
the circumstances' that attend it, the persons concern¬
ed in it, and the passions with which they must have
been severally animated ; not emitting the particulars
fart
ittllti'
of time and place- His next business is to create it,
as it were, anew, observing the rules already laid down
for that purpose : From what is true, choosing that
which is most striking j and clothing his subject with
such accessory circumstances and actions, as may render
it more conspicuous, pathetic, and noble, and best dis¬
play the powers of the inventive faculty. But, in do¬
ing this, great discretion is requisite j for, let his ima¬
gination grow ever so warm, his hand is never to exe¬
cute any thing that is not fully approved by bis judge¬
ment. Nothing low or vulgar should appear in a lofty
and noble argument; a fault, ol which some ol the
greatest masters, even Lampiexi and Poussin, have
been now and then guilty.
The action must be one, the place one, the time
one. We need not say any thing of those painters,
who, like the. writers of the Chinese and Spanish
theatre, cram a variety of actions together, and so give
us at once the whole life of a man. Such blunders, it is
presumed, are too gross to be feared at present. rl lie
i politeness
'Sal
«UjK
i«ir
ciCar
toio.
N
km
la
Itffi
htii,
lart I.
FAIN
Mention, politeness and learning of the age seem to demand consi-
*>—derations of a more refined nature; such as, that the epi¬
sodes introduced in the drama of a picture, the better to
fill and adorn it, should be not only beautiful in them¬
selves, but indispensably requisite. The games celebrat¬
ed at the tomb of Anchises, in Sicily, have a greater va¬
riety in them, and more sources of delight, than those
that had been before celebrated at the tomb of Patro-
clus under the walls of Troy. The arms forged by Vul¬
can for iEneas, if not better tempered, are at least bet¬
ter engraved, than those which the same god had forged
several ages before for Achilles. Nevertheless, in the
eyes of judges, both the games and the arms of Homer
are more pleasing than those of Virgil, because the for¬
mer are more necessary in the Iliad than the latter in the
aEneid. Every part should agree with, and have a re¬
lation to, the whole. Unity should reign even in varie¬
ty ; for in this beauty consi-ts. This is a fundamental
maxim in all the arts whose object it is to imitate the
works of nature.
Pictures often borrow no small grace and beauty
from the fictions of poetry. Albani has left us, in se¬
veral of his works sufficient proofs of the great share
the belles lettres had in refining his taste. But Ka-
phael, above all others, may in this branch too be con¬
sidered as a guide and master. To give but one in¬
stance out of many ; what a beautiful thought was it to
represent the river himself, in a Passage of Jordan, s\vp-
portinghis waters with his own hands, in order to open
a way to the army of the Israelites! Nor has he display¬
ed less judgment in reviving, in his designs engraved by
Agostino of Venice, the little loves of Aetius playing
with the arms of Alexander, conquered by the beauty
of Roxana.
Among the ancients, Apelles and Parrhasius were
those who distinguished themselves most in allegorical
subjects, in which the inventive faculty shows itself to
the greatest advantage ; the first by his picture of
;ee Lu- Calumny *, the second by that of the Genius of the
ireupon Athenians^. The ancient painter called Gcdaton gave
lumny; likewise a fine proof of his genius in this branch, by
representing a great number of poets greedily quench¬
ing their thirst in the waters gushing from the mouth
of the sublime Homer. And to this allegory, accord¬
ing to Guigni, Pliny J has an eve, when he calls that
prince of poets the fountain of wits. But it is, after
ail, no way surprising that we should often meet such
fine flights of fancy in the ancient artists. They were
not guided in their works by a blind practice : they
were men of polite education, conversant with the
letters of the age in which they lived; and the com¬
panions rather than the servants of the great men who
employed them. The finest allegorical painter among
the moderns was Rubens; and he was accordingly
much celebrated for it The best critics, however,
find fault with Ins uniting in the Luxemburg gallery,
the queen-mother, in council, with two cardinals and
Mercury. Nor is there less impropriety in his making
Tritons and Nereids, in another piece of the same gal¬
lery, swim to the queen’s vessel through the galleys of
the knights of St Stephen. Such freedoms are equally
disgusting with the prophecies of Sannazaro’s Proteus,
concerning the mystery of the incarnation, or the Indian
kings of Camoens, reasoning with the Portuguese on
the adventures of Ulysses.
kof
elles,
:e 20.
• Plinii
it. Hist.
XXXV.
H[0
?linii
l it. Hist
xvii.
bb,
J.4. .
lym
xS,
TING. 661
The best modern performances in picturesque allegory invention.
are certainly those of Poussin ; who availed himself, with 1 v—
great discretion and judgment, of the vast treasures
with which, by a close study of the ancients, he had en¬
riched his memory. On the other hand, Le Brun, his
countryman, has been very unhappy this way. Ambi¬
tious to have every thing his own, instead of allegories,
he has filled the gallery ol Versailles with enigmas and
riddles, of which none but himself was qualified to be
the Oedipus. Allegory must be ingenious, it is true ;
but then it must be equally perspicuous; for which rea¬
son, a painter should avoid all vague and indeterminate
allusions, and likewise those to history and heathen my¬
thology, which are too abstruse to be understood by the
generality oi spectators. Ihe best way, perhaps, to
symbolize moral and abstract things, is to represent par- g
ticular events : as Caracci did, by advice ot Monsignorergs Lije 0f
Agucchi, in the Iarnesian palace. lor example, whatCaracci.
can better express a hero’s love towards his country, than
the virtuous Decius consecrating himself boldly to the
infernal gods, in order to secure victory to his country¬
men over their enemies ? What finer emblems can we
desne ot emulation, and an insatiable thirst tor glory,
than Julius Caesar weeping before the statue of Alexan¬
der in the temple of Hercules at Cades ; of the incon¬
stancy of fortune, than Marius sitting on the ruins of
Carthage, and receiving, instead of the acclamations of
an army joyfully saluting him imperator, orders from a
lictor ot bextilius to quit Africa ; of indiscretion, than
Candaules, who, by showing the naked beauties of his
vufe to his friend Gyges, kindled a passion that soon
made him repent his folly ? Such representations as these
require no comment; they carry their explanations along
with them. Besides, supposing, and it is the worst we
can suppose, that the painter’s aim in them should hap¬
pen not to be understood, his piece would still give de¬
light. It is thus tnat the fables of Ariosto prove so en¬
tertaining, even to those who understand nothing of the
moral couched under them; and likewise the AEneis,
though all do not comprehend the allusions and double
intent of the poet.
Sect. X. Of Disposition.
So much for invention. Disposition, which may be .
considered as a branch of invention, consists in the pro¬
per stationing ot what the inventive faculty has imagi¬
ned, so as to express the subject in the most lively man¬
ner. The chief merit of disposition may be said to con¬
sist in that disorder, which, wearing the appearance of
mere chance, is in fact the most studied effect of art. A
painter, therefore, is equally to avoid the dryness of
those ancients who always planted their figures like so
many couples in a procession, and the affectation of those
modems who jumble them together as if they were met
merely to fight and squabble. , In this branch Raphael
was happy enough to choose the just medium, and at¬
tain perfection. The disposition of his figures is always
exactly such as the subject requires. In the Battle of
Constantine, they are confusedly clustered with as much
art, as they are regularly marshalled in ChrisCs commit¬
ment of the keys to St Peter, and constituting him prince
of the apostles.
Let the inferior figures of a piece be placed as they
Will, the principal figure should strike the eye most, and
stand
662 PAIN'
Disposition, stand out, as it were, from among the rest. This may
    ' he effected various ways, as by placing it on the foremost
lines, or in some other conspicuous part of t ic piece }
by exhibiting it, in a manner, by itself; by making
the principal light ibll up<5n it ; by giving it the most
resplendent drapery ; or, indeed, by seyera o t icse
methods, nay, by all of them together. For, being the
hero of the picturesque fable, it is but just that it s iou
draw the eye to itself, and lord it, as it wcie, c^cr a
the other objects. , . . .,
According to Leon Batista Alberti, painters should
follow the example of comic writers, who compose their
fable of as few persons as possible. 1' or, in fact, a crowd¬
ed picture is apt to give as much pain to the spectator,
as a crowded road to the traveller.
Some subjects, it must be granted, require a number,
nay, a nation, as it were, of figures. On these occa¬
sions, it depends entirely on the skill of the painter to
dispose of them in such a manner, that the principal ones
may always make the principal appearance j and con¬
trive matters so that the piece be not overcrowded, or
want convenient rests and pauses. He must, in a word,
take care that his piece be full, but not charged, in
this respect, the Battles of Alexander by Le Brun are
masterpieces which can never be sufficiently studied 5
whereas nothing, on the other hand, can be more un¬
happy than the famous Paradise of Tintoret, which co¬
vers one entire side of the great councd-chamber at e-
rxice. It appears no better than a confused heap of n-
gufes, a swarm, a cloud, a chaos, which pains and fa¬
tigues the eye. What a pity it is that he did not dis¬
pose this subject after a model of his own, now in the
gallery of Bevilacqua at Verona ! In this last the seve¬
ral choirs of martyrs, virgins, bishops, and other saints,
are judiciously thrown into so many clusters, parted here
and there by a fine fleece of clouds, so as to exhibit the
innumerable host of heaven drawn up in a way that
makes a most agreeable and glorious appearance. There
goes a story, to our purpose, of a celebrated master, who
in a drawing of the Universal Deluge, the better to ex¬
press the immensity of the waters that covered the earth,
left a corner of his paper without figures. Being asked,
if he did not intend to fill it up: No, said he j do not
you see my leaving it empty is what precisely consti¬
tutes the picture ?
The reason for breaking a composition into se\eral
groups is, that the eye, passing freely from one object
to another, may the better comprehend the whole. But
the painter is not to stop here 5 for these groups are, be¬
sides, to be so artfully put together, as to form rich
clusters, give the whole composition a singular air of
grandeur, and afford the spectator an opportunity of dis¬
cerning the piece at a distance, and taking the whole in,
as it were, at a single glance. These effects are greatly
promoted by a due regard to the nature of colours, so
as not to place together those which are apt to pain by
their opposition, or distract by their variety. They
should be so judiciously disposed as to temper and quali¬
fy each other.
A proper use of the chiaro-scuro is likewise of great
service on this occasion. The groups are easily parted,
and the whole picture acquires a grand effect, by intro¬
ducing some strong falls of shade, and, above all, one
principal beam of light. This method has been follow¬
ed with great success by Rembrandt in a famous picture
TING. Parti,
of his, representing the Virgin at the foot of the cross Disposition,
on Mount Calvary j the principal light darting upon v-“w
her through a break of the clouds, while the rest of the
figures about her stand more or less in the shade. Tin-
toret, too, acquired great reputation, as well by that
briskness with which lie enlivened his figures, as by his
masterly manner of shading them j and Polidoro de Ca¬
ravaggio, though lie scarcely painted any thing but bas¬
so-relievos, was particularly famous for introducing with
great skill the effects of the chiaro-scuro, a thing first
attempted by Mantegna in his Triumph of Julius Cccsar.
It is by this means that his compositions appear so strik¬
ingly divided into different groups, and, among their
other perfections, afford so much delight, through the
beautiful disposition that reigns in them.
In like manner, a painter, by the help of perspective,
especially that called aerial, the opposition of local co¬
lours, and other contrivances which he may expect to
hit upon by studying nature, and those who have best
studied her before him, will be able not only to part his
groups, but make them appear at different distances, so
as to leave snfficient passages between them.
But the greatest caution is to be used in the pursuit
of the methods here laid down j especially in the ma¬
nagement of the chiaro-scuro, that the effects attributed
to light and shade, and to their various concomitants,
may not run counter to truth and experience. This is a
capital point. For this purpose, a painter would do well
to make, in little figures, as Tintoret and Poussin used
to do, a model of the subject that he intends to repre¬
sent, and then illuminate it by lamp or candle light. By
this means he may come to know with certainty, if the
chiaro-seuro, which he has formed in Ins mind, does not
clash with the reason of things. By varying the height
and direction of his light, he may easily discover such
accidental effects as are most likely to recommend his
performance, and so establish a proper system for the il¬
luminating it. Nor will he afterwards find it a difficult
matter to modify the quality of his shades, by softening
or strengthening them, according to the situation of his
scene, and the quality ot the light falling upon it. If
it should happen to be a candle or lamp-light scene, he
would then have nothing to do but consider his model
well, and faithfully copy it.
In the next place, to turn a group elegantly, the best
pattern is that of a bunch of grapes adopted by Titian.
As, of the many grains that compose a bunch of grapes,
some are struck directly by the light, and those opposite
to them are in the shade, whilst the intermediate ones
partake of both light and shade in a greater or less de¬
gree j so, according to Titian, the figures of a group
should be so disposed, that, by the union of the chiaro¬
scuro, several things may appear as it were but one
thing. And in fact it is only from his having pursued
this method, that we can account for the very grand ef¬
fect of his pieces this wayf in which it is impossible to
study him too much.
The mannerists, who do not follow nature in the track
of the masters just mentioned, are apt to commit many
faults. The reason of their figures casting their shades
in this or that manner seldom appears in the picture, or
at least does not appear sufficiently probable. They are
besides, wont to trespass all bounds in splashing their
pieces with light, that is, in enlivening those parts which
we usually term the deal’s of a picture. This method,
no
art I.
PAINTING.
[Disposi¬
tion.
\omrtlis
no doubt, has sometimes a very fine effect; but it is,
however, to boused with no small discretion, as other¬
wise the whole loses that union, that pause, that majes¬
tic silence, as Caracci used to call it, which affords so
much pleasure. The eye is not less hurt by many lights
"lalysis ofscattered here and there over a picture, than the ear is
'eaitiy. by the confused noise of different persons speaking all
together in an assembly.
Guido Reni, who has imparted to his paintings that
gaiety and splendor in which he lived, seems enamoured
with a bright and open light 5 whereas Michael Angelo
de Caravaggio, who was of a sullen and savage disposi¬
tion, appears fondest of a gloomy and clouded sky : so
that neither of them were qualified to handle indifferent¬
ly all objects. The chiaro-scuro may likewise prove of
great service to a painter in giving his composition a
grand effect; but, nevertheless, the light he chooses
must be adapted to the situation of the scene where the
action is laid : nor would he be less faulty, who in a
grotto or cavern, where the light entered by a chink,
should make his shades soft and tender, than he who
should represent them strong and bold in an open sky¬
light.
But this is by no means the only fault which manner¬
ists are apt to be guilty of in historical pieces, and parti¬
cularly in the disposition of their figures. To say no¬
thing of their favourite group of a woman lying on the
ground with one child at her breast, and another play¬
ing about her, and the like, which they generally place
on the first lines of their pieces} nor of those half-fi¬
gures in the back ground peeping out from the hollows
contrived for them : they make a common practice of
mixing naked with clothed figures ; old men with young j
placing one figure with its face towards you, and an¬
other with its back ; they contrast violent motions with
languid attitudes, and seem to aim at opposition in every
thing; whereas oppositions never please, but when they
arise naturally from the subject, like antitheses in a dis¬
course.
As to foreshortened figures, too much affectation in
using or avoiding them is equally blameable. The at¬
titudes had better be composed than otherwise. It
very seldom happens that there is any occasion for mak¬
ing them so impetuous as to be in danger of losing
their equilibrium ; a thing too much practised by some
painters.
In regard to drapery, equal care should be taken to
avoid that poverty, which makes some masters look as
if, through mere penury, they grudged clothes to their
figures 5 and that profusion which Albani imputed to
Guido, saying, that he was rather a tailor than a
paintex-. The ornaments of dress should be used with
great sobriety j and it will not be amiss to remember
what was once said to an ancient painter : “ I pity you
greatly: unable to make IJelen handsome, you have
taken cai'e to make her fine.
Let the whole, in a word, and all the different parts
of the disposition, possess probability, grace, costume,
and the particular character ol what is to be repx’esent-
ed. Let nothing look like uniformity of manner j
which does not appear less in the composition than it
does in colouring, drapery, and design} and is, as it
were, that kind of accent, by which painters may be as
yeadily distinguished as foreigners are, by pronouncing
in the same manner all the different languages they, hap¬
pen to be acquainted with.
Sect. XI. Of Illusion.
Among painters, and the writers on painting, there
is one maxim universally admitted and continually in¬
culcated j it is, that nature ought to be imitated, and
objects are said to be represented naturally, when they
have such relief that they may seem x’eal. If we inquire
to what degree painting may carry this illusion, we shall
find that it deceives the eye, and obliges the spectator
to employ the touch in mouldings and in basso-relievos
where they are a little projected*, but that it is weaken¬
ed, and the effect partly destroyed where the projection
is one or two feet. It is possible also to make it in the
highest degree complete in pictux*es of flowers, fruits,
and other representations of still life, provided they be
seen in a certain point of view, and at a considerable di¬
stance j but there is no example of a picture containing
a number of figures, and placed in a proper light, being-
mistaken for real life. We are told, indeed, of a bust
of an abbe painted by Charles Coypel, which, placed
in a cex tain direction behind a table, and in a certain
light, deceived sevex*al persons so completely as to in¬
duce them to salute it : but, without admitting any
thing very extraordinary in the projection or illusion of
this painting, it is evident, from the circumstances at¬
tending the relation, that the deception arose from sm*-
prise and inattention, which might happen to a produc¬
tion of an inferior artist. And hence we may conclude
that it is vain to pretend to perfect the illusion, especi¬
ally in pictui’es consisting of a number of figures, and
with considerable distances supposed between them.
Among the obstacles which are opposed to the pex*-
fection of this branch of the art, we shall chiefly attend
to those which naturally proceed from our habits of
thinking and judging on all occasions. These, together
with the experience we daily have of light on all kinds
of surfaces, and of all colours, are sufficient to demon¬
strate the want of reality in the mere representation of
any scenes.
It has been elsewhere shewn, that distance, figure, and
magnitude, are not natui*ally objects of pexception by
the sense of sight j that we judge of these things by the
eye only, in consequence of associations early formed
between the perceptions of touch and the conespondin^
impressions on the retina and optic nerve by the rays ot
light; and that a painter makes bis pictui*e resemble the
original, merely by laying his colours on a plane sur¬
face in such a manner, as that they reflect the same rays
of light with the convex or concave original, when the
spectator stands at the proper distance (see Metaphy*
sics, N° 49, 50, 51, 52, and 95.). But if this be ad¬
mitted, illusion in painting can never be made perfect,
on account of the inevitable falsity of the shades which
mark the most distant parts of the picture. The painter
can only imitate those shades by obscure colours, laid on
a plane surface, and susceptible of reflecting the light
with a degree of force relative to the x’eal distance. Now
our eyes give us the tree plane of this surface, opposed
to the idea of deepening which the painter wishes to
produce, a contrariety which prevents the deception.
On this account, the faults found in the works of the
greatest
66'
Illusion.
greatest masters, with regard to the effects produced by
the whole, most frequently relate to their mannei o
shading, which is sufficient to prove, that the want of
illusion in painting depends chiefly on the imperfection
of the shades.
This defect, though it cannot be wholly avoided, may
yet be rendered less perceptible. There has yet, indeed,
been no painter able to imitate shadow, nor is it proba¬
ble that any one will ever perfectly accomplish his task.
Shadow in nature is not a body, but the privation of
light, which destroys colours in a greater or less degree,
in proportion as it is more or less complete. Now the
painter can only imitate this privation and real darkness,
by colours which must from their very nature be capa¬
ble of reflecting light.—The colours may be more or
less obscure, but they preserve always something which
gives a mixture of reflection. To carry the imitation of
shadow to the highest degree of perfection, it would be
necessary to apply a colour capable of darkening all
others, more or less as there should be occasion, and
which might have no visible trace of its existence, that
is, no one part of it which reflected one coloured ray
more strongly than another. Perhaps this kind of nega¬
tive colour might be found in practice to be of service
to the art j but it would not render the surface totally
invisible, for it would be necessary, farther, that it
should have the property of not reflecting a single ray ot
light when exposed to it*, which is altogether impossible,
as there is no colour or body in nature without reflection
in such a situation. . .
We shall be further convinced of the impossibility ot
painting shadow, if we attend to the pictures of the
greatest masters, with regard to the imitation ot truth.
Every part, when taken by itself, connected with hg t,
or with demitints, presents a perfect imitation. Even
the different degrees of light or the objects are sufficient¬
ly exact-, but notwithstanding this assemblage of circum¬
stances corresponding with truth, and of which the re¬
sult should be perfect illusion, yet in considering the
whole, we are never so completely deceived, as to take
a picture for a reality ; from which we may conclude,
that the want of illusion proceeds almost entirely from
the imperfection of shading.
Illusion then, in the strictest sense, cannot exist m
painting -, but there is another kind of illusion, perhaps
improperly so called, which is one of the principal parts
of the art, and worthy of the greatest attention : It is,
that the picture shall resemble truth to such a degree, by
the justness of its forms, by the combination of colours,
and by all its general effects, that the image shall give
all the pleasure to be expected from the imitation of
truth. This is not illusion in the proper sense of the
word, since it exists as well in pictures on a small scale
as in those of equal dimensions with the original; but it
is that truth of imitation of which painting is susceptible,
even in pictures containing any numbers of figures at any
reasonable distance from each other.
But it remains to be considered whether this imitation
of truth, taken by itself, be the highest attainable per¬
fection in painting. It is generally granted, that the
oreatest beauty is that which not only pleases at first
view, but on the nearest and most critical examination.
But if illusion, such as we have described it, were the
sole merit of the art, it would follow, that the person
who was least acquainted with its beauties would expe-
3
PAINTING.
rience the same pleasure as he who had studied them
most. Farther, in examining the works of the greatest
masters, it is easy to perceive, that it is not their illusion
which has excited the attention and admiration of the
critic. Even the works of the divine Ilaphael do not
deceive the eve in any point of view more completely
than those of an ordinary painter. Raphael, pure in his
character and design, is, without doubt, very deficient
in this part of the art. Meanwhile the grandeur of his
ideas in composition, and the choice of his forms j the
beauty of his heads, wherein one does not admire simply
the imitation of any known truth ; his ingenious and
noble manner in drapery, which >et does not resemble
any known stuff, or the garb ot any nation } in short,
all his beauties are superior to the simple imitation of
truth, and contradict the sentiment of the greatest plea¬
sure arising from illu-ion.
If we pass to those who have pursued colouring with
the greatest success, we shall find them, doubtless, ap¬
proach nearer to illusion than those who have neglected
it; and it is also a fact, that their works have been more
universally admired.
At the same time it is not the illusion occasioned by
colours which has altogether excited this admiration.
The exquisite demitints and the freshness of Corregio
and Titian, which excel the ordinary beauties of na¬
ture, and even imitate her most perfect productions,
may perhaps not be considered as destroying illusion;
but it is no less a fact, that weaker and less precious co¬
louring would carry it to greater perfection. Besides,
this large, easy, and exquisite manner of painting, this
harmony, of which they have given us the best exam¬
ples, are owing to qualities in them much more excel¬
lent than what would be sufficient to produce the simple
imitation of truth. Guido, Cortona, and some others,
appear to approach nearer to illusion. But even those
masters prove by their works, that the most estimable
beauties in painting do not all tend to this branch of the
art; for notwithstanding the high character which they
have gained, they are much inferior to Raphael, Corre¬
gio, and Titian, although the first failed in colouring
and in the knowledge of the claro-obscuro, the second
in point of correctness, and the third in the choice of
noble subjects.
From this we may conclude, that the nearest resem¬
blance to truth is not the sole-object in painting; that it
requires a superior degree of elevation by the art of add¬
ing beauty and perfection to the most exact resemblance;
and that it is this art which distinguishes and characte¬
rizes extraordinary men.
If we run over the great branches of painting, we
shall find a number of essential beauties different from
those which are capable of carrying illusion to the great¬
est possible height. In composition, we principally ad¬
mire the extent of genius, the choice of picturesque and
graceful attitudes, the ingenious combination of groups,
whether in uniting the light and shade in order to ob¬
tain the greatest effect, or in disposing a whole in such
a manner as to make no part superfluous; and finally,
that kind of practical talent by which the mind takes
possession of nature, and forces it to produce all the
beauties of which the art is susceptible. In this enume¬
ration of particulars it is easy to perceive that the beau¬
ties of composition are very distant from those ot il¬
lusion. rp0
1 Fart I. PAIN
Illusion. To obtain illusion in design, there is no occasion for
> -y—correctness nor taste beyond what is perceived in nature
by the most ignorant spectator. And with regard to
colouring, that is not always most admired which is most
natural. What departs widely from truth, indeed, is
not of consequence beautiful, but many qualities are re¬
quired besides the simple imitation of truth. Freshness,
ease, and transparency in certain tones, are deemed ab¬
solutely requisite j and the most esteemed colourists have
carried their beauties in all these respects beyond what
they have seen in nature. If some tones in the fleshy
parts have approached towards vermilion, to a light-
blue, or a silver-gray, they have made them more ap¬
parent ; not only to point them out to the spectator, but
to show their knowledge in the discovery and their art
in painting them. This would have been going beyond
the limits of perfection, if these had consisted in simple
illusion.
The opposition of colour, of light, and of shade, wsuld
have been in this case also superfluous; for nature is
always true, without any pointed attempt to make her
more engaging. * The suppression of certain lights,
which truth would require, and which art extinguishes,
in order to augment the harmony of effect, would be
also worthy of censure, whatever pleasure would result
from it.
Finally, one of the greatest beauties of the art, name¬
ly, the peculiar manner of a great master, has no relation
to illusion. This is not even founded in nature, but de¬
pends on the genius or singularity of the artist. It is
this manner which distinguishes the original of a great
master from the most exact copy ; and which characte¬
rizes the talents of the artists so well, that the smallest
part of the picture, and even the least interesting, is suf¬
ficient to discover the painter. The distinction between
the beautiful and illusive in painting has made Sir Joshua
Reynolds, in express terms, recommend a perfection su¬
perior to the imitation of nature. “ The principle now
laid down (says he), that the perfection of the art does
hot consist in mere imitation, is far from being new or
singular. It is, indeed, supported by the general opi¬
nion of the enlightened part of mankind. The poets,
orators, and rhetoricians of antiquity, are continually
enforcing this position, that all the arts receive their per¬
fection from an ideal beauty, superior to what is to be
found in individual nature. They are ever referring to
the practice of the painters and sculptors of their times,
particularly Phidias the favourite artist of antiquity, to
illustrate their assertions. As if they could not sufficient¬
ly express their admiration of his genius by what they
knew, they have recourse to poetical enthusiasm. They
call it inspiration ; a gift from heaven. The artist is
supposed to have ascended the celestial region to furnish
his mind with this perfect idea of beauty. ‘ He (says
Proclas) who takes for his model such forms as nature
produces, and confines himself to an exact imitation of
them, will never attain to what is perfectly beautiful.
For the works of nature are full of disproportion, and
fall short of the true standard of beauty. So that Phi¬
dias, when he formed his Jupiter, did not copy any ob¬
ject ever presented to his sight j but contemplated only
that image which he had conceived in his mind from
Homer’s description.’
“ It is not easy to define in what this great style con¬
sists, nor to describe by words the proper means of ac-
Vol. XV. Part II. i
TING. 665
quiring it, if the mind of the student should be at all ca- Illusion,
pable of such an acquisition. Could we teach taste or —y—
genius by rules, they would be no longer taste and ge¬
nius. But though there neither are nor can be any pre¬
cise invariable rules for the exercise or the acquisition of
these great qualities $ yet we may truly say that they al¬
ways operate in proportion to our attention in observing
the works of nature, to our skill in selecting, and to our
care in digesting, methodising, and comparing our ob¬
servations. There are many beauties in our art that seem
at first to lie without the reach of precept, and yet may
easily be reduced to practical principles. Experience is
all in all ; but it is not every one that profits by expe¬
rience : and most people err not so much from want of
capacity to find their object, as from not knowing what
object to pursue. This great ideal perfection and beau¬
ty are not to be sought in the heavens, but upon the
earth. They are about us, and upon every side of us:
But the power of discovering what is deformed in na¬
ture, or, in other words, what is particular or uncom¬
mon, can he acquired only by experience 5 and the
whole beauty and grandeur of the art consists in being
able to get above all singular forms, local customs, par¬
ticularities, and details of every kind.”
After these opinions, however, derived from the prac¬
tice of the art, and this high authority, it may not be
improper to hazard a few observations. Although illu¬
sion can be distinguished from many of the most excel¬
lent parts of the art taken separately, yet it does not fol¬
low that it shall not add in every picture to the beauty
of the whole. It is impossible to state it in opposition to
design, to composition, to colouring, or to the peculiar
manner of a great artist ; because all these may exist
where there also exists the most perfect illusion. This is
evident from the works of art 5 which have real relievo,
and which at the same time are capable of perfection in
all those branches, and of showing the peculiar manner
of the artist. Again, it appears evident, that illusion,
properly so called, should be a proper object of attention
in painting. We may rate the ideal beauty very high,
and with great justice j but it still consists in overcom¬
ing the defects in individual objects in nature, and not
in departing from the truth of representation. And per¬
haps it mav be alleged, that the impossibility of giving
perfect illusion on a plane surface has pushed the greatest
masters too far, and made them crowd artificial beauties
into their pictures to conceal their want of power to
give real ones. It is not improbable that on this very
account the art is less perfect than otherwise it might
have been : For in all subjects thought to be impossible,
there is not only great room for exertion, but the person
carries the art to greater perfection as he comes nearer
to show that it may not be impossible. And if the
works of Raphael, in point of illusion, are not superior
to an ordinary artist, we mav be permitted to say that
there is great room for improvement in this branch.
Sect. XII. O f the Costume.
The Costume in painting corresponds with the unities
of time, place, and action, in tragedy and in epic poetry.
It is chiefly co ffined to history painting ; and regards
the customs of different periods, the manners, the dress,
and the colour, of different nations Great exactness in
the costume is scarcely practicable j but too sensible a
4 P departure
666
Costume.
1\ Ianchest c
’A'ratisac-
tions, vol.
iii. p. 564,
PAIN
departure from it denotes unpardonable negligence. It
frequently happens that a piece composed of picturesque
figures derives considerable advantage from certain 1-
herlies which are calculated to please both the artist and
the spectator •, for the judges of painting are not habi¬
tually occupied with the details of ancient and modern
history, or profoundly versed in all the circumstances
which make a departure from the costume conspicuous.
On the other hand, if they were so ignorant as not to
understand, or so indifferent as not to regard those cir¬
cumstances, this branch of the art would be altogether
arbitrary. The road of the painter is between these
two extremes, not to despise beauty on the one hand,
nor probability on the other. But in pursuing this part
of the art, it is in vain to seek for perfect models in an¬
cient or modern painting.
r “ When Raphael in his cartoons introduces monks
and Swiss guards ; when he puts into a boat more fi¬
gures than ifis evident the boat could actually contain ,
when in the chastisement of Heliodorus, who attempted
to despoil the temple of Jerusalem, Pope Julius LI. is
depicted as being present •, when, in the donation or
Constantine in the Vatican, a naked boy is placed con¬
spicuous in the fore ground astride upon a dog, in the
immediate presence of the pope and the emperor * when
Venetian senators are introduced while Pope Alexan¬
der excommunicates Barharossa} when Aristotle, Plato,
Dante, and Petrarch, are brought together in the school
of Athens, to omit the lesser improprieties of shoeless
apostles, &c.—every person must acknowledge that such
offences as these against truths so obvious, if they do
not arise from a defect of understanding, are instances
of inexcusable carelessness.
“ Jo like manner when the same great master paints
the dreams of Joseph and his fellow prisoner in circles
over their heads •, when similar contrivances to express
future events are used by Albani, Pameggiano, and
Fuseli—is it not evident that no possibility can make
the fiction true •, and that real and feigned existences
are unnaturally introduced in one narration ?
<k When Polydore chooses to represent the death of
Cato, and exposes to the spectator the hero of the piece
with his bowels gushing out 5 when Paul Veronese, at
a banquet painted with his usual magnificence, places
before us a clog gnawing a bone, and a boy making
water : however such disgusting circumstances may be
forgiven in the chef d'ccuvre of a Michael Angelo, had
he represented these instead of the horrible figures of bis
Day of Judgment, the performance of an inferior artist
cannot atone for them.
“ So also, when one of the first rate among the mo¬
dern painters, we mean Paul Veronese, introduces Be¬
nedictine monks at the marriage ot Cana-, when, in a
picture of the crucifixion, he puts the Roman soldiers
in the jerkins of the 16th century, and adorns their
heads ivith turbans -, when Guido, in a painting of Jesus
appearing to his mother after his resurrection, places St
Charles Borromde in a kind of desk in the back-ground
as witness to the interview; when Tintoret, at the mi¬
raculous fall of manna, arms the Israelites with fusils;
and Corregio appoints St Jerome as the instructor of the
child Jesus—common sense revolts at the impropriety ;
and we are compelled to exclaim, Quicqmd ostendis
ini hi sic, incredulus odi !
“ The mythological taste of the learned PouSsin is
TING. Parti.
well known; hut Rubens seems to claim the merit of Costume.
having presented to the world a still greater number of' 
supreme absurdities in this learned style : nor is it easy
to conceive a more heterogeneous mixture of cucum-
stances, real and imaginary, sacred and profane, than
the Luxembourg gallery, and the other works ol that
great master, perpetually exhibit.
“ When so high an authority as Sir Joshua Reynoldsi" f Discour-
contends for the rejection of common sense in favour ofses-Jj°-
somewhat he terms a higher sense; when he laments,*
indirectly, that art is not in such high estimation with
us, as to induce the generals, lawgivers, and kings of
modern times, to suffer themselves to be represented
naked, as in the days of ancient Greece; when he de¬
fends even the ridiculous aberrations from possibility,
wdiich the extravagant pencil of Rubens lias so plenti¬
fully produced—it is not surprising that the artists of
the present day should be led to reject the company of
common sense ; or that Sir Joshua’s performances should
furnish examples of his own precepts.
“ Mrs Siddons is represented by Sir Joshua in the
character (as it is said) of the tragic muse : She is
placed in an old-fashioned arm chair ; this arm chair
is supported by clouds, suspended in the air ; on each
side of her head is a figure not unapt to suggest the
idea of the attendant imps of an enchantress : of these
figures, one is supposed to represent Comedy, and the
other Tragedy ; Mrs Siddons herself is decently attired
in the fashionable habilements of 20 or 30 years ago.
“ If this he a picture of the tragic muse, she ought
not to appear in a modern dress, nor ought she to be
seated in old arm chair. If this be a portraiture of
Mrs Siddons, she has no business in the clouds, nor has
she any thing to do with aerial attendants. If this be
Mrs Siddons in the character of the tragic muse, the
first set of objections apply ; for she is placed in a si¬
tuation where Mrs Siddons could never be.
“ In the death of Dido, Sir Joshua Reynolds introdu¬
ces her sister, lamenting over the corpse ol the unfortu¬
nate queen. This is possible ; hut he has also introdu¬
ced Atropos cutting Dido’s hair with a pair of scissars,
a being equally real and apparent in the painting with
Dido or her sister. This (continues our author) ap¬
pears to me a gross offence against mythological proba¬
bility ; nor is it the only offence against the costume
with which that picture is chargeable.
“ There is one other breach of the costume, however
common among painters, more gross and offensive than
any of the instances hitherto alleged ; we mean the per¬
petual and unnecessary display ol the naked figure. Me
shall not stay to inquire whether more skill can be shown
in painting the human body clothed or unclothed. If
the personages introduced in any picture are more naked
in the representation than can he justified by the pro¬
bability of the times, persons, places, or circumstances,
it is a breach of the costume proportionate to the devia¬
tion. This fault, however, is so common as hardly to
be noticed ; so slight indeed, when compared with that
general taste for voluptuous imagery and obscene repre¬
sentation, which has so long disgraced the art ol paint¬
ing in every stage of its progress, that science and mo¬
rality are callous to the slight offence.
“ This depravity of imagination, this prostitution of
the pencil to the base purposes of lascivious inclination^
was a subject of much complaint among the ancients.
Nor
Part I. PAIN
Costume. ^Tor is there less reason to complain in modern times,
u—-y—' that this delightful art, which might be employed in
exciting the noblest sentiments, and become subservient
to the best interests of society, should so often be ex¬
ercised upon subjects solely calculated to please the
eye of the voluptuary and debauchee. It is hardly pos¬
sible to pass through any admired collection without
meeting with some of these ; of which, however excel¬
lent the performance may be, the common feelings of
decency and morality (if we are neither professed art¬
ists nor connoisseurs) prevent us from viewing them
without a mixture of disgust.”
* Abbe de Et pudor aversos texit velamine vultus *.
It is impossible to express how much a picture suffers
by such looseness of fancy, and sinks as a bastard of the
art in the esteem of good judges. Some people, indeed,
are of opinion, that so scrupulous an observance of the
costume is apt to hurt pictures, by depriving them of a
certain air of truth, arising, they think, from those fea¬
tures and habits to which we are accustomed j and which
are therefore apt to mJfke a greater impression, than can
he expected from things drawn from the remote sources
of antiquity ; adding withal, that a certain degree of li¬
cence has ever been allowed those artists who in their
works must make fancy their chief guide. See, say thev,
the Greeks ; that is, the masters of Raphael and Poussin
themselves. Do they ever trouble their heads about such
niceties ? The Rhodian statuaries, for example, have not
scrupled to represent Laocoon naked ; that is, the priest
of Apollo naked in tl e very act of sacrificing to the
gods, and that too in presence of a whole people, of the
virgins and matrons of Ilium. Now, continue they, if
it was allowable in the ancient statuaries to neglect pro¬
bability and decency to such a degree, to have a better
opportunity of displaying their skill in the anatomy of
the human body ; why may it not be allowable in mo¬
dern painters, the better to attain the end of their art,
which is deception, to depart now and then a little from
the ancient manners and the too rigorous laws of the
costume ? But these reasons, we beg leave to observe,
are more absurd than they are ingenious. What! are
we to draw conclusions from an example, which, far
from deciding the dispute, gives occasion to another ?
The learned are of opinion, that those Rhodian masters
wrould have done much better had they looked out for
^ subject in which, without offending so much against
truth and even probability, they might have had an
equal opportunity of displaying their knowledge of the
naked. And certainly no authority or example what¬
ever should tempt us to do any thing contrary to what
both decency and the reason of things require, unless
we intend, like Carpioni, to represent
Sogni d'infermi, e foie di romane&i.
The dreams of sick men, and the tales of fools.
No: a painter, the better to attain the end of his art,
which is deception, ought carefully to avoid mixing the
antique with the modern, the domestic with the foreign ;
things, in short, repugnant to each other, and therefore
incapable of gaining credit. A spectator will never he
TING. 667
brought to consider himself as actually present at the proper
scene, the representation of which he has before him, Books for a
unless the circumstances which enter it perfectly agree fainter,
among themselves, and the field of action, if we may lT-—
use the expression, in no shape belies the action itself.
For instance, the circumstances, or, if you please, the
accessories, in a Finding of Moses, are not, surely, to
represent the borders of a canal planted with rows of
poppies, and covered with country-houses in the Euro¬
pean taste} but the banks of a great river shaded with
clusters of palm trees, with a Sphinx or an Anubis in
the adjacent fields, and here and there in the back¬
ground a towering pyramid. And indeed the painter,
before he takes either canvas or paper in hand, should,
on the wings of fancy, transport himself to Egypt, to
Thebes, or to Rome} and summoning to his imagina¬
tion the physiognomony, the dress, the plants, the
buildings, suitable to his subject, with the particular
spot where he has chosen to lay his scene, so manage
his pencil,’ as, by the magic of it, to make the enraptu¬
red spectators fancy themselves there along with him.
Sect. XIII. Of Proper Books for a Painter.
From what has been already said, it may be easily
gathered, that a painter should be neither illiterate nor
unprovided with books. Many are apt to imagine, that
the Iconologia of Ripa, or some such collection, is alone
sufficient for this purpose, and that all the apparatus he
stands in need of, may be reduced to a few casts of the
remains of antiquity, or rather to what Rembrandt used
to call his antiques, being nothing more than coats of
mail, turbans, shreds of stuff, and all manner of old
household trumpery and wearing apparel. Such things,
no doubt are necessary to a painter, and perhaps enough
for one who wants only to paint half-lengths, or is will¬
ing to confine himself to a few low subjects. But they
are by no means sufficient for him who rvould soar high- on Paint.
er } for a painter who would attempt the Universe, and?'«g.
represent it in all its parts, such as it would appear, had
not matter proved refractory to the intentions of the so¬
vereign Artist. Such a painter alone is a true, an uni¬
versal, a perfect painter. No mortal, indeed, must
ever expect to rise to that sublimity} yet all should
aspire to it, on the pain of otherwise ever continuing at
a very mortifying distance from it : as the orator, who
wishes to make a figure in his profession, should propose
to himself no less a pattern than that perfect orator
described by Tully } nor the courtier, than that perfect
courtier delineated by Castiglione. It cannot, there¬
fore, appear surprising, if we insist on the propriety of
reckoning a good collection of hooks as part of such a
painter’s implements. The Bible, the Greek and Ro¬
man historians, the works of Homer, that prince of
poets, and of Virgil, are the most classical. To these
let him add the Metamorphoses of Ovid, some of our
best poets, the voyage of Pausanias, Vinci, Vasari,
and others, upon painting.
It will also be of considerable advantage to him to
have a well chosen collection of drawings by the best
masters (d), in order to trace the progress and history
4 P 2 of
<D) We have formerly (see History of Anatomy), mentioned a great anatomical work carrying on by
Andrew
668
Proper of hi3 art5 an(^ make himself acquainted with the various
Books for a styles of painting which have been, and now are, in the
Painter. g,.eatest vogue. The prince of the Roman school was
V—not ashamed to hang up in his study the drawings of Al¬
bert Durer } and spared no pains or expence to acquire
all the drawings he could meet with that were taken
from basso-relievos 5 things which the art of engraving
has since rendered so common as to be in every one’s
hands. This art of multiplying drawings by means of
the graver, is of the same date, and boasts the same ad¬
vantages, with the ax-t of printing, by means of which
the works of the mind are multiplied, as it were, at one
stroke, and dispersed over the whole world.
The sight of fine subjects treated by able masters, and
the different forms which the same subjects assume in
different hands, cannot fail both of enlightening and in¬
flaming the mind of the young painter. The same may
be said of the perusal of good poets and historians, with
the particulars and proofs of what they advance •, not to
mention those ideas and flights of invention, with which
the former are wont to clothe, beautify, and exalt every
thing they take in hand. Bouchai'don, after reading
Homer, conceived, to use his own words, that men wex-e
three times taller than before, and that the world w7as
enlarged in every respect. It is very probable, that the
beautiful thought of covering Agamemnon’s face with
the skirt of his mantle ut the sacrifice of Iphigenia, was
suggested to Timantes by the tx-agedy of Euripides.
And the sublime conceit of Raphael, who, in a Creation
of his, represents God in the immense space, with one
Itand reaching to the sun and the other to the moon,
may be considered as the child of the following words of
the Psalmist: The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the firmament sheweth his handy-work.
This thought of Raphael has been, indeed, censured
by Mr Webb. “ A God (says this gentleman), extend¬
ing one hand to the sun, and another to the moon, de¬
stroys that idea of immensity which should accompany
the work of creation, by reducing it to a world of a few
inches.” But the opinion of Count Algarotti is very
different. “ For my part, (says that elegant critic), I
cannot discover in this painting a world of a few inches,
but a world on a much greater scale ; a world of mil¬
lions and millions of miles : and yet this so immense a
world, by means of that act of the Godhead, in which
with one hand he reaches to the sun, and with the other
to the moon, shrinks, in my imagination, to a mere no¬
thing, in respect to the immensity of God himself;
which is all that the powers of painting can pretend to.
This invention is, though in a contrary sense, of the
same kind with that of Timantes, who, to express the
enormous size of a sleeping Polyphemus, placed x'ound
him some satyrs measuidng the monster’s thumb with a
thyrsus. Hence Pliny, who relates the fact, takes oc¬
casion to tell us, that his works always imply more than
they express ; and that how great soever he may be in
execution, he is still greater in invention : Atque in om¬
nibus ejus openbus intelligitur plus semper quam pingi-
Part I.
tur ; et cum ars summa sit, ingenium tamen ultra ur- Proper
tern est.,'> Nat. Hist. lib. xxxv. c. jo. Books for»
The perusal of good authors cannot but be very ser- Painter,
viceable to a painter in another respect; as, among the ’
great number of subjects aftorded by history and poetry,
he may expect to meet with many on which his talents
may display themselves to the greatest advantage. A
painter can never be too nice in the choice ot his argu¬
ments ; for on the beauty of them that of his piece will
greatly depend. How much to be pitied, therefore,
wei’e our first masters, in being so often obliged to re¬
ceive their subjects from the hands of simple and illite¬
rate persons ! and what is worse, to spend all the riches
of their art upon barren or unworthy subjects ! Such are
the repi’esentations of those saints, who, though they ne¬
ver had the least intercourse with each other, and per¬
haps even lived in difl’erent ages, are, notwithstanding
to be introduced, tete a tete, as it were, into the same
picture. The mechanic of the art may, indeed, display
itself on these occasions : but by no means the ideal. The
disposition may be good and praiseworthy, as in the
works of Cortoni and JLanfranc ; but we are not to ex¬
pect in them either invention or expression, which re¬
quire for their basis the repxesentation of some fact ca¬
pable of producing such effects. Who does not, on the
bare mention of this abuse, immediately recollect many
sad instances of it ? such as the famous St Cecilia of
Raphael, surrounded by St Paul, St Mary Magdalen, St
John, and St Augustin ; and the picture of Paolo Vero¬
nese, in the vestry of the Nuns of St Zachary at Venice,
in which St Francis of Assizium, St Catharine, and St
Jerome richly habited in his cardinal’s robes, form a
ring round the Virgin seated on a throne with the child
Jesus in her arms ; perhaps the most beautiful and pic¬
turesque of all the insipid and insignificant pieces with
which Italy abounds. It is very shocking to think, that
young painters should be obliged to study their art from
such wretched compositions.
The subjects in which the pencil triumphs most, and
with which a judicious painter may stock himself by the
perusal of good books, are, no doubt, those which are
most universally known, which afford the largest field
for a display of the passions, and contain the greatest va¬
riety of incidents, all concurring, in the same point of
time, to form one principal action. Of this the story of
Coriolanus besieging Rome, as related by Livy, is a
shining example. Nothing can be imagined more beau¬
tiful than the scene of action itself, which ought to take
in the prsetorium in the camp of the Volscians, the Ti¬
ber behind it, and the seven hills, among which the
towering Capitol is, as it w'ere, to lord it over the rest,
It is impossible to conceive a greater variety, than what
must appear in that crowd of soldiers, women and chil¬
dren, all which are to enter the composition ; unless,
perhaps, it be that of the dift'erent passions with which
they are severally agitated ; some wishing that Coriola¬
nus may raise the siege, others fearing it, others again su¬
specting it. But the principal group forms the picturesque
part
PAINTING.
Andrew Bell, Esq. in Edinburgh, of the figures of which, as they are engraved under the inspection of so able an
anatomist as Mr Fyfe, and with the approbation of Dr Monro, we may at least form a favourable opinion; and
if well executed, of which there can be but little doubt, they will unquestionably be of essential service to the
painter.
Part I. PAIN
[Painter’s part of the piece. Coriolanus, hastily descending from
Balance, his tribunal, and hurried on by by filial affection, toem-
". _vbrace his mother, stops short through shame, on her cry-
S’;. eC'ing°ut t0 him» Hold ? let me first know, if it is a son,
or an enemy, I am going to embrace ? 1 bus a painter
may impart novelty to the most hackneyed subject, by
taking for his guides those authors who possess the hap¬
py talent of adding grace and dignity, by their beauti¬
ful and sublime descriptions, even to the* most common
and trifling transactions.
Sect. XIV. Of the Painter's Balance.
The celebrated De Piles, who by his writings has
thrown so much light upon painting, in order to&assist
young painters in forming a right judgment of those
masters who hold the first rank in the profession, and to
reduce such judgment to the greater precision, be¬
thought himself of a pictorical balance, by means of
which a painter’s merit may be weighed with the great¬
est exactness. This merit he divides into Composition,
Design, Colouring, and Expression j and in each of
these branches he has assigned to every painter that share
to which he thought him intitled, according as he ap¬
proached more or less the highest degree of excellence
and summit of perfection ; so that, by summing up the
numbers which, standing againsteach master’s name, ex¬
press his share of merit in each of these branches, -we
have his total merit or value in the art, and may hence
gather what rank one painter holds in regard to ano-
?e Mai- ther. Several objections, it is true, have been started
n’sre- to this method of calculation, by a famous mathemati-
tem.'Je ^ia.n °f 0Ur days’ who’ among other things, insists, that
4ca'd. des ^ ^,e Pr0^uct °f the above numbers multiplied by
iences, each other, and not the sum of them, that gives the me
'S3- rit of the artist. But this is not a place to enter into
such niceties, nor indeed would the doing of it be of
any service to the art. The only thing worth our no¬
tice is, whether the original numbers, standing for the
painter’s merit in the several branches of his art, are
such as he is really intitled to, without suffering our¬
selves to be biassed by any partiality, as De Piles has
been, in favour of the prince of the Flemish school j the
consequence of which, strange as it may appear, is, that
in his balance Raphael and Rubens exactly turn out of
the same weight.
The idea of the painter’s balance is doubtless curious,
and therefore deserved to be mentioned ; but as the me¬
rits of the most.eminent painters have been already ap¬
preciated under the second section of the historical part
of our article, to which we refer, it is needless to be
more particular here, or to repeat what has been already
treated of at sufficient length.
Sect. XV. Pradical Observations.
Having thus laid down the principles of the art,
and ventured to give the student some directions with
regard to his studies, we shall conclude this part of
the subject with a few observations relative wholly to
practice.
And, i. The young painter must be careful not to
be led astray by the ambition of composing easily, or
attaining what is called a masterly handling of the chalk
or the pencil; a pernicious attempt, by which students
TING. . 659
are excluded from all power of advancing in real excel- Practical
lence. To this attempt, however, young men have not Observa-
only the frivolous ambition of being thought masterly, ^°ns-
inciting them on the one hand, but also their natural ‘
sloth tempting them on the other. They are terrified
at the prospect before them, and of the toil required to
obtain exactness : whilst the lives of the most eminent
painters furnish us with examples of the most unceasing
industry. When they conceived a subject, they first
made a variety of sketches ; then a finished drawing of
the whole , alter that a more correct drawing of every
separate part, heads, hands, feet, and pieces of drapery j
they then painted the picture, and after all retouched
it Irom the life. The pictures thus wrought with
such care, now appear like the elfects of enchantment,
and as if some mighty genius had struck them off at a
blow.
Rut a student is not always advancing because he is
employed ; he must apply his strength to that part of
the art where the real difficulties lie: to that part which
distinguishes it as a liberal art, and not by mistaken in¬
dustry lose his time in that which is merely ornamental.
J he students, instead of vying with each other who
shall have the readiest hand, should be taught to la¬
bour who shall have the purest and most correct out¬
line j instead of striving who shall produce the bright¬
est tint, or endeavouring to give the gloss of stuff’s so
as to make them appear real, let their ambition be di¬
rected to contend, who shall dispose his drapery in the
most graceful folds, and give the greatest dignity to the
human form.
He who endeavours to copy accurately the figure be-
fore him, not only acquires a habit of exactness and
precision, but is continually advancing in his knowdedge
of the human figure j and though he seems to superficial
observers to make a slower progress, he will be found
at last capable of adding (without running into capri¬
cious wildness) that grace and beauty which is neces¬
sary to be given to his more finished works, and which
cannot be got by the moderns, as it was not acquired by
the ancients, but by an attentive and well-directed study
of the human form.
2. It is, in the next place, a matter of great impor¬
tance, that the drawings on which the young artist first
exercises his talents be of the most excellent kind. Let
the profiles, the hands, and the feet given him to copy,
be of the best masters, so as to bring his eye and his
hand early acquainted with the most elegant forms and
the most beautiful proportions. A painter who has ear¬
ly acquired a fine taste, finds it an easy matter to give
dignity to the meanest features, while even the works
of a Praxiteles or a Glycon are seen to suffer in the
hands of another. A vessel will ever retain the scent
which it has first contracted.
3. It would be proper also to make the pupil copy
some fine heads from the Greek and Roman medals %7
not so much for the reason just laid down, as to make
himacquainted, if we may use the expression, with those
personages which in time he may have occasion to in¬
troduce into his pieces, and, above all, to improve him
early in the arts of copying from relief. Hence he will
learn the rationale of light and shade, and the nature of
that chiaro-scuro by which it is, properly speaking, that
the various forms of things are distinguished.
There is no danger of studying too much the works
of
PAIN
of the greatest masters, either in painting or sculpture*,
but how they may be studied to advantage is an inquiiy
of great importance. Some (says Sir Joshua liey-
nolds), who have never raised their minds to the consi¬
deration of the real dignity of the art, and who rate
the works of an artist in proportion as they excel or are
■defective in the mechanical parts, look on theory as
'something that may enable them to talk, but not to
paint better 5 and, confining themselves entirely to me-
-chanical practice, verv assiduously toil in the drudgery
of copying, and think they make a rapid progress, while
they faithfully exhibit the minutest part of a favourite
picture. This appears to me a very tedious, and, I
think, a very erroneous method of proceeding. Of
every large composition, even of those which are most
admired, a great part may be truly said to be common
place. This, though it takes up much time in copying,
conduces little to improvement. I consider general co¬
pying as a delusive kind of industry : the student satis¬
fies himself with the appearance of doing something ;
he falls into the dangerous habit of imitating without
selecting, aud of labouring without any determinate ob¬
ject : as it requires no effort of the mind, he sleeps over
his work *, and those powers of invention and composi¬
tion which ought particularly to be called out, and put
in action, lie torpid, and lose theii* energy for want of
exercise.
“ However, as the practice of copying is not entirely
-to be excluded, since the mechanical practice of paint¬
ing is learned in some measure by it, let those choice
parts only be selected which have recommended the
work to notice. If its excellence consists in its general
effect, it will be proper to make slight sketches of the
machinery and general management of the picture.
Those sketches should be kept always by you, for the
regulation of your style. Instead of copying the touches
of those great masters, copy only their conceptions.
Instead of treading in their footsteps, endeavour only to
keep the same road. X/abour to invent on their general
principles and rvay of thinking. Possess yourself with
their spirit. Consider with yourself how a Michael
Angelo or a Raphael would have treated this sub¬
ject, and work yourself into a belief that your pic¬
ture is to be seen and criticised by them when com¬
pleted. Even an attempt of this kind will rouse your
powers.”
TING.
■Fart ]!
The same great master recommends to students to
keep their minds fixed on the highest excellencies.—
“ If you compass them and compass nothing more,
you are still in the first class. We may regret the in¬
numerable beauties which you may want: you may be
very imperfect j but still you are an imperfect person
of the highest order.
“ I inculcate as frequently as I can your forming
yourselves upon great principles, and great models.—
Your time will be much mispent in every other pursuit.
Small excellencies should be viewed, not studied j they
ought to be viewed, because nothing ought to escape a
painter’s observation, but for no other reason.
“ There is another caution which I wish to give you.
Be as select in those whom you endeavour to please, as
in those whom you endeavour to imitate. Without the
love of fame you can never do any thing excellent; but
by an excessive and undistinguishing thirst after it, you
will come to have vulgar views ; you will degrade your
style ; and your taste will be entirely corrupted. It is
certain that the lower style will be the most popular,
as it falls within the compass of ignorance itself, and
the vulgar will always be pleased with what is na¬
tural in the confined and misunderstood sense of the
word.”
Genius he considers as an improveable talent, ne¬
ver to be destroyed by the most excessive, if well
directed, application, and displaying the elegancies
of the art in proportion to the number of ideas
which have been carefully collected and digested in
the mind.
He cautions painters, therefore, in every stage of
their progress, to beware of that false opinion, but too
prevalent among artists, of the imaginary power of na¬
tive genius, and its sufficiency in great works.
This opinion, according to the temper of mind it
meets with, almost always produces, either a vain con¬
fidence or a sluggish despair, both equally fatal to all
proficiency. “ Study, therefore, the great works of the
great masters for ever. Study, as nearly as you can,
in the order, in the manner, on the principles on which
they studied. Study nature attentively, but always with
those masters in your company : consider them as mo¬
dels which you are to imitate, and at the same time as
rivals whom you are to combat.”
Part II. Of the Different Classes of Painting.
Sect. I. Gejieral Enumeration.
As all the objects in nature ate susceptible of imita¬
tion by the pencil, the masters of this art have applied
themselves to different subjects, each one as his talents*
his taste, or inclination may have led hitm—From
whence have arisen the following classes.
I. History painting; which represents the principal
events in history sacred and profane, real or fabulous *,
and to this class belongs allegorical expression. These
are the most sublime productions of the art *, and in
which Raphael, Guido, Rubens, Le Brun, &c. have ex¬
celled.
II. Rural history; or the representation of a country
5
life, of villages and hamlets, and their inhabitants.
This is an inferior class ; and in which Teniers, Breug¬
hel, Watteau, &c. have great reputation, by rendering
it at once pleasing and graceful.
HI. Portrait painting; which is an admirable branch
of this art, and has engaged the attention of the
greatest masters in all ages, as Apelles, Grfido, \ an-
dyke, Rembrandt, Regaitds, Pesne, KnclJer, La Tour,
See.
IV. Grotesque histories; as the nocturnal meetings of
witches, sorceries and incantations ; t^e operations of
mountebanks, &c. a sort of painting in which the young¬
er Breughel, Teniers, and others, have exercised their
talents with success.
V. Battle
'art II.
PAIN
General ^ • Battle pieces ; by which Huchtemberg, Wouver-
Inurnera- mans, &c. have rendered themselves famous.
t‘on‘ , ^ -f* Landscapes; a charming species of painting, that
has been treated by masters of the greatest genius in
every nation.
\ II. Landscapes diversified with waters, as rivers,
lakes, cataracts, &c. ; which require a peculiar talent,
to express the water sometimes smooth and transparent,
and at others foaming and rushing furiously along.
VI II. Sea pieces; in which are represented the ocean,
harbours, and great rivers ; and the vessels, boats,
barges, &c. with which they are covered ; sometimes
in a calm, sometimes with a fresh breeze, and at others
in a storm. In this class Backhuysen, Vandervelde,
Blome, and many others, have acquired great reputa¬
tion.
lx. Night pieces; which represent all sorts of objects,
either as illuminated by torches, by the flames of a
conflagration, or by the light of the moon. Schalk,
Vanderneer, Vanderpool, &c. have here excelled.
X. Living Animals: A more difficult branch of
paintmg than is commonly imagined •, and in which Ro¬
sa, Carre, \andervelde, and many others, have succeed¬
ed marvellously well.
XI. Birds of all kinds; a very laborious species,
and which requires extreme patience minutely to ex¬
press the infinite variety and delicacy of their plu¬
mage.
XII. Culinary pieces', which represent all sorts of pro¬
visions, and animals without life, &c. A species much
inferior to the rest, in which nature never appears to ad¬
vantage, and which requires only a servile imitation of
objects that are but little pleasing. The painting of
fishes is naturally referred to this class.
XIII. Fruit pieces, of every kind, imitated from na¬
ture.
XIV. Flower pieces ; a charming class of painting*
where Art in the hands of Huyzum, P. Segerts, Meri-
an, &c. becomes the rival of Nature. Plants and in¬
sects are usually referred to the painters of flowers, who
with them ornament their works.
XV. Pieces of architecture ; a kind of painting in
which the Italians excel all others. Under this class
may be comprehended the representations of ruins, sea¬
ports, streets, and public places *, such are seen in the
works of Caneletti, and other able masters.
XVI. Instruments of music, pieces of furniture, and
ether inanimate objects j a trifling species, and in
which able painters only accidentally employ their ta¬
lents.
XVII. Imitations of bas-reliefs ; a very pleasing
kind of painting, and which may be carried by an able
hand to a high degree of excellence.
XVIII. Hunting pieces: these also require a peculiar
talent, as they unite the painting ot men, horses, dogs,
and game, to that of landscapes.
It wdl not be expected that we should here give the
rules that the painter is to observe in handling each
particular subject. What has been said on historical
ntlie painting (Part I.*) may throw some light on the rest,
ions of and the particular rules must be learned from the study
I of the art itself. Good masters, academies of reputation,
|i?j, and a rational practice, arc the sources from whence
the young painter must derive the detail of his art. We
shall however insert some rules and observations relative
TING. 671
to Landscape and Portraits; these, witli History paint- Land-
irg (already pretty fully treated), forming the princi- scapes,
pal branches of the art. l|" v
Sect. II. Of Landscapes.
Landscape painting includes every object that the
country presents: and it is distinguished into the heroic,
and the pastoral or rural; of which indeed all other
styles are but mixtures.
The heroic style is a composition of objects, which in De Piles on*
their kinds draw both from art and nature every thing Panting.
that is great and extraordinary in either. The situa¬
tions are perfectly agreeable and surprising. The only
buildings are temples, pyramids, ancient places of buri¬
al, altars consecrated to the divinities, pleasure houses of
regular architecture; and if nature appear not there as
we every day casually see her, she is at least represented
as we think she ought to be. This style is an agreeable
illusion, and a sort of enchantment, when handled by a
man ol fine genius and a good understanding, as Poussin
was, who has so happily expressed it. But if, in the
course of his style, the painter has not talent enough to
maintain the sublime, he is often in danger of falling,
into the childish manner.
The rural style is a representation of countries, rather
abandoned to the caprice of nature, than cultivated :
we there see nature simple, without ornament, and with¬
out artifice ; but with all those graces wherewith she
adorns herself much more when left to herself than when
constrained by art.
In this style, situations bear all sorts of varieties:
sometimes they are very extensive and open, to contain
the flocks of the shepherds ; at others very wild, for
the retreat of solitary persons, and s, cover for wild
beasts.
It rarely happens that a painter has a genius exten¬
sive enough to embrace all the pi<rts of painting: there
is commonly some one part that pre-engages our choice,
and so fills our mind, that we forget the pains that are
due to the other parts j and we seldom fail to see, that
those whose inclination leads them to the heroic style,
think they have done all, when they have introduced
into their compositions such noble objects as will raise
the imagination, without ever giving themselves the
trouble to study the effects of good colouring. Those*
on the other hand, who practise the pastoral, apply
closely to colouring, in order to represent truth more,
lively. Both these styles have their sectaries and par¬
tisans. Those who follow the heroic, supply by their
imagination what it wants of truth, and they look no
farther. ,
As a counterbalance to heroic landscape, it would
be proper to put into the pastoral, besides a great cha¬
racter of truth, some affecting, extraordinary, but pro¬
bable effect of nature, as was Titian’s custom.
There is an infinity of pieces wherein both these
styles happily meet; and which of the two lias the as¬
cendant, will appear from what we have been just ob¬
serving of their respective properties. The chief parts
of landscapes are, their openings or situations, accidents,
skies and clouds, ofl'skips and mountains, verdure or
turfing, rocks, grounds, or lands, terraces, fabrics, wa¬
ters, fore-grounds, plants, figures, and trees ; of all.
which in their places,
672
Land¬
scapes.
PAIN
Of Openings or Situations.—-Tlig word site, or situ¬
ation, signifies tlie “ view, prospect, or opening ot a
country.” It is derived from the Italian word silo;
and our painters have brought it into use, either be¬
cause they were used to it in Italy, or because, as we
think, they lound it to be very expressive.
Situations ought to be well put together j and so dis¬
engaged in their make, that the conjunction of grounds
may not seem to be obstructed, though we should see
but a part of them.
Situations are various, and represented according to
the country the painter is thinking of: as either open or
close, mountainous or watery, tilled and inhabited, or
wild and lonely $ or, in fine, variegated by a prudent
mixture of some of these. But if the painter be obli¬
ged to imitate nature in a flat and regular country, he
must make it agreeable by a good disposition of thec/ct-
ro-obscuro, and such pleasing colouring as may make
one soil unite with another.
It is certain, that extraortlinary situations are very
pleasing, and cheer the imagination by the novelty and
.beauty of their makes, even when the local colouring is
but moderately performed : because, at worst, such pic¬
tures are only looked on as unfinished, and wanting to
be completed by some skilful hand in colouring } where¬
as common situations and objects require good colour¬
ing and absolute finishing, in order to please. It was
only hy these properties that Claude Lorrain has made
amends for his insipid choice in most of his situations.
But in whatever manner that part be executed, one of
the best ways to make it valuable, and even to multiply
and vary it without altering its form, is properly to
imagine some ingenious accident in it.
Of Accidents. An accident in painting is an ob¬
struction of the sun’s light by the interposition of clouds,
in such manner, that some parts of the earth shall be in
light and others in shade, which, according to the mo¬
tion of the clouds, succeed each other, and produce such
wonderful effects and changes of the claro-ohscnro, as
seem to create so many new situations. This is daily
observed in nature. And as this newness of situations
is grounded only on the shapes of the clouds, and their
motions, which are very inconstant and unequal, it fol¬
lows, that these accidents are arbitrary} and a painter
of genius may dispose them to his own advantage when
he thinks fit to use them: For he is not absolutely
obliged to do it j and there have been some able
landscape painters who have never practised it, either
through fear or custom, as Claude Lorrain and some
others.
Of the Sky and Clouds. The sky, in painters terms,
is the ethereal part over our heads } but more particu¬
larly the air in which we breathe, and that where clouds
and storms are engendered. Its colour is blue, grow¬
ing clearer as it approaches the earth, because of the
interposition of vapours arising between the eye and
the horizon j which, being penetrated by the light, com¬
municates it to objects in a greater or lesser degree, as
they are more or less remote.
But we must observe, that this light being either yel¬
low or reddish in the evening, at sunset, these same ob¬
jects partake not only of the light, but of the colour:
thus the yellow light mixing with the blue, which is the
natural colour of the sky, alters it, and gives it a tint
TING. Part II
more or less greenish, as the yellowness of the light is
more or less deep.
This observation is general and infallible : but there
is an infinity of particular ones, which the painter must
make upon the natural, with his pencil in his hand,
when occasion oilers 5 for there are very fine and singu¬
lar effects appearing in the sky, which it is difficult to
make one conceive by physical reasons. Who can tell,
for example, why we see, in the bright part of some
clouds, a line red, when the source of the light which
plays upon them is a most lively and distinguishing yel¬
low ? Who can account for the different reds seen in
different clouds, at the very moment that these reds re¬
ceive the light but in one place ? for these colours and
surprising appearances seem to have no relative to the
rainbow, a phenomenon for which the philosopher pre¬
tends to give solid reasons.
These effects are all seen in the evening when the
weather is inclining to change, either before a storm,
or after it, when it is not quite gone, but has left some
remains of it to draw our attention.
The property of clouds is to be tlnn and airy, both
in shape aud colour : their shapes, though infinite, must
be studied and chosen after nature, at such times as
they appear fine. To make them look thin, we ought
to make their grounds unite thinly with them, especial¬
ly near their extremities, as if they were transparent:
And if we would have them thick, their reflections must
be so managed, as, without destroying their thinness,
they may seem to wind and unite, if necessary, with
the clouds that are next to them. Little clouds often
discover a little manner, and seldom have a good effect,
unless when, being near each other, they seem alto¬
gether to make but one object.
In short, the character of the sky is to be luminous j
and, as it is even the source of light, every thing that
is upon the earth must yield to it in brightness: If,
however, there is any thing that comes near it in light,
it must be waters, and polished bodies which are sus¬
ceptible of luminous reflections.
But whilst the painter makes the sky luminous, he
must not represent it always shining throughout.
On the contrary, he must contrive his light so, that
the greatest part of it may fall only upon one place:
and, to make it more apparent, he must take as much
care as possible to put it in opposition to some terrestri¬
al object, that may render it more lively by its dark
colour; as a tree, tower, or some other building that is
a little high.
This principal light might also be heightened, by a
certain disposition of clouds having a supposed light, or
a light ingeniously inclosed between clouds, whose
sweet obscurity spreads itself by little and little on all
hands. We have a great many examples of this in the
Flemish school, which best understood landscape •, as
Paul Bril, Brugel, Saver!: And the Sadelers and Me-
rian’s prints give a clear idea of it, and wonderfully
awaken the genius of those who have the principles of
the claro-scuro.
Of Offskips and Mountains. Offskips have a near
affinity with the sky ; it is the sky which determines
either the force or faintne-s of them. They are darkest
when the sky is most loaded, and brightest when it is
most clear. They sometimes intermix their shapes and
lights V
Part II.
Land- lights j and there are times, and countries, where the
sscapes. clouds pass between the mountains, whose tops rise and
' appear above them. Mountains that are high, and co¬
vered with snow, are very proper to produce extraordi¬
nary effects in the offskip, which are advantageous to
the painter, and pleasing to the spectator.
The disposition of offskips is arbitrary j let them on¬
ly agree with the whole together of the picture, and the
nature of the country we would represent. They are
usually blue, because of the interposition of air between
them and the eye : but they lose this colour by degrees,
as they come nearer the eye, and so take that wdiich is
natural to the objects
In distancing mountains, we must observe to join them
insensibly by the roundings off, which the reflections
make probable ; and must, among other things, avoid
a certain edginess in their extremities, which makes
them appear in slices, as if cut with scissars, and stuck
upon the cloth.
We must further observe, that the air at the feet of
mountains, being charged with vapours, is more suscep¬
tible of light than at their tops. In this case we suppose
the main light to be set reasonably high, and to enlight¬
en the mountains equally, or that the clouds deprive them
of the light of the sun. But if we suppose the main
light to be very low, and to strike the mountains, then
their tops will be strongly enlightened, as well as every
thing else in the same degree of light.
Though the forms of things diminish in bigness, and
colours lose their strength, in proportion as they recede
from the first plan of the picture, to the most remote off¬
skip, as we observe in nature and common practice •, yet
this does not exclude the use of the accidents. These
contribute greatly to the wonderful in landscape, when
they are properly introduced, and when the artist has a
just idea of their good effects.
Of Verdure, or Turfing. By turfing is meant the
greenness with which the herbs colour the ground : This
is done several ways ; and the diversity proceeds not only
from the nature of plants, which, for the most part, have
their particular verdures, but also from the change of
seasons, and the colour of the earth, when the herbs are
but thin sown. By this variety, a painter may choose
or unite, in the same tract of land, several sorts of greens
intermixed and blended together, which are often of
great service to those who know how to use them; because
this diversity of greens, as it is often found in nature,
gives a character of truth to those parts, where it is
properly used. There is a wonderful example of this
part of landscape, in the view of Mechlin, by Rubens.
Of Rocks. Though rocks have all sorts of shapes, and
participate of all colours, yet there are in their diversity
certain characters which cannot be well expressed with¬
out having recourse to nature. Some are in banks, and
set off with beds of shrubs j others in huge blocks, either
projecting or falling back ; others consist of large broken
parts, contiguous to each other; and others, in short, of
an enormous size, all in one stone, either naturally, as
free-stone, or else through the injuries of time, which in
the course of many ages has worn away their marks of
separation. But, whatever their form be, they are
usually set out with clefts, breaks, hollows, bushes, moss,
and the stains of time $ and these particulars, well ma¬
naged, create a certain idea of truth.
Rocks are of themselves gloomy, and only proper for
Vol. XV. Part U. t
673
solitudes : but where accompanied with hushes, they in- Land-
spire a fresh air 5 and when they have waters, either scapes,
proceeding from, or washing them, they give an infinite
pleasure, and seem to have a soul which animates them,
and makes them sociable.
OJ Grounds or Lands. A ground or land, in painters
terms, is a certain distinct piece of land, which is neither
too woody nor hilly. Grounds contribute, more than
any thing, to the gradation and distancing of landscape j
because they follow one another, either in shape, or in
the claro-obscuro, or in their variety of colouring, or by
some insensible conjunction of one with another.
Multiplicity of grounds, though it be often contrary
to grand manner, does not quite destroy it; for besides
the extent of country which it exhibits, it is susceptible
of the accidents we have mentioned, and which, with
good management, have a fine effect.
I here is one nicety to be observed in grounds, which
is, that in order to characterize them well, care must be
taken, that the trees in them have a dillerent verdure
and different colours from those grounds ; though this
difference, withal, must not be too apparent.
Of Terraces. A terrace, in painting, is a piece of
ground, either quite naked or having very little her-
bage, like great roads and places often frequented.
Ihey are of use chiefly in the foregrounds of a picture,
where they ought to be very spacious and open, and ac¬
companied, if we think fit, with some accidental verdure,
and also with some stones, which, if placed with judge¬
ment, give a terrace a greater air of probability.
OJ Buildings. Painters mean by buildings any struc¬
tures they generally represent, but chiefly such as are of
a regular architecture, or at least are most conspicuous.
Thus building is not so proper a name for the houses of
country-people, or the cottages of shepherds, which are
introduced into the rural taste, as for regular and showy
edifices, which are always brought into the heroic.
Buildings in general are a great ornament in land¬
scapes, even when they are Gothic, or appear partly in¬
habited and partly ruinous : they raise the imagination
by the use they are thought to be designed for j as ap¬
pears from ancient towers, which seem to have been the
habitations of fairies, and are now retreats for shepherds
and owls.
Poussin has very elegantly handled the Roman man¬
ner of architectme in his works, as Bourdon has done
the Gothic; which, however Gothic, fails not to give
a sublime air to his landscapes. Little Bernard has in¬
troduced into his sacred history what may be called a
Babylonian manner; which, extraordinary as it is, has
its grandeur and magnificence. Nor ought such pieces
of architecture to be quite rejected : they raise the ima¬
gination 5 and perhaps would succeed in the heroic style,
if they were placed among half-distant objects, and if
we knew how to use them properly.
Of Waters* Much of the spirit of landscape is owing
to the waters which are introduced in it. They appear in
divers manners; sometimes impetuous, as when a storm
makes them overflow their banks; at other times rebound-
ing, as by the fall of a rock ; at other times, through un¬
usual pressure, gushing out and dividing into an infinity
of silver streams, whose motion and murmuring agree¬
ably deceive both the eye and ear; at other times calm
and purling in a sandy bed ; at other times so still and
standing',* aS to become a faithful looking-glass, which
• 4 Q doubled
PAINTING,
674
.Land¬
scapes.
PAINTING,
doubles all the objects that are opposite to it; and in
this state they have moi’e life than in the most violent
agitation. Consult Bourdon’s works, or at least his
prints, on this subject: he is one ot those who have
treated of waters with the greatest spirit and best ge¬
nius.
Waters are not proper for every situation : bi^t to
express them well, the artist ought to be perfect master
of the exactness of watery reflections j because they on¬
ly make painted water appear as real : for practice
alone, without exactness, destroys the effect, and abates
the pleasure of the eye. The rule for these reflections
is very easy, and therefore the painter is the less par¬
donable for neglecting it.
But it must be observed, that though water be as a
looking-glass, yet it does not faithfully represent ob¬
jects but when it is still for if it be in any motion,
either in a natural course, or by the driving ot the
wind, its surface becoming uneven, receives on its
surges such lights and shades as, mixing with the ap¬
pearance of the objects, confound both their shapes and
colours.
Of the Foi'egroiind of a Picture. As it is the part ot
the foreground to usher the eye into the piece, great
care must be taken that the eye meet with good recep¬
tion; sometimes by the opening of a fine terrace, whose
design and workmanship may be equally curious; some¬
times by a variety of well distinguished plants, and those
sometimes flowered; and at other times, by figures in a
lively taste, or other objects, either admirable lor their
novelty or introduced as by chance.
In a word, the artist cannot too much study his fore¬
ground objects, since they attract the eye, impress the
first character of truth, and greatly contribute to make
the artifice of a picture successful, and to anticipate our
esteem for the whole work.
Of Plants. Plants are not always necessary in fore¬
grounds, because, as we have observed, there are se¬
veral ways of making those grounds agreeable. But
if we resolve to draw plants there, we ought to paint
them exactly after the life; or at least, among such as
we paint practically, there ought to be some more fi¬
nished than the rest, and whose kinds may be distin¬
guished by the difference of design and colouring, to
the end that, by a probable supposition, they may give
the others a character of truth. What has been said
here of plants may be applied to the branches and barks
of trees.
Of Figures. In composing landscape, the artist may
have intended to give it a character agreeable to the
subject he has chosen, and which his figures ought to
represent. He may also, and it commonly happens,
have only thought of his figures after finishing his land¬
scape. The truth is, the figures in most landscapes are
made rather to accompany than to suit them.
It is true, there are landscapes so disposed and situat¬
ed, as to require only passing figures; which several good
masters, each in his style, have introduced, as Poussin in
the heroic, and Fouquier in the rural, with all probabi¬
lity and grace. It is true also, that resting figures have
been made to appear inwardly active. And these two dif¬
ferent ways of treating figures are not to be blamed, be¬
cause they act equally, though in a different njanner. It
is rather inaction that ought to be blamed in figures ; for
in this condition, which robs them of all connection with
Part II,
the landscape, they appear to be pasted on. But with- Lard-
out obstructing the painter’s liberty in this respect, un- scapes,
doubtedly the best way to make figures valuable is, to
make them so to agree with the character of the land¬
scape, that it may seem to have been made purely for
the figures. We would not have them either insipid or
indifferent, but to represent some little subject to awak¬
en the spectator’s attention, or else to give the picture
a name of distinction among the curious.
Great care must be taken to proportion the size of
the figures to the bigness of the trees, and other objects
of the landscape. If they be too large, the picture ivill
discover a little manner; and if too small, they will
have the air of pigmies ; which will destroy the worth
of them, and make the landscape look enormous. There
is, however, a greater inconvenience in making figures
too large than too small ; because the latter at least
gives an air of greatness to all the rest. But as land¬
scape figures are generally small, they must be touched
with spirit, and such lively figures as will attract, and
yet preserve probability and a general union. I he art¬
ist must, in fine, remember, that as the figures chiefly
give life to a landscape, they must be dispersed as con¬
veniently as possible.
Of Trees. The beauty of trees is perhaps one of the
greatest ornaments of landscape ; on account of the
variety of their kinds, and their freshness, but chiefly
their lightness, which makes them seem, as being ex¬
posed to the air, to be always in motion.
Though diversity be pleasing in all the objects of
landscape, it is chiefly in trees that it shows its great¬
est beauty. Landscape considers both their kinds and
their forms. Their kinds require the painter’s parti¬
cular study and attention, in order to distinguish them
from each other ; lor we must be able at first sight to
discover which are oaks, elms, firs, sycamores, poplars,
willows, pines, and other such trees, which, by a spe¬
cific colour, or touching, are distinguishable from all
other kinds. This study is too large to be acquired in
all its extent ; and, indeed, few painters ha\'e attained
such a competent exactness in it as their art requires.
But it is evident, that those who come nearest to per¬
fection in it, will make their works infinitely pleasing,
and gain a great name.
Besides the variety which is found in each kind of
tree, there is in all trees a general variety. This is ob¬
served in the different manners in which their branches
are disposed by a sport of nature ; which takes delight
in making some very vigorous and thick, others more
dry and thin; some more green, others more red or
yellow. The excellence of practice lies in the mixture
of these varieties : but if the artist can distinguish the
sorts but indifferently, he ought at least to vary their
makes and colours; because repetition in landscape is as
tiresome to the eye, as monotony in discourse is to the
ear.
The variety of their makes is so great, that the paint¬
er would be inexcusable not to put it in practice upon .
occasion, especially when he finds it necessary to awaken
the spectator’s attention ; for, among trees, we discover
the young and the old, the open and close, tapering and
squat, bending upwards and downwards, stooping and
shootino- ; in short, the variety is rather to be conceived
than expressed. For instance, the character of young
trees is, to have long slender branches, few in number,
Part
S 'IT
’art II. PAIN
Land- but well set out 5 boughs well divided, and the foliage
scapi*. vigorous and well shaped: whereas, in old trees, the
branches are short, stocky, thick, and numerous j the
tufts blunt, and the foliage unequal and ill shaped •, but
a little observation and genius will make us perfectly
sensible of these particulars.
In the various makes of trees, there must also be a
distribution of branches, that has a just relation to, and
probable connection, with, the boughs or tufts, so as
mutually to assist each other' in giving the tree an ap¬
peal ance of thickness and of truth. But whatever
their natures or manners of branching be, let it be re¬
membered, that the handling must be lively and thin,
in order to preserve the spirit of their characters.
Trees likewise vary in their barks, which are com¬
monly gray $ but this gray, which in thick air, and low
and marshy places, looks blackish, appears lighter in a
clear air : and it often happens, in dry places, that the
bark gathers a thin moss, which makes it look quite yel¬
low } so that, to make the bark of a tree apparent, the
painter may suppose it to be light upon a dark ground,
and dark on a light one.
The observation of the diflerent barks merits a parti¬
cular attention ; for it will appear, that, in hard Woods,
age fchaps them, and thereby gives them a sort of em¬
broidery 5 and that, in proportion as they grow old, these
chaps grow more deep. And other accidents in barks
may anse either from moisture, or dryness, or green
mosses, or white stains of several trees.
1 he barks of white woods will also afford much mat¬
ter for practice, if their diversity be duly studied ; and
this consideration leads us to say something of the study
of landscape.
Of the Study of Landscape. The study of landscape
may be considered either with respect to beginners, or
those who have made some advances in it.
Beginners will find, in practice, that the chief trouble
of landscape lies in handling trees; and it is not only in
practice, but also in speculation, that trees are the most
difficult part ol landscape, as they are its greatest orna¬
ment. But it is only proposed here, to give beginners
an idea of trees in general, and to show them how to ex¬
press them well. It would be needless to point out to
them the common effects of trees and plants, because
they are obvious to every one ; yet there are some
things, which, though not unknown, deserve our reflec¬
tion. We know, for instance, that all trees require air,
some more, some less, as the chief cause of their vegeta-
Tion and pioduction; and for this reason, all trees (except
the cypress, and some others of the same kind) separate
in their growth from one another, and from other strange
bodies as much as possible, and their branches and foliage
do the same: wherefore, to give them that air and thin¬
ness, which is their principal character, the branches,
boughs, and foliage, must appear to fly from each other
to proceed from opposite parts, and be ivell divided.
And all this without order ; as if chance aided nature
in the fanciful diversity. But to say particularly how
these trunks, branches, and foliages, ought to be distri¬
buted, would be needless, and only a description of the
works of great masters: a little reflection on nature will
be of more service than all that can be said on this head.
By great masters, we mean such asliave published prints;
lor those will give better ideas to young copyists than even
*he paintings the.mselvess.
TING.
Among the many great masters of all schools, Be
Piles prefers Titian’s wooden prints, where the trees
are well shaped ; and those which Cornelius Cort and
Agostino Caracci have engraved. And he asserts, that
beginners can do no better than contract, above all things,
an habit of imitating the touches of these great masters,
and of considering at the same time the perspective of
the branches and foliages, and observing how they ap¬
pear, either when rising and seen from below, or when
sinking and seen from above, or when fronting and view¬
ed from a point, or when they appear in profile ; and, in
a word, when set in the various views in which nature
presents them, without altering their characters.
After having studied and copied with the pen or
crayon, first the prints, and then the designs of Titian
and Caracci, the student should imitate with the pencil
those touches which they have most distinctly specified,
if their paintings can be procured ; but since they are
scarce, others should be got which have a good charac¬
ter for their touching; as those of Foquier, who is a
most excellent model: Paul Bril, Breugel, and Bour¬
don, are also very good; their touching is neat, lively,
and thin.
After having duly weighed the nature of trees, their
spread and order, and the disposition of their branches,
the artist must get a lively idea of them, in order to keep
up the spirit of them throughout, either by making them
apparent and distinct in the fore-grounds, or obscure and
confused in proportion to their distance.
After having thus gained some knowledge in good
manner, it will next be proper to study after nature, and
to choose and rectify it according to the idea which the
aforesaid gread masters had of it. As to perfection, it can
only be expected from long practice and perseverance.
On the whole, it is proper for those who have an incli¬
nation for landscape, above all tilings to take the pro¬
per methods for beginning it well.
As for those who have made some advances in this
part of painting, it is proper they should collect the ne¬
cessary materials for their further improvement, and
study those objects at least which they shall have most
frequent occasion to represent.
Painters usually comprise, under the word study, any
thing whatever which they either design or paint sepa¬
rately after the life ; whether figures, heads, feet, hands,
draperies, animals, mountains, trees, plants, flowers,
fruits, or whatever may confirm them in the just imi¬
tation of nature : the drawing of these things is what
they call study ; whether they be for instruction in de¬
sign, or only to assure them of the truth, and to perfect
their work. In fact, this word study is the more proper¬
ly used by painters as in the diversity of nature they are
daily making new discoveries, and confirming themselves
in what they already know.
As the landscape-painter need only study such objects
as are to be met with in the country, we would recom¬
mend to him some order, that his drawings may be al¬
ways at hand when he wants them. For instance, he
should copy after nature, on separate papers, the differ¬
ent effects of trees in general, and the different effects
of each kind in particular, with their trunks, foliage,
and colours. He should also take the same method with
some sorts of plants, because their variety is a great orna¬
ment to terraces on fore-grounds. He ought likewse to
study the effects of the skyirr the several times of the day
4 Q 2 and
675
Land-
sca pes.
PAIN
T I
and seasons of the year, in the various dispositions oi
clouds, both in serene, thundering, and stormy weather j
the offskip, the several sorts of rocks, waters, and other
principal objects. „
These drawings, which may be made at diiterent
times, should be collected together ; and all that relate
to one matter be put into a book, to which the artist
may have recourse at any time tor what he wants.
Now, if the fine effects of nature, whether in shape or
colour, whether for an entire picture or a part ot one,
be the artist’s study ; and if the difficulty lies in choosing
those effects well, he must for this purpose be born with
good sense, good taste, and a fine genius ; and this ge¬
nius must be cultivated by the observations which ought
to be made on the works of the best masters, how
they choose nature, and how, while they corrected hei,
according to their art, they preserved her character.
With these advantages, derived from nature, and per¬
fected by art, the painter cannot fail to make a good
choice ; and, by distinguishing between the good and
the bad, must needs find great instruction even trom the
most common things. .
To improve themselves in this kind of studies, paint¬
ers have taken several methods.
There are some artists who have designed after na¬
ture, and in the open fields ; and have there quite finish¬
ed those parts which they had chosen, but withoutadding
any colour to them. _
Others have drawn, in oil colours, in a middle tint,
on strong paper j and found this method coniemcrt,
because,^ the colours sinking, they could put colour on
colour, though different from each other. For this
purpose they took with them a flat box, which com-
modiously held their pallet, pencils, oil, and colours.
This method, which indeed requires several imple¬
ments, is doubtless the best for drawing nature more par¬
ticularly, and with greater exactness, especially if, after
the work be dry and varnished, the artist return to the
place where he drew, and retouch the principal things
after nature.
Others have only drawn the outlines of objects, and
slightly washed them in colours near the life, for the
ease of their memory. Others have attentively observed
such parts as they had a mind to retain, and contented
themselves with committing them to their memory, which
upon occasion, gave them a faithful account ot them.
Others have made drawings in pastil and wash together.
Others, with more curiosity and patience, have gone se¬
veral times to the places which were to their taste : the
first time they only made choice of the parts, and drew
them correctly j and the other times were spent in ob¬
serving the variety of colouring, and its alterations
through change of light.
Now these several methods ax-e very good, and each
may be practised as best suits the student and his tem¬
per: but they require the necessaries of painting, as
colours, pencils, pastils, and leisure. Nature, how¬
ever, at certain times, presents extraordinary but
transient beauties, and such as can be of no service
to the artist who has not as much time as is necessary
to imitate what he admires. I lie best w ay, per¬
haps, to make advantage of such momentary occasions,
is this :
The painter being provided with a quire of paper,
aad a, black-lead peftcil, let him quickly, but slightly,
N G. Part II,
design what he sees extraordinary •, and to remember
m
10
the colouring, let him mark the principal parts with
characters, which he may explain at the bottom of the
paper, as far as is necessary for himself to understand
them : A cloud, for instance, may be marked A, ano¬
ther cloud B, a light C, a mountain D, a terrace E,
and so on. And having repeated these letters at the
bottom of the paper, let him write against each that it
is of such or such a colour j or, for greater brevity, only
blue, red, violet, gray, &c. or any other shorter abbre¬
viation. After this, he must go to painting as soon as
possible j otherwise most of what he has observed xvill^
in a little time, slip out of bis memory. This method
is the more useful, as it not only prevents our losing an
infinity of sudden and transitory beauties, but also helps,
by meansjof the aforesaid marks and characters, to per¬
fect the other methods we have mentioned.
If it be asked, Which is the properest time for these
studies ? the answer is. That nature should be studied
at all times, because she is to be represented at all sea¬
sons but autumn yields the most plentiful harvest for
her fine effects : the mildness of that season, the beauty
of the sky, the richness of the earth, and the variety of
objects, are powerful inducements with the painter to
make the proper inquiries for improving his genius and
perfecting his- art.
But as we cannot see or observe every thing, it is
very commendable to make use ot other men’s studies,
and to look upon them as if they were our own. Ra¬
phael sent some young men into Greece to design such
things as he thought would be of service to him, and
accordingly made use of them to as good purpose as if
he himself had designed them on the spot : for this, Ra¬
phael is so far from deserving censure, that he ought,
on the contrary, to be commended as an example, that
painters ought to leave no way untried for improving
in their professions. The landscape painter may, ac¬
cordingly* make use of the wrorks ot all those who have
excelled'in any kind, in order to acquire a good man¬
ner like the bees which gather their variety of honey
from different flowers.
General Remarks on Landscapes. As the general
rules of painting are the basis ot all the several kinds
of it, w e must refer the landscape painter to them, or
rather suppose him to be well acquainted with them.
We shall here,only make some general remarks on this
kind of painting.
I. Landscape supposes the knowledge and practice
of the principal rules in perspective, in order to main¬
tain probability.
II. The nigher the leaves of trees are to the earth,
the larger they are, and the greener as being aptest
ta receive, in abundance, the sap which nourishes
them : and the upper branches begin first to take the
redness or yellowness which colours them in autumn.
But it is otherwise in plants j for their stocks renew all
the year round, and their leaves succeed one another
at a considerable distance of time, insomuch that na¬
ture, employed in producing new leaves to adorn the
stock as it rises, does by degrees desert the under onesj
which, having first performed their office, are the fiist
that die : but this effect is more visible in some than in
others.
III. The under parts of all leaves are of a brighter
green than the upper, and almost always incline to the
b silvexisb >
art If.
Land- silverishj amf those which are wind-shaken are known
scapes, from others by that colour : but if we view them from
—"V—' beneath, when penetrated by the sun’s rays, they dis¬
cover such a tine and lively green as is far beyond all
comparison.
IV. There are five principal things which give spirit
to landscape, viz. figures, animals, waters, wind-shaken
trees, and thinness of pencilling j to which add smoke,
when there is occasion to introduce it.
V. When one colour predominates throughout a land¬
scape, as one green in spring, or one red in autumn,
the piece will look either as of one colour, or else as
unfinished. We have seen many of Bourdon’s land¬
scapes, which, by handling the corn one way through¬
out, have lost much of their beauty, though the situa¬
tions and waters were very pleasant. The ingenious
painter must endeavour to correct, and, as they say, re¬
deem, the harsh unsightly colouring of winter and spring
by means of figures, waters, and buildings j for summer
and autumn subjects are of themselves capable of great
varietyj.
VI. Titian and Carraehe are the best models for in¬
spiring good taste, and leading the painter into a good
track, with regard to forms and colours. He must use
all his efforts, to gain a just idea of the principles which
those great men have left us in their works; and to
have his imagination filled with them, if he would ad¬
vance by degrees towards that perfection which the
artist should have always in view.
VII. The landscapes of these two masters tea h us
a great many things, of which discourse can give us
no exact idea, nor any general principle. W hich way,
for example, can the measures of trees in general be
determined, as we determine those of the human body ?
The tree has no settled proportions j most of its beau¬
ty lies in the contrast of its branches, an unequal dis¬
tribution of houghs, and, in short, a kind of whimsi¬
cal variety which nature delights in, and of which
the painter becomes a judge when he has thoroughly
relished the works of the two masters aforesaid. But
we must say, in Titian’s praise, that the path he struck
out is the surest ; because he has exactly imitated na¬
ture in its variety with an exquisite taste, and fine co¬
louring : whereas Carrache, though an able artist, has
not, more than others, been free from manner in his
landscapes.
VIII. One of the greatest perfections of landscape,
in the variety it represents, is a faithful imitation of
each particular character: as its- greatest fault is a
licentious practice, which brings us to do things by
rote.
IX. Among those things which are painted practical¬
ly, we ought to intermix some done a ter nature, to in¬
duce the spectator to believe that all are so.
X. As there are styles of thought, so there are also
styles of execution. We have handled the two relating
to thought, viz. the heroic and pastoral ; ami find
that there are two also with regard to execution, viz.
the firm style, and the polished •, these two concern the
pencil, and the more or less ingenious way of conduct¬
ing it. The firm style gives life to work, and excuse
for bad choice*, and the polished finishes and brightens
every thing •, it leaves no employment for the specta¬
tor’s imagination, which pleases itself in discovering
and finishing things which it ascribes to the artist, though
PAINTING. 677
in fact they proceed only from itself. Th» polishedportpaiture.
style degenerates into the soft and dull, if not supported y—j
by a good opening or situation j but when those two
characters meet, the picture^is fine.
Sect. III. Of Portraiture.
If painting he an imitation of nature, it is doubly so
in a portrait *, which not only represents a man in gene¬
ral, but such a one as may he distinguished from all
others. And as the greatest perfection of a portrait is
extreme likeness, so the greatest of its faults is to re¬
semble a person for whom it was not made } since there
are not in the world two persons quite like one another.
But before we proceed to the particulars which let us
into the knowledge of this imitation, it is necessary, for
shortening this part of our subject, to attend to some ge¬
neral propositions.
I. Imitation is the essence of painting : -and good
choice is to this essence what the virtues are to a
man •, they raise the value of it. For this reason, it
is extremely the painter’s interest to choose none but
good heads, or favourable moments for drawing them,
and such positions as may supply the want of a fine na¬
tural.
II. There are views of the natural more or less ad¬
vantageous ; all depends upon turning it well, and tak¬
ing it in the favourable moment.
III. There is not a single person in the world who
has not a peculiar character both in body and face.
IV. Simple and genome nature is more proper for
imitation *, and is a better choice than nature much
formed, and embellished too artificially..
V. To adorn nature too much is doing it a violence;
and the action which attends it can never be free when
its ornaments are not easy. In short, in proportion as
we adorn nature, we make it degenerate from itself, and
bring it down to art.
VI. Some means are more advantageous than others
to come at the same end.
VII. We must not only imitate what we do see in
nature, but also what we may possibly see that is ad¬
vantageous in art.
VIII. Things are valuable by comparison ; and it is
only by this we are enabled to make a right judgment
of them.
IX. Painters easily accustom themselves to their own
tints, and the manner of their masters : and after this
habit is rooted in them, they view nature not as she
really is, but as they are used to paint her.
X. It is very difficult to make a picture, the figures
of which are as big as the life, to have its effects near
as at a distance. A learned picture pleases the ig¬
norant only when it is at some distance ; but judges-
will admire its artifice near, and its effect at a di¬
stance.
XI. Knowledge makes work pleasant and easy. The.
traveller who knows his road, comes to his journey’s end
with more speed and certainty than he who inquires
and gropes it out.
XII. It is proper, before we begin a work, to me¬
ditate upon it, and to make a nice coloured sketch
of it, for our own satisfaction, and a help to the me¬
mory.
We cannot too much reflect on these propositions; and
it.
6^8
Portraiture, it is necessary to be well acquainted with them, that they
1    > may present themselves to our mind, of their own ac¬
cord, without our being at the trouble to recal them to
our memory when we are at work.
There are four things necessary to make a portrait
perfect; air, colouring, attitude, and dress.
Of Air. The air respects the lines of the face, the
head attire, and the size.
The lines of the face depend upon exactness ot draught,
and agreement of the parts j which altogether must re¬
present the physiognomy of the person painted in such
a manner, that the picture of his body may seem to be
also that of his mind.
It is not exactness of design in portraits that gives
spirit and true air, so much as the agreement of the parts
at the very moment when the disposition and tempera¬
ment of the sitter are to be hit oil. We see several
portraits which, though correctly designed, have a cold,
languishing, and stupid air ; whilst others, less correct
in design, strike us, however, at first sight with the sit¬
ter’s character.
Few painters have been careful enough to put the
parts well together: Sometimes the mouth is smiling,
and the eyes are sad: at other times, the eyes are
cheerful, and the cheeks lank : by which means their
work has a false air, and looks unnatural. We ought
therefore to remember, that, when the sitter puts on a
smiling air, the eyes close, the corners of the mouth
draw up towards the nostrils, the cheeks swell, and the
eyebrows widen : but in a melancholy air, these parts
have a contrary effect.
The eyebrows, being raised, give a grave and noble
air; but if arched, an air of astonishment.
Of all the parts of the face, that which contributes
most to likeness is the nose ; it is therefore of great mo¬
ment to set and draw it well. *
Though the hair of the head seems to be part of the
dress which is capable of various forms without altering
the air of the face; yet the head attire which one has
been most accustomed to creates such a likeness, that
we scarce know a familiar acquaintance on his. putting
on a periwig somewhat different from that which he
used to wear. It is necessary therefore, as far as possible,
•to take the air of the head ornament, and make it ac¬
company and set off that of the face, if there be no rea¬
son to the contrary.
As to the stature, it contributes so much to likeness,
that we very often know people without seeing their
face : It is therefore extremely proper to draw the size
after the sitter himself, and in suck an attitude as we
think fit; which was Vandyke’s method. Here let us
remark, that, in sitting, the person appears to be of
a less free make, through the heaving of his shoulders ;
wherefore, to adjust his size, it is proper to make him
stand for a small time, swaying in the posture we would
give him, and then make our observation. But here oc¬
curs a difficulty, which we shall endeavour to examine:
“ Whether it is proper, in portraiture, to correct the
defects of nature ?”
Likeness being the essence of portraiture, it would
seem that we ought to imitate defects as well as beau¬
ties, since by this means the imitation will be more
complete : It would be even hard to prove the contrary
to one who would undertake the defence of this posi¬
tion. But ladies and gentlemen do not much approve
Part IT,
of those painters who entertain such sentiments, and put Colouring,
them in practice. It is certain that some complaisance '—’v*—'
in this respect is due to them; and there is little doubt
but their pictures may be made to resemble, without
displeasing them; for the effectual likeness is a just
agreement of the parts that are painted with those of
nature ; so that we may be at no loss to know the air df
the face, and the temper of the person, whose picture is
before us. All deformities, therefore, when the air arfd
temper may be discovered without them, ought to be
either corrected or omitted in women’s and young men’s
portraits. A nose somewhat awry may be helped, or a
shrivelled neck or high shoulders adapted to a good air,
Avithout going from one extreme to another. But this
must be done with great discretion: for, by endeavour¬
ing to correct nature too much, Ave insensibly fall into a
method of giving a general air to all our portraits ; just
as, by confining ourseh'es too much to the defects and
littleness of nature, we are in danger of falling into the
low and tasteless manner.
But in the faces of heroes and men of rank, distin¬
guished either by dignities, virtues, or great qualities,
we cannot be too exact, whether the parts be beautififi
or not : for portraits of such persons are to be standing
monuments to posterity ; in which case, every thing in
a picture is precious that is faithful. But after what¬
ever manner the painter acquits himself in this point,
let him never forget good air nor grace ; and that there
are, in the natural, advantageous moments for hitting
them off.
Of Colouring. Colouring, in portraiture, is an effu¬
sion of nature, discovering the true tempers ol persons ;
and the temper being essential to likeness, it ought to be
handled as exactly as the design. This part is the more
valuable, as it is rare and difficult to hit. A great many
painters have come to a likeness by strokes and outlines ;
but certainly they are few who have shown in colours
the tempers of persons.
Tavo points are necessary in painting ; exactness of
tints, and the art of setting them off. The former is
acquired by practice, in examining and comparing the
colours Ave see in life with those by Avhieh we Avould
imitate it: and the art of those tints consists in know¬
ing ay hat one colour Avill produce Avhen set by another,
and in making good what either distance or time may
abate of the gloiv and freshness of the colours.
A painter who does nothing more than what he sees,
Avill never arrivfe at a perfect imitation ; for though his
Avork may seem, on the easel, to be good to him, it may
not appear so to others, and perhaps even to himself, at
a distance. A tint which, near, appears disjoined, and
of one Colour, may look of another at a distance, and be
confounded in the mass it belongs to. If you Avould
have your Avork, therefore, to produce a good efiect in
the place Avhere it is to hang, both the colours and
lights must be a little loaded; but learnedly, and Avith
discretion. In this point consult Titian, Rubens, Van¬
dyke, and Rembrandt’s method ; for indeed their art is
Avonderful.
The tints usually require three times of observation.
The first is at the person’s first sitting doAvn, when he
has more spirit and colour than ordinary; and this is to
he noted in the first hour of his sitting. The second is
Avhen, being composed, his look is as usual; Avhich is
to be* observed in the second hour. . And the third is
Avhen,
PAINTING,
u-t II. PAIN
ttitude. Ivlien, tlirougli tiresomeness by sitting in one posture,
J bis colour alters to ivbat weariness usually creates. On
wbicb account, it is best to keep to the sitter’s usual tint,
a little improved. He may also rise, and take some
turns about the room, to gain fresh spirits, and shake oil'
or prevent tiresomeness.
In draperies, all sorts of colours do not suit all sorts
of persons. In men’s portraits, we need only observe
great truth and great force : but in rvomen’s there must
also be charms; whatever beauty they have must appear
in a fine light, and their blemishes must by some means
or other be softened. For this reason, a white, lively,
and bright tint, ought never to be set off by a fine yel¬
low, which would make it look like plaster; but rather
by colours inclining to green, blue, or gray, or such
others as, by the opposition, they make the tint appear
more fleshy than usual in fair women. Vandyke often
made a fillemot coloured curtain for his ground ; but
that colour is soft and brown. Brown women, on the
other hand, who have yellow enough in their tints to
support the character of fleshiness, may very well have
yellowish draperies, in order to bring down the yellow
of their tints, and make them look, the fresher ; and
near very high coloured and lively carnations, linen
does wonders.
\n grounds, two things are observable ; the tone and
the colour. The colour is to be considered in the same
manner as those of draperies, with respect to the head.
The tone must be always different from the mass it sup¬
ports, and of which it is the ground, that the objects
coming upon it may not seem transparent, but solid and
raised. The colour of the hair of the head usually de¬
termines the tone of the ground; and when the former
is a bright chesuut, we are often embarrassed, unless
helped by means of a curtain, or some accident of the
claro-obscuro supposed to be behind) or unless the ground
is a sky.
AV e must further observe, that where a ground is nei¬
ther curtain nor landscape, or such like, but is plain andl
like a wall, it ought to be very much party-coloured,
with almost imperceptible patches or stains; for, besides
its being so in nature, the picture will look the mox-e
grand.
Of Attitude, or Posture.—Attitudes ought to suit the
age and qualities of persons and their tempers. In old
men and women, they should be grave, majestic, and
sometimes bold: and generally, in women, they ought
to have a noble simplicity and modest cheerfulness ; for
modesty ought to be the character of women ; a charm
infinitely beyond coquetry ! and indeed coquettes them¬
selves are not to be painted such.
Attitudes are of two kinds: one in motion, the other
at rest. Those at rest may suit every person : but those
in motion are proper for young people only, and are
hard to be expressed ; because a great part of the hair
and drapery must be moved by the air ; motion, in
painting, being never better expressed than by such agi¬
tations. The attitudes at rest must not appear so much
at rest as to seem to represent an inactive person, and
one who sits for no other purpose but to be a copy.
And though the figure that is represented be at rest, yet
the painter, if he thinks fit, may give it a flying dra¬
pery, provided the scene or ground be not a chamber or
close place.
It is above all things necessary that the figures which
TING. 679
are not employed should appear to satisfy the spectator’s Prac tice
curiosity; and for this purpose show themselves in such in Portrai-
an action as suits their tempers and conditions, as if ture‘ ,
they would inform him what they really were : and *
as most people pretend to sincerity, honesty, and great¬
ness of mind, we must avoid in attitudes, all manner of
affectation; every thing there must appear easy and na¬
tural, and discover more or less spirit, nobleness, and
majesty, in proportion to the person’s character and dig¬
nity. In a word, the attitudes are the language of por¬
traits; and the skilful painter ought to give great atten¬
tion to them.
But the best attitudes are such as induce the specta¬
tor to think that the sitter took a favourable opportu¬
nity of being seen to advantage, and without affecta¬
tion. There is only one thing to be observed with
regard to women’s portraits, in whatever attitude they
are placed; which is, that they sway in such a man¬
ner as to give the face but little shade ; and that we
carefully examine whether the lady appear most beau¬
tiful in a smiling or in a serious air, and conduct our¬
selves accordingly. Let us now proceed to the next
article.
Of Practice in Portraiture.—According to De Piles,
portraiture requires three different sittings and opera¬
tions ; viz., dead colouring, second colouring, and re¬
touching or finishing. Before the painter dead colour,
he must attentively consider what aspect will best suit
the sitter, by putting him in different positions, if we
have not any settled design before us: and when we have
determined this, it is of the last consequence to put the
parts well together, by comparing always one part with
another; for not only the portrait acquires a greater
likeness when well designed, but it is troublesome to
make alterations at the second sitting, when the artist
must only think of painting, that is, of disposing and
uniting his colours.
Experience tells us, that the dead colouring ought
to be clean, because of the slope and transparency of
the colours, especially in the shades : and when the
parts are well put together, and become clammy, they
must be judiciously sweetened and melted into each
other; yet without taking away the air of the pic¬
ture, that the painter may have the pleasure of finishing
it, in proportion as he draws. But if fiery geniuses
do not like this method of scumbling, let them only
mark the parts slightly, and so far as is necessary for
giving an air.
In dead colouring, it is proper to put in rather too
little than too much hair about the forehead ; that, in
finishing, we may be at liberty to place it where we
please, and to paint it with all possible softness and de¬
licacy. If, on the contrary, you sketch upon the fore¬
head a lock which may appear to be of a good taste,
and becoming the work, you may be puzzled in finish¬
ing it, and not find the life exactly in the same position
as you would paint it. But this observation is not
meant for men of skill and consummate experience, who
have nature in their heads, and make her submit to their
ideas.
The business of the second sitting is, to put the co¬
lours well in their places, and to paint them in a man¬
ner that is suitable to the sitter and to the effect we
propose : But before they are made clammy, ive ought
to examine afresh whether the parts are rightly placed,
680 PAIN
Practice of and here and there to give some touches towards like-
Vandyke. ness, that, when we are assured ot it, the work may
   v go on with greater satisfaction. If the painter under¬
stands what he is about, and the portrait be justly de¬
signed, he ought as much as possible to tvork quick j
-the sitter will be better pleased, and the work will by
this means have the more spirit and life. But this rea¬
diness is only the effect ot long study and experience \
for we may well be allowed a considerable time to find
out a road that is easy, and such as we must often tra¬
vel in.
Before we retouch or finish, it is proper to ter¬
minate the hair, that, on finishing the carnations,
we may be abler to judge of the effect of the whole
head.
If, at the second sitting, we cannot do all we in¬
tended, which often happens, the third makes up the
loss, and gives both spirit, physiognomy, and cha¬
racter.
If we would paint a portrait at once, we must load
the colouring-, but neither sweeten, nor drive, nor
very much oil it : and if we dip the pencil in var-
- nish as the work advances, this will readily enable us
to put colour on colour, and to mix them without
driving.
The use and sight of good pictures give greater
light into things than words can express: What hits
one artist’s understanding and temper may be dis¬
agreeable to another’s j and almost all painters have
taken different ways, though their principles were of¬
ten the same.
We are told that a friend of Vandyke’s having ob¬
served to him how little time he bestowed on his por¬
traits, Vandyke answered, “ That at first he worked
hard, and took great pains, to acquire a reputation,
and also to get a swift hand, against the time he should
work for his kitchen.” Vandyke’s custom is said to
have been this: He appointed both the day and hour
for the person’s sitting, and worked not above an hour
on any portrait, either in rubbing in or finishing j so that
as soon as his clock informed him that the hour was out,
he rose up, and made a bow to the sitter, to signify, that
he had done enough for that day, and then appointed
another hour some other day j whereupon his servant
came to clean his pencils, and brought a fresh pallet,
whilst he was receiving another sitter, whose day and
hour he had before appointed. By this method he
worked on several pictures the same day, with extraor¬
dinary expedition.
After having lightly dead-coloured the face, he put
the sitter into some attitude which he had before con¬
trived 5 and on a gray paper, with white and black
crayons, lie designed, in a quarter of an hour, his shape
and drapery, which he disposed in a grand manner, and
an exquisite taste. After this, he gave the drawing to
the skilful people he had about him, to paint after the
sitter’s own clothes, which, at Vandyke’s request, were
sent to him for that purpose. When his disciples
had done what they could to these draperies, he lightly
went over them again $ and so, in a little time, by his
great knowledge, displayed the art and truth which we
at this day admire in them. As for hands, he had in
his house people of both sexes, whom he paid, and who
served as models.
This conduct of Vandyke, however, is mentioned
TING. Tart IT.
rather to gratify the reader’s curiosity than to ex- Judgment
cite his imitation 5 he may choose as much of it as ofTints.
he pleases, and as suits his own genius, and leave the » J
rest.
We must observe by the way, that there is nothing
so rare as fine hands, either in the design or colouring.
It is therefore convenient to cultivate, if we can, a
friendship with some woman who will take pleasure in
serving for a copy : The way to win them is, to praise
their beauty exceedingly. But if an opportunity serves
of copying hands after Vandyke, it must not be let slipj
for he drew them with a surprising delicacy, and an ad¬
mirable colouring.
It is of great service to copy after the manners which
come nearest to nature j as are those of Titian and
Vandyke. We must, at such times, believe them to
be nature itself-, and, at some distance, consider them
as such, and say to ourselves—What colour and tint
shall l use for such a part ? And then, coming near
the picture, we ought to examine whether we are
right or not; and to make a fixed rule of what we
have discovered, and did not practise before without
uncertainty.
It is recommended, before we begin colouring, to
catch the very first moments, which are commonly the
most agreeable anu most advantageous, and to keep
them in our memory for use when we are finishing : for
the sitter, growing tired with being long in the same
place, loses those spirits, which, at his first sitting downr
gave beauty to the parts, and conveyed to the tint more
lively blood, and a fresher colour. In short we must
join to truth a probable and advantageous possibility,
which, far from abating likeness, serves rather to set it
off. For this end, we ought to begin with observing the
ground of a tint, as well what it is in lights as in shades j
ibr the shades are only beautiful as they are proportion¬
ed to the light. We must observe, if the tint be very
lively, whether it partake of yellowness, and where that
yellowness is placed j because usually, towards the end
of the sitting, fatigue diffuses a general yellowness, which
makes us forget what parts were of this colour, and
what were not, unless we had taken due notice of it be¬
fore. For this reason, at the second sitting, the colours
must be everywhere readily clapped in, and such as ap¬
pear at the first sitting down ; for these are always the
finest.
The surest way to judge of colours is by compa¬
rison j and to know a tint, nothing is better than
to compare it with linen placed next it, or else pla¬
ced next to the natural object, if there be occasion.—
We say this only to those who have little practised
nature.
The portrait being now supposed to be as much
finished as you are able, nothing remains, but, at
some reasonable distance, to view both the picture and
sitter together, in order to determine with certainty,
whether there is any thing still wanting to perfect the
work.
Sect. IV. Of Theatrical Decorations ; theDesigns for
Furniture, Embroidery, Carriages, 8fc.
Of Theatrical Decorations.—This is a particular art,
which unites several of the general parts of painting
with the knowledge of architecture, perspective, &c.
Part II.
irheatrical They who apply themselves to it would do well to
Decora- design their decorations by day, and to colour them
[lions, &.c. by candle light, as they will be much better able to
v judge of the effect of a painting intended to be viewed
by that light. It is proper also to caution the young-
painter to avoid, as much as possible, the uniting the
imitations of nature with nature itself j that is, be should
not introduce with his decorations living horses, or
other animals, real fountains or cascades, trees, or sta¬
tues, &c. For such combinations are the effect of
ignorance and a bad taste ; they are the resource of
painters of little ability j they discover a sterility of
invention, and produce great inconvenience in the re¬
presentation. Those pieces which they call moving-
pictures, where the painted landscape remains immove¬
able, and the figures move by means of springs, form a
part of these decorations j and there are some of them,
as those of Antwerp and Ghent, that have a pleasing
effect.
The designs for furniture, carriages, porcelain, and
other branches of manufacture, form also a very im¬
portant article $f painting in general, and of acade¬
my painting in particular. This is a distinct branch
of the art} and without doubt not the least useful of
its parts, as it concurs so essentially to the success of
manufactures, and consequently to the prosperity of a
state : and it is an art, to which it were much to be
wished that youth of ability and invention would ap¬
ply themselves. See the articles Japanning and Por¬
celain.
Sect. V. Enumeration of the different Methods of
Painting, or the different Means and Materials that
Painters make use of to imitate all visible Objects
on a plane Superficies.
Those now in practice are,
1. Painting in oil } which is preferable to all other
methods, as it is more susceptible of all sorts of expres¬
sions, of more perfect gradations of colours, and is at
the same time more durable.
2. Mosaic paipting j an invention truly wonderful.
It is composed of a great number of small pieces of
marble of different colours, joined together with stucco.
The works of this kind are made principally at Pome,
where this art has been carried so far as to resemble
the paintings of the greatest masters *, and of these are
made monuments for the latest posterity.
3. Painting in fresco ; which is by drawing, with
colours diluted with water, on a wall newly plastered,
and with which they so incorporate, that they perish
only with the stucco itself. This is principally used on
ceilings.
4. Painting in WATER colours j that is, with co¬
lours mixed with water and gum, or paste, &c.
5. Miniature painting; which differs from the
preceding as it represents objects in the least discern¬
ible magnitudes.
6. Painting in crayons ; for which purpose colours,
either simple or compound, are mixed with gum, and
made into a kind of hard paste like chajk, and with
which they draw on paper or parchment.
7. Painting in enamel ; which is done on copper or
gold, with; mineral colours that are dried by fire, and
become very durable. The paintings on the FORCELAIN
Vol. XV. Part II. t
681
of China and Europe, on Delft ware, &cc. are so many Fresco,
sorts of enamel. ——j
8. Painting in wax, or encaustic painting : This is
a new, or rather an old invention renewed, in which
there are in France performances highly pleasing. It
is done with wax mixed with varnish and colours.
9. Painting on glass ; of which there are various
kinds.
See all the articles here enumerated, explained in the
order of the alphabet. On one of them, however, some
additional observations may here be subjoined.
§ 1. Of Painting in Fresco.
Of all kinds of painting, fresco is the most ancient,
the most durable, the most speedily executed, and the
most proper to adorn great buildings. It appears, that
the fragments of ancient painting handed down to us
by the Romans are all in fresco. Norden, quoted by
Winkleman, speaks of the ruins of Egyptian palaces
and temples, in which are colossal paintings on walls
80 feet high. The description which those authors
have given of these paintings, of the prepared ground,
and of the manner in which the colours have been em¬
ployed, &c. shows plainly that they have been executed
in fresco.
The stability of fresco is demonstrated by the exist¬
ence of those fragments of the highest antiquity. There
are no other kinds of painting which could equally have
resisted the injuries of the weather, the excessive aridity
of certain climates, the moisture of subterraneous situa¬
tions, and the encroachments of barbarians.
There are different opinions concerning the climate
most proper to preserve this kind of painting. “ It is
observed (says Felibien), that the colours va fresco fade
sooner in Italy and Languedoc than at Paris; pejliaps
from less heat in the last-mentioned place, or better
lime.” M. Falconet contradicts this assertion in his
notes on Pliny, vol. i. p. 223. of his miscellaneous
works, published at Paris 1787. Painting in fresco,
according to this author, is longer preserved in dry
and warm, than in northern and moist climates. How¬
ever opposite the sentiments of these two authors may
appear to be, it is possible to reconcile them, when
we consider, that the exposure to a burning sun is ca¬
pable of operating a great change of the colours on
the one hand, ahd that the frost in a cold climate ine¬
vitably destroys the paintings of fresco on the other.
Frost is capable of bursting stones, of corroding the
petrified veins of earth in the heart of coloured marble,
and, in short, nothing can resist its destructive opera¬
tion.
These observations on fresco paintings lead us to
conclude, that the choice of place, when they are with¬
out doors, is of the greatest importance. In countries
where there is little or no frost, an exposure to the
north is the most favourable ; and in cold climates a
western exposure should be made choice of, because
the first rays of the rising sun have a very pernicious
effect after frost. We are not, however, wholly to
adopt the sentiment of M. Falconet with regard to the
pernicious effects of moisture on fresco paintings : for,
1. The ancieat paintings recovered from moist places,
in which they were buried for many ages, have, under
enormous heaps of earth, preserved all their colours.
Those from the ruins of Herculaneum have been ob-
4 R served,
PAINTING.
682
| Fresco.
served, on tlie contrary, to lose their colours in a short
> time after they have been dried by the exterior air.
2, The mortar which composes the ground of this
painting is not destroyed in our rainy climates. It is
necessary frequently to use powder in removing pieces
of this mortar, which are now found to obstruct some
buildings in Paris, .
After the choice of place, the choice oi materials is
the next thing of importance in executing fresco. To
make it durable, the ground is the object of chief atten¬
tion j and to make this perfect, the mortar used by the
ancients, now unknown, would be necessary.
It is easy to perceive, that a minute detail of forms,
an extensive mixture and gradation of tints, and the
merit of a delicate and gentle touch, can make no part
of the excellencies of this kind of painting. It can¬
not hear a close examination like a picture in oil. There
is always something dry and rough which displeases.
An artist who would flatter himself with success in a
fresco placed near the eye would be grossly deceived :
a. common spectator would find it coarse and badly fi¬
nished.
Fresco is chiefly employed in palaces, temples, and
public edifices. In these vast places no kind ot paint¬
ing can be preferred to it *, large, vivid in its strokes,
and constantly fresh, it enriches the architecture, ani¬
mates it, and gives relief to the eye from the repetition
of the same forms, and the monotony ot colour in a
place where coloured marbles and bronzes are not em¬
ployed. Still more a fine fresco gives the greatest
effect to a lofty building, since this building serves
as a frame and support to this enchanting art, which
fixes the attention of every person of sensibility and
taste.
We shall afterwards have occasion to show the man¬
ner of executing fresco, as well as the nature and ap¬
plication of the colours employed in it •, it is necessary
to demonstrate here, that it has a freshness, splendour,
and vigour not to be found in oil or water colours.
A known principle in all kinds of painting is, that
the colouring is more perfect in proportion as it ap¬
proaches to the lights and shades in nature. As co¬
lours applied to any subject can never reach this degree
of perfection, the illusion which painters produce con¬
sists in the comparison and opposition of the tones of
colours among themselves.
If the white of the finest and purest oil appears hea¬
vy and gray, compared with great lights in natural
whites, it follows, that, in order to copy them with fide¬
lity, the tones which follow the first white must be de¬
graded in an exact proportion. Thus it is necessary
that the shades of a picture be considerably deeper than
those of the model especially if, from the greatest
lights to the browns, one hath proportionally followed
the distance which is found between the colours on the
pallet, and the tones of the object copied.
Now if the white of fresco be infinitely more bright
than that of oil, the same effect will be obtained in a
brown tone. On the other side, if it constantly bap-
pcns that the brown tones of fresco are much more vi¬
gorous than those of water colours, and equal even to
the browns of oil itself, it is certain that it possesses
a splendour and vigour more extensive than any other
kind of painting. Thus in the hands of an artist who
is well acquainted with the colours fit for fresco, it is
4
PAINTING. Tartll.
more susceptible of the general effect, and more capable Fresco.
than any other kind, of giving projection and the sem
hlance of life to the figures.
If we were to inquire why painting in fresco is now
scarcely or never practised, we should perhaps ascribe
it to the great talents required to execute it. “ Many
of our painters (says Vasari in his Treatise on Faint¬
ing) excel in oil or water colours, and yet tail in fresco j
because of all kinds this requires the greatest strength
of genius, boldness in the strokes, and resolution.'’ It
in an age abounding in great masters, it was difficult to
excel in this kind, it must be much more so in ours j
hut we should not require the characters ot sublimity
and style to which men were accustomed in the time of
Vasari.
We should execute in fresco as we do in oils ^ for
Italy herself, along rvith Michael Angelo and Zui-
charo, had Cortonni Giardano and I rancischini as
middling fresco painters. And in France, Lafosse,
Bon-Boulogne, and Perur, performed several works in
fresco which might be imitated by the painters of our
times. But let us proceed to the real causes for aban¬
doning this art. These proceed from the want of know¬
ledge and taste in the persons who employ the artists,
and from the manners of the age. As a pleasant or
licentious conceit, unfinished colouring, and bold efiects
of shade, are the chief objects of consideration, a very
smooth painting enlivened by gentle touches completely
gratifies the person who pays the price j and therefore
the philosophical principles of the art, which require
study, are not cultivated.
AVe shall now attend to the mechanical process of
this useful and beautiful kind of painting. Before
painting, it is necessary to apply two layers. If the
wall on which you are to paint is of brick, the layer
is easily applied j but if it is of free1 stone closely unit¬
ed, it is necessary to make excavations in the stone,
and to drive into them nails or pegs of wood in order to
hold the first layer.
The first layer is made of good lime and a cement
of pounded brick, or, which is still better, river sand:
this latter forms a layer more uneven, and better fitted
to retain the second smooth and polished layer applied
to its surface.
There should be experiments to discover a layer
still more compact, and more independent of the vari¬
ations of the air j such for example, as covers the aque¬
ducts and ancient reservoirs constructed by the Romans
in the neighbourhood of Naples.
Before applying the second layer, or what you are
to paint, it is necessary that the first be perlectly dry,
for there issues from the lime, when it is moist, a smell
both disagreeable and pernicious to the artist.
When the first layer is perfectly dry, it is wet with
water in proportion to its dryness, that the second layer
may the more easily incorporate with it.
The second layer is composed o{ lime, slaked in the
air, and exposed for a year, and of river sand, of an
equal grain, and moderately fine.
It requires an active and intelligent mason to apply
this layer, as the surface must be altogether equal. I he
operation is performed with a trowel j and the operator
requires to have a small piece of wood to take away the
large grains of sand, which, remaining, might render
the surface uneven.
io
To give a fine polish to this layefj one ought to take
a sheet of paper, apply it to the wall, and pass and
xepass the trowel over the paper. By this means the
little inequalities which hurt the exactness of the stroke,
and which produce false appearances at a distance, are
entirely smoothed.
The artist must not lay more than the painter can
finish in a day, as this kind of painting must be execut¬
ed on a fresh ground.
The layer being thus prepared, the painter begins
his operation ; but as painting in fresco must be exe¬
cuted rapidly, and as there is no time to retouch any
of the strokes, the painter, as we have observed under
the article Fresco, takes care to provide himself with
large cartoons, on which he has drawn, with exact¬
ness, ami in their full size, the figures which he is to
paint, which leaves him nothing to do but to copy them
on the wall.
The cartoons are composed of several sheets of large
paper pasted one on another, neither too thick nor too
slender. *“
The painter traces the tracks of the figures on the
plaster, by passing a steel point over the tracks in the
cartoons, or in pricking them.
Having in this manner attained an exact and speedy
drawing, it now remains to execute the painting.
But it is essential, when one wishes to finish any
small Avork of this kind, in the first place to be inform¬
ed of the proper colours, and of those which cannot be
used.
In general, the colours which are extracted from
earths, and those which have passed through the fire,
are the only ones which can be employed in this kind of
painting.
The colours are white, made of lime, the white of
egg shells, ultramarine; the black of charcoal, yellow
ochre, burnt vitriol, red earth, green of Verona, Ve¬
netian black, and burnt ochre.
There are others which require to be used with great
precaution, such as enamel blue, cinnabar, and white
marble dust.
When enamel blue is used, it requires to be applied
instantaneously, and when the lime is very moist,
otherAvise it does not incorporate rvith the plaster ; and
if one retouch Avith this colour, it must be done an
hour or more after the first application, to increase its
lustre.
With regard to the Avhite marble dust, it is subject to
turn black if it be not mixed np Avith a convenient quan¬
tity of white lime.
Cinnabar, Avhich has a splendour almost superior to
all other colours, loses it almost entirely Avhen mixed
Avith lime. At the same time, it may be employed in
places not exposed to the air, with a little degree of
care in the preparation. Reduce a quantity of the
purest cinnabar to pow’der, put it into an earthen ves¬
sel, and pour lime Avater on it, for tAvo or three times.
By this process the cinnabar receives some impression
of lime Avater, which makes it capable of being employ¬
ed in fresco painting.
One of the best colours, and the one most used in
fresco for the gradation of tints, and for giving the
requisite tone, is Avhite of lime. This white is prepa¬
red by mixing lime, slaked long before Avith good Avater.
Tire lime deposits a sediment at the bottom of the ves¬
sel ; Avhen the water is poured off, this sediment is the
Avhite of lime.
Another kind of white might be used, the effects of
Avhich Avould be known by experience, namely, the
Avhite of egg shells. To prepare this Avhite, one must
take a great quantity of shells of eggs, which must be
pounded and boiled in Avater along Avith a quantity of
quicklime ; after this they are put into a strainer, and
Avashed repeatedly Avith fountain Avater.
lire shells are again pounded until the Avater em¬
ployed for that purpose become pure and limpid; and
Avhen they are in this manner reduced to poAvder, this
poAvder is grinded in Avater, and formed into small
pieces, and dried in the sun.
An the different Kinus of ochres make excellent co-
louis for fresco, and take different shades, being live-
Ariously burned in iron chests.
With regard to the Naples yellow, it is dangerous
to use it where the painting is much exposed to the
air. The blacks of charcoal, of peach stones, and of
vine twigs, are good : but that extracted from bones is
of no A’alue.
Roman vitriol gathered at the furnaces, and which'
is called burnt vitriol, grinded afterwards in spirit of
Ayme, resists the air extremely avcII when employed in
lime. There is also a red extracted from this preparation
someAvhat like that produced from lac.
This colour is very proper for preparing the layers,
to be coloured with cinnabar; and the draperies paint¬
ed Avith these tAvo colours avti11 vTie in splendour AATith
those painted Avith fine lac in oil.
The ultramarine is the most faithful colour; and it
not only never changes, but it communicates this preci¬
ous quality to those colours Avith which it is mixed.
The manner of employing those colours, is to grind
them in Avater, and to begin by arranging them into
the principal tints you are to employ : these are after-
Avards put into pots; and it is necessary to use a great
many pallets raised at the edges, to form the interme¬
diate shades, and to haAre under your eye all the shades
you require.
As all the tints, except burnt ochre, violet, red, and
blacks of all kinds, are apt to become clear, the paint¬
er must have beside him some pieces of brick or ucav
tile very dry. A dash of the colours is applied to one of
these Avith the pencil before using them ; and as the
tile instantaneously imbibes the Avater, one perceives
Avhat the shade Avill be after the fresco is dry.
§ 2. Ehjdoric Painting, invented by M. Vincetit of
Alontpetit.
This iicav kind of painting is little knoAvn, and capa¬
ble of great improvement.
. Its principal advantages are, that the artist is able t©
give the greatest finishing possible to small figures in
oil ; to add to the mellowness of oil painting, the great¬
est beauty of Avater colours in miniature, and to do it in
such a manner that it appears like a large picture seen
through a glass Avhich diminishes objects.
This kind of painting takes its name from two Greek
vyords expressive of oil and'ivater; because those tAvo
liquids are employed in the execution. The folloAving
is the manner of proceeding: A piece of very fine
4 R 2 lineup
#84
PAIN
Elydoric linen, or of white taffety, is sized with starch, m the
Painting’, most equal manner possible, on pieces of glass about two
^ v J inches square, the angles of which are blunted in order
that the cloth may cover them neatly and without
wrinkles.
When these pieces of cloth are suihcientiy dry, a
layer composed of white lead finely grinded, and oil of
pinks or of poppies, the whitest that can be mund, is
applied to them with a knife. When this layer is dry
enough to admit of scraping, more maybe applied ifne-
qessary.
As it is of the greatest importance for the preserva¬
tion of this kind of painting, that the different layers
lie purged of oil, in order that they may imbibe the
colours applied to them, it is necessary that their sui-
f'ace he very smooth, very drv. snA k"*'k
’JTlx1 'Yltlol. is next provided with a circle of copper
nearly two inches in diameter, one-feurth of an inch in
height, extremely thin, and painted on the inside with
black. This circle is employed to contain the water on
the surface of the picture. .
The preference is given to water distilled from rain
or snow 5 because ordinary water, from the salts which
it contains, is pernicious to this kind of painting.
It is necessary also to observe, that the colouis must
be grinded between two oriental agates, most carefully
preserved from dust, and mixed with oil of poppies, or
any other siccative oil which has been extracted with¬
out fire, and pure as water.
All the colours being grinded, they are placed in a
small heap on a piece of glass, which is covered with
distilled water in a tin box.
When the materials are thus prepared, the subject
is slightly traced on one of the pieces of cloth above
mentioned with a lead pencil.
The tints are formed on the pallets from the heaps
of colours under the water, and the pallet placed as
TING. Part H,
usual on the left arm with the thumb through the Elyrtofe
aperture. Pamtwrj,
The picture is held between the thumb and fore fin- '
ger, supported by the middle, and the necessary pencils
between the third and little fingers, The hand is sup¬
ported on the back of a chair, that there may be full
liberty of bringing the work near, or keeping it at a
distance from the eye.
The pencils are cleaned with the essence of rectified
turpentine.
After having made the- rough draught with the co¬
lours still fresh, the circle of copper, which ought to sur¬
round the picture, is fitted exactly to the surface.
The distilled water is poured within this circle to
the height of one eighth part of an inch •, and the body
is leaned forward till the light fall perpendicularly on
the object.
The third finger of the right hand must rest on the
internal right angle of the picture.
The artist, with a fine and firm pencil, runs over the
first draught, to give colours to the weak places, and to
soften those which appear too strong.
As soon as the oil swims on the top, the water is
poured off, and the picture is carefully covered with a
watch glass, and dried in a box with a gentle heat.
When it is sufficiently dry, to be scraped almost to
a level with the knife : the above operation is renewed
till the artist is satisfied with his work.
It is in this last work that the artist feels all the ad¬
vantage of this new method for finishing.
The water poured on the picture discovers all the
faults of the pencil, gives facility in searching into the
bottom of the shades, and the power of correcting the
work and of rendering it perfect.
When the work is finished, it is put under a crystal,
where there is no admission of external air, and dried
with a gentle heat.
Part III. Of Economical Painting.
Sect.-I.
THE object of this Part is to give an account of
some mechanical proceedings in certain kinds of paint¬
ing, calculated to preserve and embellish the walls of
houses and furniture. This branch of the art extends
to every part of architecture. The whole building
becomes the workshop of the artist *, the stairs, the bal-
lustrades, the sashes, the doors, and the railing of all
kinds, occupying bis first care, and then the ceiling and
wainscotting.
The artist gives to all his subjects a chosen and uni¬
form tint j but he has it in his power to vary the co¬
lours on different parts of the building in such a manner
22 as to produce the most pleasing objects,
the u- Among the utensils of the painter, it is needless, but
tensitefor for ren(Jei-lng the article complete, to mention brushes
this kind of an(j pentJls 0f a}) sizes as absolutely necessary
painting. in.ushes are made of boars bristles, or of hair
with a mixture of bristles ; they ought to be straight,
very smooth, and of a round form. Half an hour be¬
fore they are used, it is proper to soak them in water,
in order to swell the ivood of the handle, and prevent
the hairs from falling off-, after this they may be ap¬
plied to all purposes, either in water colours or in oil j
but it may be observed that for the former they require
less softening.
The pencils are made of badgers hair, or any fine
hairs enchased in the pipes of quills of all sizes.
The vessel wherein the pencils are cleaned is made
of copper or of tin, smooth below, rounded at the ends,
and divided into two parts by a thin plate in the middle.
The oil, or the substance with which the pencil is clean¬
ed, is contained in one of the divisions.
The pallet is made of the wood of the pear or apple
tree, of an oval or square shape, very slender, but
somewhat thicker at the centre than at the extremities.
A hole is made in one of its sides sufficiently large to
admit the thumb of the workman.
When the pallet is new, it is covered with oil of
walnuts j and as often as it dries, the operation is re¬
peated, till it be fully impregnated -, it is afterwards
polished, and finally rubbed with a piece of linen dipped
in oil of common nuts.
The painter’s knife is a thin flexible plate, equally
slender
Part III. PAIN
pplicrfiton slender on both sides, rounded at one extremity, and the
if Colours other fixed into a handle of wood.
—■'v All the vessels employed to hold the colours should
be varnished ; a precaution necessary to prevent their
drying too quickly.
<fgrind- To grind, is to reduce to powder the substances
ig and <li- which give colours on a piece of marble or any hard
uing the stone hy means of water, oil, or essence,
olours. .p0 dilute, is to impregnate a liquid with a tint in
such a manner as to make it capable of being applied by
a brush.
When the materials are grinded in water, it is proper
to dilute them in size made from parchment. If they
are diluted in spirit of wine, there must be no more di¬
luted than what serves the immediate occasion, as co¬
lours prepared in this manner dry very rapidly.
Colours grinded in oil are sometimes diluted with pure
oil, more frequently with oil mixed with essence, and
commonly with the pure essence of turpentine 5 the
essence makes the flours easy to work. Those prepar¬
ed in this manner are more solid, but they require more
time to dry.
When colours are grinded with the essence of tur¬
pentine, and diluted in varnish, as they require to he
immediately applied, it is necessary to prepare a small
quantity at a time. This preparation of colours gives
greater brilliancy, and dries more speedily, than those
prepared in oil j but they require more art to manage
them.
They grind colours or coloured substances with a
mullar, which is employed on the stone till they be¬
come a very fine powder. The operation is facilitated
by moistening them from time to time with a little
water, and bv collecting them under the mullar with
the knife. They are afterwards laid in small heaps on
a sheet of white paper, and allowed to dry in a situa¬
tion not exposed to dust. Those who grind white lead
have a stone for the purpose, as this colour is very easily
tarnished In executing this part well, it is necessary
to grind the colours equally and moderately •, to grind
them separately, and not to produce a tint hy mixture
till the colours are well prepared.
Dilute no more at a time than what you have occa¬
sion to employ, to prevent them from growing thick.
In grinding the colours, put in no more liquid than
what is necessary to make the solid substances yield
easily to the mullar ; the more the colours are grinded,
they mix better, and give a smoother and more agree¬
able painting.
It is also necessary to give all attention to the grind¬
ing and diluting of colours, that they may be neither too
thick nor too thin.
Sect. II. Application of Colours.
1. Prepare only the quantity necessary for the work
you undertake, because they do not keep long : and
those which are newly mixed are more vivid and beau¬
tiful.
2. Hold the brush straight before you, and allow on¬
ly tbe surface to be applied to the subject: if you bold
it inclined ih any other direction, you will run the ha¬
zard of painting unequally.
3. It is necessary to lay on the colours boldly, and
■^Uth great strokes 5 taking care at the same time to
5.,
TING. 685
spread them equally over the surface, and not filling up Application
the moulding and carved w ork. If this accident should of Colour*,
happen, you must have a little brush to clean out the v'-—^
colours.
4. Stir them frequently in the vessel, that they may
preserve always the same tint, and that no sediment mav
remain at the bottom.
5. Take, care not to overcharge the brush with the
colour.
6. Never apply a second layer till the first or pre«
ceding one be perfectly dry *, which it is easily known
to be when, in bearing tbe hand gently over it, it does-
not adhere.
7. In order to render this drying more speedy and
uniform, make always tbe layers as thin as possible.
8. Before painting, it is necessary to prime the sub¬
ject 5 that is, to give it a layer of size, or of white co¬
louring oil, to fill up the pores, and render the surface
smooth : by this means fewer layers of colour or of var¬
nish are afterwards necessary.
9. Every subject to be painted or gilded ought to
have first a white ground 5 this preserves tbe colours
fresh and vivid, and repairs tbe damage which they oc¬
casionally receive from the air.
§ 1. Of Painting in Water Colours.
To paint in water colours, is to do it in those which
are grinded in w^ater and diluted in size. There are
three kinds of this painting; namely common, the var¬
nished, and that which is called king's white ; but before
entering on these, it is necessary to make some prelimi¬
nary observations.
1. Take care that there he no grease on the subject $,
and if there be, scrape it off, or clean it with a lye, or
rub the greasy part with garlic and wormwood.
2. Let the diluted colour fall in threads from the end
of the brush when you take it out of the vessel j if it ad¬
heres to it, it is a proof that it wants size.
3. Let all the layers, especially at the beginning, be
laid on very warm, provided that the liquid be not boil¬
ing, which would effectually spoil the subject j and if on .
wood, expose it to crack. The last layer, given imme¬
diately before the varnish, is the only one which ought
to be applied cold.
4. In very fine work, where it is necessary to have
beautiful and solid colours, the subjects are prepared by
size and proper whites, which serve as a ground to re¬
ceive the colour, and render the surface very equal and
smooth.
5. Whatever colour is to be laid on, the white
ground is the best, as it assimilates most easily with
the painting, which borrows always something of the
ground.
6. If knots of wood are found in the subject, it is -
necessary to rub them with garlic, to make the size ad¬
here.
To make the following details sufficiently plain, we
shall take the measures to which the quantity of colours
are applied at fathoms j that is to say, six feet in height
hy six feet in breadth. We shall afterwards fix the
quantity of materials, and of liquids, necessary to cover
this surface. This, however, cannot be exactly defined;
as some subjects imbibe the colours much more than ,
others. The manner of employing them also makes a
difference j as habit enables one to manage them to
great* tv
686
PAINTING,
Part III,
Application greater advantage than another. _ And it is also to be
of Colours observed, that the first layer will consume more than
the second ; and that a prepared subject requires less
than one which has not been so.
When we speak of a fathom, it must be understood
of a smooth and equal surface j for if the wood is va¬
ried with mouldings and carving, there must be a dif¬
ference in the quantity of colours. In general, it re¬
quires about a pound of colours to paint a square fa¬
thom in water colours. In making up this quantity,
take three-fourths of colours grinded in water, and one-
fourth pound, or six ounces, of size to dilute it.
§ 2. Of Painting in common JPater Colours.
Works which require no great care or preparation,
as ceilings and staircases, are generally painted in com¬
mon water colours, i. e. with earths intused in water
and diluted in size. ...
For a common white kind of this painting, steep
Spanish white moderately pounded in water for two
hours. Infuse a proper quantity of the black ot char¬
coal in water for the same space of time : mix the black
and white in. the proportion that the tint requires ; af¬
terwards mix them up with a pretty strong size suffi¬
ciently thick and warm, and apply them to the subject
in as many layers as may be thought necessary. It
requires about two pounds of white in a pint of water,
and a quantity of black in proportion to the tint, toge¬
ther with a part of size, to cover a square fathom. If
this be employed on old walls, they must be well scrap¬
ed, the dust brushed off with a hair besom, and wash¬
ed’carefully with lime water. If on new plaster, the
colours require more size.
All kinds of colours may he grinded in water only
when the tint is made •, and when they have been infu¬
sed in water, they must be mixed up with size.
§ 4. Of Padegeon.
Badegeon is a pale yellow colour applied to plaster
to make it appear like free stones. It gives to old
houses and churches the exterior of a new building, by
assuming the colour of stones newly cut.
1. Take a quantity of lime newly killed.
2. Add to it half the quantity of what the French
called sciure de pierre in which you have mixed of the
ochre ot rue, according to the colour of the stone you
intend to imitate.
3. Steep the whole in a pail of water, in which is
melted a pound of rock alum. When the sciure de
pierre cannot be obtained, it is necessary to use a great¬
er quantity of ochre de rue, or of yellow ochre, or grind
the scales of the stone de St Leu ; pass it through a
sieve : and along with the lime it will form a cement, 011
which the weather will scarcely make any impression.
Application
of Colours.
#lica
jfColo
§ 3. Of Ceilings and the Roofs of Rooms.
When the ceilings or roofs are new, and you wish
to whiten them, take white of Bougival, to which add
a little of the black of charcoal to prevent the white
from growing reddish} infuse them separately in wa¬
ter j mix the whole with half water and half size of
glove leather, which being strong would make the layer
come off in rolls if it were not reduced with water.
Give two layers of this tint while it is lukewarm.
If the roof has been formerly whitened, it is neces¬
sary to scrape to the quick all the remaining white ;
then give it two or three layers of lime to ground and
whiten it: Brush it carefully over j and give it two
or three layers of the white of Bougival prepared as
before.
§ 3. Walls done with the White Des Carmes.
The white des carmes is a manner of whitening in¬
terior walls, whereby they are rendered extremely
beautiful.
x. Procure a quantity of the very best lime, and pass
it through fine linen 5 pour it into a large tub, furnish¬
ed with a spigot at the height equal to that which the
lime occupies : fill the tub with clear fountain water j
beat the mixture with great pieces of wood, and then
allow it to settle for 24 hours.
2. Open the spigot, allow the water to run off, sup¬
ply the tub with fresh water, and continue this opera¬
tion for several days until the lime receives the great¬
est degree of whiteness.
3. When you allow the water finally to run off, the
lime will be found in the consistency of paste -, but with
the quantity you use it is necessary to mix a little
Prussian blue or indigo to relieve the brightness of the
white, and a small quantity of turpentine to give it
brilliancy. The size proper for it is made of glove
leather, with the addition of some alum 5 and the whole
is applied with a strong brush in five or six layers to
new plaster.
4. The wall is strongly rubbed over with a brush of
hogs bristles after the paintihg is dry ; which gives it
its lustre and value, and which makes it appear like
marble or stucco.
§ 6. Of Colouring the backs of Chimneys with Lead Ore.
Clean them with a very strong brush, and carefully
rub off the dust and rust pound about a quarter of a
pound of lead ore into a fine powder, and put it into a
vessel with half a pint of vinegar 5 then apply it to the
back of the chimney with a brush: When it is made
black with this liquid, take a dry brush, dip it in the
same powder without vinegar, and dry and rub it with
this brush till it become shining as glass.
ojerati
I ^
I TWi
ntioii,
§ Of Varnished Water Colours.
The advantages of this kind of painting are, that the
colours do not fade j that they reflect the light $ that
they give no offensive smell, but permit the places to be
inhabited as soon as finished -, and that the varnish pre¬
serves the wood from insects and moisture.
To make a fine varnish on water colours, seven prin¬
cipal operations are necessary ; namely, to size the
wood, to prepare the white, to soften and mb the sub¬
ject, to clean the moulding, to paint, to size, and to
varnish. .
To size the wood is to give one or two layers of size
to the subject which you intend to paint. 24
Take three heads 'of garlic and a handful of wormr First opera
wood leaves ; boil them in three pints of water till they*-1
are reduced to one ; pass the juice through a linen
cloth, and mix it with a pint of parchment size j add
half a handful of salt and half a pint of vinegar j and
boil the whole on the fire.
Size
I 2;
fimli
■lion.
Uil,
ktioii,
’art III. PAIN
pplication Size the wood with this boiling liquor j allow it to
f Colours, penetrate into the carved and smooth places of the wood,
but jakg care at t|ie same t[me t0 -j. as c}ean
the work as possible, or at least to leave it at no place
thicker than another. This first sizing serves to fill up
the pores of the wood, and to prevent the materials
afterwards from collecting in a body, which would cause
the work to fall off in scales.
In a pint of strong parchment size, to which you
have added four pints of warm water, put two handfuls
of white Bougival, and allow it to infuse for the space
of half an hour.
Stir it well, and give a single layer of it to the sub¬
ject very warm but not boiling, equally and regularly
laid on, and dashed with repeated strokes of the brush
into the mouldings and carved work,
iecond To prepare the white, take a quantity of strong
peration. parchment size, and sprinkle lightly over it w'ith the
hand, Bougival white, till the size be covered with it
about half an inch in thickness j allow it to soak for
half an hour as near the fire as to keep it milk warm :
and then stir it witfi the brush till the lumps are broken
and it be sufficiently mixed.
Give seven, eight, or ten layers of this white, or as
many as the nature of the work or the defects in the
wood shall render necessary, giving more white to the
parts which require to be softened j but in general, the
layers must be equal both with regard to the quantity
of the white and the strength of the size.
The last layer of the white ought to be clearer than
the rest, which is made by adding water It must be
applied more slightly, taking care with small brushes
to cover all the difficult places, in the mouldings and
carved work. It is necessary also, between the drying
of the different layers, to fill up all the defects with
white mastich and size.
bird ope- To soften, is to give to the subject after the whiten-,
ition. ing a smooth and equal surface, and to rub it over with
a pumice stone.
The wood being dry, take little pieces of white
wood and of pumice stone, grinded for the purpose
into all necessary forms, either for the pannels or the
moulding.
Take cold water, heat being destructive of this kind
of work *, in summer it is common to add a little ice.
Soften the wall with a brush, but only as much at a
time as you can easily work, as the water might dilute
the white and spoil the whole : Then smooth and rub
it with the pumice stones and with the small pieces of
wood. Wash it with a brush as you smooth it, and rub
it over with a piece of new linen, which gives a fine
lustre to the work.
purthopc r^^le motddings and carved work are cleaned with an
i tion. ir°n 5 and the only thing to be attended to in the opera¬
tion is not to raise the grain of the wood.
The subject thus prepared is ready to receive the co¬
lour you intend to give it. Choose your tint; suppose
lS a siver colour.
fth ope- Grind white ceruse and Bougival white separately
bon. in water, of each an equal quantity, and mix them to¬
gether.—Add a little blue of indigo and a very small
quantity of black of charcoal from the vine tree very
fine, grinded also separately, and in water; more or
less of the one or other gives the tint you require.—
Dilute this tint in strong parchment size 3 pass it
TING. 687
through a bolting cloth of silk very fine, and lay the Application
tint on your work, taking care to spread it very of Colours,
equally 3 and then give it two layers, and the colour is “v—^
applied.
Make a weak, beautiful, and clean size 3 stir it till Sixth ope-
it cools 3 strain it through a fine cloth, and give tworation-
layers to the work with a soft painting brush, which
has been used, but which you have been careful to
clean. Take care not to choke up the mouldings nor
to lay on the size thicker on one place than another,
and spread it over the work very slightly, otherwise you
will dilute the colours, and occasion undulations in the
painting.
The beauty of the work depends on this last sizing 3
for if any part is omitted, the varnish will penetrate
into the colours and give it a darker shade. Q
When the sizing is dry, lay on two or three layers Seventh
of spirit of wine varnish, taking care that the place on operation,
which you lay it be warm, and the work is finished.
§ 8. Of the King's White.
This derives its name from the use of it in the apart¬
ments of the French king. It is in all respects conduct¬
ed like the former, except that there is only a small
quantity of indigo, to take the yellow from the white,
without any black of charcoal, and without varnish.
This white answers extremely well for apartments
which are seldom used 3 but otherwise it spoils easily,
especially in bedchambers. It is the best white where
there is any kind of gilding 3 and in this case it receives
a little varnish.
Sect. III. Of Painting in Oil Colours.
To paint in oil is to apply to all sorts’of subjects,
as walls, wood, cloths, and metals, coloured earths
grinded and diluted in oil. The ancients are thought
to have been ignorant of this art, and the honour of
the discovery is generally ascribed to John Van Eyck
a Flemish painter. The secret is nothing more than
substituting oil in place of water in grinding and dilut¬
ing colours.
By means of oil the colours are longer preserved 3
and not drying so speedily, they give painters longer
time to smooth, finish, and retouch their works ; the
colours being more marked, and mixing better together,
give more distinguishable tints, and more vivid and a-
greeable gradations, and the colouring is more sweet
and delicate.
The painting in oil consists of two kinds, namely, of
that in simple oil and of that in polished oil varnish..
§ 1. Observations on Painting in Oil.
1. When bright colours, as white or gray, are grind¬
ed and diluted in oil, it is necessary to make use of the
oil of walnuts 3 but if the colours be dark, such as
chesnut, or olive, or brown, you must make use of pure
linseed oil..
2. When the colours are grinded and diluted in oil,
they must be laid on cold, except on a new or moist
plaster, which requires them to be boiling.
3. Every colour diluted in pure oil, or in oil mixed
with essence, ought to fall in threads from the end of
the brush.
4. Take care to stir from time to time your colour
before.
633
Pwiiitiug in
Oil O'olours
PAIN
bcfoie taking it up 6n the brush, that it may preserve
an equal thickness, and consequently the same tone.
Notwithstanding the precaution ot stirring, if it is round
to be thicker towards the bottom, it will be necessary
to pour in from time to time a little oil..
p. In general, every subject which is painted in oil
ought first to receive one or two layers ol white ceruse,
grinded and diluted in oil.
6. When the painting is exposed to the air, as in
doors, windows, and other works, which cannot be
varnished, it is necessary to make these layers with pure
oil of walnuts, mixed up with about one ounce ol es¬
sence to a pound of colours*, more would make the
colours brown, and occasion them to fall off in dust *,
but this quantity prevents the sun from blistering the
work. . ,
*7, In subjects on the inside of the bouse, oi when
the painting is varnished, the first layer ought to be
grinded anil diluted in oil, and the last diluted with
pure essence.
8. If copper or iron, or other hard substances, are
to be painted, it is necessary to mix a little essence with
the first layers, to make the oil penetrate into them.
9. When there are many knots in the subject, as is
particularly the case with fir wood, and when the colour
does not easily take impression on these parts, it is ne¬
cessary, when you paint with simple oil, to lay on a
little oil mixed with litharge on the knots. If you
paint with polished oil varnish, it is necessary to apply
a hard tint, which we shall have occasion to speak of
afterwards. A single layer well applied is generally
sufficient to give a body to the wood, and make the
-other layers apply easily.
10. There are colours, such as what the French call
stils-de-grain, black of charcoal, and especially bone and
ivory blacks, which are difficult to dry when grinded
in oil. To remedy this inconveniency, the following
siccatives are mixed with the colours, to make them
dry, viz., litharge both of the silver and gold colour, vi¬
triol or copperas, and what is called siccative oil.
TING. Part lit fr1
whole time. It must be carefully skimmed and elari- Painting in
fied, and the older it grows it is better. Oil Colours,,
§ 3. Observations on the Quantises of Substances and
Liquids.
1. Ochres and earths require more liquids both in
grinding and iliiuting than ceruse.
2. Different quantities of liquids are required in the
grinding only on account of greater or less dryness j
but in diluting, the quantity is always the same.
3. For the first layer after the priming, which has
no relation to the colours laid on afterwards, to a square
fathom give fourteen ounces of ceruse, about two ounces
of liquid to grind, and four ounces to dilute it. If
there is a second layer of the same materials, the quan¬
tities will require to be less.
4. Lt will require three pounds of colour for three
layers of a square fathom. The first may consume
eighteen ounces, the second sixteen, and the third tour-
teen.
3. To compose these three pounds of colour, take
two or two and a halt pounds ot grinded colours, and
dilute them in a pint or three half pints of oil, mixed
with essence or pure oil. But if the first layer of ceruse
is not used, there will be a necessity for a greater quan¬
tity of colours.
N. B. In the following kinds and applications of oil
painting, we are to hold those proportions in our eye.
§ 2. Observations on the Siccatives.
1. Do not mix the siccatives with the colours till they
are to he employed, otherwise it will thicken them.
2. Mix it only in very small quantities in tin, where¬
in there is white lead or ceruse, because those colours
are siccative of themselves, especially when they are di¬
luted in essence.
3. In painting which is to be varnished, give the sic¬
cative only to the first layer, and allow the other layers,
in which there is essence, to dry of themselves.
4. In dark colours in oil, give to every pound of co¬
lours in diluting them half an ounce of litharge ; to
bright colours, a drachm of white copperas grinded in
walnut oil.
3. When in place of litharge or copperas the sicca¬
tive oil is employed, it requires a quartern of this oil to
«very pound of colour.
The siccative oil is prepared of one half ounce of li¬
tharge, as much of calcined ceruse, as much of ter re
d'ornbre, a colour with which the French paint shadows,
and as much of talc boiled for two hours on a slow and
equal fire, with one pound of linseed oil, and stirred the
§ 4. Painting in Simple Oil.
31
On doors and windows give a layer of ceruse grinded Of doon,
in oil of walnuts diluted in the same oil, together with
a little siccative *, then give another layer of the same^ow s];iut-
preparation ; to which, if you want a grayish colour, ^eis<
add a little black of charcoal and Prussian blue, grind¬
ed also in oil of walnuts. If to these you incline to
add a third layer, grind and dilute it in pure walnut
oil ; observing that the two last layers be less clear,
or have less oil in them, than the first j the coloui in
this case is more beautiful and less apt to blister with
the sun. i -
Walls that are to be painted must be very dry 5 and Of walls,
this being supposed, give two or three layers of boiling
linseed oil to harden the plaster j then lay on two layers
of ceruse or ochre, grinded and diluted in linseed oil j
and when these are dry, paint the wall. 33
To paint tiles of a slate colour, grind separately ce-of tiles,
ruse and German black in linseed oil ; mix them toge¬
ther in the proportion which J.he colour requires, and
dilute them in linseed oil: then give the first layer very
clean to prime the tiles $ and make the three next lay¬
ers thicker, to give solidity to the work. 34
To paint arbours and all kinds of garden work, give0f arbours,
a layer of white ceruse grinded in oil of walnuts, and See.
diluted in the same oil, with the addition of a little
litharge, then give two layers of green, composed of
one pound of verdigris and two pounds of white lead,
grinded and diluted in oil of walnuts. N. B. This
green is of great service in the country for doors, win¬
dow shutters, arbours, garden seats, rails, either of
■wood or iron} and in short for all works exposed to the
injuries of the weather. 35
To whiten statues, vases, and all ornaments of stone, 0f statues
either within er without doors j first clean the subject and vase*
well,
! ;S
[alcolo
ticks.
0
tacol
Stilt
art III,
alnting ia well, then give one or ttfo layers of white ceruse,
Colours- grinded and diluted in pure oil of pinks, and finish
”’"'v with giving one or many layers of white lead prepared
35 in the same manner.
intiag ^ If you wish to paint on walls not exposed to the
ile of the ^r’ °-r °n neW- l**aster’ S‘ve one or two layers of hoil-
use.* C *nS 1insee(i °il» an(l continue the brush till the walls
are fully soaked ; then give a layer of white ceruse,
grinded in oil of walnuts, and diluted with three-
fourths of the same oil and one fourth essence j and
lastly, give two layers more of white ceruse, grinded in
oil of walnuts, and diluted in oil mixed with essence, if
it is not to be varnished ; but in pure essence if it is.
It is in this manner that walls are painted white. If
you adopt another colour, it is necessary to grind and
37 dilute it in the same quantities of oil and essence.
,a,J's> To paint chairs, benches, stone, or plaster, give a
•iVtid la7er of. w,lite ceruse grinded in oil of walnuts and
sier. diluted in the same oil, into which you have cast a little
litharge to make it dry; then apply a layer of the
tint you fix on, grinded in oil and diluted in one part
oil and three parts essence ; and afterwards give two
more layers of the same tint grinded in oil and diluted
in pure essence : This may be varnished with two lay-
3S crs of spirit of wine.
: *1 colour To make a steel colour, grind separately in essence,
I jocks, white ceruse, Prussian blue, fine lac, and verdigris.
The tone which you require is procured by the proper
mixture of those ingredients. When you have fixed on
the tone of colour, take about the size of a walnut of
the ingredients, and dilute them in a small vessel in one
part of essence and three parts of white oily varnish.
N. JS. This colour is generally made of white ceruse,
of black charcoal, and Prussian blue, grinded in thick
oil, and diluted in essence, which is the cheapest me¬
thod of procuring it; but the former is the most beau-
39 tHy-
kus- for painting ballustrades and railings, dilute lamp
roes and black with varnish of vermilion ; giving two layers of
r| 40* an(^ leewards two layers of spirit of wine varnish,
l inscot- Since the discovery of oil painting, and the know-
t of a- ledge that wood is preserved by it, and especially since
pmients. the discovery of a varnish without smell, and which
^ven takes away that of oil, the painting of apartments
in oil has been with justice preferred.
In fact the oil stops up the pores of the wood ; and
although it does not altogether resist the impression of
moisture, yet the effect is so little perceptible, that it is
to be recommended as the best method of preserving
Wood.
To preserve wainscotting in the most effectual man-
ner from moisture, it is necessary to paint the wall be¬
hind it with two or three layers of common red, grind¬
ed and diluted in linseed oil.
To paint the wainscotting itself, give a layer of white
ceruse grinded in oil of walnuts, and diluted in the
same oil mixed with essence. This layer being dry,
give two more of the colour you have adopted, grinded
in oil and diluted in pure essence. If you wish the
mouldings and sculpture to be painted in a different
colour, grind and dilute it in the same manner.
Two or three days after, when the colours are fully
dry, give two or three layers of your white varnish
without smell, and which also prevents the offensive
■smell of the oil colours. N. B. Those who begin their
Vol. XV. Part II. ‘ t
689
operations in water colours, if they find it more agree-pajnting fa
able, may finish it in oil colours as above. Oil Colour*.
When the pores of the wood are well stopped by th&lT—
prepared white, a layer of white ceruse grinded in oil of
walnuts, and diluted in the same oil, mixed with essence,,
may be applied. This will be sufficient, the wood be¬
ing previously primed ; and afterwards lay on your in¬
tended colour and varnish.
§ 5. Painting in Oil with the Polished Varnish.
This is the best kind of oil painting, owing more to
the care it requires than to the proceedings, for they are
nearly the same with those of simple oil painting; the
dilference consisting only in the preparation and manner
of finishing.
To paint wainscottings of apartments with the polish- \yafalcot.
ed varnish, it is necessary, in the first place, that the tings,
pannels he new. Then,
1. Make the surface of the subject which you mean
to paint very smooth and level, which is done by a lay¬
er, which serves to receive the hard tint or polished
ground and the colours.
This layer ought to be of white, whatever colour
you are afterwards to apply. It consists of white ceruse,
grinded very fine in linseed oil, with a little litharge,
and diluted in the same oil mixed with essence.
2. Make the polished ground by seven or eight lay-
-ers of the hard tint. In painting equipages, a dozen is
necessary.
The hard tint is made, by grinding pure white ce¬
ruse, which has not been much calcined, very finely
in thick oil, and diluting it with essence. You must
take care that the layers of the hard tint be not only
equal as to the application, hut to the quantity of the
white ceruse and the oil, and to the degree of calcina
tion. Then,
3. Soften this ground with pumice stone.
4. Polish it moderately with a piece of serge soaked
in a pail of water, in which you have put some powder
of pumice stone finely grinded and passed through a fine
sieve. There is no occasion to spare washing, as this
part of the operation will not spoil with water.
5. Choose the tint with which you intend to deco^
rate your apartment ; grind it in oil, and dilute it in
essence; pass it through a piece of very fine silk, give
two or three layers carefully and thinly spread over the
surface, as on this part of the operation depends in a
great measure the beauty of the colour. AH sorts of
colours may be employed in this manner in oil of es¬
sence.
6. Give two or three layers of a spirit of wine var¬
nish, if it is to wainscotting ; if to the body of a coach,
a varnish of oil is employed. If the varnish is to be
polished, it is necessary to give seven or eight layers at
least, laid on equally and with great precaution, not to
be thicker in one place than another, which occasions
spots. >
7. It is again polished with pumice stone reduced to
powder, and water and a piece of serge. If the wain¬
scotting has been painted before, it is necessary to rub
off the colour till you come to the hard tint, which is
done with pumice stone and water, or with a piece of
linen dipped in essence. 44
There is a white painting in oil, called white varnish White var-
polish, which corresponds to the king’s white in Water Polls^
4 S colours,111 01 ’
PAINTING.
6go
PAIN
G.
Part III.
Painting in colours, and is equal to tlie freshness and gloss of
Oil Colours, marble if it is applied to wood, lo paint in this man-
1. Give a layer of white ceruse grinded in oil ot
walnuts, with a little calcined copperas, and diluted in
essence. But if it is applied to stone, it is neces¬
sary to employ oil of walnuts and calcined copperas
alone. # 1 .
2. Grind white ceruse very fine in,essence, and dilute
it in fine white oil varnish with copal.
3. Give seven or eight layers ot it to the subject.—
The varnish mixed with the white ceruse dries so prompt¬
ly, that three layers ot it may be given in a day.
4. Soften and polish a ! the layers as above.
3. Give two or three layers ot white lead grinded in
oil of walnuts, and diluted in pure essence.
6. Give seven or eight layers ol white spirit of wine
varnish, and then polish them.
§ 6. Of Painting in Varnish.
To paint in varnish, is to employ colours grinded and
diluted in varnish, either in spirits of wine or oil, on all
sorts of subjects. Wainscotting, furniture, and equi¬
pages, are painted in this manner, though we shall con¬
fine ourselves to the first.
1. Give two layers of white of Bougival, diluted in
a strong size boiling pot.
2. Give a layer of what the French call de hlanc
apprit.
3. Fill up the defects of the wood with mastich in
water j and when the layers are dry, smooth them with
the pumice stone.
4. When the wood is smooth, suppose the paint a
gray colour, take one pound of white ceruse, one dram
of Prussian blue, or of black of charcoal or ivory black j
put the white into a piece of leather, so tied that the
colours cannot escape j shake them till they are suffi¬
ciently mixed.
Put two ounces of colours into a quartern of
mix them carefully ; give one layer above the
varnish
white.
6. This layer being dry, put one ounce of colours
into the same quantity of varnish as above, and give a
second layer.
7. To the third layer give half an ounce of colour to
the same quantity of varnish.
8. As each of these layers dry, be careful to rub
them with a piece of new coarse cloth, in such a man¬
ner, however, as not to injure the colour. A/i B. The
three layers may be given in one day.
9. If you want to give a perfect lustre, add a fourth
layer prepared as the third.
All other colours, as blue, &c. may be applied in the
same manner. This method is the only one by which
orpiment can be employed in all its beauty, but not with¬
out some of its inconveniences.
Another manner of performing this kind of work,
is to apply the colours and the varnish without previ¬
ously using the size and the white ground. This is ex¬
tremely expeditious, but it is easy to perceive it will
want the polish and brilliancy of the other.
Sect. IV.
Wx cannot perhaps more properly conclude this ar-
T I N
tide, than with an account of M. de Morveau’s at- Painting iu
tempts to render more perfect the proportion of colours, Oil Colours,
and especially of white, employed in painting.' These * * 1
we shall extract from a memoir ot his read in the acade¬
my of Dijon.
“ White (says the ingenious academician) is the most
important of all colours in painting. It affords to the
painter the materials of light, which he distributes in
such a manner as to bring his objects together, to give
them relief, and that magic which is the glory of his art.
For these reasons 1 shall confine my attention at present
to this colour. 43
“ The first white which was discovered, and indeed ^xamii>a-
the only one yet known, is extracted from the calx of
lead. The danger of the process, and the dreadful dis- vvhites,
temper with which those employed in it are often seized,
have not yet led to the discovery of any other white.
Less anxious, indeed, about the danger of the artist than
the perfection of the art, they have varied the prepara-?
tion, to render the colour less liable to change. Hence
the different kinds of white, viz. white of Crems in Au¬
stria, white lead in shells, and white ceruse. But every
person conversant in colours, knows that the foundation
of all these is the calx of lead, more or less pure, or more
or less loaded with gas. That they all participate of this
metallic substance, will indeed appear evident from the
followingexperiment, which determines and demonstrates
the alterability of colours by the phlogistic vapour.
“ I poured into a large glass bottle a quantity of li¬
ver of sulphur on a basis of alkali, fixed or volatile, it
makes no difference } I added some drops of distilled
vinegar, and I covered the mouth of the bottle with a
piece of pasteboard cut to its size, on which I disposed
different samples of crems, of white lead, and of ceruse,
either in oil or in water ; I placed another ring of paste¬
board, over the first, and tied above all a pieceof bladder
round the neck of the bottle with a strong pack-thread.
It is evident, that in this operation I took advantage of
the means which chemistry offers to produce a great
quantity of phlogistic vapour, to accomplish instantane¬
ously the effect of many years 3 and, in a word, to apply
to the colours the very same vapours to which the picture
is necessarily exposed, only more accumulated and moie
concentrated. I say the same vapour, for it is now fully
established, that the smoke of candles, animal exhalations
of all kinds, alkalescent odours, the electric effluvia, and
even light, furnish continually a quantity more or less
of matter, not only analogous, but identically the same
with the vapour of vitriolic acid mixed with sulphur.
“ If it happens that the samples of colours arc sensibly
altered by the phlogistic vapour, then we may conclude
with certainty, that the materials of which the colours
are composed, bear a great affinity to that vapour j and
since it is not possible to preserve them entirely from it
in any situation, that they will be more or less affected
with it, according to the time and a variety of circum¬
stances.
“ After some minutes continuance in this vapour, I
examined the samples of colours submitted to its influ¬
ence, and found them wholly altered. The ceruse and
the white lead both in water and oil were changed into
black j and the white of crems into a brownish black $
and hence those colours are bad, and ought to be aban¬
doned. They may indeed be defended in some measure
by varnish ; but this only retards for a time the contact
fjlWli
*nr
of
fart III.
PAINTING.
691
aintingm0f the phlogistic vapour j for as the Varnish loses its
i'tl Colours humidity, it opens an infinite number of passages to this
u. ■ y—subtile fluid.
“ After having ascertained the instability of the whites
in common use, I made several attempts to discover such
as would prove more lasting j and though many of these
attempts were without effect, I shall give a succinct ac¬
count of the whole, which may save a great deal of trou¬
ble to those who wish to travel over the same field.
“ There are three conditions essential to a good co¬
lour in painting.
“ First, That it dilute easily, and take a body both
with oils and with mucilages, or at least with the one
or other of these substances, a circumstance which de¬
pends on a certain degree of affinity. Where this
affinity is too strong, a dissolution ensues; the colour is
extinguished in the new composition, and the mass be¬
comes more or less transparent; or else the sudden re¬
action absorbs the fluid, and leaves only a dry substance,
which can never again be softened. But if the affinity
is too weak, the particles of colour are scarcely suspend¬
ed in the fluid, and they appear on the canvass like sand,
which nothing can fix or unite.
“ The second condition is, That the materials of which
colours are composed do not bear too near an affinity
with the phlogistic vapour. The experiments to which
I submitted whites from lead, is an infallible means of
ascertaining the quality of colours in this respect, with¬
out waiting for the slow impression of time.
“ A third condition equally essential is, That the co¬
louring body be not volatile, that it be not connected
with a substance of a weak texture, susceptible of a
spontaneous degeneracy. This consideration excludes
the greater part of substances which have received their
tint from vegetable organization ; at least it makes it
impossible to incorporate their finer parts with a com¬
bination more solid.
“ After these reflections, my researches were directed,
first, to the five pure earths ; next, to the earthy com¬
pounds ; in the third place, to the earthy salts, which
can scarcely be dissolved; lastly, to the metallic earths,
either pure or precipitated by Prussian alkali. M. Wen¬
zel has discovered a sixth earth, which I call eburne,
and which, after other experiments, I thought of apply¬
ing to the purposes of painting; but I soon perceived
that it would have the same fault with other kinds of
earth, and, besides, that it could not be obtained but at
a very considerable expence.
“ The five pure earths possess fixity in a very great
degree, and at the same time are little affected by the
phlogistic vapour ; but they refuse to unite with oil or
mucilages, and the white is totally extinguished when
they are grinded with these liquids. I made several at¬
tempts on earth from alum, not only because M. Beaume
recommended the use of it in painting, and because it
.enters into the composition of Prussian blue, but also be¬
cause it is a chief ingredient in ochres, and other earths
of that nature, which supposes that it should unite in a
certain degree with diluting liquors ; notwithstanding,
in whatever manner I treated it, it would not yield a
white ; but one will be less surprised at this want of
success, when he considers, that in the ochres and Prus¬
sian blue, the earth from alum is only the vehicle of the
colouring body, whereas here it is the colour itself.
“ To be convinced of the truth of this observation, it
is only necessary to mix equal parts of this earth, or even Painting in
of clay not coloured, with ceruse or any other white : Oil Colours,
the mixture will be susceptible of being grinded in oil —
or in gum without being extinguished; it will easily
unite with any coloured substance, and be productive of
no bad consequences to the pure earths.
“ Nature and art present to us a considerable number
of earthy compositions sufficiently white for the pur¬
poses of painting; such as the jasper white, the feld¬
spar white, the schirl white, &c. But all these sub¬
stances, in all the trials which I made, had the fault
which I have already mentioned ; and originating from
the same cause, they wanted a fixed colouring body,
which would not change when it is pulverized, nor be
extinguished when it is diluted.
“ The ultramarine blue, which is extracted from the
blue jasper, and known by the name of lapis lazuli,
seems at first view to warrant the possibility of appro¬
priating to painting all the opaque half vitrified compo¬
sitions of the nature of jasper.
“ Prepossessed with this idea, I conceived the hope
of producing a true white lapis ; but I soon perceived
that the experiment confirmed the principle which I
had laid down from my observations on pure earths ;
since it is not the substance peculiar to the jasper which
constitutes the ultramarine blue, but the metallic sub¬
stance which accidentally colours this particular kind 0#
jasper.
“ In the same manner, art in this imitation of nature
should have for its object to give a permanent base to a
colour already formed, to fix it without altering, and to
augment perhaps its splendour and its intensity, without
attempting to produce a colour.
“ In excepting from earthy and metallic salts all
those of which the acid is not completely saturated,
which would easily attract the humidity of the air, or
which would be easily dissolved, you have but a very
small number to make experiments on.
“ The natural and artificial selenite gives with oil a
paste without colour, and tasting somewhat like honey;
its white is better preserved with a gum, but even in
this case it resembles a half transparent pap.
“ The natural or regenerated heavy spar is the most
likely salt to produce white. As it is of all others the
most difficult to dissolve, it appears after pulverization
to be a very fine white, but is scarcely touched with oil
when it becomes gray and half transparent: the muci¬
lage alters it also, although less discernibly; and it does
not even resume its white colour after it becomes dry on
the canvas.
“ The same is the case with calcareous borax, formed
by the solution of borax in lime water; its white is com¬
pletely extinguished with oil, less so with gum ; but it
hardens so instantaneously with the latter, that it is im¬
possible ever to dilute it again.
“ Calcareous tartar, obtained by casting quicklime
into a boiling solution of cream of tartar, is affected
with oil in the same manner as selenite, but with muci¬
laginous water it gives a pretty good white, only pos¬
sessed of little reflection, and appearing like plaster; it
applied very well to the canvas, and resisted the phlo¬
gistic vapour.
“ According to M. Weber, in his work entitled Fa-
briken und Kunste, published 1781, the white, called in
Germany kremhser wiess, is nothing but the vitriol
4S2 of -
692 PAIN
Painting in of lead, prepared by dissolving lead in nitrous acid, and
Oil Colours, precipitating it in vitriolic acid ; and forming it after-
' v ' wards into solid tablets by means, of gum water. It is
certain that this resembles in no shape the white called
in France the white of crems •, at least I never found
that it could be dissolved in vinegar ; but I tried the
white prepared in M. Weber’s manner, and the result
was the same as above, that is to say, it turned com¬
pletely J)lack.
“ The vitriols of lead and of bismuth alter more spee¬
dily than the calces of those metals. And thus, with
the exception of calcareous tartar, which may be of some
use in water colours, the best earthy salts on which I
have made experiments, may all, or the most of them,
give a base of some colours, but cannot constitute by
themselves a colour useful in painting.
“ Of the fifteen known metallic substances, there are
nine which yield white calces : namely, silver, mercury,
lead, tin, antimony, bismuth, zinc, arsenic, and manga¬
nese.
“ Of these nine substances, we may almost pass over
silver and mercury j because, though they yield a very
fine white, precipitated by means of crystallized vege¬
table alkali, yet it is soon altered when exposed to the
air$ that from silver changing into black, and that from
mercury into yellow.
“ It is well known that lead gives a very good white,
and one which unites easily with oil or size } but that
it is extremely liable to change, has been my principal
object to prove, and the experiments which F have made
place it beyond contradiction.
“ I shall only add, that if there is a preparation able
to correct this fault, it should be the precipitation of the
earth of this metal in its acetous dissolution by Prussian
alkali 5 but the white which results from this preparation
becomes sensibly brownish when it is exposed a few mi¬
nutes only to the phlogistic vapour.
“It would be therefore unreasonable to persevere in
the use of this substance, or to wish to render it fixed,
since the changes which it undergoes do not alter its
nature, and the indestructible order of its affinities.—
The calx of tin is easily applied to any purpose, and ex¬
periences no change from the concentrated phlogistic
vapour. These considerations induced me to endeavour
to obtain this calx perfectly white } and here follows
the result of my operations : The tin calcined gives a
pretty white calx } but whatever attention I. paid to
take off the red surface which the violence of the fire
occasioned, a shade of gray always appears when it is
diluted. Tin calcined by nitre in fusion, gives a tar¬
nished and gross calx, which multiplied washings could
not deprive of a yellowish tint.
“ Having precipitated, by means of crystallized ve¬
getable alkali, a solution of English tin, which had been
made in the muriatic acid, after the manner of M. Bayen
to extract the arsenic, I had a calx of the greatest white¬
ness, so light that it buoyed up to the surface of the li¬
quor, and so thin that the greater part of it passed through
the filter ; but it experienced at the same sime a kind of
adherence with the salts, which makes the part of it re¬
tained by the filter incapable of being pulverized, gum¬
my, half transparent, and even a little changed into yel¬
low. In this condition it is extinguished when diluted }
it is necessary, therefore, to moisten it in boiling water,
1 I N G. Part III.
and afterwards to calcine slightly the sediment after it Painting in
has had sufficient time to settle. Oil Colours.
“ I have tried the calcination by means of moisture,
in employing the tin of the purest melac, and rectified
nitrous acid, according to the method of Meyer. It form¬
ed a very white sparkling calx, which remained in the
filter in the consistency ot jelly.—Meanwhile, I observ¬
ed that it was alw’ays a little yellow by the mixture of
a portion of that earth which took, in the operation, the
colour of turbith mineral.
“ A very fine white calx is extracted from antimony,
calcined by nitre in fusion } but the earth of this semi¬
metal must be placed in the number of those which
combine too easily with the phlogistic vapour. The
diaphoretic antimony, grinded in oil, took in ten mi¬
nutes in my phlogistic apparatus a colour somewhat like
sulphur.
“ The property of bismuth to give a very fine white
calx, known by the name of magistery, or white sard, is
generally known } it is easily prepared, since it is only
necessary to dissolve the bismuth in nitrous acid, and to
precipitate the solution by pure water: it dilutes per¬
fectly with oil and mucilages. But this colour ought to
be rejected, as the most alterable by the phlogistic va¬
pour. It became completely black in ten minutes in my
appax*atus; and this fact is also proved from what hap¬
pens to women who use this colour, when they are ex¬
posed to the vapours of sulphur, of garlic, or of any putrid
substances.
“ Zinc furnishes by all the processes of calcination and
precipitation a pretty white calx, when it is pure and se¬
parated from iron } otherwise the solutions of the vitriol
of zinc will become yellow when exposed to the air. I
have precipitated those solutionsby lime water, by caustic,
and effervescent alkalies} I have calcined this semi-metal
alone and with nitre} and in all those operations I have
obtained an earthy substance of different degrees of
whiteness, which, after it was dried and prepared, mix¬
ed readily with oil mucilages without losing its colour }
and which experienced no sensible change when exposed
to the phlogistic vapour.
“ These valuable properties, the chief object of my
researches, engaged me to multiply my experiments to
determine at once the most economical process, and the
most advantageous and infallible preparation.—Those at¬
tempts have convinced me, that the calcination of this
semi-metal alone in a crucible, placed horizontally on
the corners of a reveberating furnace, gives the purest,
the whitest, and the least reducible calx 5 and that to
make an excellent colour, it is sufficient to separate the
parts not burned with water, and grind it with a little
of the earth of alum or chalk to give it a body. Zinc
precipitated in Prussian alkali, even in distilled vinegar,
retains always a shade of yellow, does not unite so well
in oil, and takes a demi-transparent consistence like
cheese.
“ White arsenic extinguishes much less in diluting
than one would believe from its saline nature } it pre¬
serves its colour best in gum water } and it is remark¬
able, that instead of turning black in the phlogistic
vapour, it takes a very distinct shade of yellow. This
property is sufficiently singular and constant to fur¬
nish a new method of analysing arsenic, so as to know
it. And this alteration of colour makes it of no use
(Part III. PAIN
aiming in in painting, although its deleterious qualities did not
til Colour^ forbid the practice.
—v ' “ Th e semi-metal known by the name of manganese,
gives also a white calx. I had at first great hopes from
th is colour, as, contrary to all those extracted from the
other metals, it became white by the phlogistic vapour.
There remained, therefore, but one difficulty to over¬
come, viz., to separate from the manganese the portion
of iron which it usually contained, and which infallibly
makes the earth a little yellow. To accomplish this in
the cheapest manner, I submitted the black ore of the
manganese to a long calcination to render its iron inso¬
luble ; I afterwards applied vinegar to it, after the ex¬
ample of M. de la Peyrouse ; and in precipitating the
dissolution by effervescent alkali, I easily obtained a pure
white precipitate. But I soon perceived that the facility
with which a colouring body loses its phlogiston, is no
less an inconveniency than that of attracting it, and pro¬
ductive of the same alterations.
“ The white of manganese became very soon yellow
when exposed to the air ; and this is not to be ascribed
to the iron contained in it, since neither the galls nor
Prussian alkali lifed discovered any of it in the dissolution.
This substance, therefore, can be of no use in producing
a white colour for painting.”
The experiment by which M. de Morvcau tried the
colours not alterable by the phlogistic vapour, was per¬
formed before the academy, the prince of Conde being
president. “ I placed (says he) in my apparatus pieces
of cloth, on which wex-e laid the white of calcareous tar¬
tar in water, difi’erent preparations of white from tin and
zinc, in oil and water ; and fallowed them to continue
exposed to the phlogistic vapour during a sitting of the
academy: if they were not altered, their superiority over
the whites in use would be sufficiently established. The
sitting continued for near an hour j and the bottle hav¬
ing been opened, all the colours continued to have the
same shade which they had before. I can, therefore, re¬
commend to painters those three whites, and particular¬
ly that of zinc, the preparation of which is exposed to
less variation, the shade more lively and uniform, and
moreover it is fit for all purposes, and perhaps procured
at less expence.
“ I will assert farther, that it may be procured in suf¬
ficient quantities to supply the place of ceruse in every
branch of the art, even in interior house painting:—1
would recommend it, less with the view of adding new
splendour to this kind of ornament, than for the safety
of those who are employed in it, and perhaps for the
safety of those who inhabit houses ornamented in this
manner.
“ But, without being too sanguine, although the
processes in the fabrication be simplified in proportion to
the demand, as is usually the case, yet there is reason to
apprehend that the low price of ceruse will always give
it the preference in house-painting. With regard to
those who apply colours to nobler purposes, they will
not hesitate to employ the white of zinc. I am assured
that four franks is paid for the pound of the white of
crems; and I believe the white in question, prepared
in the manner which I have pointed out, might be sold
for six.
“ M. Courtors, connected writh the laboratory of the
academy, has already declared that it is used for house-
painting : less, however, in regard to its unalterability,.
TING.
693
than to its solubility: and this can Tie the more readily Painting in
believed, as the flower of zinc enters into many compo-CM Colours.-
sitions of the apothecary. The same M. Courtors has
arrived at the art of giving more body to this white,
which the painters seemed to desire, and also of making
it bear a comparison with white lead either in water or
oil. The only fault found with it, is its drying slowly
when used in oil ; but some experiments which I have
made, incline me to believe that this fault may be easily
remedied, or at least greatly corrected, by giving it more
body. At any rate, it may be rendered siccative at
pleasure, by adding a little vitriol of zinc or copperas
slightly calcined.
“ Painters already know the properties of this salt,
but perhaps they do not know that it mixes with the
white of zinc better than with any other colour j the
reason is, they have chemically the same base. It is
prepared by purging the white copperas of that small
portion of iron which would render it yellow; and this
is easily done in digesting its solution, even when cold,
on the filings of zinc.
“ The mixture of this salt thus prepared is made on
the pallet, without producing any alteration, and a small
quantity will produce a great effect.”
APPENDIX.
We shall here add an account of some processes
which have been recommended, on account of their
cheapness, for preparing different materials for economi¬
cal painting. The first is a method of house painting
with milk, by Cadet de Vaux *. The following are the * Nich.
directions for preparing this paint. Jour. v.
“ Take of skimmed milk a pint, which makes two34s-4to*
pints of Paris, or nearly two quarts English j fresh sla¬
ked lime, six ounces, (about six and a half ounces avoir¬
dupois ; oil of caraways, or linseed, or nut, four ounces j
Spanish white (whiting) three pounds : put the lime
into a stone-ware vessel, and pour upon it a sufficient
quantity of milk to make a mixture resembling thin
cream j then add the oil a little at a time, stirring it
with a small spatula j the remainder of the milk is then
to be added, and lastly, the Spanish white. Skimmed
milk in summer is often clotted, hut this is a circum¬
stance of no consequence to our object, because the con¬
tact with the lime soon restores its fluidity. But it must
on no account be sour, because in that case it would
form with the lime a kind of calcareous aeetite, capable
of attracting moisture.
“ The lime is slaked by dipping it in water, out of
which it is to be immediately taken, and left to fall in
pieces in the aii.
“ The choice of either of these oils is indifferent j
nevertheless for white paint the oil of caraways is to be
preferred, because colourless. The commonest oils may
be used for painting with the ochres.
“ The oil when mixed in with the milk and lime dis¬
appears, and is totally dissolved by the lime, with which
it forms a calcareous soap.
“ The Spanish white is to be crumbled, or gently
spread on the surface of the fluid, which it gradually
imbibes, and at last sinks ; at this period it must be well
stirred in. This paint may be coloured like distemper
(or size colour) with levigated charcoal, yellow ochre,
&c.
6g4
PAIN
Painting in
Oil Colours
“ And it is used in the same manner :
“ The quantity here prescribed is sufficient for the
1 ”' v  '.first coat of six toises, or 27 square yards English.
“ The price of this quantity amounts to nine sols,
which reduces the price ot the square toise to one sol,
six deniers, prime cost.”
And to give this paint a greater degree of solidity,
that it may be employed as a substitute for oil paint, the
^Author adds to the proportions of the paint for out-door
works, of slaked lime, oil, white Burgundy pitch, each
two ounces. The pitch is to be melted with a gentle
heat in the oil, and then added to the smooth mixture
of the milk and lime. In cold weather this mixture is
to be warmed, that it may not occasion too speedy cool¬
ing of the pitch, and to facilitate its union with the
milk of lime. This paint, it is said, has some analogy
with that known by the name of encaustic. It has been
employed, the author informs us, for outside shutters,
formerly painted with oil, and is preferable to painting
with lead, objects that are exposed to putrid exhalations,
which are apt to blacken paint composed of metallic
matters, especially of lead.
A method has been proposed by Mr Vanherman, for
making cheap and durable paints with fish oil. The
paints thus prepared, beside their cheapness, are not sub¬
ject to blister or peel off by exposure to the weather.
They may be manufactured of any colour, and laid on
by ordinary labourers. The price of some of them is
so low as twopence, and the highest does not exceed
threepence per pound, in a state fit for use. The author
adds, that white lead ground with prepared fish oil, and
thinned with linseed oil, surpasses any white hitherto em¬
ployed for resisting all weathers, and retaining its white-
f Transact ness. The following is an account of his processes t.
of the Sa¬
tiety for a j'o refine one Ton of Cod, Whale, or Seal Oil, for
voif xxiU* painting, with the cost attending it.
One ton of fish oil, or 252 gallons, 0
32 gallons of vinegar, at 2s. per gallon, 3 4
12 lbs. litharge, at jd. per lb. o 5
12 lbs. white copperas, at 6d. ditto, O 6
12 gallons of linseed oil, at 4s. 6d. per gallon, 2 14
2 gallons of spirits of turpentine, at 8s. ditto, o 16
L.43 5 o
252 gallons of fish oil,
12 ditto linseed oil,
2 ditto spirits of turpentine,
32 ditto vinegar.
298 gallons, worth 4s. 6d. per gallon.
Which produces E.67 I O
Deduct the expence 43 3 0
L.23 16 o profit.
“ To prepare the Vinegar for the Oil.
TING. Appendix,
into a ton of whale, cod, or seal oil} (but the Southern Painting in
whale oil is to be preferred, on account of its good co- P1* Colour
lour, and little or no smell) } shake and mix altoge- ' ~
ther, when it may settle until the next day j then pour
off the clear, which will be about seven eighths of the
whole. To this clear part add twelve gallons of linseed
oil, and two gallons of spirit of turpentine shake them
well together, and after the whole has settled two or
three days, it will be fit to grind white lead, and all fine
colours in •, and, when ground, cannot be distinguished
from those ground in linseed oil, unless by the superiori¬
ty of its colour.
“ If the oil is wanted only for coarse purposes, the
linseed oil and oil of turpentine mav be added at the
same time that the prepared vinegar is put in, and after
being well shaken up, is fit for immediate use without
being suffered to settle.
“ The vinegar is to dissolve the litharge ; and the
copperas accelerates the dissolution, and strengthens the
drying quality.
“ The residue, or bottom, when settled, by the addi¬
tion of half its quantity of fresh lime-water, forms an
excellent oil for mixing with all the coarse paints lor
preserving outside work.
“ Note. All colours ground in the above oil, and used
for inside work, must be thinned with linseed oil and oil
of turpentine.
“ * The oil mixed with lime-water, I call incorpo¬
rated oil.
“ The method of preparing, and the expence of the va-
rvms Impenetrable Paints.
“ First,—Subdued Green.
Fresh lime water, 6 gallons,
Road dirt finely sifted, 112 pounds,
Whiting, 112 ditto, _ _ -
Blue-black, 30 ditto,
Wet blue, 20 ditto,
Residue of the oil, 3 gallons,
Yellow ochre in powder, 24 pounds,
L.o o
o 1
O 2
O 2
o 10
o 6
O 2
3
o
4
6
o
o
o
L.i 4 1
“ This composition will weigh 368 pounds, which is
scarcely one penny per pound. To render the above
paint fit for use, to every eight pounds add one quart oi
the incorporated oil, and one quart of linseed oil, and it
will be found a paint with every requisite quality, both
of beauty, durability, and cheapness, and in this state
of preparation does not exceed twopence halfpenny per
pound j whereas the coal tar of the same colour is
sixpence.”
To this we shall only add the following receipt for a
constant white for inside painting. This paint, the au¬
thor observes, is not entirely free from smell in the ope¬
ration, but becomes dry in four hours, at the end ol
which time the smell is entirely dissipated.
“ Into a cask which will contain about forty gallons,
put 32 gallons of good common vinegar} add to this
12 pounds of litharge, and 12 pounds of white copperas
in powder } bung up the vessel, and shake and roll it
well twice a-day for a week } when it will be fit to put
I
“ White Paint.
“ To one gallon of spirits of turpentine, add twe»
pounds of frankincense} let it simmer over a clear fire
until dissolved } strain it and bottle it for use. To one
gallon
\ppendix. PAIN
'Hinting in gallon of my bleached linseed oil, add one quart of the
i ji Colours, above, shake them well together and bottle it also. Let
any quantity of white lead be ground with spirits of tur¬
pentine very fine $ then add a sufficient portion of the
TING. 6gS
last mixture to it, until you find it fit for laying oni If Painting in
in working it grows thick, it must be thinned with spi-Oil Colours,
rits of turpentine.—It is a flat or dead white.” u—j
P A I
Pair, PAIR ; two of a sort, a couple.
Pairing. PAIRING, the uniting or joining in couples.
“ * The instinct of pairing is bestowed on every species
of animals to which it is necessary for rearing their
young j and on no other species. All wild birds pair j
but with a remarkable difference between such as place
their nests on trees and such as place them on the
ground. The young of the former, being hatched
blind, and without feathers,, require the nursing care of
both parents till they be able to fly. The male feeds
his mate on the nest, and cheers her with a song. As
soon as the young are hatched, singing yields to a more
necessary occupation, that of providing foed for a nu¬
merous issue 5 a task that requires both parents.
Eagles and other birds of prey build on trees, or on
other inaccessible spots. They not only pair, but con¬
tinue in pairs all the year round ; and the same pair
procreates year after year. This at least is the case of
eagles : the male and female hunt together, unless du¬
ring incubation, at which time the female is fed by the
male. A greater number than a single pair are never
seen in company.
ames's Gregarious birds pair, in order probably to prevent
| retches,^ jJscor(i in a society confined to a narrow space. This is
the case particularly of pigeons and rooks. The male
and female sit on the eggs alternately, and divide the
care of feeding their young.
Partridges, plovers, pheasants, sea fowl, grouse, and
other kinds that place their nests on the ground, have
the instinct of pairing; but differ from such as build on
trees in the following particular, that after the female is
impregnated, she completes her task without needing any
help from the male. Retiring from him, she chooses a
safe spot for her nest, where she can find plenty of worms
and grass seed at hand j and her young, as soon as hatch¬
ed, take foot, and seek food for themselves. The only
remaining duty incumbent on the dam is, to lead them
to proper places for food, and to call them together
when danger impends. Some males, provoked at the
desertion of their mates, break the eggs if they stumble
on them. Eider ducks pair like other birds that place
their nests on the ground ; and the female finishes her
nest with down plucked from her own breast. If the
nest be destroyed for the down, which is remarkably
warm and elastic, she makes another nest as before. If
she is robbed a second time, she makes a third nest j but
the male furnishes the down. A lady of spirit obser¬
ved, that the eider duck may give lesson to many a
married woman, who is more disposed to pluck her hus¬
band than herself. The black game never pair: in
spring, the cock on an eminence crows, and claps his
wings ; and all the females within hearing instantly re¬
sort to him.
Pairing birds, excepting those of prey, flock to¬
gether in February, in order to choose their mates.
P A I
They soon disperse j and are not seen afterward hut in Pairing,
pairs. Paisley.
Pairing is unknown to quadrupeds that feed on grass. v"—-
To such it would be useless j as the female gives ^uck
to her young while she herself is feeding. II M. Buf-
fon deserves credit, the roe deer are an exception. They
pair, though they feed on grass, and have but one litter
in a year.
Beasts of prey, such as lions, tigers, wolves, pair not.
The female is left to shift for herself and for her young j
which is a laborious task, and often so unsuccessful as to
shorten the life of many of them. Pairing is essential
to birds of prey, because incubation leaves the female
no sufficient time to hunt for food. Pairing is not ne¬
cessary to beasts of prey, because their young can bear
a long fast. Add another reason, that they would mul¬
tiply so fast by pairing, as to prove troublesome neigh¬
bours to the human race.
Among animals that pair not, males fight desperate¬
ly about a female. Such a battle among horned cattle
is finely described by Lucretius. Nor is it unusual for
seven or eight lions to wage bloody war for a single
female.
The same reason that makes pairing necessary for
gregarious birds, obtains with respect to gregarious
quadrupeds 5 those especially who store up food for win¬
ter, and during that season live in common. Discord
among such would he attended with worse consequences
than even among lions and bulls, who are not confined
to one place. The beavers, with respect to pairing, re¬
semble birds that place their nests on the ground. As
soon as the young are produced, the males abandon
their stock of food to their mates, and live at large j
hut return frequently to visit them W'hile they are suck¬
ling their young.
Hedgehogs pair, as well as several of the monkey
kind. We are not well acquainted with the natural
history of these animals j but it would appear that the
young require the nursing care of both parents.
Seals have a singular economy. Polygamy seems to
be a law of nature among them, as a male associates
with several females. The sea turtle has no occasion
to pair, as the female concludes her task by laying her
eggs in the sand. The young are hatched by the sun,
and immediately crawl to the sea.
PAISLEY, a town of Renfi-ew'shu e, in Scotland, situ¬
ated about six miles and a half west ol Glasgow, on the
river White Cart, over which there are two stone bridges
of two arches each, and one which consists of three
arches. The town is very ancient $ but was of much
less consequence formerly than it is at present. “NoStatistical
satisfactory etymology has hitherto occurred of the name Accoimt of
Paisley. The following has been suggested by a good Satland,
Gaelic scholar: ‘ A ridge of rocks that runs across theA0*‘ v^'
river, and forms a beautiful cascade, would, prior to the
building
P A I [ 690 ] P A I
F4isie>-. building of tbe town, be undoubtedly the most striking
“—V""1 * object that this place would present. '1 lie brow or face
of a rock is in Gaelic Pais-licht. A church in front of
the rock would be the church in Pais-hcht, A church
did stand here previous to 1160: it is named in the
foundation charter Ecclesia de Paselct, Latinized, in the
records of the monastery, Pa slat um, an easy derivative
from Pais-licht, in all probability the original of the
modern Paisley. It was erected into a burgh of barony
by James IV. in the year 1488, at that time probably
deriving all its importance from the rich monastery
which had been established there for several ages; for
George Schaw, who was then abbot of tlm monastery,
obtained this privilege from the king. Even in Mr
Crawford’s time, who wrote thehistory of the shire of Ren¬
frew near the beginning of the 18th century, it seems to
have been hut an inconsiderable place •, for he describes
it as consisting only of one principal street, about halt a
mile in length, with several lanes belonging to it;
whereas now the town, with its suburbs, occupies such
an extent of ground, that strangers are apt to consider
it as, next to Edinburgh and Glasgow, the largest and
most populous town in Scotland. Its buildings ot late
years have been greatly improved •, its streets are well
paved 5 and the different parts of the town and suburbs,
where the river intervenes, are connected with one ano¬
ther by three bridges at convenient distances.”
The affairs of the community are managed by three
bailies, of which the eldest is commonly in the commis¬
sion of the peace, a treasurer, a town clerk, and 17
counsellors, who are annually elected upon the first
Monday after Michaelmas. It enjoys all the powers
necessary for government and police, without any of the
burdens to which royal boroughs are subject. The
freedom of the place is conferred on very moderate terms.
The revenues of the town are not great, but they have been
managed to the best advantage. The rapid increase of
the place has not been attended with a proportional in¬
crease of revenue ; therefore several necessary improve¬
ments, and intended public buildings, are not yet car¬
ried into execution. It gives the title of baron to the
earls of Abercorn ; the first of whom was a younger son
of the Due de Chatelherault. The black book of Paisley,
frequently mentioned in Scottish history, was a chronicle
of the public affairs and remarkable events, kept by the
monks who resided in the monastery. It agreed in every
material fact with the Scoti Chronicon of Fordun •, and
is by many thought to he the same performance.
The old part of the town runs from east to west upon
the south slope of a ridge of hills, from which there is
a fine prospect of the city of Glasgow and the adjacent
country 5 but to the southward, the view terminates in
a ridge of green hills, about two miles distant. Inclu¬
ding the late buildings and suburbs, it is fully a mile
long, and nearly as much in breadth. On the east side
of the river Cart, stand the abbey and new town. This
new town was some years ago feued off by the earl of
Abercorn, and now consists of a number of handsome
buildings. The streets are laid off in a regular manner,
but (rather unfortunately for the conveniency and ele¬
gance of some of the houses) not in right angles.
Here the earl of Abercorn has built at his own expence
one of the largest, most commodious, and most elegant
inns in Scotland. In the vicinity of it was proposed
also to build several convenient and necessary market
3
places. A little way south of the inn stands the ah- pais;CJ- pais!i
bey church, the only one which Paisley formerly requi-y-—
red. This church, when entire, has been a most noble
building, and consisted of several distinct and separate
places of worship j what now remains of this magnifi¬
cent Gothic structure is not yet unworthy the notice of
the curious in antiquities. Mr Pennant says, the great
north window is a noble ruin, the arch very lofty, the
middle pillar wonderfully light, and still entire: only
the chancel now remains, which is divided into a middle
and two side aisles, by very lofty pillars, with Gothic
arches j above these is another range of pillars much
larger, being the segment of a circle, and above a row
of arched niches from end to end, over which the roof
ends in a sharp point. The outside of the building is
decorated with a profusion of ornaments, especially the
great west and north doors, than which scarce any thing
lighter or richer can be imagined.
The town of Paisley continued a part of the original
or Abbey parish of Paisley till the year 1738? when
the magistrates and council having purchased the right
of patronage from the then earl of Dundonald, a new
church was built, and the town was erected into a sepa¬
rate parish. This is called the Laigh Church, is built
in the form of a Greek cross, very well laid out, ami
capable of containing a great number of people. In
1756 another church was built, upon a very extended
plan, to accommodate its multiplied inhabitants $ in
which, though it is one of the largest in Scotland, yet
the most distant of the congregation can hear a tolerably
good speaker w ith ease and distinctness ; and as it stands
upon the highest part of the town, it was afterwards or¬
namented with a lofty and well-proportioned spire, visible
at a great distance. This is called the High Church,
and is a very fine building : it is an oblong square ot
82 feet by 62 within the walls, built of free stone well
smoothed, having rustic corners and an elegant stone
cornice at the top. In the construction of the roof
(which is a pavilion covered with slate, having a plat¬
form covered with lead on the top), there is something
very curious, and it is admired by every person of taste.
In 1781, the number of the inhabitants still rapidly in¬
creasing, another church, called the Middle Church, w’as
built, not quite so large as the former, but very hand¬
somely and elegantly finished: and in the following year,
the town was divided and erected into three separate
parishes, exclusive of the Abbey parish, and named ac¬
cording to their respective churches.
There are two large dissenting congregations in the
town 5 those of the Antiburgher persuasion and the
Relief. The first of these has existed there for upwards
of 30 years \ the other is of a late date. There is be¬
sides a small congregation of Cameronians.
The towmhouse is a very handsome building of cut
Stone, with a tall spire and a clock. The flesh market
has a genteel front of cut stone, and is one of the neat¬
est and most commodious of the kind in Britain.
Butchers meat, butter, cheese, fish, wool, and several
other articles, are sold here by what they call the tron
pound, of 22 English ounces and a half.
The poors house is a large building, very wrell laid
out; and stands opposite to the quay, in a fine free air.
It is supported by a small tax taid upon the inhabitants
quarterly.
Close by the Abbey church is the earl of Abercorn’s
burial
P A I [ 697 ] PA I
Paisley, burial place, the greatest curiosity in Paisley. It is a
-‘'v ' vaulted Gothic chapel, without pulpit, pew, or any other
ornament, hut has the finest echo perhaps in the world.
When the end door (the only one it has) is shut, the
noise is equal to a loud and not very distant clap of
thunder. If you strike a single note of music, you have
the sound gradually ascending, with a great number of
repetitions,till it dies away as if at an immense distance,
and all the while diffusing itself through the circum¬
ambient air. If a good voice sings, or a musical instru¬
ment is well played upon, the effect is inexpressibly agree¬
able. The deepest, as well as the most acute tones, are
distinctly reverberated, and these in regular intervals of
time. When a musical instrument is sounded, it has the
effect of a number of instruments of a like size and
kind playing in concert. When a number of different
instruments in unison sound the same note, a good ear
is able to distinguish the variety of sound produced by
each. A single instrument sounding a particular note,
and then instantly its fifth, or any other concordant note,
the two sounds can be heard, as it were, running into
and uniting with each other in a manner peculiarly
agreeable. But the ^effect of a variety of instruments
playing in concert is particularly charming, and must
excite such emotions in the soul as it is impossible
to describe. In this chapel is the monument of Mar¬
jory Bruce (a) -, she was daughter of Robert Bruce,
and wife of Walter, great steward of Scotland, and
mother of Robert II. In this same chapel were inter¬
red Elizabeth Muir and Euphemia Ross, both consorts
to Robert II.
A particular account of the abbey of Paisley would
fill many pages. It was founded as a priory for monks
of the order of Clugni about the year 1160 by Walter,
great steward of Scotland. It was afterwards raised to
the rank of an abbacy ; and the lands belonging to it
were by Robert II. erected into a regality, under the
jurisdiction of the abbot. After the Reformation, the
abbacy was secularized by the pope in favour of Lord
Claud Hamilton, third son of the duke of Chatelherault,
in reward of his steady adherence to the cause of Queen
Mary $ and, in 1588, it was by the king and parlia¬
ment erected into a temporal lordship, and Lord Claud
was created Lord Paisley. The revenues of the abbacy
were very considerable : They consisted of the tythes of
28 different parishes, with the property of the lordships of
Paisley, of Kilpatrick in Dumbartonshire, and of Monk-
ton in Ayrshire, extending each to a hundred merk-
land •, and the forty pound land of Glen in Lochvvin-
noch ; with the lands of Achengown, Grange, &c. and
a considerable detached property in different parts of the
kingdom. All this property, with the patronage of the
several churches, fell to Lord Claud Hamilton, last ab¬
bot of Paisley. It continued in that family till 1565,
Vol. XV. Part II.
when his grandson James earl of Abercorn sold the lord- pa^ivv.
ship of Paisley to the earl of Angus, who next year sold \~--
it to William Lord Cochran, Kilpatrick to Sir John Ha-
miltoun of Orbistoun, Monktoun to Lord Bargenny, and
Glen to Lord Semple and others. Great part of the
lordship of Paisley was at different times sold off by the
family of Dundonald j and what remained of it was in
1764 repurchased by the late earl of Abercorn. The
fabric of the abbey owed much of its magnificence to
Abbot George Schaw, who about 1484 enlarged and
beautified the building, surrounding the church, the
precincts of the convent, the gardens, and a small deer
park, with a noble wall of hewn freestone. The abbey
was, after the Reformation, successively the seat of the
earls of Abercorn and Dundonald. The late earl of
Dundonald demolished the ancient gateway ; and, by
feuing oil’the immediately adjoining grounds for build¬
ing, entirely changed the appearance of the place. As
it was thus rendered totally unfit for a family residence,
it has since that time been let out into separate dwel¬
lings, and is now in a very mean and almost ruinous
state. The wall stood almost entire till 1781, when the
garden being feued off for building upon by the late
earl of Abercorn, the wall was sold to the feuers, and
the stones of it employed in their houses.
The vestiges of the Roman camp and praetor him, at
the west end of the town, are at present almost annihi¬
lated. It was supposed to be vaulted underneath.
The number of inhabitants in the town of Paisley
amounted in 1695 to 2200 j in 1755 they were 4290 j
in 1782, 11,100; and in 1792, 13,800. la 1801,
17,026; in 1811, 19,937; but including the abbey
parish, the whole population was 36,722.
Paisley is now the first manufacturing town in Scot¬
land, and is greatly celebrated on account of some of its
branches. The manufactory of silk gauze, in this re¬
spect, first claims our notice. This branch is brought
here to the utmost perfection, and is wrought to an ama¬
zing variety of patterns. It has been computed, that
there have been no less than 5000 weavers employed in
Paisley and in the country adjacent; and the number of
winders, warpers, clippers, and others necessary in other
parts of the silk manufacture, has been likewise comput¬
ed to be no less than 5000. Each loom will produce
in an average value 70I. yearly; the whole will then be
350,000k
It appears, from the best calculation that could be
made, that in the year 1784 the manufactures of Paisley
in silk gauze, lawn and linen gauze, and white sewing
thread (b), amounted to the value of 579,185k 16s. 6d.
and that no fewer than 26,484 persons were employed
in carrying them on. It is difficult to give an exact ac¬
count of the state of its manufactures at present. The
silk branch has evidently declined, but the muslin has so
+ 4 T far
(a) Her story is singular : In the year 1317, when she was big with child, she broke her neck in hun\ing
near this place; the Csesarean operation was instantly performed, and the child taken out alive ; but the opera¬
tor chancing to hurt one eye with his instrument, occasioned the blemish that gave him afterwards the epithet
of Blear-eye ; and the monument is also styled that of Queen Bleary, Elizabeth Muir died before the accession
of her husband Robert.
(b) This was introduced into this town about 60 or 70 years ago. The method of making what is called
gla%ed white thread, has been discovered and brought to as great perfection as that made by Mr Leland and Son,
Loudon. The value of this branch is computed at about 60,000k annually.
PAT [ 698 1 P A I
Paisley, far come in its room, and the thread manufacture has
—v ■■ ■' considerably increased. There is, however, reason to
conclude, that, though it is 4aily advancing, it has not
yet recovered its former greatness. Besides these prin¬
cipal manufactures, there are some others carried on
there of too much importance to be overlooked : for in¬
stance, considerable tan works, four in number, two soap
and candle works, a manufacture of ribbons, and an¬
other of inkle or tape. In 1780 the annual value of all
the manufactures in Paisley of every sort amounted to
660,385!. 16s.
In the various weaving branches there were employ¬
ed at Whitsunday 1791, in the suburbs of Paisley, 1108
looms, which, added to 2494 employed in the town,
gives 3602 in all. But it is to be observed, that the
extent to which the weaving branches are carried on by
the manufacturers in Paisley, is not to be judged of from
the number of looms in the town and suburbs. Be¬
sides about 150 in the country part of the parish,
there are great numbers employed by them in the vil¬
lages of Neilstoun, Barhead, Beith, Dairy, Kilwinning,
&c. &c. In 1744, when all the business was confined
to the town and suburbs, there were 867 looms at work.
—The thread-making in Abbey parish employs 9 mills,
which, added to 128 employed in Paisley,^ makes 137
in all. The number in 1744 was 93* ^,e fP*nn'n&
of cotton was introduced into Abbey parish in 1783*
The principal seat of that manufactory is at Johnstoun,
a neat and regularly built village about three miles west
from Paisley, upon the estate of Mr Houston of John¬
stoun. The feuing of that village was begun in 1782 j
and it contained, at Whitsunday 1792, 293 families, or
1434 souls. There are five companies established in it
for cotton spinning. Two of these carry on their prin¬
cipal operations by water machinery. In the two mills
employed in them, there are going at present 11,672
spindles •, but, when the whole machinery in both shall
be completed, there will be 22,572. The number of
persons, young and old, at present employed in both
mills is 660. There is also in the neighbourhood of
Paisley a calico printing work. Copperas has been long
manufactured at Lord Glasgow’s coal works j and for
several years past the manufacture of alum has been con¬
ducted on a very extensive scale at the same place.
The bleaching business in the Abbey parish is carried
on to a very considerable extent. There are 10 fields
for whitening muslins and lawns, and about as many for
thread, almost wholly employed by the manufacturers
in Paisley. About 300 persons are at work in this
branch of business, of whom about 240 are women, who
are hired for the season. A soap and candle manufac¬
ture pays about 2000I. of duty per annum to govern¬
ment, and has in some years paid upwards of 3000I.
A black and hard soap manufacture, 4500I. per annum.
The starch manufacture is but lately established. The
distillery business is to be mentioned under this head :
it has for some time past been carried on to a great ex¬
tent, and the spirit manufactured in great perfection.
A considerable quantity of it is exported, but too much
of it is consumed at home (c).
The river on which Paisley stands runs from south to Paidcy
north ; and falls into the Clyde, after it has joined the H
conflux of the rivers Grife and Black Cart at Inchinnan , Palx'
bridge, about three miles below the town. At spring 'r‘"
tides, vessels of 40 tons burden come up to the quay.
The communication by water is of great importance to
the inhabitants : for in this way they are frequently sup¬
plied with fish of different kinds, and can send their
goods and manufactures to Port Glasgow' and Greenock,
and to Glasgow likewise ; and now, by means of the
great canal, they have also a communication with the
frith of Forth.
The air here is moist •, a necessary consequence of the
prevailing south-west winds, which, coming loaded with
vapour from the Atlantic, produce frequent and heavy
rains. The effects of this moist atmosphere appear in
rheumatisms, quinseys, pneumatic ailments, and all the
tribe of inflammatory disorders. Upon the whole, how¬
ever, neither the town nor country adjacent can be said
to be unhealthy. Contagions, indeed, at times visit this
as other places, which run their usual course as epide¬
mics ; but none are reme mbered of any uncommon vio¬
lence except a pleurisy in summer 1771, and which,
contrary to the received opinion, was truly epidemic.
There are no disorders that can be said to be endemic,
unless scrofula is to be excepted, which is still hut too
common. This has been ascribed to the water used by
the inhabitants of Paisley : It more probably proceeded
from, and certainly was greatly aggravated by, poor liv¬
ing, and by the damp shops which were necessary for
the linen manufacture 5 for since silk weaving became
the general employment, and increase of trade has in¬
troduced better living, this disorder is less frequent.
From the same causes probably it is that swelled and
sore legs, once extremely common here, are now hut
rarely met with. Dysentery raged with great violence
in 1765 *, since that time it has been scarcely complain¬
ed of. Nervous fevers at times appear; but they are
neither very general nor uncommonly fatal. It is to be
apprehended, that the confinement and sedentary posture
of the weaver, and the laborious life of the bleacher,
are frequent causes of consumptive complaints. Inter-
mittents, which, from the damp air, and adjoining moss,
might be expected to be common, are not so much as
known. W. Long. 4. 20. N. Lat. 55. 52.
PAITA, a sea port of America, in Peru, and in the
audience of Quito. The town consists of about 200
houses but one story high j and the walls are made of
split cane and mud, and the roofs only a covering of
leaves. The only defence of Paita is a fort without ei¬
ther ditch or outwork ; but it is surrounded by a brick
wall of little or no strength, on which are mounted
eight pieces of cannon. It w as frequently plundered by
the bucaniers ; and Commodore Anson got possession of
its fort in 1741, and took and burnt the town because
the governor refused to ransom it. W. Long. 81. 19.
S. Lat. 6. 12.
PAIX, or Port Paix, a town on the north coast of
the island of Hispaniola, which has a pretty good har¬
bour. W. Long. 72. 55. N. Lat. 19. 58.
b 7 PALACE,
Pula
n
Palsei
Im,
4E
(c) Of the capital, and number of persons employed in the manufactures, and of the revenue paid to govern¬
ment from them, it is obvious, that the amount, from numcrov.s circumstances, must be extremely variable.
PAL
Palace PALACE, Palatium, a name generally given to
|1 the dwelling houses of kings, princes, and other great
Palasmon. personages $ and taking different epithets, according to
' v the quality of the inhabitants, as imperial palace, royal
palace, pontifical palace, cardinal palace, ducal palace,
episcopal palace, &c.
It is customary in China to build palaces in honour of
great ancestors. Hu-pi-lay, of the Mogul empire, in
the year 1263, built one for his ancestors j and he is the
first who borrowed this Chinese custom. Amongst the
works of the ancient Egyptians, we have an account, in
the Ancient Universal History, of a most magnificent
palace in the Upper Egypt, not far from Aswan, the
ancient Syene; the ruins whereof are enough to strike
a spectator with astonishment. It is as large as a little
city, having four avenues of columns, leading to as ma¬
ny porticoes. At each gate, between two pillars of
porphyry, stand two gigantic figures of fine black mar¬
ble, armed with maces. The avenues consist of columns
set three and three together, in a triangle, on one pe¬
destal : on the chapiter of each triangle is placed a sphinx
and a tomb alternately. Every column is 70 feet high,
all of one stone. There ar£.in all the four avenues about
5000 or 6000 of these columns, a great many of which
are fallen down.
The first hall of this palace is adorned with pieces of
history, which seem as fresh as if the painting had not
been long finished. In some places they have represent¬
ed the hunting of antelopes j in others, feasts, and a
great many youug children playing with all kinds of
animals. From thence you go into other apartments,
incrusted with marble, the roof being supported with
pillars of porphyry and black marble. Notwithstanding
Mas, the vast quantity of rubbish, our author made shift to
ul iii. get up to the top of this building, from whence he had
a prospect of the ruins of the greatest city that ever had
been, as he thought, in the world. He supposes it
might be the ancient Thebes j but that city stood much
lower.
PALACE-Court. See MaRSHALSEA.
PAL/EMON, or Melicerta. See Melicerta.
Pal/emon, Q. Rhemmius, a famous grammarian of
Pome, in the reign of Tiberius. He was born of a
slave at Vienza. We are told he was first brought up
in the business of a weaver : but attending his master’s
son to school, he'used this opportunity to procure know¬
ledge *, and acquired so much skill in the common learn¬
ing, that he obtained his freedom, and became a teach¬
er or preceptor at Rome. His claim to learning cannot
be questioned, since he is recorded as a scholar even by
Juvenal :
Quis s;rejnio Enceladi doc tuple Palcemonis offer t,
'■Quantum grammaticus meruit labor 2 Sat. vii.
He had also an excellent memory, a ready elocution,
And could make verses extempore. On account of these
qualities, notwithstanding his debauched course of life,
which was such that nobody was more unworthy to have
the preceptorship of youth, he held the first rank among
those of his profession. But his arrogance surpassed his
merit: he had the confidence to assert, that learning
was born when he was born, and would die when he
died $ and that Virgil had inserted his name in his
Eclogues by a celtain prophetic spirit} lor that he,
Palaemon, would infallibly become one day sole judge
£ 699 1
PAL
Palhen.ftti
11
Pal*stra.
and arbiter of all poetry. He was excessively prodigal
for the gratification of his voluptuous humour ; insomuch
that neither the immense sums he gained by teaching,
nor the great profit he made, both by cultivating his
lands and in the way of traffic, proved a sufficient fund
to support his extravagancies. We have only some frag¬
ments of his works.
PAL/EOLOCUS, Michael, a very able man
who was governor of Asia under the emperor Theodo-
rus Lascaris; and who* by various stratagems and cruel¬
ties, procured the empire for himself and his posterity.
See Constantinople, from N° 145. to the end of that
article.
PALiEPAPHOS (Strabo, Virgil, Pliny), a town
of Cyprus, where stood a temple of Venus ; anil an ad¬
joining town called N<?o Paphos ; where St Paul struck
Elymas blind, and converted the proconsul Sergius
Paulus.
PALiESTRA, in Grecian antiquity, a public build¬
ing where the youth exercised themselves in wrestling,
running, playing at quoits, &c. To prevent the com¬
batants from hurting themselves by falling, the bottom
of the palaestra was covered with dust or gravel. Some
will have the palaestra to he only a part of the gymna¬
sium. Many authors imagine that the palaestra was of
two kinds ; the one for the exercise of the body, the
other for the cultivation of the mind ; but the deriva¬
tion of the word seems to confine it to bodily exer¬
cise.
We have this account of the palaestrae in Barfhelemi’s
Anacharsisf : “ They are nearly of the same form with f y0}. j.
the gymnasia. We visited the apartments appropriated
to all the species of baths $ those where the wrestlers
leave their clothes, where they rub their bodies with
oil to render their limbs supple, and where they roll
themselves in the sand in order to give their antagonists
a hold.
“ Wrestling, leaping, tennis, and all the exercises of
the lyceum, were here repeated before us with greater
varieties, and with more strength and skill on the part
of the performers. Among the different groups before
us we distinguished men of the most perfect beauty, and
worthy of serving as models for artists : some with vigo¬
rous and boldly marked outlines, as Hercules is repre¬
sented ; and others of a more slim and elegant shape, as
Achilles is described. The former, devoting themselves
to wrestling and boxing, had nd object but to increase
their bodily strength ; the latter, educated to less violent
exercises, such as running, leaping, &c. confined them¬
selves to acquirement of agility.
“ Their regimen is suited to the different exercises for
which they are designed. Some of them abstain from
women and wine j others lead a very abstemious life ;
but those who make laborious exertions stand in need of
a great quantity of substantial food, such as roasted beef
and pork, to restore their strength. If they require on¬
ly two minse a-day, with bread in proportion, they give
a very favourable idea of their temperance. But several
are mentioned who have made a terrible consumption of
provisions. Theagenes of Thasos, for instance, is said
to have eaten a whole ox in a day. The same exploit
is attributed to Milo of Crotona, whose usual quantity
of food for a day was twenty rainae of meat, as many of
bread, and three congii of wine. It is said likewise,
that Astydamas of Miletus, when at the table of Ario-
4 T 2 barzanes
P A I
Falseitra barzanes the Persian satrap, devoured alone, the supper
II prepared for nine guests. These stories, no doubt ex-
Palaraedes. a(r(rerated, prove at least the idea generally entertained
    ' 0f the voracity of this class of wrestlers. When they are
able to gratify it without danger, they acquire extraor¬
dinary strength : their stature becomes sometimes gigan¬
tic j and their adversaries, struck with terror, either de¬
cline entering the lists, or sink under the weight of their
enormous bodies.
u They are so oppressed by excess of nutriment as to
be obliged to pass part of their lives in a profound sleep,
and soon become so extremely corpulent as to be no
longer known to be the same persons: this is succeeded
by disorders which render them as wretched as they have
always been unserviceable to their countrylor it can¬
not be denied that wrestling, boxing, and all those com¬
bats disputed with so much fury and obstinacy in the pu¬
blic solemnities, are no longer any thing but ostentatious
exhibitions, since tactics have been brought to perfec¬
tion. Egypt at no time adopted them, as they give on¬
ly a temporary strength. Lacedaemon has corrected
their inconveniences by the wisdom of her institutions.
In the other states of Greece men have discovered, that,
by subjecting their children to them, they incur the risk
of injuring their shape and preventing their growth j and
that, in a"more advanced age, professed wrestlers never
make good soldiers, because they are unable to support
hunger, thirst, watching, the smallest wants, or the most
trifling deviation from their usual habits.” See I EN-
tathlum and Pancratium.
PALiESTROPHYLAX, was the director of the
palaestra, and the exercises performed there.
PALEMBANG, a town and district on the north¬
east coast of the island of Sumatra, where the Dutch
had a factory. The town is situated on a river ot the
same name, about 60 miles from the sea. The religion
is Mahometan. The town and district were taken pos¬
session of by the British forces in 1812.
PALAMEDEA, a genus of birds belonging to the
order of gralloe. See Ornithology Index.
PALAMEDES, a Greek chief, son of Nauplius
king of Euboea, by Clemene. He was sent by the^Gre¬
cian princes who were going to the Trojan war, in or¬
der to bring Ulysses to the camp, who, to avoid the ex¬
pedition, pretended insanity j and the better to cany on
the imposition, he often harnessed different animals to a
plough, and sowed salt instead ol barley. Palamedes
soon discovered the cheat. He knew that regret to pait
with Penelope, whom Ulysses had lately married, was
his only reason lor pretending insanity j and to demon¬
strate this, Palamedes took Telemachus, of whom Pe¬
nelope bad lately been delivered, and put him before his
father’s plough. Ulysses turned the plough a different
wav, not to hurt his child. He was therefore obliged
to attend the Greek princes to the war •, but a mortal
enmity took place between Ulysses and Palamedes. The
king of Ithaca determined to take every opportunity to
distress him ', and when all his expectations were frus¬
trated, he was mean enough to bribe one of his servants,
and to make him dig a hole in his master’s tent, and
there conceal a large sum of money. After this Ulysses
forged a letter in Phrygian characters, as from Priam to
Palamedes. In the letter the Trojan king seemed to
hep- Palamedes to deliver into his hands the Grecian ar¬
my, according to the conditions which had been previ-
P A L
ouJy agreed upon when he received the money. 1 hispdlameden
forged letter was carried, by means of Ulysses, before ||
the princes of the Grecian army, Palamedes was sum- falatma^-
moned, and made the most solemn protestations of inno-
cence, but in vain. The money that was discovered in
his tent served to corroborate the accusation j and he
was therefore found guilty by the whole army, and ston¬
ed to death. Homer is silent about the unfortunate fate
of Palamedes j and Pausanias mentions, that it had
been reported by some that Ulysses and Diomedes had
drowned him in the sea as he was fishing on the coast.
Pbilostratus, who mentions the tragical story as above
related, adds, that Achilles and Ajax buried his body
with great pomp on the sea shore j and that they raised
upon it a small chapel, where sacrifices were regularly
offered by the inhabitants of Troas. Palamedes was a
man of learning as well as a soldier; and, according to
some, he completed the alphabet of Cadmus by the ad¬
dition of the four letters 6, | <p, during the Trojan
war. To him also is attributed the invention of dice
and backgammon $ and it is said that he was the first
who regularly ranged an army in a line of battle, and
who placed sentinels round the camp, and excited
their vigilance and attention by giving them a watch¬
word.
PALARIA, among the Romans, a kind of exercise
performed at a stake by the soldiers. The stake being
fixed in the ground, and six feet high above it, the
young undisciplined soldiers advanced against it, aimed
with a hurdle and cudgel, instead of a sword and shield,
and went through all the rules of attack and defence,
as if actually engaged with an adversary. Sometimes
they stood at a distance, and attacked with missive wea¬
pons ; at the same time using all the requisite motions
for defending themselves, and warding oil what might
be thrown against them.
PALATE, in Anatomy, the flesh that composes the
roof, or the upper and inner part, of the mouth.
The palate has much the same structure with the
gums •, but it has also a great number of glands, disco¬
vered so early as the time of Fallopius : these are prin¬
cipally situated in the hinder part near the uvula, where
it is pendulous, in the manner of a curtain, which pait
is called the velum or claustrum, of the palate. The
glands situated particularly in this part, secrete a mucous
fluid, serving to lubricate the mouth and throat, and to
facilitate deglutition : they have a great number of
apertures there for the discharge of this humour into the
mouth.
The great uses of this membrane are, to defend the
bones of the palate from corrupting ; a.nd for prevent¬
ing, by its claustrum or velum, the things to be swal¬
lowed from getting up to the nostrils.
PALATINATE, a province or signiory, possessed
by a palatine.
Palatinate of the Rhine, a province of Germany,
divided into two parts by the Rhine, called the Upper
and Lower Palatinate. The former lies in the circle of
Bavaria, and belongs to the elector thereof j but the
latter, in the circle we arc now treating, belongs to the
elector palatine. The latter part is hounded to the east
by the county of Katzenellnbogen, the archbishopric of
Mentz, the bishopric of Worms, and part of the terri¬
tory of the Teutonic order in Franconia j to the-west
by Alsace, the duchy of Deuxponts, the county ot
Sponheim,
I 700 ]
PAL [ 7°i ] PAL
ei
liatinate. Sponheim, the duchy of Simmern, and certain districts
v—J of the electorate of Mentz ; to the south by the duchy
of Wurtemberg and the bishopric oi Spire j and to the
north by a part of the archbishopric of Mentz and the
county of Katzenellnbogen. It contains 41 towns, be¬
sides several boroughs; and is about 100 miles in length,
and 70 in breadth. The air is healthful, and the soil
fruitful in corn, pasturage, wine, tobacco, and all sorts
of pulse and fruits, particularly walnuts, chesnuts, and
almonds. This country also breeds abundance of cattle,
and is well watered by the Neckar, the Nahe, and the
Rhine. In the last of these, near Germersheim and Selz,
is found gold; the exclusive right of searching for which
is farmed out by the elector. The state of religion hath
varied greatly here since the Reformation, Lutheranism
and Calvinism having been uppermost by turns, till the
electorate devolved to the Popish branches of the family,
when Popery, with all its superstition and mummery,
was established anew: so that the Protestant religion is
now on a very precarious footing in the Palatinate,
though most of the natives are still of that persuasion:
but the two sects of Protestants, namely, the Lutherans
and Calvinists, have greatly contributed to their own
ruin, by their mutual jealousy and animosity, being no
Jess rancorous against one another than against their com¬
mon adversaries the Papists. The Lutherans reckon
themselves 50,000 strong, and are possessed of about 85
churches; but not one half of their preachers and school-
masierS have a competent maintenance. The number of
Calvinist clergy here is estimated at 500» an(^
the Roman Catholics at 400. Besides schools and Je¬
suit colleges in this country, there is one university,
namely, that of Heidelberg ; but there is very little
trade in it except in wine. Authors are divided about
the origin of the name Palatines, orPsafegraves, as the
Germans call them ; but it seems most likely to be de¬
rived from the palatia, or palaces, which the old Frank¬
ish and German kings and Roman emperors were posses¬
sed of in different parts of the country, and over which
they appointed supreme stewards or judges, who are
called Palatines or Psalzgraves. The countries where
these Palatines kept their courts, were, from them, cal¬
led Palatinates ; which name came at last to be appro¬
priated, by way of eminence, to this country, as being
the most considerable of them. The ancient electoral
line failing in 168 1;, the electorate devolved to Philip
William duke of Neuburg ; and upon the death of his
second son Charles Philip, to the prince of Sultzbach.
This elector has the title of arch-treasurer of the em¬
pire, as well as the elector of Brunswick Lunenburg,
and is the fifth in rank among the secular electors. He
is also one of the vicars of the empire alternately with
the elector of Bavaria, and enjoys many other preroga¬
tives. In his own dominions, he disposes of all vacant
benefices ; but allows the ecclesiastical council, compo¬
sed of two clergymen and two laymen, to present two
candidates, of which he chooses one. He is also master
of all the tithes in his dominions ; but he either grants
them to the clergy, or salaries in lieu of them, out of
the revenues of the church. His title is ! salzgrave of
the Rhine; arch-treasurer and elector of the holy Roman
empire; duke of Bavaria, Juliers, Cleve, and Berg;
prince of Mons; marquis of Bergen-op-Zoom; count of
Veldens, Sponheim, the Mark, and Ravensberg ; and
lord of Ravenstein. His quota to the army of the em¬
pire is 30 horse and 138 foot, or 914 florins monthly. Palatinate,
To the chamber of Wetzlar he contributes, each term, 1 1 ■— v  1
404 rixdollars, 82 kruitzers. There is an order of
knighthood in this country, viz. that of St Hubert; the
badge of which is a quadrangular cross pendant to a red
ribband, with a star on the breast. The whole of the
elector’s revenue, arising from the Palatinate, the du¬
chies of Berg and Juliers, the seigniory of Ravenstein,
and the duchies of Neuburg and Sultzbach, hath been
estimated at about 300,000k per annum. The military
establishment consists of several regiments of horse and
foot, besides the horse and Swiss life guards : in time
of peace he is said to maintain about 6000 men.
The part of the Lower Palatinate on the left side of
the Rhine was overrun by the French in 1795, and an¬
nexed to the republic under the name of the Depart¬
ment of Mont Tonnerre. Of what remained on the
right side, the greater part was given at a subsequent
period to Baden, to which it remains united. But in
1815 the district on the left bank was separated from
France, and with some additions on the west and south,
was given to the king of Bavaria. In the modern part
of the Universal History, we have the following ac¬
count of the rise of the Palatinate of the Rhine, under
the history of Germany.
“ Though Conrad the son of Everhard inherited from
his father the duchy of Franconia, with the counties of
Hesse and Alsace, he could not succeed him in the dig¬
nity of Count Palatine, because Otho had taken it from
his father, and conferred it on Herman third son of Ar¬
nold duke of Bavaria: but as this honour was unattend¬
ed with any solid advantage, the emperor began to an¬
nex to it the lands and castles situated on the Rhine,
whence he acquired the title of Count Palatine of the
Rhine : and, in process of time, these counts made great
acquisitions by marriages, purchases, mortgages, and
imperial donations, so as to form a very considerable
province.” The powers of counts palatine in the Ger¬
man empire have always been ample; we have this ac¬
count of it in the same learned work.
“ When the counts palatine of the Rhine began to
execute their office, they neither possessed on that river
lands, cities, nor castles ; but having by degrees made
great acquisitions by marriages, purchases, agreements,
imperial donations, or otherwise, they have at length
formed a very considerable principality. We are told,
that under the emperors of the house of Suabia, their
authority and power increased greatly, though it was a
gradual increase. Under the reign of the emperor
Henry IV. the credit of the counts palatine was very
considerable at the court; and by the German law, the
count palatine of the Rhine enjoys not only during the
absence of the emperor, but likewise during a vacancy
of the empire, the right of the ban beyond the Rhine,
to within a mile of the city of Metz, and as far as tl\e
ocean, as well as in Flanders. However, this right of
the ban has not been granted to him by the emperors.
There is likewise an ancient ordonnance, in which the
office of count palatine is mentioned ; it imports, that
the count palatine is always by right the representative
or lieutenant of the kingdom. Lastly, How great the
power of the counts palatine was, may be understood
from this, that in the election of Rodolphus of Haps-
burgh, and in that of Henry VII. the other electors
promised to acknowledge as emperor him whom he
4 should
PAL [ 702 ] PAL
Palatinate should name. Although, however, the power of the
11 counts palatine had as it tvere secured to them the vica-
Palatine. rJate 0f tJie empire, nevertheless the emperors still re-
v ~ served to themselves the right of establishing vicars.”
See Bavaria.
PALATINATES of Poland. Previous to the re¬
volution in this unfortunate country, it was divided in¬
to palatinates $ whether those will be now changed can¬
not at present be ascertained, though it seems likely.
A Polish palatine is thus described in the Universal
History.
“ A palatine may be regarded as the governor of a
province, who levies and leads the troops of his own ju¬
risdiction to join the army of the republic. His civil
power is likewise considerable, as he presides at the as¬
semblies of his palatinate, rates the prices of all commo¬
dities and merchandise in the province, regulates the
weights and measures, and judges and defends the Jews
within his jurisdiction. This part of his function is par¬
ticularly specified, that a set of men the most useful and
industrious in Poland may not be oppressed $ the king
being likewise obliged, by his oath, to afford them the
protection of the laws and his sovereignity. Under him
is appointed a substitute or vice-palatine, who takes an
oath to his superior, and must be possessed of a land
estate to a certain value.”
PALATINE, or Count Palatine, a title an¬
ciently given to all persons who had any office or em¬
ployment in the prince’s palace : but afterwards con¬
ferred on those delegated by princes to hold courts of
justice in the provinces ; and on such among the lords
as had a palace, that is, a court of justice, in their own
houses.
Co7/?ities Palatine in England.—Chester, Durham,
and Lancaster, are called counties palatine. The two
former are such by prescription, or immemorial custom •,
or, at least as old as the Norman conquest: the latter
was created by King Edward III. in favour of Henry
Plantagenet, first earl and then duke of Lancaster ;
whose heiress being married to John of Gaunt the king’s
son, the franchise was greatly enlarged and confirmed
in parliament, to honour John of Gaunt himself, whom,
on the death of his father-in-law, the king had also cre¬
ated duke of Lancaster. Counties palatine are also cal¬
led a palatio; because the owners thereof, the earl of
Chester, the bishop of Durham, and the duke of Lan¬
caster, had in those counties jWa regalia, as fully as the
king hath in his palace ; regalem potestatem in omnibus,
as Bracton expresses it. They might pardon treasons,
murders, and felonies; they appointed all judges and
justices of the peace} all writs and indictments ran in
their names, as in other counties in the king’s \ and all
offences were said to be done against their peace, and
not, as in other places, contrapacem domini rcgis. And
indeed by the ancient law, in all peculiar jurisdictions,
offences were said to be done against his peace in whose
• court they were tried ; in a court-leet, contra pacem do¬
mini; in the court of a corporation, contra pacem balli-
vorum ; in the sheriff’s court or tourn, contra pacem vi-
cecomitis. These palatine privileges (so similar to the
regal independent jurisdictions usurped by the great ba¬
rons on the continent during the weak and infant state
of the first feudal kingdoms in Europe^ were in all pro¬
bability originally granted to the counties of Chester and
Durham, because they bordered upon enemies countries,
2
Wales and Scotland : in order that the owners, being ^alatW, I*'*1'11'
encouraged by so large an authority, might be the more l—-v—e 1
watchful in its defence j and that the inhabitants, having
justice administered at home, might not be obliged to go .
out of the county, and leave it open to the enemy’s in¬
cursions. And upon this account also there were for¬
merly two other counties palatine, Pembrokeshire and
Hexamshire, the latter now united with Northumber¬
land : but these were abolished by parliament, the for¬
mer in 27 Henry VIII. the latter in 14 Eliz. And in
27 Hen. VIII. likewise, the powers before mentioned of
owners of counties palatine were abridged ; the reason
for their continuance in a manner ceasing j though still
all writs are witnessed in their names, and all forfeitures
for treason by the common law accrue to them.
Of these three, the county of Durhanm is now the on¬
ly one remaining iu the hands of a subject. lor the
earldom of Chester, as Camden testifies, was united to
the crown by Henry III. and has ever since given title
to the king’s eldest son. And the county palatine or
duchy of Lancaster was the property of Henry of Bo-
lingbroke, the son of John of Gaunt, at the time when
he wrested the crown from King Richard II. and assum¬
ed the title of Henry IV. But he was too prudent to
sufler this to be united to the crown 5 lest, if he lost one,
he should lose the other also. lor, as Plow den and Sir
Edward Coke observe, “ he knew he had the duchy of
Lancaster by sure and indefeasible title, but that his title
to the crown was not so assured : for that after the de¬
cease of Richard II. the right of the crown was in the
heir of Lionel duke of Clarence, second son of Ed¬
ward III.; John of Gaunt, father to this Henry IV.
being but the fourth son.” And therefore he procured
an act of parliament, in the first year of his reign, or¬
daining that the duchy of Lancaster, and all other his
hereditary estates, with all their royalties and franchises,
should remain to him and his heirs for ever j and should
remain, descend, be administered, and governed, in like
manner as if he never had attained the regal dignity :
and thus they descended to his son and grandson Hen¬
ry V. and Henry VI. j many new territories and privi¬
leges being annexed to the duchy by the former. Hen¬
ry VI. being attainted in 1 Edw. IV. this duchy was
declared in parliament to have become forfeited to the
crown, and at the same time an act Was made to incor¬
porate the duchy of Lancaster, to continue the county
palatine (which might otherwise have determined by the
attainder), and to make the same parcel of the duchy :
and, farther to vest the whole in King Edward I\ . and
his heirs, kings of England, for ever •, but under a se¬
parate guiding and governance from the other inheri¬
tances of the crown. And in 1 Hen. VII. another act
wras made, to resume such part of the duchy lands as
had been dismembered from it in the reign of Edw. IV.
and to vest the inheritance of the whole in the king and
his heirs for ever, as amply and largely, and in like
manner, form, and condition, separate from the crown
of England and possession of the same, as the three Hen¬
ries and Edward IV. or any of them, had and held the
same.
The isle of Ely is not a county palatine, though some¬
times erroneously called so, but only a royal franchise :
the bishop having, by grant of King Henry l.jura re¬
galia within the isle of Ely •, whereby he exercises a
jurisdiction over all causes, as well criminal as civil.
Palatine
PAL L 703 ] PAL
.latine Palatine Games, in Roman antiquity, games insti-
encia m llonour °f Augustus by bis v^ife Livia, after he
1 had been enrolled among the gods. They were cele¬
brated in the palace, from whence the name, and were
confirmed by the succeeding emperors.
Some authors say that these games were instituted
in honour of Julius Caesar, and others again confound
them with the Ludi Augustales; but neither of these
opinions seems to be well supported. See AuGu-
STALF.S.
I* A L AT I XUS mon*s, or Palatiuni, the first moun¬
tain of Rome occupied by Romulus, and where he
fixed his residence and kept his court, as did Tullus
TIostilius, Augustus, and all the succeeding emperors ;
and hence it is that the residence of princes is galled
palatium. The reason of the name is variously assign¬
ed } some say it is derived from the goddess Pales, or
from the Palatini, who originally inhabited the place,
or from balare av pal are, the bleatings of sheep, which
were frequent there j or perhaps from the we.vApalantes,
wandering, because Evander, when he came to settle in
Italy, gathered all the inhabitants, and made them all
one society. To the east it has Mount Coelius, to the
south the Aventine, to the west the Capitoline, and to
the north the Forum.—Palatinus, the surname of Apol¬
lo from this place j where Augustus built a temple to
that god, adorned with porticoes and a library, valuable
for the various collections of Greek and Latin manu¬
scripts which it contained.
PALATIUM, in Ancient Geography, a place in the
territory of Reate, distant from it 25 stadia. Dionysius
Halicarnasseus reckons it one of the first towms of the
Aborigines 5 and from it Varro accounts for the name of
the Mons Palatinus; namely, that a colony from Pala¬
tium settled there.
Palatium (T>\\ny'),Pa!lantiinn (Pausanias),Pr/&r«-
teurn (Livy) j Pallantewri (Solinus). This last is the
true waiting $ the great grandfather of Evander, from
whom it took its name, being called Pallas, not Pa/as;
A town of Arcadia, which concurred to form Megalo¬
polis (Pausanias). From. it the Palatium, or Mons
Palatinus, takes also its name, according to Virgil and
Pliny.
Palatium Dioclesiani; the villa of Dioclesian, near
Salonae, where he died, (Eusebius). Afterwards call¬
ed Spdlatum; which rose to a considerable city from
the ruins of Salonae $ situated in Dalmatia on the Adri¬
atic. Now Spallato, or Spalatro.
Palatium Luculli (Plutarch), or Villa Luculli; a
place between Misenum and Bairn in Campania, of
wonderful structure. Now in ruins, and called Piscina
\ Mirabile.
PALATO-SALFiNGiEus, 7 See Anatomy, Table
PALAToStaphylinus. 3 of the Muscles.
PALE, a little pointed stake or piece of wood used
in making enclosures, separations, &c. The pale was
an instrument of punishment and execution among the
ancient Romans, and still continues so among the Turks.
Hence empaling, the passing a sharp pale up the fun¬
dament through the body.
Pale, in Heraldry. See Heraldry.
PALENCIA, a town of Spain, in the kingdom of
Leon, with a rich archbishop’s see. It had an univer¬
sity, but it was removed to Salamanca. It is seated in
a fertile Soil, on the river Carion, on the frontiers of Palencia,
Castile, in W. Long. 3. 7. N. Lat. 42. 10. Palermo,
PALERMO, a city of Sicily, in the Val-di-Mazara, V"1
with an archbishop’s see and a large harbour. “ This
city (says Mr Hill *), which is the capital of Sicily, is * Travels
of great antiquity and if a conjecture may be formed through Su
from its ancient name Panormus, which signifies an uni-^J^””^
versal harbour, it was formerly in a very flourishing con¬
dition. By whom it was founded is uncertain, nor have
we any authentic accounts of its inhabitants till it be¬
came a colony of the Phoenicians, after which it passed
into the hands of the various nations that became masters
of this island. The present city principally consists of
two wide, uniform, and well built streets, each about a
mile in length, mossing each other at right angles in the
centre, where there is a small octagon space, ornament¬
ed with four statues.” Most of the cities of Sicily have
surnames : Palermo is denominated the happy. It has
gained this epithet, no doubt, on account of the advan¬
tages of its situation. It has two harbours : in the one,
which is very large* and in which there is a mole 13OO
paces in length, ships lie at anchor j in the other their
cargoes are laden and unladen. Both the harbours open
to the west: there is also a superb quay which extends
a mile from weSt to east, in a rectilinear direction, and
is called La Marine. The prospect is, on the one side,
lost in the wide expanse of the ocean, and on the other
confined by the walls of the city j the walls appear
adorned with pilasters, and crowned with a row of bal-
lustrades through which the eye discovers a long range
of palaces. These objects altogether form a delightful
spectacle. Indeed nothing can be more picturesque
than the bay of Palermo. It forms a large amphithea¬
tre, with the capital of Sicily in the centre $ surrounded
for some miles by a most delightful country, and enclos¬
ed by romantic rocks and mountains. The town was
formerly surrounded by a strong wall j but the fortifica-> ■
tions are now entirely neglected, except towards the
sea, where there are still a few weak works. The quay
is the principal public walk here. Palermo is embellish¬
ed all around with avenues of trees, and has four princi¬
pal entrances, facing the four cardinal points, which
are at the extremities of the two spacious streets which
cross each other. The most frequented of these two ^
streets is called Cassero. It begins where the quay ends,
with the north gate called Porta Felice, the happy gate;
and terminates on the south, at the new gate, which
opens on the road toMontreale. Near the last of these
gates, this city, which so well merits the attention of a
lover of the arts, exhibits a large square, round which
stand some extensive monasteries, the palace of the arch¬
bishop, and the palace of the viceroy. Directly oppo- -
site to the palace of the viceroy stands, on a pedestal
richly ornamented with a variety of figures, a statue of
Philip TV. The statue, the pedestal, and the ornaments
are all of marble.
Palermo is quite filled with public monuments,
churches, monasteries, palaces, fountains, statues, and
columns. These are not all eminently beautiful 5 for
they have not been all erected under the reign of good
taste; but every one of them shows that the nation is
fond of the arts, and possesses a genius for decoration.
Spring waters are very copious in this city. Not a
quarter in Palermo but is liberally supplied with foun¬
tains,
P A L [ 704 ] PAL
Palermo, tains, most of which are marble, all of them adorned
with pieces of sculpture, and all aflord large quantities
„ of water.
The situation of this city is truly happy j the sea, the
hills, the lofty mountains, present on all sides beautiful
and striking prospects, which render it one ol. the most
favourable situations for the genius of the artist, whose
object is to copy the beauty and sublimity of nature.
Freed from the fetters of the Inquisition, the abolition
of which was procured by the marquis of Caraccioli,
and from the influence of some other unfavourable insti¬
tutions, which are rapidly declining, Palermo must be¬
come one of the finest cities in the world j and the island,
of which it is the capital, being all cultivated like a gar_
den, one of the most enchanting spots on the face of the
earth. Nature has denied none of her best spots to Si¬
cily. It was the benignity of nature, which, in the
happy ages of antiquity, when the political circumstan¬
ces of the Sicilians were not such as to repress their ge¬
nius, prompted and enabled them to erect so many il¬
lustrious monuments. “ Adjoining to the town, and
near the sea, is a public garden or promenade, planted
with orange and lemon trees, formed into arcades, and
* February. now loaded with fru;t* ; tl,e stems of the trees stand in
furrows, and are continually watered by a small stream.
In the middle is a fountain, on which stands a colossus
of white marble, surrounded by four grotesque temples,
in two of which are canary birds. Among the oranges
is a kind called sanguinei or bloody, which are stained
in the middle with red, and have usually the finest fla¬
vour. Some of the lemons are sweet, but very flat, ta¬
sting like sugar and water. The citrons grow to an im¬
mense size j the rind, which occupies at least thiee'-
fourths of the bulk of the fruit, is eaten with sugar; the
juice is sharper than the sourest lemon. Indian figs in
very great abundance grow wild in the fields and hedges,
to the height of twelve or fourteen feet: of these there
are three kinds, one with large spines, another with
smaller, and the third almost smooth, iheir fruit is
cooling and delicious, io,oool. wortli of which is sold
annually to the poor people in the neighbourhood of this
city. Another plant, very common in this country, is
the aloe, which usually blossoms every fifth or sixth year.
Of these there are five or six species, which grow most¬
ly in the hedges, and together with the Indian figs, form
a most impenetrable fence.
“ The palace, which is an indifferent old building, is
situated in a square, near the south gate of the city,
and commands a delightful prospect of the adjacent
country. At the top is an observatory, inhabited by
an ingenious old priest %vho has been in England, and
brought from thence several astronomical instruments
constructed by Ramsden.” Neither the structure, situ¬
ation, nor architectural ornaments of the palace are such
as to merit any extraordinary praise. It is, like many
others, an assemblage of buildings erected in various ages,
as need of accommodation or fancy suggested ; and, of
consequence, it must unavoidably be defective in archi¬
tectural order and beauty. The chapel is the only
part of it that merits any attention. It was founded
by the Counts Roger, the Norman conquerors of Si¬
cily. Within, it is decorated with beautiful pieces of
marble and porphyry, and of mosaic work in gold and
various colours. It is in the same taste with the ca¬
thedral of Montreale. It is built on the same plan
with common churches, only on a smaller scale. The Palermo. fulff*1
nave is encircled with pillars ; on the right and the left' 
are two narrower openings, called lateral or low passa¬
ges : the choir and sanctuary are at the end of the nave.
Among all the pillars which enclose the nave, it would
be hard to find two exactly of the same form and work¬
manship. Opposite to a channelled column stands an¬
other on which the graving tool has made no such im¬
pressions ; several have neither astragal, nor base, nor
scale : they are formed of various kinds of marble, and
are of diflerent orders and unequal in height. The
walls, the arcades, and the arches, are covered with mo¬
saic work, in gold and colours, representing angels, and
male and female saints.
Over the entrance into the choir, and fronting the
nave, there is an Eternal Father of a huge size; the de¬
sign of which has, in all probability, been to impress
the beholder with a sufficiently awful idea of the great¬
ness of God. Such representations of the deity, how¬
ever improper, not to say impious, occur pretty com¬
monly in the churches of Sicily. The cathedrals of
both Montreale and Palermo display the Divine Ma¬
jesty with equal dignity. Over the walls of the cha¬
pel there are many pieces of granite, porphyry, and
serpentine, cut into a round, or a square, or some other-
form, and set like panes of glass. I heir edges are en¬
circled with various draughts in gold and colours ; de¬
corations unquestionable expensive, as they are indeed
very finely executed in their kind. Rut it is amazing
that such irregularity of design was admitted in a build¬
ing of such magnificence and raised at such an enormous
expence. T he pavement of the chapel has been origi¬
nally laid, and still consists in part of large blocks of tin,
porphyry, and serpentine. Most of these are round ;
ornamented with compartments of draughts, and cover¬
ed over, as well as the w'alls, with incrustations of co¬
loured mosaic work. I he seat designed for the
roy is of the same kind, and highly ornamented. The
candlestick intended to receive the wax lights at the
festival of Easter is of white marble. All the riches of
sculpture are lavished on it with such profusion as ren¬
ders it a prodigy of labour ; but in a fantastic unnatu¬
ral taste.
In a long gallery in tbe palace of the viceroy, stand
two figures of rams in bronze, concerning which we
find the following tradition.—Archimedes is said to
have long ago erected in one of the public squares of
Syracuse four columns with a brazen ram upon the top
of each. He is said to have placed them there in such
a posture, as that some one of them always indicated
which of the four principal winds was blowing ; and it is
added, that they were fabricated with such art, that the
wind caused them to utter sounds exactly similar to the
bleating of sheep ; and whenever any one of the four
bleated, he thereby gave notice that the wind was blow¬
ing from that quarter towards which he stood. It is
certain (as travellers inform us) that the two brazen
rams in this gallery are perforated with small holes m
their flanks, close to their thighs, and in other places
over their bodies ; and that by blowing through those
holes a sound is produced pretty much like the bleating
of sheep. The wind appears to pass through the holes,
and to pass out at the mouth : there might, however,
be other holes in the pedestal on which the ram stood,
or in other parts of the body, which might contribute to
produce
PAL
PaWmo. produce the bleating; for traveUers agree in saying,
vr— that those which they could observe do not appear to be
sufficient to produce the effect. The prince of Torre
Muzza, one oi the most enlightened men in Sicily, in¬
formed M. Houel, that these two rams were dug up
from among the ruins of Syracuse in the fourteenth cen¬
tury : as they were buried under ground, they had pro¬
bably lain there for many centuries. They were bought
by the Marquis Geraci, of the family of Ventimiglia,
and lay long in his castle. About the end of the 15th
Century they were brought to Palermo, and placed in
the palace of the viceroy. It is not known what is be¬
come of the other two. They are probably buried in
some ancient ruins, and may be one day or other disco¬
vered in digging for the foundation of some new build¬
ing. The proportions of these two rams are larger
than nature. They are pieces of very fine workman¬
ship : both the heads and the horns are formed with
taste, delicacy, and truth; the wool is not so well
executed; the forms all together are not absolutely
the finest that might be selected from among the whole
species.
The cathedral of Palermo is dedicated to St Rosa¬
lia. The Sicilians, though so exceedingly devout,
have however neglected to repair it; and it is at
present in a most miserable state, as the interior parts
appear to be falling into ruins. Proposals have been
made for rebuilding it, and various plans have been
shown.
The present church appears to have been built by
the Counts Roger. The external parts are in a Go¬
thic taste, and very heavy : within, it has been at dif¬
ferent periods repaired and embellished. The pillars
of the nave are adorned with pilasters of the Corin¬
thian order: these are joined by arches through which
you pass to the sides of the building. In some places
it is overloaded with ornaments, in others but very
poorly ornamented : viewed all together, it is so desti¬
tute of order or proportion, as to be absolutely ridicu¬
lous.
In a chapel on one side of the cathedral are four
Gothic tombs of the same period. They have been
originally sarcophagi; and having escaped the fate of
most of the other works of antiquity, have been spoiled
by attempts to repair or improve them, and have been
set up here to preserve the remains of some of the
kings of Sicily. The only thing about them that can
deserve attention is the beauty of the stone ; they are
of a fine red porphyry.
In the same chapel there is a fine large tabernacle ;
the whole of which, when viewed without distinction
©f the parts, resembles the dome and the front gate of
the Val-de-graee at Paris. It is of rich lapis lazuli,
of the very finest colour. The whole of it is plated,
and the pillars are said to be solid. All its ornaments
are of gilt brass ; and on the whole it is extremely
beautiful.
Around the church are several statues of saints by
Guaginj, the celebrated sculptor. On the way from the
cathedral down the Cassero there is, on, the right hand,
a small square, at the entrance of which stands a pede¬
strian statue of Charles V. in bronze. Near the place
where the two great streets cross stands the senate house,
in a small court, before which there is a fine marble
fountain; there are besides about this edifice many cu-
Vol. XV. Part II. ' t
1 7°5 1
PAL
rious fragments of antiquity. It would extend this ar¬
ticle beyond all proportion if we were to mention all the ^
curiosities which are to be found in Palermo. We shall
nowr endeavour to give our readers an idea of the inter¬
nal government ol the place, which we shall do in the
words of Mr Hill.
u J he magistrates appointed to preserve the order
of society in tins city are, first, the supreme judge, to
whom belongs the administration of justice in criminal
cases; he is the head of the nobility, and immediately
follows the viceroy in all the solemn functions. Second¬
ly, The prsetor, who regulates the affairs of the city.
He is the perpetual deputy of the kingdom; chief in
parliament of the order to whom appertains the right
of regulating the king’s demesne, and possessed of the
prerogative of captain-general during the absence of the
viceroy. Ihirdly, The praetorian court, which consists
of three judges, citizens of Palermo, who are chosen an¬
nually by the king. They assist the supreme judge in
the decision of criminal affairs, and the praetor in the
deliberations upon the finances; these two officers, how¬
ever, have neither vote nor signature, except the praetor,
in the business respecting the public bank and first fruits,
fourthly, The senate of Palermo, composed of the prae¬
tor and six practitioners of the law, named by the king,
who wear the toga after the manner of the ancient Ro¬
man senators, and principally inspect the police which
regards the grain and provisions. There are besides
seven great officers of state, to each of whom is assigned
a peculiar employment. First, II Maestro Portclano,
to whom is committed the care of the public granaries,
and who manages the sale of the corn both at home and
abroad. Ihe imposition of a tax upon this commodity
has nearly proved the ruin of agriculture, especially as
the exportation of it is prohibited to all those who arc
not able to pay an exorbitant price for that privilege.
The quantity of corn annually produced in the island
does not at present amount to more than a tenth part
of what was collected in former years. Secondly, The
auditor general, who passes judgment without appeal
upon all offeuces committed within the precincts of the
palace. Thirdly, The high admiral, whose jurisdiction
extends over the marine. Fourthly, The chancellor,
who overlooks all the notaries of the kingdom, prepares
all official patents, reads the propositions when the par¬
liament assembles, and at the time of a coronation ten¬
ders the oath of fidelity to the people, and also proclaims
that of the monarch, who thereby binds himself to main¬
tain and defend the privileges of the city of Palermo.
The same ceremony takes place upon the installation of
a viceroy. Fifthly, The prothonotary of the queen’s
chamber, who has the inspection of jthe demesnes of six
cities, viz. Syracuse, Lentini, Qirlentini, St Filippo,
Mineo, and Virini, which were formerly appropriated
to the queens of Sicily. Sixthly, The chief secretary,
who presides over the officers appointed to receive the
taxes and duties in the places of their respective juris¬
dictions. And, seventhly, The lieutenant of the. royal
exchequer, who has the administration of all effects
that have been sequestered or confiscated.
“ Palermo is the principal residence of the greater
part of the Sicilian nobility ; and as it is not the custom
for any gentleman to walk in the streets, at least 1000
carriages are said to be kept in the town. They are
for the most part ia the English taste, very elegant,
4 U shown
Palermo.
PAL [ 706 ] PAL
shown to the greatest advantage, with beautiful horses
richly caparisoned, and as many footmen in splendid
liveries as can be crowded together behind. Kvery
evening all the people of rank drive about in this
manner on the grand public terrace by the sea side.
There are also very convenient hackney coaches, co¬
vered and open, waiting all day in their respective sta¬
ll is very remarkable, that the dead in Palermo are
never buried. Captain Sutherland gives the following
account of this circumstance in his lour to Constanti¬
nople. The dead bodies are carried to the Capuchin
convent, which is one of the largest in Italy j “ where,
after the funeral service is performed, they are dried in
a stove heated by a composition of lime, which makes
the skin adhere to the bones. They are then placed
erect in niches, and fastened to the wall by the back or
neck. A piece of coarse drab is thrown over the
shoulders and round the waist ; and their hands are
tied together, holding a piece ot paper with their epi¬
taph, which is simplv their names, age, and when they
died.’ We of course’ (says Captain.Sutherland) visited
this famous repository i'and it is natural to suppose
that so many corpses would impress one with reverence
and awe. It was nearly dusk when we arrived at the
convent. We passed the chapel, where one of the or¬
der had just finished saying vespers, by the gloomy
wlimmering of a dying lamp. We were then conduct¬
ed through a garden, where the yew, the cypress, and
the barren orange, obscured the remaining light $ and
where melancholy silence is only disturbed by the hol¬
low murmuring of a feeble waterfall. All these cir-
cAimstances tuned our minds lor the dismal scene which
we were going to behold 5 but we had still to descend
a flight of steps impervious to the sun ; and, these at
last, conveyed us to the dreary mansion of the dead.
But (will you believe me ?) notwithstanding the chil¬
ling scene through which we had passed, notwithstand¬
ing our being in the midst of more than a thousand lilt-
less bodies, neither our respect for the dead, nor for the
holy fathers who conducted us, could prevent our smil¬
ing. The physiognomies of the deceased are so ridicu¬
lously mutilated, and their muscles so contracted and di¬
storted in the drying, that no French mimic could equal
their grimaces. Most of the corpses have lost the lower
part of the nose j their necks are generally a little twist¬
ed their mouths drawn awry in one direction ; their
noses in another } their eyes sunk and pointed difleient
ways 5 one ear perhaps turned up, the other drawn
down. The friars soon observed the mirth which these
unexpected visages occasioned , and one of them, as a
kind of memento, pointed out to me a captain of caval¬
ry, who had just been cut off in the pride of his youth :
but three months a^o, he was the minion of a king—
the favourite of a princess—Ala-! how changed ! Even
on earth there is no distinction between him and the
meanest beggar. This idea in a moment restored my
reflection ; and I felt with full force the folly of human
vanity. I turned to the holy father, who gave me this
lesson. His eyes were fixed on what was once a captain
of horse.—‘ I saw in them, ‘ Read this, titled pomp, and
shrink to thy original nothingness. Hie thee to my
lady’s chamber \ tell her, though she paint an inch thick,
to this must she come at last—make her laugh at that.’
The relations of the deceased are bound to send two
wax tapers every year for the use of the conventin Palermo
default of which, the corpse is taken down and thrown I!
into the charnel house. Were it not for the number 1Fillestinei
of vacancies occasioned by the nonpayment of this sti- T
pend, the Capuchins would be unable to find niches for
the number of men who must die every year in so po-
polous a city as this. Women are dried as well as
the men, but are not exposed. Nobles are shut up in
chests.”
The number of the inhabitants is above 200,000 ;
and the harbour, though very large, is not so com¬
modious as might be expected, and the vessels that ride
therein are not always very safe. There is a magni¬
ficent castle built near the sea side, wherein the viceroy
resides six months in the year •, and his presence draws
a great number of nobility to this place. This city
has suffered greatly by earthquakes, particularly in
1693-, an(1 ^ vvas great,y damaged by fire in 1730,
when a magazine of powder was blown up, containing
400 tons. It stands in a pleasant fruitful country, on
the north-east coast of the island, and at the bottom
of the gulf of the same name. E. Long. 13. 23. N.
Lat. 38. 15.
PALES, in Pagan worship, the goddess of the shep¬
herds, to whom they offered milk and honey, in order
that she might deliver them and their flocks from wild
beasts and "infectious diseases. This goddess is repre¬
sented as an old woman. She was worshipped with great
solemnity at Rome j and her festivals, called Puhlici,
were celebrated on the 21st of April, the very day that
Romulus began to lay the foundation of the city of
Rome •, the ceremonies of which consisted in burning
heaps of straw, and leaping over them. No sacrifices
were offered, but purifications were made with the smoke
of horses blood, and with the ashes ot a calf that had
been taken from the belly of its mother after it had been
sacrificed, and with the ashes of beans. T-he purifica¬
tion of the flocks was also made with the smoke of sul¬
phur, of the olive, the pine, the laurel, and the rose¬
mary. Offerings of mild cheese, boiled wine, and cakes
of millet, were afterwards made to the goddess. Some
call the festival Par ilia, quasi a pariendo, because the
sacrifices were oftered to the divinity for the fecundity
of the flocks.
PALESTINE, in its present state, is a part of
Asiatic Turkey, situated between 310 30' and 330 20'
north latitude, and between 340 50' and 370 15' east
longitude. It is bounded bv iVIount Libanus, which
divides it from Syria, on the north 5 by Mount Hermon,
which separates it from Arabia Deserta on the east j by
the mountains of Seir and the deserts of Arabia Petra^a,
on the south j and by the Mediterranean sea on the
west.
This once fertile and happy spot was first called the
land of Canaan, or Chanaan, from Noah’s grandson.
In Scripture, however, it is frequently distinguished by
other names •, such as the Land of Promise, the Land of
God, tht Land of Israel, &c. It received the name of
Palestine from the Palestines or Philistines,who possess¬
ed a great part of it; and it has the name of Judea, or
Judea Palestina, from Judah, the most considerable of the
twelve sons of Jacob. The Christians have denominat¬
ed it the Holy Land; partly on account of the many
singular blessings it received from the Divine Provi¬
dence, and partly on account of its metropolis being
PAL
r 7°7 i
PAL
fPiile-iiae. made the centre of God’s worship and his peculiar ha-
•—"v ' bitation j but much more for its being the place of our
Saviour’s birth, the scene of his preaching and mani¬
fold miracles: especially the place in which he accom¬
plished the great work of our redemption. As to the
name of Judea, it did not begin to receive that till after
the return of tne Jews from the Babylonish captivity,
though it had been styled long before the Kingdom of
Judah, in opposition to that of Jsrael, which revolted
from it under Jeroboam, in the reign of Kehoboam the
son of Solomon. But after the return, the tribe of Ju-
Jah, the only one that made any figure, settling at Je¬
rusalem, and in the countries adjacent, quickly gave its
name to the whole territory. By profane authors it was
called by many different names •, such as Syria, Pales-
tina Syria, C’celosyria, Iduma, Idumaea, and Phoenicia
or Phoenice j but these are supposed only to have been
given out of contempt to the Jewish nation, whom they
looked upon as unworthy of any other name than what
distinguished the most obscure parts of the neighbouring
provinces.
That part of the country which was properlv called
the Land oj Promise, was enclosed on the west by the
■Mediterranean •, on the east by the lake Asphaltites,
the Jordan, the sea of Tiberias or of Galilee, and the
Samachonite lake *, to the north it had the mountains
of Libanus, or rather of Antilihanns, or the province
of Phoenicia j and to the south, that of Edom or Idu¬
maea, from which it was likewise parted by another
ridge of high mountains. The boundaries of the other
part, which belonged to the two tribes and a half be¬
yond the river Jordan, are not so easily defined, as well
as those of the conquests made by the more prosper¬
ous kings of the Jews. All that can be said with any
probability is, that the river Arnon was the first north¬
ern boundary on that side •, and with respect to those
on this side the Jordan, there is a considerable disagree¬
ment between the Hebrew and Samaritan versions of
the Pentateuch.
. The extant of this country is likewise variously set¬
tled by geographers j some giving it no more than 170
or 180 miles from north to south, and 140 in breadth
where broadest, though not much above half that
breadth where narrowest, But from the latest and
most accurate maps, it appears to extend near 200
miles in length, and about 80 in breadth about the
middle, and about 10 or 15, more or less, where it
widens or contracts.
The climate is certainly very happy, its situation be¬
ing neither too far south nor too far north. The long¬
est day is not above 14 hours 1 5 minutes : But the li¬
mits of Palestine appear so small, considering that the
country is likewise intersected by high ridges of moun¬
tains, woods, deserts, &c. that many Learned men have
been induced to question what we read of its fertility
and populousness in former times. It must be owned,
indeed, that when we compare its ancient and flourish¬
ing state, when it was cultivated with the most dili¬
gence. by persons well skilled in every branch of agri¬
culture, with what it has been since the total extirpation
of the Jews out of it, and more especially since it fell
into the hands of the Turks, the contrast is amazingly
^reat: but when we consider the many evident causes
which have contributed to effect this change, and even
.^et consider the nature of the country itself, we find not
the least reason to doubt the truth of what the sacred
historians have related. Moses describes the richness '
of it in the strongest terms, even before the Israelites
got possession of it. It even exceeded the land of E-
gypt, so much celebrated by ancient historians 5 espe¬
cially in the vast numbers of cattle which it produced ;
in the quantity and excellence of its wine, oil, and
fruits. With respect to the oil and fruits, it is plain,
that the olives and oil of Canaan exceeded in goodness
those of Egypt, since the tribes sent them thither from
thence; and as for vines, Herodotus tells us, that the
Egyptians had none at all, but supplied the want of
them by a liquor brewed from barley. The presents
which Jacob sent to his son Joseph, of honey, spices,
myrrh, almonds, and other fruits of Palestine, show
that they must have been much better in the land of
Judea than in Egypt. The wines of Gaza, Ascalon,
and Sarepta, were famous among the most remote na¬
tions ; though it is allowed, that the wine which was
made at and in the neighbourhood of Bethlehem, in
great quantities, was equal at least, if not superior, to any
of the rest: and thatofLihanus, mentioned by the prophet
Hosea, was no less celebrated for its excellent flavour.
Several circumstances contributed to this wonderful
fecundity: such as, the excellent temperature of the
air, which was never subject to excessive heats or colds j
the regularity of its seasons, especially the former and
latter rain ; and the natural fatness and fertilitv of its
soil, which required neither dunging nor manuring, and
could he ploughed with a single yoke of oxen and a
small kind of plough j for the soil was, and is still, so
shallow, that to have gone deep into it, would rather
have endangered than improved the crop. With re¬
spect to the excellency of its corn, we are told, that
the bread of Jerusalem was preferred above all other ;
and the tribe of Asher produced the best of both,
and in greater quantity than any other tribe ; and
such plenty was there of it, that, besides what suf¬
ficed the inhabitants, who made it their chief su¬
stenance, Solomon, we read, could afford to send
20,000 cors, or measures, of it, and as many of. oil,
yearly, to Hiram king of Tyre ; besides what they ex¬
ported into other countries. And we find, even so late
as King Herod, surnamed Agrippa, the countries of
Tyre and Sidon received most of their sustenance from
his tetrarchy.
As to their fruits, the grapes were delicious, finely
flavoured, and very large. The palm tree and its
dates were in no less request j and the plain of Jericho,
among other places, was famed for the great plenty
and excellence of that fruit j insomuch, that the me¬
tropolis of that territory was emphatically styled the
city of palm trees. But what both this plain, and other
parts of Palestine, were most celebrated for, was the bal¬
sam shrub, whose balm was esteemed so precious a drug
among the Greeks, Romans, Egyptians, and other na¬
tions, and is still to this day, under the name of halm of
Gilead. They had likewise the greatest variety of other
fruit trees in the highest perfection 5 and which mighf
be, in some sense, stykd perpetual, because they were
notonlycovered with a constant verdure,but because the
new buds always appeared on the same boughs before the
old fruit was ripe 5 and of those buds, which were in too
great quantities to be allowed to come to maturity, they
gathered enough to make very delightful pickles and
4 U 2 sweetmeat's
Fa It etine.
PAL [ 7°8 ] PAL
Palestine, sweetmeats, especially of their citrons, oranges, and
’-—■-y—   apples of paradise, which last commonly hung by hun¬
dreds in a cluster, and as big as hens eggs, and of an
excellent taste and flavour. Their vines yielded grapes
twice, and sometimes three times a year, great quan¬
tities of which were dried up, and preserved for uSe, as
well as their figs, plums, and other fruits. They had
plenty of honey j the very trees distilled it ; and the
rocks yielded it in great quantities : but whether that
of the latter kind was there deposited by the indu¬
strious bees, or produced some other Way, is much dis¬
puted by travellers and naturalists. They likewise
cultivated sugar canes in great abundance j and the
cotton, hemp, and flax, were mostly of their owm
growth and manufacture, except some of a finer sort,
that were brought to them from Egypt, and worn by
those of the higher rank. Their vicinity to Li ban us
made the cedars, cypresses, and other stately fragrant
trees, verv common in most pai’ts ol the land, but
more especially in Jerusalem. Cattle, both large and
small, they fed in vast quantities 5 and the hilly coun¬
tries not only afforded them variety and plenty of pas¬
ture, but also of water, which descended thence into
the valleys and low lands, and fertilized them to the
degree \ve have seen ; besides several other rivers and
brooks, some of the most remarkable of which we
shall speak of in their proper places. But the most
fertile pasture grounds were those on each side of the
river Jordan 5 besides those of Sharon, or Sarona, the
plains of Lydda, Jamnia, and some others then justly
famed for their fecundity. As for fish, the river above-
mentioned, the lake of liberias, and the Mediterra¬
nean sea, afforded, as they do to this day, great plenty
and variety. Vast quantities were brought to Jerusa¬
lem, on which the inhabitants mostly subsisted •, and
hence one of the gates of that metropolis was, accord¬
ing to St Jerome, called the fish gate. The lake As-
phaltites yielded salt in abundance, wherewith to sea¬
son and preserve their fish, which Galen affirms to have
been preferable to any other for wholesomeness, dige¬
stion, and extenuation. In short, the Scripture is so
pregnant with proofs of the extraordinary richness and
fecundity of this once happy land, and the vast num¬
ber of people that lived in it, almost wholly upon its
product, to say nothing of the vast exports of its corn,
wine, oil, raisins, and other fruits, &c. that a man must
have taken a strange warp to infidelity, that can call it
in question, merely on account of the melancholy and
quite opposite figure it now makes under its present ty¬
rannical government.
But its fertility has been called in question ; and Vol¬
taire and other infidel writers have raised difficulties and
objections against the authority of Scriptuie, from the
pretended sterility of the land of Judea. In answer to
which, the abbe Guenee, about the year 1780, com¬
municated to the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles
Lettres at Paris, Two Memoirs concerning the Ferti¬
lity of Palestine, in order to show that such objections
had no solid foundation.
In the first of them, the author proves, that from
the captivity of Babylon to the war of Adrian, Judea
was always considered as a rich and fertile country.
The positive and multiplied authorities of the writers
of that period, Jews, Greeks, and Romans, not only
attest in general the fertility of that country, but
many of these writers, entering into a particular de- Palestine’
tail of circumstances, prove it from the nature of the
climate, the qualities of the soil, and the excellencies
and variety of its productions. These are confirmed
by proofs of another kind, but which are of a very
convincing nature, even those resulting from a great
number of medals struck under the reigns of the kings
of Syria and Judea, and under the Romans, both by
Jew’s and Pagans, and which all bear the symbols of a
rich fertility. To these proofs are added a multitude
of facts, recorded in the history of the Jews during
this period j the efforts of the neighbouring kings to
conquer their country 5 the long and bloody wars that
the Jew's carried on with vigour, and sometimes with
success, against powerful princes and nations j the tri¬
bute and taxes they paid to the kings of Egypt and
Svria, to the Romans, and to their own princes 5 the
magnificence of their sovereigns, and among others of
Herod the troops he raised and kept on foot; the
temples, fortresses, palaces, and cities, which he erected
and embellished, not only in his own country, but also
in Syria, Asia Minor, and even in Greece ; the im¬
mense sums he lavished among the Romans, the dona¬
tions he made to his own people, and the vast treasures
w hich he left behind him : all these circumstances con¬
cur in proving the fertility and riches of Palestine du¬
ring that period.
In tfee second memoir, the Abbe Guenee considers
the state of Palestine as it was from the time of the
emperor Adrian to the caliphate of Omar, which
comprehends a period of four centuries. From sundry
facts he shows, that it could not then have been the
barren country which it has been represented by some
sceptical writers. He particularly mentions the pro¬
ject formed by Adrian of rebuilding and embellishing
Jerusalem, of forming it into a Roman colony, and giv¬
ing it his own name $ a project of which he could
never have entertained a thought, if Judea, which he
had seen and examined with his own eyes, had appear¬
ed to him such a barren and wretched country as it is
said to be by some who have neither seen that country
nor examined the matter with care and attention. Our
author also produces a variety of other facts, to show
that Judea, after all that it had suffered from the de¬
solations of war both in ancient and latter times, still
remained at the period in question fertile, rich, and
populous. This is the idea which the writers of the
time, Pagan and Christian, as well as Jewish, have
given of Palestine. Antoninus Martyr, a citizen of
Placentia, who in the 6th century travelled to Pale¬
stine, and composed an account of his voyage, which
is still extant, says, that the canton of Nazareth was
not inferior to Egypt in corn and fruits ; and that
though the territory of that ^ity was not very exten¬
sive, it abounded in wine and oil, and excellent honey.
The country about Jericho appeared to him still more
fertile. He saw Mount Tabor, which he represents as
Surrounded with cities: and he observed, in the neigh¬
bourhood of Jerusalem, vineyards, great plantations of
fruit trees, and through the whole country a consider¬
able number of hospitals, monasteries, and beautiful
edifices. Our learned abbe, in concluding his work,
acknowledges, that the opulence and fertility of Judea
might begin to diminish towards the middle of the pe¬
riod treated of in his second memoir : but he does not
think
pjtetin
PAL
deftine. think rhat any argument can be drawn from
“~v ' against its having been at the commencement of this
period in a flourishing state •, and much less can any
proof be brought from hence, that in preceding periods,
under the kings, or under the administration of Moses,
the country ot Palestine was a barren and uncultivated
district.
Besides, it ought to be considered, that it was then
inhabited by an industrious people, who knew how to
improve every inch of their land, and had made even
the most desert and barren places to yield some kind
of productions, by proper care and manure; so that the
very rocks, which now appear quite bare and naked,
were made to produce corn, pulse, or pasture ; being,
by the industry of the old inhabitants, covered with
mould, which, through the laziness of the succeeding
proprietors, has been since washed o(Y with rains and
storms. We may add, that the kings themselves were
not above encouraging all kinds of agriculture, both by
precept and example ; and, above all, that they had the
divine blessing promised to their honest endeavours and
industry : whereas it is now, and hath been long since,
Inhabited by a poor, lazy, indolent people, groaning
under an intolerable servitude and all manner of discou¬
ragements ; by which their aversion to labour and agri¬
culture, farther than what barely serves to supply their
present >yants, is become in a manner natural and invin¬
cible. We may further observe, after the judicious Mr
Maundrell, that there is no forming an idea of its an¬
cient flourishing state, when under the influence of hea¬
ven, from what it is now under a visible curse. And, if
we had not several concurring testimonies from profane
authors, who have extolled the fecundity of Palestine,
that single one of Julian the Apostate, a sworn enemy
to Jews and Christians, as well as to all the sacred writ¬
ings, would be more than sufficient to prove it; who
frequently makes mention, in his epistles, of the perpe¬
tuity, as well as excellence and great abundance, of its
fruits and products. The visible effects of God’s anger,
which this country lias felt not only under Titus Ves¬
pasian (when myriads of inhabitants were either slain,
or perished by the most severe famine, pestilence, and
other calamities, and the rest sold for slaves into all
lands; and new colonies sent to repeople it, who found
it in such desolate state, as quite discouraged them from
restoring it to its pristine fruitfulness) ; but much more
since that emperor’s time, in the inundations of the nor¬
thern barbarians, of the Saracens, and of the more cruel
and destructive Christians during the crusades; and in
the oppression it now feels under the Turkish yoke, may
he easily owned to be more than sufficient to have wrought
the dismal change we are speaking of, and to have redu¬
ced the far greater part into a mere desert.
Nevertheless, if we may credit those who have view¬
ed it in this doleful condition, they will tell us, there
are still such visible signs of its natural richness and
fertility, as plainly show, that the bare want of cul¬
ture is the main if not the only cause of its present po¬
verty and barrenness. We shall hint, as a farther proof
of this, what a learned traveller hath lately written of it
from his own observations.
“ The Holy Land (says Dr Shaw), were it as well
peopled and cultivated as in former times, would still
he more fruitful than the very best part of the coast of
Syria and Phoenice ; for the soil is generally much
2
[ ] PAL
hence richer, and, all things considered, yields a preferable pakituie.
crop. Thus the cotton that is gathered in the plains of
Hamah, Esdraelon, and Zabuiun, is in greater esteem
than what is cultivated near Sidon and Tripoli. Neither
is it possible for pulse, wheat, or any sort of grain to he
more excellent than what is sold at Jerusalem. The bar¬
renness, or scarcity rather, which some authors may, either
ignorantly or maliciously, complain of, doth not proceed
from the incapacity or natural unfruitfulness of the coun¬
try, but from the want of inhabitants, and the great
aversion there is to labour and industry in those few who
possess it. There are, besides, such perpetual discords
and depredations among the petty princes who share this
fine country, that, allowing it was better peopled, yet
there would he small encouragement to sow, when it was
uncertain who should gather in the harvest. Other¬
wise, the land is a good land, and still capable of aftord-
ing its neighbours the like supplies of corn and oil
which it is known to have done in the time of Solomon.”
And Volney, in his Travels in Egypt and Syria, ob¬
serves, that though the whole of Palestine is almost an
entire level plain, without either river or rivulet in sum¬
mer, and only watered by the winter torrents, the soil is
yet good, and may even be termed fertile: for when the
winter rains do not fail, every thing springs up in abun¬
dance ; and the earth, which is black and fat, retains
moisture sufficient for the growth of grain and vegeta¬
bles during the summer. More doera, sesamum, wate-
melons, and beans, are sown here than in any other part
of the country. They also raise cotton, barley, and wheat;
but though the latter be most esteemed, it is less culti¬
vated, for fear of too much inviting the avarice of the
Turkish governors and the rapacity of the Arabs.
Judea, in its largest sense, was divided into maritime
and inland, as well as into mountainous and champaign; >
and again subdivided into Judea on this side, and Judea '
beyond Jordan. But the most considerable division is
that which was made among the twelve tribes, by lot,
to prevent all murmuring and discontent among that
stubborn people*; of these, two and a half were seated*'Jbs/i. xiv»
beyond Jordan, and the rest on this side. The next re- 2- &c*
markable was made by King Solomon, who divided his
kingdom into twelve provinces or districts, each under
a peculiar officer ; and every one of these was to supply
the king with provisions for his household in his turn ;
that is, each for one month in the year f. But the mostf 1 Kin<rar
fatal division of all was that which obtained undet his iv. 7. &c.
imprudent son Rehoboam, when ten of the twelve tribes
revolted, under the conduct of Jeroboam, who became
head of this new monarchy, styled the kingdom of Israel,
in opposition to that of Judah, the title which distin¬
guished the maimed kingdom of Rehoboam from that
time downwards. Under the second temple the distinc¬
tion lasted a considerable tirhe, and the same bloody ha¬
tred and hostilities continued between these two king¬
doms ; that of Israel taking the name of Samaria from
its capital. The inhabitants were a mixture of the old
Israelites, and of new colonies sent thither by the kings
of Assyria after their conquest of it, till they were sub¬
dued by the Maccabees, and their metropolis destroyed.
Under the Romans it began to be divided into tetrar-
chies and toparchies : the larger were those of Judea,
Samaria, and Galilee, Upper and Lower ; the lesser,
those of Geraritica, Sarona, and others of less cote ;
all which lay on this side of the Jordan* The rest, oix.
the..
PAL [ 710 ] PAL
the other side, -were those of Gilead, Peraca, Gaulo-
nitis, Auranitis, Batanea, and Decapolis. Josephus men¬
tions * another division made in Gahinius’s time into live
districts, or, as he styles them, or councils, a-
greeable to the Roman manner : these were Jerusalem,
Jericho, andSephoris, on this side Jordan-, and Gadaris
and Amatlieus on the other. In the reigns ol the Chri¬
stian emperors, it was divided afresh into PalestinaPrima,
Palestina Secunda, and Palestina Tertia or Salutaris j
which last included the far greater part, if not the whole
country, as is known to all who are acquainted with hi¬
story. On that account we shall wave all other divisions
and changes that happened to it under the northern bar¬
barians, Saracens, &c. and conclude this article with
-the present state and division of it under the Turks.--
The whole country of Palestine is now reduced to a di¬
strict or province, under the beglerbegate or bassaship of
Sacham or Damascus, who hath the seven following san-
giacs or subgovernors underhim, styled, according to the
ditferent places of their residence, I. The sangiac ot Da¬
mascus, who is under the bashaw of that province ; 2. Ot
Jerusalem, or, as the Turks call it, Cudjembark or Cottd-
scherif; 3. Aglum *, 4. Bahara $ 5. Scifat; 6. Gaza}
7. Nabolos. Each of these has a number of ziamets,
and each ziamet a number of timariots under them -, for
the better understanding of which terms, we shall refer
our readers to Sir Paul Rycaut’s account of the Ottoman
empire. At present it will be sufficient-tjo say of these
inferior subdivisions, under the sangiac ot this district, or
sangiacate of Jerusalem, that it hath nine of the former
and sixteen of the latter class. Neither must the reader
imagine these sangiacates or sub-governments to be any
thing considerable, or the residence of these officers to be
places of any note or opulence. The former indeed live
by oppressing the people under them, and extort con¬
tributions of every thing that comes within their reach,
such as the protection of travellers, merchants, and cara¬
vans } but being all under their respective bashas, who
are still more griping than their undei'lings, they are
commonly fleeced of some considerable part of their un¬
just gains. As for the places of their residence, except
it be here and there one in a considerable city, as at
Damascus and Jerusalem, the rest are either some old
cities or even inconsiderable villages.
There are a variety of curiosities in Palestine both
natural and artificial -, but they are so very numerous as
almost to preclude description: we therefore refer our
readers to the Ancient Universal History, vol. ii. where
they are mentioned and particularly described. The
^principal mountains, rivers, and other places of note,
have already been, or will be, noticed under their re¬
spective names.
PALESTRINA, a town of Italy, in the Campagna
ali Roma, with a bishop’s see. It is the capital of a
principality of the same name, and the bishop is one of
the six cardinal bishops. It was anciently famous for
the temple'Of Fortune, being then called Prceneste, and
seated on the top of a mountain, the ruins of which may
yet be seen. E. Long. 12. 55. N. Lat. 41. 51.
PALESTRINA, is one of the largest and most populous
of the islands called the Lagunes near Venice, and where
the most considerable of the noblemen have housesof plea¬
sure. It is 15,000 paces in length and 400 in breadth }
the principal harbour has also the same name.
PALFREY, is one of the better sort of horses used
z
by noblemen or others for state } and sometimes of old
taken for a horse fit for a woman to ride. Camden
says, that William Fauconberge held the manor of
Cuckeny, in the county of Nottingham, in serjeantry,
by the service of shoeing the king’s palfrey when the
king should come to Mansfield.
PAL1CAUD, oi-Palgatcherry, a fortress of con¬
siderable strength in India, which commands the passage
between the two coasts of Malabar and Coromandel, by
way of the Tritchinopoly and Coimbettore countries ;
there is also a communication with it through the Nayre.
country. It was held by the English ; and was of great
importance to them, when Coimbettore was in the hands
of Tippoo, because, by our holding this place on the
west, and Dindigul on the east of Coimbettore, that pro¬
vince was of little use to him in the time ol war, with¬
out a very large force to protect it. But the fall of that
sovereign, and the reduction of his territories, have ef¬
fected a total change of circumstances. See Memoir ot
a Map of the Peninsula ot India by Major Rennel.
PALICATE, a sea port town of India, on this side
of the Ganges. It is seated on the coast of Coromandel,
in the kingdom of Carnate, 70 miles north of Fort St
George. Here the Dutch had a factory, and fort called
the Fort of Guelderland. E.Long. 80. j .N. Lat. 13.34.
PALICI, or Palisci, in Fabulous History, two dei¬
ties, sons of Jupiter by Thalia, whom JEschylus, ac¬
cording to Macrobius, calls JEtna, in a tragedy which
is lost. The nymph j£tna,Avhen pregnant, begged Ju¬
piter to remove her from the pursuit ot Juno, Upon
which he concealed her in the bowels of the earth j and
when the time of her delivery arrived, the earth opened
and brought into the world two children, to whom wTere
given the name of Pallet, XTra rev eraeAiv me-Swi, because
they came again into the teorld from the towels of the
earth. These deities were worshipped with many cere-
Palfrey
monies by the Sicilians } and near their temple were two
small lakes, which were supposed to have sprung out of
the earth when they w7ere born. Near those pools it was
usual to take the most solemn oaths when any body wish¬
ed to decide controversies and quarrels. If any of the
persons who took the oaths were perjured, they were
immediately punished supernaturally ; and those whose
oath, by the deities of the place, was sincere, departed
unhurt. The Palici had also an oracle, which was con¬
sulted upon some great emergencies, and which rendered
the truest and most unequivocal answers. In a supersti¬
tious age, the altars of the Palici were stained with the
blood of human sacrifices } but this barbarous custom
did not last long, as the deities were satisfied with the
usual offerings.
PALINDROMUS, a verse or sentence which runs
the same when read either backwards or forwards Such
is the verse,
Roma tibi subito motibus ibit amor.
Some people of leisure have refined upon the Palindro-
mus, and composed verses, each word ot which is the same
backwards as forwards j for instance, that of Camden:
Odo tenet nudum, madidam mappam tenet Anna.
Anna tenet mappam madidem, nudum U net Odo.
PALINGENESIA, among divines, the same with
regeneration. Among the older chemists, it denotes the
producing of a body from its principles. ■ ^
PAL [71
PALINGENIUS, Marceuajs, an Italian poet,
well known by a poem divided into 12 books, and en¬
titled Zodiacus Vif(f‘y which he was several years in com¬
posing, and dedicated to Hercules II. of Este, duke of
Ferrara. Some say he was a physician to that prince :
others rank him among the learned Lutherans, to whom
the duchess of Ferrara gave a reception in her court, and
honoured with her protection. His Zodiac contains good
things, and is a philosophical satire against immorality
and false prejudices. Of the author’s life, however, but
little is known. He died some time between the years
*537 andl543-
PA LINO DY, a discourse contrary to former avowed
principles 5 hence the phrase of palinodiatn canere was
taken for a recantation.
PALINURI PROMONTORIUM (Virgil, Velleius),
with a cognominal port, was situated at the south ex¬
tremity of the Sinus Passtanus on the coast of Lucania :
so- called from Palinurus, /Eneas’s steersman, who there
perished (Mela, Dionysius Halicarnasseus.)
PALINURUS, in Fabulous Histori/, /Eneas’s pilot,
whose fate Virgil very particularly describes. He fell
into the sea when asleep j and was three days exposed to
the tempests and its agitation, and at last came safe
ashore, when the cruel inhabitants of the place mur¬
dered him to get his clothes. His body was left un¬
buried on the sea shore : and since, according to the
religion of the old Romans, no one could cross the
Stygian lake before too years were elapsed, if bis re¬
mains had not been decently buried, we find /Eneas,
when he went down to hell, speaking to Palinurus, and
assuring him, that though his bones were deprived of a
funeral, yet the place where his body was exposed should
soon be adorned with a monument, and bear his name 5
and accordingly a promontory was called Puhnurus.
PALISADES, in fortification, stakes made of strong
split wood, about nine feet long, six or seven inches
square, three feet deep in the ground, in rows about two
and a half or three inches asunder, placed in the covert
way, at three feet from, and parallel to, the parapet or
side of the glacis, to secure it from surprise. They are
also used to fortify the avenues of open forts, gorges, half
moons, the bottoms of ditches, and in general all posts
liable to surprise. They are usually fixed perpendicu¬
larly, though some make an angle inclining towards the
ground next the enemy, that the ropes cast over them
to tear them up may slip oft".
Turning Palisades ; an invention of M. Coehorn,
in order to preserve the palisades of the covert way
from the besiegers shot. They are so ordered, that
as many of them as stand in the length of a rod, or
about ten feet, turn up and down like traps, so as not
to be in sight of the enemy till they just bring on their
attack •, and yet are always ready to do the proper ser¬
vice of palisades.
PALI8SE, in Heraldry, a bearing like a range of
palisades before a fortification, represented on a fesse,
rising up a considerable height, and pointed a-top, with
the field appearing between them.
PALIURUS, in Botany. See Rhamnus, Botany
Ijide.v.
PALL, in Heraldry, a figure like a Greek y, about
the breadth of a pallet; it is by some heralds called
a cross pall, on account of its being looked upon as an
arcliiepiscopal bearing.
1 ] PAL
PALLA, in Roman antiquity, a mantle which wo¬
men wore over the gown called stola. It was borne on
the left shoulder^ whence passing to the other side, under
the right arm, the two ends were bound under the left
arm, leaving the breast and arm quite bare. It had a
great many folds, and derived its name from tcxX^u, to
shake or tremble.
PALLADIO, A NDREA, a celebrated Italian archi¬
tect of the 16th century, was a native of Vicenza in
Lombardy, and the disciple of Trissin. He made exact
drawings of the principal works of antiquity in Rome,
adding commentaries to them, which went through se¬
veral impressions. But this, though a very useful wrork,
was greatly exceeded by the Treatise of Architecture in
four books, which he published in 1570. Inigo Jones
wrote some excellent remarks on itj which were includ¬
ed in an edition of Palladio, published by Leoni, in
two vols. folio, 1 “■41.
PALLADIUM, in antiquity, a statue of the god¬
dess Pallas. It was about three cubits high, and re¬
presented the goddess sitting and holding a pike in her
right hand, and in her left a distaff and a spindle. It
fell down from heaven near the tent of Hus, as he was
building the citadel of Ilium. Some, however, suppose,
that it fell at Pessinus in Phyrgia j or, according to
others, Dardanus got it as a present from his mother
Electra. There are some who maintain, that the palla¬
dium was made with the bones ofPelops by Abarisj but
Apollodorus says, that it w7as no more than a piece of
clockwork which moved of itself. However various
the opinions of ancient authors be about this celebrated
statue, it is universally allowed, that on its preservation
depended the safety of Troy. This fatality the Greeks,
during the Trojan war, were well aware of; and there¬
fore Ulysses and Diomedes were commissioned to steal it.
This they effected; and if we can rely upon the authority
of some, they "were directed how to carry it aw'ay by
Helenus, a son of Priam, who in this betrayed bis coun¬
try, because his brotherDeiphobus, at the death of Paris,
had married Helen, of whom he was enamoured. Mi¬
nerva was enraged at the violence offered to her statue ;
and, according to Virgil, the palladium itself seemed to
have received life and motion; and by the flashes which
started from its eyes, and sudden springs from the earth,
it seemed to show the resentment of the goddess. The
true palladium, as is observed by some, was not carried
away from Troy by the Greeks, but only a statue of
similar size and shape, which was placed near it, to de¬
ceive whatever sacrilegious persons attempted to steal it.
The palladium, therefore, as they maintain, iEneas con¬
veyed safe from Troy to Italy, and it was afterwards
preserved by the Romans, with the greatest secrecy and
veneration in the temple of Vesta; a circumstance which
none but the vestal virgins knew. It was esteemed the
destiny of Rome ; and there were several others made
perfectly like it, to secure it from being stolen, as was
that of Troy, which the oracle of Apollo declaied should
never be taken so long as the palladium was found with¬
in its walls. A palladium was also placed by Nicias in
the citadel of Athens.
Palladium, one of the newly discovered metals,
which is found alloyed with platina. See Chemistry
Index, and Ores, Reduction of, under Platina.
PALLADIUS, bishop of'Helenopolis in Bithynia,
and then of Aspona. He was a Galatian, and born at
Cappadocia.
Palladius
I!
Pallavicim.
PAL [ 7I:
Cappadocia. He became an anchorite in the mountain
of Nebria in 588, and was consecrated a bishop in 401.
He was an intimate friend ot St John Chrysostom, whom
he never forsook during the time ot his persecution, nor
even in his exile. He went to Home some time alter
Chrysostom’s death, and at the request ol Lausus gover¬
nor of Cappadocia, composed the history of the Ancho¬
rites or Hermits, and entitled it Lausiaca, after Jhe name
of that lord, to whom he dedicated it in 42c, when it
was written, being then the 20th year of his episcopacy,
and 93d of his age. Palladius was accused of being an
Origenist. It is true, he was an enemy to St Jerome,
of whom he does not speak well, and was intimately,
connected with Ruflinus •, but perhaps no good proof
can be brought of his Origenism. He had been the dis¬
ciple of Evagrias of Pontus, and was even suspected of
entertaining the sentiments of Pelagius. He died in the
5th century, but in what year is not certain. His Hi¬
story was published in Oreek by Meursius at Amster¬
dam io 1619, and in Latin in the Bibliotheca Patn/m;
but he seems not to have been the writer of the Life of
St John Chrysostom in Greek and Latin, by M. Bigot,
printed in 1680.
PALLAS, a freed man of Claudius, celebrated for
the power and the riches which he obtained. He ad¬
vised the emperor his master to many Agrippina, and to
adopt her, son Nero for his successor. It was through
him and Agrippina that the death of Claudius was ha¬
stened, and that Nero was raised to the throne. Nero,
however, forgot to w'hom he was indebted for it. He
discarded Pallas, and some time after caused him to be
put to death, that he might procure his great riches.
Pallas, a small planet lately discovered, and be¬
longing to the soiar system. See Planet.
PALLAVICINI, Ferrante, an Italian writer,
descended from a noble family in Placentia, was born
about the close of the 16th century. He soon gave
proofs of an extraordinary genius, and quickly improved
in classical erudition. He was afterwards sent to com¬
plete his education in the monastery of Augustine friars at
Milan* where he took the habit, lived much esteemed
for piety and learning, and raised great expectations of
future fame j but being somewhat amorously inclined,
he engaged in an intrigue with a young courtezan of
Venice, whose charms proved irresistible *, and in order
to. enjoy them without restraint, he obtained leave from
his general to make the tour of France. Accordingly,
he pretended to set out for that country; but it was
only a blind to cover his real design. He never left
Venice, but lived there privately, enchanted in the
arms of his Venus : and having too ready a talent at
invention, he imposed upon his friends by often send¬
ing them in letters feigned accounts of bis travels
through France} also informing them of several things
respecting that court, which he learned from the ad¬
vices of many considerable persons with whom he cor¬
responded.
His finances were in the mean time greatly redneed ;
and in this exigence he naturally had recourse to his
wits for supplies. He wrote for the booksellers ; and
composed several pieces, more for the sake of lucre than
out of fondness for authorship. Among other things,
he wrote a collection of letters, mostly satirical, which
be called The Courier Robbed of his Mail. The work
appeared at first in such a cast, as could not give great
2 y pal
offence except to the Spaniards, against whom he had p
some grudge. The piece was accordingly licensed by *-
the inquisitors ; but falling into the hands of the se¬
cretary of the republic of Venice, who at that time
was licenser of books, he would not give his imprima¬
tur, though great interest was employed for that pur¬
pose, neither would he return the manuscript. This
enraged Pallavicini so much, that had not his friends
restrained him, he would have pursued the afiair to his
ruin.
At length he found an opportunity . of travelling
into Germany with the duke of Amalfi, as his chaplain,
This journey, as was to be expected, had no good ef¬
fect either upon his wit or his morals. On the con¬
trary, finding himself, from the manners of the Ger¬
mans, more at liberty, he indulged his genius and pas¬
sions with greater ease and after a residence there of
upwards of a year with the duke, he returned to Ve¬
nice. He was now resolved to have his full measure of
revenge against the secretary of the republic for keeping
his manuscript4 and with him his resentment joined the
family of Barberini, Pope Urban \ III. and his nephews*
because they also endeavoured, at the instigation of the
Jesuits, to get all his manuscripts forbid the press. In
this rancorous spirit he cast his Courier into a new mo¬
del, and enlarged it with many letters and discourses.
Thus new modelled, he offered it to a bookseller, who
undertook to get it printed } but our author was betray¬
ed by a pretended friend •, who acted the part of a spy,
and informed the archbishop of Vitelli, then the pope’s
nuncio at Venice, just as the work was finished at the
press : at the same time, this treacherous friend bought
the whole impression j and upon the nuncio’sxomplaint,
Pallavicini was imprisoned. In this miserable condition
he found a friend in one of his mistresses, w ho, seeing
him abandoned by most of his patrons, not only support¬
ed him, but-conveyed letters to him, by which she gave
him such information as enabled him to make a proper
defence, and to recover his liberty.
But a war having in the mean time broken out be¬
tween the Barberini and the duke of Parma ; Palla¬
vicini, in order to revenge himself upon the supposed in¬
struments of his imprisonment, wrote a piece entitled
“The tinkling Instrument to call together the Bar¬
berini Bees $” and dedicated it in terms of the pro-
foundest contempt to the nuncio Vitelli. The nuncio
finding that little notice was taken of his complaints
on the occasion, procured by bribery one Charles
Morfu, a Frenchman of infamous character, who pre¬
tended to pass for a gentleman, to ensnare Pallavicini:
to which end, the traitor used his best endeavours to
insinuate himself into his friendship, and at length ex¬
horted him to accompany him to Fiance. He de¬
clared that his fortune would be made by the extraor¬
dinary encouragement which was given to men of let¬
ters by Cardinal Richelieu : and the better to favour
the deceit, be produced feigned letters from the Car¬
dinal, inviting our author to France, and expressing a
desire he had to establish in Paris an academy for the
Italian tongue, under the direction of Pallavicini. The
snare took j and now, fascinated by the prospect of
gain, Pallavicini suffered himself to be led like an ox
to the slaughter, whithersoever Morfu thought pro¬
per. He left Venice much against the advice of his
friends, and went first to Bergamo, where he spent a
PAL
[ 7
sallavicini. few days With some of his relations, by way of giving
 * ' some entertainment to Morfu. They then set off for
Geneva, to the great satisfaction of our author, who
proposed to get some of his works printed there, which
he had not been able to do in Italy. Morfu, how¬
ever, instead oi conducting him to Paris, took the
road to Avignon ; where, crossing the bridge of So-
races, in the county of Venaissin, they were seiied by
a gang of sbirn, or sheriff’s officers, on pretence of
carrying contraband goods, and confined. Morfu was
quickly discharged, and very liberally rewarded j but
Pallavicini, being carried to Avignon, was imprisoned }
and notwithstanding, on his examination concerning
some papers found upon him, he made a very artful de¬
fence, it was in vain. The sentence was already brought
from Rome, and he was to undergo a trial merely for
form’s sake. I or this purpose being put into a dark
dungeon, he made another effort to escape. He mana¬
ged matters so well with his keeper, as to procure wax
candles to be allowed him, under pretence of amusing
himself with reading, and when he had got a number of
these, he set fire one night to the prison door, in order
to get off by that means ; but the stratagem did not
succeed, and he was of course confined much closer and
treated with great inhumanity. After a year’s suffer¬
ing, he was brought to trial, in which he made an excel¬
lent defence, and flattered himself with hopes of relief.
He had even begun a whimsical piece on the subject of
melancholy; but, contrary to his expectations, he was
sentenced to die, and lost his head on a scaffold in the
flower of his age.
He was of so heedless and profuse a disposition, that had
he possessed an immense estate he would have spent it
all. He was never engaged in a virtuous passion, be¬
ing inflamed to a prodigious and unnatural degree with
Abe love of the meanest and most infamous prostitutes.
On the other hand, no one could be more sincere and
faithful in his friendships, nor was ever a man a greater
prey to treachery ; insomuch that, when released from
prison in Venice, he was told that a wretch had betrayed
him, he could not be prevailed upon to believe it, saying,
ii How' can this be, since he declared himself my friend,
and I made him privy to all my concerns !” He used,
while he wore a religious habit, to study or write two
or three hours in bed every morning. The rest of the
day he spent either in the company of idle persons, or
else with the ladies : but after he had wholly left the
monastic life, upon pretence of securing himself from
the snares of his enemies, he lived in a very irregular
manner. He was possessed of a fine genius, had a
great facility in writing j and till he was coirupted by
the commerce of mean lewd women, he wrote pieces
worthy of immortality. He did not spend much time
or pains either in composition or in revision, for he fre¬
quently sent to the press the very first exeitions of his
genius j yet nature had given him so noble «. vein ofelo-
quence, which he had greatly improved by perusing the
best authors, that his first thoughts were often equal to
the most laboured compositions. He was modost, and
spoke of himself with diffidence : but his works are
strongly tinctured with envy, malice, and gall. He
made but a poor figure in conversation $ and when with
persons of worth and distinction, would often retire to
a corner of the room, and seem quite wrapt in up in
thought. He never exerted his wit and hiKnour after
Vol. XV. Part II. f
13 ] PAL
his return from Germany, hut rvhen he was in the com* Pallavicini
pany of some mean women. Upon the w hole, it is dif- li
ficult to determine whether vice or virtue was the most Pftllio.
predominant feature in his character. His death gave
birth to a dialogxxe, entitled, Anima erranti diFcrrante
Pallavictni, or, “ The wandering Ghost of Pallavici¬
ni.” Besides his life at the head of his works in two
volumes, there is another prefixed to the “ Divortio ce¬
leste,” at Amsterdam, 1696.
PALLENE, a small peninsula of Thrace or Mace
donia, formerly called Ph/egrct. It is situated near the
bay ol Thermae, and contains five cities, the principal of
which is called Pallene. It was famous, according to
some of the ancients, for an engagement between Abe
gods and the giants.
PALLET, among painters, a little oval table, or
piece of vyood or ivory, very thin and smooth j on and
round which the painters place the several coloui’s they
have occasion for, to be ready for the peiicil. The
middle serves to mix the colours on, and to make the
tints required in the work. It has no handle, but, in¬
stead thereof, a hole at one end to put the thumb through
to hold it.
Pallet, among potters, crucible makers, &c. a
wooden instrument, almost the only one they use, fox-
forming, beating, and rounding their works. They
have several kinds : the largest are oval, with a handle *,
others are round, or hollowed triangularly ; others,
in fine, are in manner of large knives, serving to cut
off whatever is superfluous on the moulds of their
work.
Pallet, in gilding, an instrument made of a squir¬
rel’s tail, to take up the gold leaves from the pillow, and
to apply and extend them on the matter to be gilt. See
Gilding.
Pallet, in Heraldry, is nothing but a small pale,
consisting of one half of it in breadth, and there¬
fore there are sometimes several of them upon one
shield.
Pallet, is also a part belonging to the balance of »
watch or movement. See the article Watch.
PALLIA1VE, a name which the Romans gave to
such plays as laid the plot in Greece, and required the
performers to appear in Grecian habits. It is used in
contradistinction to togatce, in which the scene was laid
at Rome, and in which the dresses were Roman. The
word palliatse is derived from pallium, which was a part
of dress peculiar to the Greeks j whereas the toga be¬
longed to the Romans only. See Togat.®:, Comedy,
&c.
PALLIATION, or a Palliative Cure, in Medi¬
cine, is when, in desperate and incurable diseases, after
predicting the fatal event, the physician prescribes some
remedies for mitigating the pain or some other urgent
symptoms, as in ulcerated cancers, or cancerous fistulas,
and the like.
PALLIO cooperire. It was an ancient custom,
where children were horn out of lawful wedlock, and
their parents were afterwards married, that those child¬
ren, together with the father and mother, should stand
pallio cooperti, under a cloth, while the marriage wasso-
iemnixing j which was a kind of adoption, and had the
-effect of a legitimation. Thus Robert Grosthead, the
famous bishop of Lincoln, in one of his letters says :
Insignim legitimationis,nati ante matrimonium consue-
4 X verunt
PAL
[ 7*4 1
PAL
vent at pent sub pallia super parenies comm cxtento in
matrimonii solemni%aiionc. _
fSeklen, in his notes on Fleta, adds, tiiat tlie children
of John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, by Catherine
Swinford, though legitimated by act of parliament, yet
were covered with the pall when the parents were mar-
riepALLIUM, a word often mentioned in our old
historians. Durand us tells us, that it is a garment
made of white wool, after the following manner, viz.
The nuns of St Agnes, every year, on the feast day of
their saint, offer two white lambs on the altar of their
church, during the time they sing Agnus Dei, in a so¬
lemn mass ; which lambs are afterwards taken by two
of the canons of the Lateran church, and by them gi¬
ven to the pope’s subdeacons, who send them to pasture
till shearing time, and then they are shorn, and the pall
is made of their wool mixed with other white wool.
The pall being thus made, is carried to the Lateran
church, and there placed on the high altar, by the dea¬
cons of that church, on the bodies of St Peter and bt
Paul} and after an usual watching, it is carried away
in the night, and delivered to the subdeacons, who lay
it up safe. And because it was taken from the body
of St Peter, it signifies the plenitude of ecclesiastical
power: and therefore it was the prerogative of popes,
who pretend to be the immediate successors of that
saint, to invest other prelates with it; which at first
was done nowhere but at Rome, though afterwards at
other places.
PALLIUM, in antiquity, an upper garment or mantle
worn by the Greeks, as the toga was by the Romans.
Each of these was so peculiar to the respective nations,
that Palliatus is used to signify a Greek, and Togatus
a Roman.
PALM, has among almost all nations been regarded
as an emblem of victory, and assigned as the reward of
it. The reason why this tree was adopted, and made
use of to represent victory, is said to be, because it
is so elastic, that if pressed by the greatest weight, it
will rise superior to the pressure, and be able to re¬
store itself to its former state, appearing almost invin-
Palm-Sunday, m the Christian church, the Sunday
next before Easter 5 being so called in memory of our
Saviour’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem, when the mul¬
titude that attended him.strewed branches on his way.
The ancients had other names for this day. lor, 1.
They called it Dominica Competentium, i. e. Sunday of
the Competentes ; because on that day the catechumens
eame to ask the bishop leave to be admitted to baptism,
which was conferred the Sunday following. They had
also then given them the symbol or credo, to get off by
heart, to be repeated to the bishop in the ceremony of
baptism. 2. ikey called it dtapitiluvium, the Sunday
of washing the head *, because those that were to be bap¬
tized the following Sunday were prepared by washing
their heads.on this day. ' Some time afterwards they
called it Indulgence Sunday, because the emperors and
patriarchs used to distribute gifts on that day. .
pALM-Tree. See Phoenix, Botany Index.
PALMA, or Palma Nova, a very strong town of
Italy, in Friuli, in the territory of Venice. It is a very
important place, for the defence of the Venetians against
t-hs Austrians and Turks j and was built in 1593, *or
that very purpose. They have cut a canal near this
place, which is very advantageous, it is seated on
the sea side, 10 miles south-east of Udino, and 55
north-east of Venice. East Long. 13. 15. North Lat.
46. 2.
Palma, an island in the Atlantic ocean, and one of
the Canaries, 56 miles north-west of Gomera, and about
75 in circumference. It abounds in wine and sugar j
and has a handsome town of the same name, which car¬
ries on a trade in wine to the West Indies and other
parts. Their best vines grow in a soil called the Brcnia,
where they make 12,000 butts of wine every year,
which is well known by the name of palm wine. Therfc
is plenty of cattle, and all sorts of fruits. In 1625 a
volcano broke out in this island, with a most violent
earthquake •, the flame was seen for six weeks toge¬
ther, and a great quantity of ashes were thrown as
far as Teneriffe. It was conquered by the Spaniards
in 1460.
PALMiE, Palms. Under this name Linnaeus has
arranged several genera, which, although capable of a
place in separate classes of his system, he chooses ra¬
ther, on account of their singular structure, to place
apart, in an appendix to the work.—See Botany
dex.
The same plants constitute one of the seven families
or tribes into which all vegetables are distributed by
Linnaeus in his Philosophia Botanica. They are defined
to be plants with simple stems, which at their summit
bear leaves resembling those of the ferns, being a
composition of a leaf and a branch 5 and whose flowers
and fruit are produced on that particular receptacle
or seat called a spadix, protruded from a common ca¬
lyx in form of a sheath or scabbard, termed by Linnse-
us spatha.
Palmce is likewise the name of the first order in Lin¬
naeus’s Fragments ol a Natural Method.
PALMARIS MUSCLE, in Anatomy. See there,
Table of the Muscles.
PALMATED, something resembling the shape
of the hand: thus we say, palmated leaves, roots,
stones &C.
PALMERSTON’S Island, situated in the South
Seas, which Captain Cook visited in his second and last
voyages. It consists of a group of small islets, nine or
ten in number, connected by a reef of coral rocks, and
lying in a circular direction. It admits of no anchor¬
age, nor are there any inhabitants on it, though it
abounds with cocoa nuts, scurvy grass, and the wharra
tree. This island is not more than a mile in circumfe¬
rence, and is not elevated above three feet above the
level of the sea. It consists entirely of a coral sand,
with a small mixture of blackish mould, which appear¬
ed to be produced from rotten vegetables. “ At one
part of the reef (say our navigators), which bounds the
lake within, almost even with the surface, there was a
large bed of coral, which afforded a most enchanting
prosnect. Its base, which was fixed to the shore, ex¬
tended so far that it could not be seen, so that it appear¬
ed to be suspended in the water. Even this delightful
scene was greatly improved by the multitude of fishes
that gently glided along, seemingly with the most per¬
fect security. Their colours were the most beautiful
that can be imagined, blue, yellow, black, red, far
excelling any thing that can be prcduced by art. The
richness
Falma
11
Palmer¬
ston’s
bland.
P A L [ 7i
‘aimer- richness of litis submarine grotto was greatly increased
iiton’s by their various forms ; and the whole could not possi-
-sland bly |je surveyed without a pleasing transport, accompa-
iilmvra. at ^ie same time "'th regret, that a work so asto-
ij—^ 1 nishingly elegant sliould be concealed in a place so sel¬
dom explored by the human eve.” E. Loup. iq6. q c.
S. Lat, 18. 8.
PALMIPEDES, among ornithologists, the same
with web-footed birds. See Ornithology.
PALMISTRY, a kind of divination, or rather a
deceitful art practised by gypsies, who pretend to foretel
events by looking upon the lines and marks of the hand.
PALMUS, a long measure used both by the Greeks
and Romans. The Grecian palmus was of two sorts •,
the greater, which contained nine finger breadths, and
the less which contained four. The Roman palmus was
also of two sorts j the greater, which contained twelve
finger breadths, or eight inches and a half English •, and
the less, which contained four finger breadths, or near
three inches English.—The great palmus was taken
from the length of the hand or span ; the less from the
breadth of it. The Greek palmus was called dor an.
See Measure.
Kings,
kiS. and
»hron.
A 4. and
.tephus,
JU. Jud.
PALMYRA, or Tadmor, a noble city of ancient
Syria, now in ruins, the origin of whose name is un¬
certain. Neither is it well known by whom this city
was built ; for though, from the identity of the names,
it is thought by many to have been the Tadmor in the
wilderness built by Solomon *, this point, however, is
much controverted by many learned men. For the
world have been long and justly astonished to find in the
desert of Syria, at a distance from the sea, with a very
precarious and scanty supply of water only, and without
a particular connexion with any great monarchy, ruins
of a city more extensive and splendid than Rome itself,
the depositary of all the arts which Greece in its most
flourishing periods could afford. The problem is an in¬
tricate one ; yet when we divest it of many of its diffi¬
culties, we shall bring this stupendous prodigy to no ve¬
ry uncommon magnitude. The coast of Syria was in
very early ages rich and populous j and either from the
conveniency of procuring water, or from the vicinity of
India and Egypt, the population, instead of increasing
on the mountains, extended to Judea, and from thence
through its plains only to the internal parts. The ruins
of this numerous people, and of their habitations, re¬
main ; but as their edifices were not uncommonly splen¬
did, or, as the causes of their destruction were powerful,
they have not attracted much attention. Yet the ruins
of more than 30 towns are discoverable to the south¬
east of the Dead Sea, and from thence towards Tadmor
or Palmyra $ we know the cause of the destruction of
these towns, and we know that it did not reach Palmy¬
ra. This splendid city was not, therefore, insulated in
a mass of sand : it was probably a link of a continued
chain of population, or perhaps its termination. The
situations of towns in the sandy desert must necessarily
be determined by local advantages. Tadmor is situated
where two hills converge, and beyond the point where
they approach. These hills afforded water, that neces¬
sary aid to animal life $ and the aqueducts through
which it was brought from them were discovered and
described by Mr Wood. Though the other towns now
in ruins afford some remains of luxury and opulence, yet
in these respects they are much inferior to Palmyra; and
5 ] PAL
this deserves to be explained. Palmyra was undoubted-^ Palmyra,
ly very ancient. “ The two springs of fresh water it ——v~—-
possesses (says Volney *) were, above all, a powerful in- * Travels
ducement in a desert everywhere else so parched and th' ^ A
barren. These, doubtless, were the two principal mo- ^yria aru,‘
tives which drew the attention of Solomon, and induced
that commercial prince to carry his arms so remote
from the limits of Judea.” “ He built strong walls
there (says the historian Josephus), to secure himself in
the possession, and named it 'Tadmor, which signifies the
Place of Palm trees.” Hence it has been inferred that
Solomon was its first founder; but we should, from this
passage, be rather led to conclude that it was already a
place ol known importance. The palm trees he found
there are not the trees of uninhabited countries. Prior
to the days of Moses, the journeys of Abraham and Ja¬
cob from Mesopotamia into Syria, sufficiently prove a
communication between these countries, which must
soon have made Palmyra flourish. The cinnamon and
pearls mentioned in the time of the Hebrew legislator,
demonstrate, a trade with India and the Persian gulf,
which must have been carried on by the Euphrates and
Palmyra. At this distance of time, when the greater
part of the monuments of these'early ages have perish¬
ed, we are liable to form very false opinions concerning
the state of these countries in those remote times, and
are the more easily deceived, as we admit as historical
facts antecedent events of an entirely different character.
If we observe, however,that men in all ages are united
by the same interests and the same desires, we cannot
help concluding, that a commercial intercourse must ear-1
ly have taken place between one nation and another, and
that this intercourse must have been nearly the same
with that of more modern times. Without, therefore,
going higher than the reign of Solomon, the invasion of
Tadmor by that prince is sufficient alone to throw a
great light on the history of this city. The king of
Jerusalem would never have carried his attention to so
distant and detached a spot, without some powerful mo¬
tive of interest; and this interest could be no other than
that of an extensive commerce, of which this place was
already the emporium. This commerce extended itself
to India ; and the Persian gulf was the principal point
of union.”
From the nature of the commodities, from the requi¬
site assistance of the Tyrians, and other forcible argu¬
ments, M. Yolney shows that the Persian gulf was the
centre of the most ancient commerce of the eastern
world ; and that it was with a view of obtaining a
shorter route, by means of the Euphrates, that Solomon
turned his attention to Tadmor, distant hut three days
journey from it. Our author goes on, “ We may even
reasonably conjecture, when we reflect on the revolutions
of the following ages, that this commerce became a
principal cause of those various Wars in Lower Asia, for
which the barren chronicles of those early times assign
no motives. If, after the reign of Solomon, the Assy¬
rians of Nineveh turned their ambitious views towards
Chaldea, and the lower part of the Euphrates, it was
with the intention to approach that great source of opu¬
lence the Persian gulf. If Babylon, from being the
vassal of Nineveh, in a short time became her rival, and
the seat of a new empire, it was because her situation
rendered her the emporium of this lucrative trade; in
short, if the kings of this great city waged perpetual
4X2 ware
Palmyra.
PAL [ 7l6 3 PAL
wars with Jerusalem and Tyre, their object was not on¬
ly to despoil these cities of their riches, but to prevent
their invading their trade by the way of the Red sea.
An historian who has inlovmed us that Nabuchodonosor,
before he laid siege to Jerusalem, took possession of Tad-
mor, clearly indicates that the latter city acted in con¬
cert with the two neighbouring capitals. Iheir gra¬
dual decline became, under the Persian empire, and the
successors of Alexander, the efficient cause ot the sud¬
den greatness of Palmyra in the time of the Parthians
and Romans} she then enjoyed a long peace for many
centuries, which allowed her inhabitants to erect those
monuments of opulence whose ruins we still admire.’’
If the former observations showed the connection of this
remote spot with a more populous country, these re¬
marks explain the cause of the renovation, and of the
magnilicence of this city. Our author’s remarks are at
least probable, and are, in our opinion, very convincing.
Cairo, in another, probably a subordinate route, never
attained the splendour of Palmyra ; but the genius
of the Egyptians, perhaps the laws ol Egypt, prevent¬
ed it.
There is, however, no authentic history of Palmyra
till after the captivity of the Roman emperor Valerian
by the Persians. It is first mentioned by the Roman
historians, as a place which Mark Antony attempted to
plunder, upon pretence that it had not observed a just
neutrality between the Romans and Parthians. Pliny
takes notice of it as being situated in a rich soil, among
pleasant streams, and totally separated from the rest of
the world by a vast sandy desert, which had preserved
its independence between Parthia and Rome. There is
still a considerable spot of good soil next the town and
on the hills-, and even in the wilderness, there were
palms and fig trees, some of which remained till the
latter end of the 17th century, though not one is now
to be found.
After the captivity of Valerian, it was become an
opulent city, to which its situation in the vicinity of the
Roman and Parthian empires greatly contributed ; as
the caravans, in going to or returning from the east, fre¬
quented the place, and thus rendered it a considerable
seat of merchandise. It enjoyed an independency till
the time of Trajan y who, having made himself master
of almost all the Parthian empire, reduced Palmyra
likewise, and it was afterwards accounted part of the
Roman dominions. But when the defeat and capti¬
vity of Valerian had so much weakened the empire, that
the Persians seemed to be in a fair way of becoming
masters of all the eastern provinces, the Palmyrenians
began to entertain thoughts of recovering their liberty.
Odenathus, prince of Palmyra, sent a very respectful
letter to Sapor on his return, accompanied with consi¬
derable presents ; but by that haughty conqueror his
letter and embassy were treated with the most provoking
contempt. The presents were thrown into the Eu¬
phrates : and to his letter Sapor replied, That his inso¬
lence in presuming to write to his lord was inexcusable j
but if he could atone for it in any way, it would be by
presenting himself before the throne, bound band and
foot, in token of a consciousness of his crime, and the
punishment he deserved. With this injurious treatment
Odenathus was so provoked, that he swore either to
bring down the pride of the haughty conqueror, or die
in the attempt. Accordingly, having assembled what
forces he could, he fell upon the Persians, destroyed a Palmyra,
number of them, took a great part of their baggage, and —y-—
some of the king’s concubines. Of the war of Odena¬
thus with the Persians, however, we know very little:
only that though the latter were often vanquished, and
the independency of Palmyra established for the pre¬
sent ; yet Valerian was never released from his captivi¬
ty, though Odenathus earnestly wished to have the ho¬
nour of rescuing him from his enemies.
Odenathus enjoyed his sovereignty but a very short
time ; being murdered by his nephew, who was soon
after put to death by Zenobia the wife of Odenathus.
This lady is said to have been possessed of very extra¬
ordinary endowments both of body and mind, being, ac¬
cording to Mr Gibbon, almost tbe only Asiatic woman
who is recorded to have overcome the obstacles arising
from the confined situation of the fair sex in that part
of the world. Immediately on taking vengeance for
the murder of her husband, she assumed the govern¬
ment, and soon strengthened herself so much, that she
resolved to submit neither to the Roman nor Persian
power. The neighbouring states of Arabia, Armenia,
and Persia, dreaded her enmity, and solicited her alli¬
ance. To the dominions of Odenathus, which extend¬
ed from the Euphrates to the frontiers of Bithynia, his
widow added the inheritance of her ancestors, the popu¬
lous and fertile kingdom of Egypt. The emperor
Claudius acknowledged her merit, and was content, that,
while he pursued the Gothic war, she should assert the
dignitv of the empire in the east. The conduct, how¬
ever, "of Zenobia, was attended with some ambiguity j
nor is it unlikelv that she had conceived the design of
erecting an independent and hostile monarchy. She
blended with the popular manners of Roman princes the
stately pomp of the courts of Asia, and exacted from her
subjects the same adoration that was paid to the succes¬
sors of Cyrus. She bestowed on her three sons a Latin
education, and often showed them to the troops adorned
with the imperial purple. For herself she reserved the
diadem, with the splendid but doubtful title of Queen of
the east.
When Aurelian passed over into Asia, against an ad¬
versary whose sex alone could render her an object of
contempt, his presence restored obedience to the province
of Bithynia, already shaken by the arms and intrigues of
Zenobia. Advancing at the head of his legions, he ac¬
cepted tbe submission of Ancyra : and was admitted in¬
to Tyana, after an obstinate siege, by the help of a per¬
fidious citizen. The generous, though fierce temper of
Aurelian, abandoned the traitor to the rage of the sol¬
diers : a superstitious reverence induced him to treat
with lenity the countrymen of Apollonius the philoso¬
pher. Antioch was deserted on his approach j till the
emperor, by his salutary edicts, recalled the fugitives,
and granted a general pardon to all who, from necessity
rather than choice, had been engaged in the service of
the Paimyrenian queen. The unexpected mildness of
such a conduct reconciled tbe minds of the Syrians, and
as far as the gates of Emesa, the wishes of the people
seconded the terror of his arms.
Zenobia would have ill deserved her reputation, had
she indolently permitted the emperor of the Wrest to
approach within J 00 miles of her capital. The fate of
the East was decided in two great battles so similar in
almost every circumstance, that we can scarcely distm-
PalffiV1'
PAL [7
almyra. guisli tliem from each other, except by observing that
' the first was fought near Antioch, and the second near
Emesa. In both, the queen of Palmyra animated the
armies by her presence, and devolved the execution of
her orders on Zabdas, who had already signalized his
military talents by the conquest of Egypt. The nume¬
rous forces of Zenobia consisted for the most part of
light archers, and of heavy cavalry clothed in complete
steel. The Moorish and Illyrian horse of Aurelian
were unable to sustain the ponderous charge of their an¬
tagonists. They fled in real or affected disorder, enga¬
ged the Palmyrenians in a laborious pursuit, harassed
them by a desultory combat, and at length discomfited
this impenetrable but unwieldy body of cavalry. The
light infantry, in the mean time, when they had exhaust¬
ed their quivers, remaining without protection against a
closer onset, exposed their naked sides to the swords of
the legions. Aurelian had chosen these veteran troops,
who were usually stationed on the Upper Danube, and
whose valour had been severely tried in the Allemannic
war. After the defeat of Emesa, Zenobia found it im¬
possible to collect a third army. As far as the frontier
of Egypt, the nations subject to her empire had joined
the standard of the conqueror; who detached Probus,
the bravest of his generals, to possess himself of the
Egyptian provinces. Palmyra was the last resource of
the widow of Odenathus. She retired within the walls
of her capital 5 made every preparation for a vigorous
resistance ; and declared, with the intrepidity of a hero¬
ine, that the last moment of her reign and of her life
should be the same.
In his march over the sandy desert, between Emesa
and Palmyra, the emperor Aurelian was perpetually
harassed by the Arabs 5 nor could he always defend his
army, and especially his baggage, from those flying
troops of active and daring robbers, who watched the
moment of surprise, and derided the slow pursuit of the
legions. The siege of Palmyra was an object far more
difficult and important 5 and the emperor, who with
incessant vigour pressed the attacks in person, was him¬
self wounded with a dart. “ The Roman people, (says
Aurelian in an original letter), speak with contempt of
the war which I am waging against a,woman. They
are ignorant both of the character and of the power of
Zenobia. It is impossible to enumerate her warlike
preparations, of stones, of arrows, and of every species
of missile weapons. Every part of the walls is provided
with two or three balistse, and artificial fires are thrown
from-her military engines. The fear of punishment has
armed her with a desperate courage. Yet I trust still
in the protecting deities of Rome, who have hitherto
been favourable to all my undertakings.” Doubtful,
however, of the protection of the gods, and of the event
of the siege, Aurelian judged it more prudent to offer
terms of an advantageous capitulation : to the queen, a
splendid retreat $ to the citizens, their ancient privi¬
leges. His proposals were obstinately rejected, and the
refusal was accompanied with insult;
The firmness of Zenobia was supported by the hope
that in a very short time famine would compel the Ro¬
man army to repass the desert ; and by, the reasonable
expectation that the kings of the East, and particularly
the Persian monarch, would arm in the defence of their
most natural ally. But fortune, and the perseverance
of Aurelian, overcame every obstacle. The death of
[? ] PAL
Sapor, which happened about this time, distracted the palaiyra.
councils of Persia 5 and the inconsiderable succours that1 sr*-
attempted to relieve Palmyra were easily intercepted
either by the arms or the liberality of the emperor.
From every part of Syria a regular succession of con¬
voys safely arrived in the camp, which was increased by
the return of Probus with his victorious troops from the
conquest of Egypt. It was then that Zenobia resolved
to fly. She mounted the fleetest of hei dromedaries j
and had already reached the banks of the Euphrates,
about 60 miles from Palmyra, when she was overtaken
by the pursuit of Aurelian’s light-horse, seized and
brought back a captive to the feet of the emperor.
Her capital soon after surrendered, and was treated with
unexpected lenity. The arms, horses, and camels, with
an immense treasure of gold, silver, silk, and precious
stones, were all delivered to the conqueror^ who, lea-,
ving only a garrison of 600 archers, returned to Emesa,
and employed some time in the distribution of rewards
and punishments at the end of so memorable a war,
which restored to the obedience of Rome those provin¬
ces that had renounced their allegiance since the capti¬
vity of Valerian.
When the Syrian queen was brought into the pre¬
sence of Aurelian, he sternly asked her, How she had
presumed to rise in arms against the emperors of Rome?
The answer of Zenobia was a prudent mixture of re¬
spect and firmness : “ Because I disdained to consider as
Roman emperors an Aureolus or a Gallienus. You alone
I acknowledge as my conqueror and my sovereign.”
But as female fortitude is commonly artificial, so it is
seldom steady or consistent. The courage of Zenobia
deserted her in the hour of trial j she trembled at the
angry clamours of the soldiers, who called aloud for her
immediate execution j forgot the generous despair of
Cleopatra, which she had proposed as her model j and
ignominiously purchased life by the sacrifice of her fame
and her friends. It was to their counsels, which govern.-
ed the weakness of her sex, that she imputed the guilt
of her obstinate resistance j it was on their heads that
she directed the vengeance of the cruel Aurelian. The
fame, of Longinus, who was included among the nume¬
rous and perhaps innocent victims of her fear, will sur¬
vive that of the queen who-betrayed, or the tyrant who
condemned him. Genius and learning were incapable
of moving a fierce unlettered soldier, but they had ser¬
ved to elevate and harmonise the soul of Longinus.
Without uttering a complaint, he calmly followed the
executioner, pitying his unhappy mistress, and bestowing
comfort on his afflicted friends.
Returning from the conquest of the East, Aurelian
had already crossed the straits which divided Europe
from Asia, when he was provoked by the intelligence
that the Palmyrenians had massacred the governor and
garrison which he had left among them, and again
erected the standard of revolt. Without a moment’s
deliberation, he once more turned his face towards
Syria. Antioch was alarmed by his rapid approach,
and the helpless city of Palmyra felt the irresistible
weight of his resentment. We have a letter of Aure¬
lian himself, in which he acknowledges that old men,
women, children, and peasants, had been involved in
that dreadful execution, which should have been con¬
fined to armed rebellion : and although his principal
concern seems directed to the re-establishment of a
, temple
PAL [ 718 1 PAL
Palmyra, temple of the sun, he discovers some pity for the rem-
——v ‘ nant of the Palmyrenians, to whom he grants the per¬
mission of rebuilding and inhabiting their city. But it
is easier to destroy than to restore. The seat of com¬
merce, of arts, and of Zenobia, gradually sunk into an
obscure town, a trilling fortress, and at length a miser¬
able village.
Little is known concerning the fortunes of Palmyra
since the time of Mahomet, except that, it was consi¬
dered as a place of strength: and that in the 12th
century there were 2000 Jews in it. With respect
to the ruins, they appeared to he of two different and
distinct periods •, the oldest are so far decayed as not to
admit of mensuration, and look as if they had been re¬
duced to that state by the hand of time ; the others ap¬
pear to have been broken into fragments by violence.
Of the inscriptions none are earlier than the birth of
Christ, and none are later than the destruction ol the
city bv Aurelian, except one, which mentions Diocle-
sian.
Mr WTood is of opinion, that the face of the coun¬
try which surrounds Palmyra was always the same ;
but though Palmyra was always said to be situated
in a wilderness, it does not follow that the wilderness
was always of the same extent: It is perhaps more
probable, that when Palmyra was first settled, the
rich soil mentioned by Pliny extended much farther •,
ffpr whatever were the reasons for making a settlement
there, Palmyra can scarcely be supposed to have in¬
vited a greater number of people than it could feed.
The palms and fig trees that were formerly found on
the hills, and in the borders of the desert, that are now
totally barren, confirm this opinion. Mr Wood ob¬
serves, that while he was there a whirlwind happened,
which took up such quantities of sand as quite darken¬
ed the sky ; this sand therefore might by degrees en¬
croach upon the fertile environs of Palmyra, and re¬
duce the number of inhabitants as it reduced their sus¬
tenance, till the few wretched families only w'qre left,
who found it difficult to furnish food for Mr Wood and
his company, though they did not continue longer than
a fortnight among them. It will also appear from his¬
tory, that what is supposed to have happened here has
happened at other places, where such an event was
* Memoirs muc^ ^ess probable. * On the sea coast in the neigh-
of French hourhood of St Pol de Leon, in Lower Bretagne, there
Academy is a considerable tract of land which before the year
for 1718. 1666 was inhabited, but which was rendered uninha¬
bitable by a sand, which, encroaching every year, co¬
vered it to the depth of above 20 feet. In the year
171-8 it had advanced more than six leagues, and within
one league of St Pol ; so that it was then thought pro¬
bable that the town would of necessity he abandoned.
Tills sand is raised by the east or nortk-east wind, which
drives it in clouds with great swiftness, and in a pro¬
digious quantity. It was also attested by the captain
of a ship, and all on board, that in the year 1719 there
fell in the Atlantic ocean, at 15 degrees of north la¬
titude, and at the distance of more than eight leagues
from any land, a shower of sand, some of which they
I Hist, of produced, and deposited in the academy at Paris f.
the Acad. The company with whom Mr Wood, the publisher
177a* of the Ruins of Palmyra, travelled, arrive^ at length
at, the end of the plain, where a ridge of barren hills,
by which it was divided on the right and left, seemed
to meet ; between them there was a vale, through Palmvra,
which an aqueduct formerly conveyed water to Pal- —1
myra. On each side of this vale they remarked seve¬
ral sepulchres of the ancient Palmyrenes, which they
had scarce passed, when the hills opening on a sudden,
they discovered such piles of ruin as they had never
seen. They were all of white marble 5 and beyond
them, towards the Euphrates, wras a wide level, stretch¬
ing farther than the eye could reach, totally desolate,
without variety, and without bounds. After having-
gazed some time upon this prospect, which rather ex¬
ceeded than fell short of their expectations, they were
conducted to one of the huts of the Arabs, of which
there are about 30 in the court of the great temple.
The inhabitants of both sexes were well shaped, and
the women, though very swarthy, had good features.
They were veiled, but did not so scrupulously conceal
their faces as the eastern women generally do. They
paint the ends of their fingers red, their lips blue, and
their eyebrows and eyelashes black. They had large
rings of gold or brass in their ears and nostrils, and ap¬
peared to be healthy and robust. The walls of the
city are flanked by square towers, into which some an¬
cient funeral monuments have been converted; but the
walls are in most places level with the ground, and
sometimes not to be traced. It is, however, probable,
by their general direction, that they included the great
temple, and are three miles in circumference. The
Arabs showed a tract which was near ten miles in cir¬
cumference, the soil of which vras raised a little above
the level of the desert: this, they said, was the extent
of the old city; and that by digging in any part of it
ruins were discovered.
These ruins consist of temples, palaces, and porti¬
coes of Grecian architecture and lie scattered over
an extent of several miles. They were accidentally
discovered by some English travellers from Aleppo
somewhat more than a century ago. By far the most
remarkable of them is the Temple of the Sun, of which
the ruins are spread over a square of 220 yards. It
was encompassed with a stately wall, built of large
square stones, and adorned with pilaster’s within and
without, to the number of 62 on a side. Within the
court are the remains of two rows of very noble marble
pillars 37 feet high, with their capitals of most exqui¬
site workmanship. Of these only 58 remain entire $
but there must have been many more, for they appear
to have gone round the whole court, and to have sup¬
ported a double piazza. The walks on that side of
the piazza which is opposite to the front of the castle
seem to have been the most spacious and beautiful.
At each end of this line are two niches for statues,
with their pedestals, borders, supporters, and canopies,
carved with the utmost propriety and elegance. The
space within this inclosure, which is now filled with
the dirty huts of the inhabitants, seems to have been
an open court, in the middle of which stood the temple,
encompassed with another row of pillars of a different
order, and much taller, being 50 feet high 5 but of
these 16 only remain. The whole space contained
within these pillars is 59 yards in length, and near 28
in breadth. The temple is no more than 33 yards in
length, and 13 or 14 in breadth. It points north and
south ; and exactly into the middle of the building, on
the west side, is a most magnificent entry, on the re¬
main*
Enjiravetl by IV.^'D.T.izursKdinr
Palm
PAL [7
Palmyra, mains of which are some vines and clusters of grapes,
——v-" ' carved in the most bold and masterly imitation of na¬
ture that can be conceived. Just over the door are
discerned a pair of wings, which extend its whole
breadth ; the body to which they belonged is totally
destroyed •, and it cannot nowr certainly he known whe¬
ther it wras that of an eagle or a cherub, several repre¬
sentations of both being visible on other fragments of
the building. It is observed of the windows of this
building, which w'ere not large, that they were narrow¬
er at the top than below. The north end of the build¬
ing is adorned with the most curious fret-work and bas-
relief j and in the middle there is a dome or cupola
about ten feet diameter, which appears to have been ei¬
ther hewn out of the rock, or moulded to some compo¬
sition which by time is grown equally hard. North of
this place is an obelisk, consisting of seven large stones,
besides its capital and the wreathed work about it. It
is about 50 feet high ; and, just above the pedestal, is
12 feet in circumference. There was probably a statue
upon it, which the Turks, in their zeal against idolatry,
destroyed. At about the distance of a quarter of a mile
from this pillar, to the east and west, are two others, be¬
sides the fragment of a third 5 so that perhaps they w'ere
originally a continued row.
About xoo paces from the middle obelisk, straight
forward, is a magnificent entry to a piazza, which is
40 feet broad, and more than a half a mile in length,
inclosed with two rows of marble pillars 26 feet high,
and eight or nine feet in compass. Of these there still
remain 1295 and, by a moderate computation, there
could not originally have been less than 560. The
upper end of the piazza was shut in by a row of pil¬
lars, standing somewhat closer than those on each side.
A little to the left are the ruins of a stately building,
which appears to have been a banqueting-house. It is
built of better marble, and is finished with yet greater
elegance, than the piazza. The pillars which sup¬
ported it were of one entire stone, which is so strong,
that one of them which is fallen down has received
no injury. It measures 22 feet in length, and in com¬
pass 8 feet 9 inches. In the west side of the piazza
are several apertures for gates into the court of the
palace. Each of these was adorned with four por¬
phyry pillars, not standing in a line with those of the
wall, but placed by couples in the front ol the gate
facing the palace, two on each side. 1 wo of these
only remain entire, and but one standing in its place.
They are 30 feet long and 9 in circumference. On
the east side of the piazza stands a great number of
marble pillars, some perfect, but the greater part mu¬
tilated. In one place 1 x are ranged together in a
square : the space which they inclose is paved with
broad flat stones, but there are no remains of a roof.
At a little distance are the remains of a small temple,
which is also without a roof, and the walls are much
defaced. Before the entry, which looks to the south,
is a piazza supported by six pillars, two on each side
of the door, and one at each end. The pede-tals ot
those in front have been filled with inscriptions both
in the Greek and Palmyrene languages, which are be¬
come totally illegible. Among these ruins are many
sepulchres: they are ranged on each side of a hollow
way, toward the north part of the city, and extend
xtioi’C than a mile. T-hey ai-e all square towers, lour
9 ] PA L
or five stories high. But though they are alike in Pahnyn,
form, yet they differ greatly in magnitude and splen-y——
dour. The outside is of common stone, but the floors
and partitions of each story are marble. There is a
walk across the whole building, just in the middlej and
the space on each hand is subdivided into six partitions
by thick walls. The space between the partitions is
wide enough to receive thq largest corpse j and in these
niches there are six or seven piled upon one another.
Many inscriptions have been found at Palmyra,
which have occupied much of the attention of the
learned \ and if any thing certain could be derived
from them, there is no doubt but they would tend
very considerably to the elucidation of ancient history.
See Barthelemy’s Keflections on the Palmyrene Al¬
phabet, published at Paris in 1754 j and An Explica¬
tion of the Inscriptions at Palmyra hitherto published,
by John Swinton of Christ-church, Oxford. See also
Phil. Trans. N° 217. and 218.J the first volun e of the
Ancient Universal History ; and, above all, consult the
Ruins of Palmyra,or Tadmor in the Desert,published by
Mr R. Wood, who, with M. Bouveric and Mr Dawkins,
travelled thither in 1751. The result of their obser¬
vations was published in 1753, in the form of an atlas.
The ruins of this once mighty and celebrated city are
represented in 37 copperplates, 16 by 12 inches, print¬
ed on imperial paper. They are admirably executed.j
the drawing is correct and masterly $ and the engraving
highly finished : nor can they fail to give satisfaction See Plate
to those who are connoisseurs in the art, or to those who t
delight in the labours of antiquity.
Palmyra was visited by Mr Bruce before his journey
into Abyssinia j but, on account of the many publica¬
tions concerning these celebrated ruins, he has declined
saying much concerning them. He informs us, that
before he came in sight of the ruins, he ascended a hill
of white gi itty stone, in a very nari’ow winding road,
such as is called a pass ; but on getting up to the top,
his eyes were struck with the most stupendous sight
which, he believes, ever mortal saw. The whole plain
below, which is very extensive, was so covered with
magnificent buildings, that they seemed to touch one
another. All of them are finely proportioned, agree¬
ably shaped, and composed of white stones, which at-
that distance appeared like marble. In taking a
draught of these ruins, Mr Bruce divided the whole
into six angular views, for which the situation of the
place is very convenient. The columns are all unco¬
vered to the very bases, the ground on which they are
built being hard and solid. The views he took were
upon large paper j some of the columns being repre¬
sented a foot long, and some of the figures in the lore-
ground of the Temple of the Sun (a magnificent build¬
ing which stood at one end of the town) being near
four inches. Before he left Palmyra he observed its
latitude with a reflecting quadrant of Hadley $ but, as
the instrument was out of order, he could not determine
it exactly. In his opinion, however, 330 58' is not far
distant from truth. From such observations as he could,
make on the longitude, he concluded it to be 370 9'
east from Greenwich. Mr R. Wood makes the latitude ,
340 north.
From Palmyra Mr Bruce proceeded to Baalbec, di¬
stant about 130 miles, where he found ruins still more
magnificent. The interior part of the great temple
* ‘ ‘ ' at?
PAM [ 72° ] PAN
Palmyra at this according to our author, surpasses any
II thing he had seen at Palmyra, or anywhere else. “ All
Pamphilus., tjiese views of Palmyra and Baalbec (says he) are now
in the king’s collection. They are the most magnifi¬
cent offering, in their line, that ever was made by one
subject to his sovereign.”—In the neighbourhood of
Palmyra are some salt-marshes ; and to the adjacent
country a trade is carried on in kelp from Tripoli in
Syria. There are two Arab tribes, almost equally pow¬
erful 5 one of them, called Annecy, remarkable for the
finest horses in the world.
Respecting the latitude and longitude there are still
various opinions : that which appears to be nearest the
truth is E. Long. 38. 50. N. Lat. 33. 20. It stands
about 50 leagues south-east of Aleppo, as much from
Damascus, and 20 leagues west of the Euphrates.
PALPABLE, something perceivable by the senses,
particularly that of feeling.
PALPITATION of the Heart. See Medicine
- Index.
PALSY. See Medicine Index.
PALUDAMENTUM, in Roman antiquity, a ha¬
bit that differed but little from the chlamys, except
that this last belonged chiefly to the lower class of
people. It was worn by the officers and principal men
among the Romans in time of war, who are therefore
called Paludati; which distinguished them from the
common soldiers, who, because they wore the sagum,
Were called the Sagati. The paludamentum came down
only to the navel, was open on the sides, had short
sleeves resembling angels wings, and was generally white
or red. It is sometimes used to signify the common
soldier’s coat.
PALUS Meotis, the ancient name of a gulf be¬
tween Europe and Asia, to the north of the Black sea,
now called the sea of Zabaeh or Asoph.
PALY, or Pale, in Heraldry, is when the shield
is divided into four or more equal parts, by perpendicu¬
lar lines falling from the top to the bottom.
Paly Bendc, is when the escutcheon is divided by
perpendicular lines, which is paly ; and also by diago¬
nals, which is called bendy.
PAMBOUK, the Turkish name of the ruined city
of Hierapolis. See Hierapolis.
PAMLICO Sound, an inland sea on the east coast
of the United States, about 80 miles long, and 20 or 30
broad. It is formed by a range of low sandy islands
Scarcely a mile broad, which stretch along the shores of
North Carolina at a greater or less distance from the
Continent. Through these islands there are three in¬
lets, the deepest of which has only ten feet water. They
render the coast of North Carolina inaccessible to an
enemy.
PAMPELUNA, the capital of the kingdom of Na¬
varre in Spain, writh a very strong citadel and rich bi¬
shopric. It is handsome and populous, and carries on a
great trade, seated in a very fertile plain, in E. Long.
X. 25. N. Lat. 42. 42.
PamPEluna, a town of New Granda in South A-
ttnerica, famous for its gold mines and numerous flocks
of sheep. W. Long. 68. 30. N. Lat. 6. 30.
PAMPHILUS, a celebrated painter of Macedonia,
in the age of Philip. He was founder of the school
for painting at Sicyon ; and he made a law which was
observed not only in Sicyon'but all over Greece, that
none but children of noble and dignified persons should Pampliilus,
be permitted to learn painting. Apelles wTas one of his ||
pupils. Pan.
PAMPHYLIA, the ancient name of a country ofV""" *
Natolia in Asia, now called Carimania and Cay-bay,
between Lycia and Cilicia, on the south coast, to the
north of the Mediterranean sea.
PAN, the god of shepherds, hunters, and all coun¬
try exercises. Such he is described by the Greek and
Roman poets ; but he bore a higher character among
the earliest Greeks, as well as among the Egyptians ;
from whom his worship was borrowed by that people.
In Egypt he was known by the name of Mcndes,
which, according to Jablonski *, signifies fecundity. * Panthon
Hence his symbol was a living he-goat, the most sa)a- Egyptio-
cious of all animals: “ Hircum Mendesium coluntr“m-
JEgypti, eo quod virtuti prolificse ac genitivse, con-
secratus est.—Nam animal hoc coitus valde cupidum
est.” H is principal temple was a magnificent build,
ing in a city of Lower Egypt, called after his name.
It is well known (see Polytheism) that from dedi¬
cating certain animals to certain gods, the Egyptians
proceeded to consider the-animals themselves as actuat¬
ed by the divinities to whom they were sacred. Hence
the origin of brute worship. In the temple of Mendes
was kept a he-goat, to whom sacrifices of a very mon¬
strous kind were offered. Herodotus, speaking of the
praefecture of Mendes, says +, Eysvsia 3’ ru lopu r*v]t/^A^u
£9T tptu TtVTO TO yVYXIKI Tgxyof ipuryiTC avx^xv^cv.
Tovro to- ownxero. Our readers, learned
and unlearned, will forgive us for not translating this
passage, which contains, however, nothing that is not
confirmed by the testimony of other writers} particular¬
ly of Plutaich, and Pindar as he is quoted by Strabo.
The most wonderful circumstance of this monstrous sa¬
crifice is, that it was made publicly in the presence of a
great concourse of men ! But to what divinity was it
made ? To a mere goat, or to some superior principle
animating the goat ? Doubtless to the latter ; for it is
said that the fair worshippers were of the first rank, and
of unspotted fame } and that if they had borne a differ¬
ent character, the deity would not "have accepted of
their devotions.
The deity whom the Egyptians adored by the name
of Mendes, was no other than the Soul of the Uni¬
verse } for he was their most ancient god : and we are
told by Plutarch J, “That they took the first God ^De hid.
and the Universe for one and the same thing.” Hencert Osir.
his name n«ev among the Greeks: not that either
the Greeks or their masters in theology worshipped,
as their first god, mere brute matter, but that spirit
which they conceived to be coeternal with matter, and
to animate all things, making them one. Thus Orpheus,
who imported the Egyptian doctrine into Greece, de¬
clares that all things are one : and after him Parmeni-
das, and other philosophers, taught tr untt ro ttxv, that
“ one is the universe j” and that “ the universe is im¬
moveable.” That the ancient Grecian Pan, or the
Egyptian Mendes, was not the corporeal world, as sense¬
less and inanimate, but the whole system of things ani¬
mated and eternal, appears further from the following
testimony of Macrobius. “ Hunc deum Arcades co-
lunt, appellantes rev tjjj xvgtov, non sylvarum domi-
num, sed universce substantiae material is dominatorem}
—The Arcadians worship this god, calling him the
|i ran
—""
Ufter
min
life.
jlgM'f
I igtid
: f.
PAN [ 721 ] PAN
lortl of Hyle •, i. e. not the lord of the woods, hut the
lord of all material substance.” In the same manner
Pharnutus* describes the Pan of the other Greeks, not
as the mere corporeal world, but as the intellectual
principle actuating it and presiding over it: and he adds,
that “ Pan was feigned to be lascivious, because of the
multitude of spermatic reasons in the world, and the
continual mixtures and generation of things.”
The Egyptians, as we learn from Jablonski, had
nearly the same notion with the Greeks of the spirit
which they worshipped as the Soul of the Universe ;
only they gave to it both sexes. As the maker, go¬
vernor, and bountiful father of universal nature, they
considered it as a male, whose symbol was the he-goat
of Mendes j and as a female it was adored by the name
of Isis, to whom the she-goat was consecrated, though
not held in such veneration as the male. From this
view of the Egyptian creed, the sacrifice which we
have mentioned appears no longer unaccountable. It
was made to a god, believed to be the universal source
of fecundity, and to whom, from the well-known
character of the animal whom he was supposed to ac¬
tuate, they had reason to believe it would be most ac¬
ceptable.
The Greeks never worshipped their Pan by the em¬
blem of a living goat j but they painted him with the
lower parts of a goat, for a reason which shall be af¬
terwards mentioned. How he came to degenerate among
that people, from one of the Dii me jorum gentium, or
rather from the first principle of all tilings, to the
rank of a daemon or demi god, we cannot pretend to
say: but that such was his fate, is certain 5 lor under
this last character mention is made both of his birth
and his death.
Whose son he was, is not agreed among them. Ho¬
mer makes him the son ol Mercury, and says he was
called Pan from ttcsf, omne, because he charmed all the
gods with his flute 5 others say that he was the son of
Demogorgon, and first invented the organ, of seven un¬
equal reeds, joined together in a particular manner:
Having on a time fought with Cupid, that god in spite
made him fall in love with the coy nymph Syrinx, who,
flying from him to the banks of Ladon, a river of Arca¬
dia, at the instant prayers of the Nymphs was turned
into a reed, as her name in Greek signifies, which the
god grasping instead ot her, made a pipe ol it, and lor
his music was adored by the Arcadians. I he most
common opinion was, that he was the son of Mercury
and Penelope. But Nat. Comes, out of Duris Samms,
makes his birth scandalous, by saying he was called ttav,
because begot by all Penelope’s suitors. He was paint¬
ed half-man half-goat, having large goats horns, a chap¬
let of pine on hks red face, a pleasant laughter, with
the feet and tail of a goat} a motley skin covering his
body, with a crooked stick in one hand, and Ins pipe
in the other. See him nicely described by Sil. Ital.
13. 326. ct scq. a sight enough to fright women and
children, yea, armed men too lor when Brennus the
Gaul was about to pillage the temple ol Apollo at
Delphos, lie by night struck such a terror into his army,
that he quitted his sacrilegious design : hence Pamci
ierrores. Yet, as homely as he was, he pleased the
goddess Luna, turning himself easily into a white ram,
Virgil, Georg. u\. 392. et deinceps; and the nymph
Dryope also, almost putting off his divinity, and turning
Vol. XV. Part II.
shepherd for her sake. Neither was he displeasing to
other nymphs, who are generally made dancing round
about him to hear the charms of his pipe. The usual
offerings made him were milk and honey, in shepherds
wooden bowls ; also they sacrificed to him a dog, the
wolf’s enemy ■, whence his usual epithet is hvx.xio<; 5 and
whence also his priests were called Luperci.
His festival was celebrated on February 15th by the
Romans, brought into Italy by Evander the Arcadian,
and revived afterwards by Romulus, in memory of his
preserver. He was also called by the Romans Inints, ah
ineundo. Vid. Liv. i. 5. Macrob. Sat. i. 21. and Serv.
in Virg. iEn. vi. 775. The ancients, by giving so many
adjuncts and attributes to this idol, as we have observed
above, seem to have designed him for the symbol of the
u niverse ; his upper parts being human, because the up¬
per part of the world is fair, beautiful, smiling, like his
face 5 his horns symbolize the rays of the sun and of the
moon ; his red face, the splendour of the sky •, the spot-
ted skin wherewith he is clothed, the stars which be¬
spangle the firmamentj the roughness of his lower parts,
beasts and vegetableshis goat’s feet, the solidity of
the earth : his pipe, compact of seven reeds, the seven
planets, which they say make the harmony of the
spheres j his crook, bending round at the top, the years
circling in one another. Serv. Interpr.
Having said so much of Pan, both as a self-existent
god and as a generated daemon, we shall conclude the
article with some observations on Plutarch’s account oi
the prodigy which happened at his death ', for in the
Pagan creed, daemons were not all believed immortal.
 “ In the reign of Tiberius (says cur anther*), cer¬
tain persons on a voyage from Asia to Italy', auo sail¬
ing towards the evening by the Echinodes, were there
becalmed, and heard a loud voice from the shore calling
on one Tliamus an Egyptian pilot whom they had on
board. Hhavnus, as may be supposed, listened vith at¬
tention ", and the voice, after repeating Ins name
thrice, commanded him when he came to the I clones,
to declare that the Great Pan was dead. The man,
with the advice.of his companions, resolved, that il they
should have a quick gale off .the Pelodes, he would pass
by in silence , but that il they should be becalmed, fie
would perform what the voice had comn-anded. Ad-
hering to this resolution, they soon arrived off the des¬
tined islands, and were immediately becalmed, there
being neither breath oi wind nor agitation ot, water*
Upon this Thamus looking from the hinder part of the
ship towards the land, pronounced with a loud \01ce
0 psyas n«v rdvriy.i, Phe Great Can is dead, anil itaS
instantly answered from the shore by numberless bowl¬
ings anil lamentations.” _ .
This story, which has so much the air of impos¬
ture, has not only been admitted as truth by men ot
the first eminence for learning and acuteness, but has
been applied to our Saviour, whose death (says Cud-
worth) the daemons mourned not from love, but from
a presage that it would put a period to the tyranny
and domination which they had so long exercised over
the souls and bodies of men. In support of this opi¬
nion, he quotes several passages of Scripture, such as,
“ Now is the prince of this world judged }” ar.el, “ Ha¬
ving spoiled principalities and powers (by his death
upon the cross), he triumphed over them in it. 1 e
affirms likewise, that “ Ran being taken for that rea-
4 Y s™
PAN [ '722 ] PAN
Pan. son or anderstamUng by which all things were made,
— ' and by which they are all governed, or for that divine
wisdom which dilluseth itsell through all things, is a
name which might very well signily God manifested in
the flesh.^
The authority of Cudworth is great *, but a ground¬
less opinion has seldom been propped by weaker rea¬
soning than he makes use of on this occasion.. Plu¬
tarch indeed says, and seems to believe, that this pro¬
digy fell out during the reign of Tiberius ; but as he
mentions not the year of that reign, there is no evi¬
dence that it was’ at the crucifixion of our Saviour.
The daemons who inhabited the Echinedes knew what
had been transacted at Jerusalem far distant from their
islands $ they knew the name of the pilot of a strange
ship \ they knew that the mariners of that ship had
resolved to disobey their command, unless becalmed oft
the Pelodes j they had power over both the winds and
waves at the Pelodes, and exerted that power to enforce
obedience to their command ; and yet these all-knowing
and powerful beings were under the necessity of calling
in the aid of a man to deliver a message to their com¬
panions, inhabiting a place to which the very same
story assures us that their own power and knowledge
reached. Should it be said that the daemons were com¬
pelled by divine power thus publicly to make known to¬
man Christ’s triumph over the kingdom of darkness, we
beg leave to ask why they were not likewise compelled
to give him another name, since it is certain, that at the
sera of Tiberius, and long before, illiterate Pagans, sueb
as common seamen must be supposed to have been, knew
no other Pan than the fabled son of Penelope and Mer¬
cury ?—Indeed the other Pan, taken for that reason or
understanding by which all things were made, could not
possibly be the being here, meant j for, erroneous as the
Pagan system was, there is nothing in it so completly
absurd as the death of the soul of the universe, the
maker of all things : nor do we believe that any Pa¬
gan ever existed, who dreamed that such a death was
possible.
What then, it will be asked, are we to understand
by this story ? Plutarch was eminent for knowledge
and integrity, and he relates it without expressing a
doubt of its truth. He does so j but many a man of
worth has been credulous j and though that was not
his character, this prodigy may be accounted for by na¬
tural means. Germanicus was believed to have been
poisoned, at least with the knowledge, if not by the
command, of Tiberius j and there was nothing which
the Homans so deeply deplored as the untimely death
-* Tacit. of that accomplished prince*. They fancied that his
Annul. body was animated, not by a human soul, but by a
snPer*or ^0ernon : and they decreed to him statues, re¬
cap i 1U* ligi°us ceremonies, and even sacrifices. His widow
was highly honoured, as having been nearly related to
a divinity, and his children were adored as demi-gods.
These facts being admitted, nothing appears to us
more probable than the opinion of the learned Mo-
} Cud- sheim t, who thinks that some shrewd statesman, in
Intetsi ct or^er excite the popular fury against Tiberius to
«ap 4. ' ' the highest pitch, invented this story, and bribed fo-
aote 13a. reign mariners to spread it among the people, who
would naturally believe, that by the great Pan was
meant their favourite Germanicus. This hypothesis is
at least countenanced by what Plutarch tells u§ of the
4
anxiety of the emperor to discover what personage could pan
be meant by the Pan whose death was announced to the ||
seamen : he consulted the learned men of Rome, who, , Pariitma,
in order to restore peace to the city, declared that they v""~-
understood it of none other than the son of Penelope
and Mercury.
PANACEA, among physicians, denotes an univer¬
sal medicine, or a remedy for all diseases j a thing im¬
possible to be obtained.
PANADA, a diet consisting of bread boiled in wa¬
ter to the consistence of pulp, and sweetened wTith a lit¬
tle sugar.
PANAMA, the capital city of the province of Da¬
rien in South America, where the treasures of gold
and silver, and the other rich merchandises of Peru, are
lodged in magazines till they are sent to Europe. W.
Long. 82. 15. N. Lat. 8. 57.
When Guzman first touched at this place in 1514,
it consisted entirely of fishermen’s huts. Orius d’Avila
settled a colony here in a few years after, and in 1521
it was constituted a city by the emperor Charles V.
with the proper privileges. In 1670 it was sacked and
burnt by John Morgan, an English adventurer, who
had the preceding year taken Porto Bello. This mis¬
fortune induced the inhabitants to remove the city to
its present situation, distant about a league from the
place where k stood before. For the greater security,
the new city was inclosed by a free-stone wall, and the
houses were built of stone and brick. Since that time
several bastions have been added, and now there is al¬
ways a complete garrison maintained, and the walls are
mounted with large cannon. But all these precautions
could not save this city from another misfortune 5 it was
entirely consumed by fire in the year 1737* After this-
accident it was again rebuilt, in the manner as it now
stands, with neat elegant houses, but not magnificent.
The inhabitants are rather independent in their fortunes'
than rich ; there are few of them opulent, and scarce
any in a state of poverty. As to the harbour, it is con¬
venient, and well secured against storms by a number
of surrounding islands, and is capable of containing the
largest fleets. Here the royal audience is seated, at
which the governor of Panama resides j for which rea¬
son this city is commonly deemed the capital of the pro¬
vince.
This place, a little while after it was founded, be¬
came the capital of the kingdom of Terra Firma. Some
hopes were at first entertained from the three provinces
of Panama, Darien, and Veragua, which composed it y
but this prosperity vanished instantaneously. The sa¬
vages of Darien recovered their independence ; and the
mines of the two other provinces were found to be
neither sufficiently abundant, nor of an alloy good
enough to make it worth while to work them. Five or
six small boroughs, in which are seen some Europeans
quite naked, and a very small number of Indians who
have come to reside there, form the whole of this state,
which the Spaniards are not ashamed of honouring with
the great name of kingdom. It is in general barren,
and unwholesome, and contributes nothing to trade but
pearls.
The pearl fishery is carried on in the islands of the
gulf. The greatest part of the inhabitants employ
such of their negroes in it as are good swimmers.
These slaves plunge and replunge into the sea in search
ef
II
final
iffii
u-Y
Panama
II
Panathe-
niea.
P - A N t 723 ] PAN
of pearls, till this exercise has exhausted their strength
or their spirits.
'Every negro is obliged to deliver a certain number
of oysters. Those in which there are no pearls, or in
which the pearl is not entirely formed, are not reckon¬
ed. What he is able to find beyond the stipulated ob¬
ligation, is considered as his indisputable property : he
may sell it to whom he pleases 5 but commonly he cedes
it to his master at a moderate price.
Sea monsters, which abound more about the islands
where pearls are found than on the neighbouring coasts,
render this fishing dangerous. Some of these devour
the divers in an instant. The manta fish, which de¬
rives its name from its figure, surrounds them, rolls
them under its body, and suffocates them. In order
to defend themselves against such enemies, every diver
is armed with a poniard : the moment he perceives any
of those voracious fish, he attacks them with precau¬
tion, wounds them, and drives them away. Notwith¬
standing this, there are always some fishermen destroy¬
ed and a great number crippled.
The pearls of Panama are commonly of a very fine
water. Some of them are even remarkable for their
size and figure : these were formerly sold in Europe.
Since art has imitated them, and the passion for dia¬
monds has entirely superseded or prodigiously diminish¬
ed the use of them, they have found a new mart more
advantageous than the first. They are carried to Peru,
where they are in great estimation.
This branch of trade has, however, infinitely less
contributed to give reputation to Panama, than the
advantage which it hath long enjoyed of being the
mart of all the productions of the country of the Incas
that are destined for the old world. These riches, which
are brought hither by a small fleet, were carried, some
on mules, others by the river Chagre, to Porto Bello,
that is situated on the northern coast of the isthmus
which separates the two seas. See Darien.
PANARI, one of the Lipari islands, lying in the
Tuscan sea. It is only five miles in circumference,
and the soil is barren. E. Long. 15. o. N. Lat. 39. o.
PANARO, a river of Italy, which rises in the
Apennines, crosses the valley of Frignano, and run¬
ning on the confines of the Modenese and Bolognese,
waters Fenal, and falls into the Po at Bondeno, ten
miles above Ferrara.
PANATHENiEA, ttmuS-woux, in Grecian antiqui¬
ty, an ancient Athenian festival, in honour of Minerva
the protectress of Athens, and called Athencea. Har-
pocration and Suidas refer the institution of this festi¬
val to Erichthonius IV. king of Athens, who lived be¬
fore Theseus. Theodoret alone says the feast was esta¬
blished by Orpheus. Be this as it will, till Iheseus it
was never a particular feast of the city of Athens, and
was called.simply Athencea: but that prince, uniting all
the people of Attica into one republic, they afterwards
all assisted at the feast •, whence the name Panathencea,
J. e. the feast of all Attica. In effect all Attica was
present j and each people sent a bullock for the sacri¬
fices, and for the entertainment of the vast multitude
of people assembled.
There were two festivals under this denomination, the
greater and the lesser. The greater panathenaea were ex¬
hibited every five years ; the less every three, or, accord¬
ing to some writers, annually. Though the celebration
of neither, at first, employed more than one day; yet Panathe-
in after times they were protracted for the space of n*a
many days, and solemnized with greater preparations »
and magnificence than at their first institution.
The ceremonies were the same in the great and the
little panathenaea 5 excepting for a banner, wherein, the
actions of the goddess were represented in embroidery,
performed by maids, with the names of those who had
distinguished themselves in the service of the republic ;
which was only borne at the greater.
Frizes were established there for three different kinds
of combat: the first consisted of foot and horse races ;
the second, of athletic exercises ; and the third, of poe¬
tical and musical contests. These last are said to have
been instituted by Pericles. Singers of the first class,
accompanied by performers on the flute and cithara,
exercised their talents here upon subjects prescribed by
the directors of these exhibitions.
The following is the order observed in this festival, Anaclmrsfe)
according to M. Barthelemi, who quotes numerous au-v°h **•
thorities on the occasion : “ The inhabitants of the dif-p' 434'
ferent' towns of Attica thronged to the capital, leading
with them a great number of victims destined for sacri¬
fices to the goddess. In the first morning were the
horse-races, in which the sons of the first citizens of A-
thens contended for the honour of the victory. In the
stadium w'ere other young men struggling for the prize
at wrestling, and different exercises of the body j and
in the odeum were several musicians engaged in gentler
and less perilous contests. Some executed pieces on the
flute or cithara ; others sang, and accompanied their
voices with one of these instruments. The subject pro¬
posed to them was the eulogium of Harmodius, Aristo-
giton, and Thrasybulus, who had rescued the republic
from the yoke of the tyrants by which it was oppressed :
for, among the Athenians, public institutions are s«
many monuments for the citizens who have served the
state, and lessons for those who are called upon to ren¬
der it service. A crown of olive, and a vessel filled
with oil, were the prizes bestowed upon the victors.
Crowns were afterwards conferred on individuals, who
appeared to the people to have merited that mark of ho¬
nour by their zeal in the service of their country.
“ At the Ceramicus passed a procession, formed with¬
out the walls, and which began at that place to file off’.
It was composed of different classes of citizens crowned
with chaplets of flowers, and remarkable for their per¬
sonal beauty. Among the number were old men of a
majestic and venerable appearance, bearing branches of
olive ; middle-aged men, who, armed with lances and
with bucklers, seemed only to respire war j youth from 18
to 20, who sang hymns in honour of the goddess ; beau¬
tiful boys, clad in a simple tunic, adorned only with
their native graces j and, lastly, girls, who were of the
first families in Athens, and whose features, shape, and
deportment, attracted every eye. With their hands
they held baskets on their heads, which, under a rich
veil, contained sacred utensils, cakes, and every thing
necessary for the sacrifices. Female attendants, who fol¬
lowed them, with one hand held over them an umbrel¬
la, and carried in the other a folding chair. This is a
species of servitude imposed on the daughters of all fo¬
reigners settled at Athens: a servitude they share in
common with their fathers and mothers, who likewise
carried on their shoulders vessels filled with water and
4 Y 2 honey.
PAN [ 724 ] PAN
Pimathe- honey, for the purpose of libation:;. They were follow-
flasa eil hy eiyht musicians •, four ot whom played on the
H llute and four on the lyre. After them came rhapso-
, i {]Jsts singing the poems of Homer j and dancers armed
v at all points, who, attacking each other at intervals, re¬
presented, to the sound ot the flute, the battle ot IVli-
nerva with the Titans. Next came a ship that appear¬
ed to glide over the ground by the power of the wind,
and the eiTorts of a great number of rowers, but which
really was put in motion hy concealed machinery. I he
vessel had a sail of light stuff, on which young girls had
represented in embroidery the victory ot Minerva over
the Titans. On it also they had depicted hy order of
the government, some heroes whose illustrious deeds had
merited to he celebrated with those of the gods. 'Ibis
procession marched on with solemn steps, under the di¬
rection of several magistrates j and traversed the most
frequented quarter of the city amidst a crowd of specta¬
tors, most of whom were placed on scaffolds erected for
the occasion. When it had reached the temple ot the
Pyth ian Apollo, the sail of the ship was taken down and
carried to the citadel, where it was deposited in the tem¬
ple of Minerva.
“ In the evening, at the academy, was the torch race.
The course is only six or seven stadia in length. It ex¬
tends from the altar of Prometheus, which is at the gate
of this garden, to the walls of the city. Several young
men are stationed in this interval at equal distances.
When the shouts of the multitude have given the signal,
the first lights his flambeau at the altar, and, running
with it, hands it to the second, who transmits it in the
same manner to the third, anil so successively. He who
suffers it to be extinguished can no more enter the lists-,
and they who slacken their pace are exposed to the rail¬
leries, and even blows, of the populace. To gain the
prize, it is necessary to have passed through the differ¬
ent stations with success. This trial of skill was fre¬
quently repeated, and is diversified accox-ding to the
nature of the festivals.
“ The candidates who had been crowned at the dif¬
ferent exercises invited their friends to supper. Sump¬
tuous repasts were given in the prytaneum ami other
public places, which lasted till the following day. The
people among whom the immolated victims were distri¬
buted spread tables on every side, and gave a loose to
their lively and tumultuous mirth.”
PANAX, GI NS ex’g ; a genus of plants belonging to
the polvgamia class. See Botany and Materia Me¬
dic a index.
PAN AY, an island of Asia, and one of the Philip¬
pines, lying between those of Paragoa and Negro. It
is 250 miles in circumference, and is the most populous
Modern and fertile of them alb It is Watered by a great num-
Vn. Hist, ber of rivers and brooks, and produces a great quantity
vpl. viii. 0f
rice. Its shape is triangular. The names of its prin¬
cipal capes are Potof, Naso, and Bulucabi. The coast
from Bulacabi to Potol lies east and west} from Potol
to Naso, north and south 5 from Bulacabi to Iloilo, an¬
other cape, less than the great ones, is also north and
south j from Iloilo to Cape Naso, east and westi The
middle of the island is in the latitude of ten degrees.
Oi\ the north side, almost in the middle between the two
capes of Potol and Bulacabi,. the famous river Panay
falls into the sea ; and the mouth of the harbour is co¬
vered hy a small island c alled Lvtaija} in which port the
Spaniards had a safe retreat before they discovered and pan
conquered Manilla and Cavite. The fertility of Panay Faiux
is caused by the many rivers that water it, for there is'
no travelling a league without meeting a river; hut
more particularly hy the Panay, which gives its name
to the island, and x-uns a coux-se of 40 leagues. The
island, for the better administering of justice, is divided
into jurisdictions : the fir^t, called Panay, contains all
that lies between Cape Potol and Bulacabi ; the rest of
the island is subject to the alcayde of Otton, who resides
at Iloilo, a point of land running out into the sea, on
the south side, between the two rivers ol Tig Bavan and
Jaro, and, with the island Imaras, forms a strait not
above half a league over, or rather an open harbour.
On this point the governor Don Gonzalo Ronquilio
caused a lort to be built in the year 1681. I he island
contains about 16,360 tributary Indians, partly belong¬
ing to the king and partly to particular enccmienderos
or lords; but they all pay in rice, the island producing
100,000 bushels, Spanish measure, and but little other
grain. The inhabitants are stout, lusty, and industri¬
ous farmers, and expert huntsmen, the country being
full of wild hoars and deer. The women make cloth
of several colours. There are in the island 14 parishes,
belonging to the fathers of the order of St Augustin,
three benefices of secular priests, and formerly one col¬
lege of the society of Jesus, where they administer the
sacraments to the garrison ol Iloilo. Besides the tribu¬
tary Indians, there are here those blacks the Spaniards
called Negrilloes, who were the first inhabitants ol the
island, and afterwards driven into the thick woods by
the Bisayas who conquered it. Their hair is not so still
curled, nor are they so stout and strong as the Guinea
blacks. They live in the most uncouth parts of the
mountains with their wdves and children, all naked tike
beasts. They are so swift that they olten overtake wild
boars and deer. They stay about the dead beast as long
as it lasts ; for they have no other subsistence but what
they acquire with their how and arrows. They fly
from the Spaniards, not so much through hatred as from
fear. Among the islands about Panay lies Imaras, op¬
posite to Iloilo, and about a quarter of a league distant.
It is long and low, ten leagues in compass and three in
length, the soil fertile, abounding in sarsaparilla, and
exceeding good water. On the mountains there are
wild boars, deer, and good timber. It has also in it
the port of St Anne, three leagues from Iloilo.
PANG AH PUS, in Roman antiquity, a kind of show
which the Roman emperors frequently exhibited to the
people. The word is formed from the Greek -xav, all,
and v.xoxos, fmit. Whence the name was also given by
the Athenians to a sacrifice wherein all kinds of fruits
were offered. In this spectacle, the circus being all
set over with large trees, represented a forest, into which
the beasts being let from the dens under ground, the
people, at a sign given by the emperor, pursued, shot,
and killed all they could lay hold of, which they after¬
wards carried away, to regale upon at home. I he
beasts usually given on these occasions were hoars, deer,
oxen, and sheep.
Casaubon, Cujas, Pithou, &c. make the pancarpus
and syiva the same thing; Salmasius will have them dif¬
ferent. The syiva, according to him, was such a di¬
version as that above described : but the pancarpus a
combat, wherein robust people, hired lor that purpose,
fought,.
PAN [7
o fought with wild beasts : which opinion he confirms
'“It | || from Caspian, Justinian, Claudian, Firmicus, Manilius,
I pandects, and Cassiodorus.
FANCLIAS, a town of England, in the county of
Middlesex, on the north-west side of London, and in the
highway to Kentish town.- It church is one of the pre¬
bends of St Paul’s, of which cathedral some call it the
mother, it being thought to be as old as that church
even in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, when it is repre¬
sented as weather-beaten and standing alone, without
any company, though it had formerly many buildings
about it. A veterinary college was established here in
lyyi, for the improvement of farriery, and the treat¬
ment of cattle in general.
PANCRATIUM, (compounded of ?rav, all, and
■riM, I overcome), among the ancients, a kind of inter¬
mixed exercise, consisting of the lucta or wrestling, and
the boxing or pugilate : but it differs in this, that as
the atheletse are not to seize the body, their hands
are not armed with gauntlets, and give less dangerous
blows.
The pancratium was the third gymnastic exercise, and
was not introduced till long after the others. The peo¬
ple who were engaged in these exercises were called pan-
cratiastce ; which name was also given to such as did
not confine themselves to one exercise, but succeeded
in several different ones.
Barthelemi, in his Travels of Anacharsis, gives us a
short account of one of those at which he supposes him
imeharsv to *iave ^een Pre3ent> *n these words : “ The action was
ol. iii. ’ soon terminated: a Sicyonian named Sostrasius, a cham¬
pion celebrated for the number of prizes he had won,
and the strength and skill which had procured them,
had arrived the preceding day. The greater part of
the combitants yielded up all pretensions to the crown
as soon as he appeared, and the others on the first trial;
for in those preliminary essays in which the athletse
try their strength by taking each others hands, he
squeezed and twisted the fingers of his adversaries with
so much violence as instantly to decide the victory in
his favour.”
PANCREAS. See Anatomy Index.
PANDA, in Mythology, a goddess who was invoked
and honoured as the protectress ol travellers and navi-
o-ators. The goddess of peace was also calledPowcfar, be¬
cause she opened the gates of cities which were shut in
time of war. According to Varro, Panda is a surname
of Ceres, derived « pane dando, because she gave bread
to mankind.
PANDATARTA. (Suetonius, Pliny, Strabo); Pan-
DATERIA (Mela, Tacitus) : An island in the Tuscan
sea: a place of banishment for the more illustrious ex¬
iles. Hither Julia, the daughter ol Augustus, was ba¬
nished for her incontinence. Tothis island Fiberius ba¬
nished Agrippina his daughter in-law (Suetonius). It
was the place of confinement ol Octavia the daughter ot
Clotlius, married to Nero; a sight that affected every
eye (Tacitus). Now Santa Maria, situated between
Pontia and Ischia ( Holstenius).
PANDECTS, Pandect,®, in jurisprudence, the di¬
gest or collection, made by Justinian’s order, ol 534^e"
cisions or judgments ot the ancient lawyers, on so ma¬
ny questions occurring in the civil law ; to which that
emperor gave the force and authority of law, by the
epistle piefixed to them.—The wordis Greek, W-.aOv.i.n/.i,
5 ] f A N
compound of “ all,” and hyjueti capio, “ I take;” Pandects
i. e. a compilation, or a book containing all things. \\
Though others, as Bartoli, will have it formed from Fa»dosia.
7rav, and otyopui; as it these books contained the whole ^
doctrine of the civil law.
The Pandects consist of 50 books, and made the first
part of the body of the civil law.
They were denoted by two tttt ; but the copyists tak¬
ing those tttt lor the custom arose of quoting them
ky#
In the year 1137, the Pandects of Justinian, which
had been brought by an Amalfitan merchant from the
east, fell into the hands of the Pisans. Angelus Politi-
anus believes this copy to be that which had been com¬
piled by order of the emperor. However that be, it is
certain that all other copies are taken from it, as being
the most ancient. The Pisans having obtained their re¬
quest from the emperor, carried the volumes to Pisa, and
for near three centuries they were known by the name
of the Pandectre Pleaner. But, about the year 1416,
Pisa being taken by the Florentines, they were trans¬
ported from thence to Florence, where they are now
preserved in the library of the Medici, and known by
the name of the Pandectee Florenlinec. Sonic authors al¬
lege, that Lotharius ordained by an edict that the Pan¬
dects should he publicly read and explained at Bologna,
and pleaded in the tribunals ; but Corringius and Lin-
denbrogius fully refute their opinion.
Papias extends the denomination of Pandects to the
Old and New Testament.
There are also Pandect.® Medicinee, “Pandects of
Medicine a kind of dictionary of things relating to
medicine, compiled by Mat. Sylvaticus of Mantua,
wliO lived about the year 1297. Leunclavius has pub¬
lished Pandects oj Turkey; and Bishop Beveridge Pa ri¬
de eta. Canomrm.
PANDICULATION, a stretching; or that violent
and extensive motion of the solids that usually accom¬
panies the act of yawning.
PANDORA, in fabulous history, a woman formed
by Prometheus, to whom each of the gods gave some
perfection. Venus bestowed upon her beauty ; Pallas,
wisdom ; Juno, riches ; Apollo, music ; and Mercury,
eloquence: but Jupiter being displeased at Prometheus
for having stolen fire from heaven to animate the mass
he had formed, gave Pandora a box, which she was or¬
dered not to open ; and then sent her to the earth with
this box, in which were enclosed age, diseases, pesti¬
lence, war, famine, envy, discoi d, and all the evils and
vices that could afflict mankind. This fatal box was
opened by Epimetheus, Prometheus’s brother, when in¬
stantly all the diseases and mischiefs with which it wns
filled spread oxer the earth, and Hope only remained
at the bottom. Hesiod says she was the first woman.
PANDOURS, are Hungarian infantry : they wear
a loose garment fixed tight to their bodies by a girdle,
with great sleeves, and large breeches hanging down to
their ankles. They use fire-arms and are excellent
marksmen : they have also a kind of sabre near four
feet long, which they use with great dexterity.
PAND.OSIA (Livy, Justin, Strabo), an inland town
of the Bruttii, and a place of strength on the river A-
cheron, where Alexander of Epirus, deceived by the
oracle of Dodona, met his fate and perished. Nexv
Mendkim (Holstenius.) Another of Epirus (Strabo);
situated.;
PAN [ 726 ] PAN
Parulosia situated on the river Acheron (Livy) which Alexan-
ll der of Epirus was advised to avoid as fatal, but which
Panel iie met w;th in Italy. This last is said to have been the
' " v "" residence of the Oenotrian kings (Strabo).
PANDUHA, or Pandoron, a musical instrument,
used among the ancients, resembling the lute. The
word is said to be formed from the Greek ttxv and
i. e. “ all gifts, all sorts of gifts.” Isidore derives
the name from its inventor Pondortis j others fiom Potiy
to whom they attribute its invention, as well as that of
the flute. It has the same' number of strings with the
lute j but they are of brass, and of consequence give a
more agreeable sound than those of the lute. Its frets
are of copper, like those of the cistre j its back is flat,
like that of the guitar *, and the rims of its table, as
well as its ribs, are cut in semicircles. Du Cange ob¬
serves, that Varro, Isidore, and others of the ancients,
mention it as having only three strings; whence it is
sometimes also spoken of under the denomination
6>ey, trichordum.
PANEAS (Pliny, Josephus) : the apparent spring
from which the Jordan rises, on the extremity of the
west side of the Trachonitis (Pliny).
Paneas (Coins, Pliny, Josephus), the name of a di¬
strict adjoining to the spring Paneas, with acognominal
town, either enlarged and adorned, or originally built,
by Philip son of Herod, and called Caesarea by Jose¬
phus, and in St Matthew, Caesarea of Philip ; with a
temple erected to Augustus his benefactor, who confer¬
red the Trachonitis upon him (Coin). It was afterwards
called Neronias, in honour of Nero (Josephus).
PANEGYRIC, an oration in praise of some extra¬
ordinary thing, person, or virtue.
The name is Greek, craysiyvgis j formed of Trcty, “ all,”
and c4ye<g«, “ I assemble 5” because anciently held in
public and solemn assemblies of the Greeks, either at
their games, their feasts, fairs, or religious meetings.
To make their panegyrics the more solemn, the
Greeks used to begin with the praises of the deity in
whose honour the games, &c. were celebrated j then
they descended to the praise of the people or country
where they were celebrated; then to the princes or
magistrates who presided at them ; and at length to the
champions, especially the conquerors, who had gained
the prizes in them.
PANEGYRICUM, in church history, an ecclesias¬
tical book, used by the Greek church, containing the
panegyrical orations of various authors, on the solemni¬
ties of Jesus Christ and the saints. It is found in MS.
in most churches, but it is not the same in all 5 each
church having its particular saints *, and the compilers
of this kind of books usually suited their collections to
the taste of their own devotion. They are disposed ac¬
cording to the order of the months, and frequently con¬
sist of 12 volumes, answering to the 12 months of the
year.
Among the principal authors of this work are Atha¬
nasius, Cyril, Basil, Chrysostom, &c.
PANEL, {Panella, Panelluni), according to Sir Ed¬
ward Coke, denotes “ a little part 5” but the learned
Spelman says, that it signifies schedula vel pagina, “ a
schedule or roll j” as a panel of parchment, or a coun¬
terpane of an indenture : but it is used more particularly
for a schedule or roll, containing the names of such ju¬
rors as the sheriff returns to pass upon any trial. And
the impanelling a jury is the entering their names in a p.!{lej
panel or little schedule of parchment. ||
Panel, in Scots Law, signifies the prisoner at the Panki.
bar, or person who takes his trial before the court of' " 'rmm*
justiciary for some crime.
PANGOLIN, a species of the manis peculiar to
Hindustan. See Manis, Mammalia Index.
PANIC, denotes an ill-grounded terror or fright.
Polysenus says, it originates from Pan, one of the cap¬
tains of Bacchus, who with a few men put a numerous
enemy to rout, by a noise which his soldiers raised in a
rocky valley, favoured with a great number of echoes.
This stratagem making their number appear far greater
than it was, the enemy quitted a very commodious en¬
campment, and fled. Hence all ill-grounded fears have
been called panics, or panic fears; and it was this that
gave occasion to the fable of the nymph Echo’s being
beloved by the god Pan. Others derive the origin of
it hence: that in the Avars of the Titans against the
gods, Pan was the first who struck terror into the hearts
of the giants. Theon on Aratus says, he did it by the
means of a sea shell, which served him for a trumpet,
whereof he Avas the inventor.
PANICLE, in Botany, denotes a soft Avoolly beard,
on Avhich the seeds of some plants hang pendulous j as
in millet, reeds, and hay.
PANICUM, a genus of plants belonging to the tri-
andria class. See Botany Index.
PANINI, Paolo, a painter of perspective and ar¬
chitecture. He \A'as born at Placentia in 1691, Avith a
most happy genius to painting, which he cultivated by
studying at Rome, where he designed every vestige of
ancient magnificence, the ruinsof superb Roman edifices,
cenotaphs, columns, baths, arches, and obelisks, as also
some of the most entire buildings, the ornaments of mo¬
dern Rome.
He studied the works of Ghisolfi with peculiar plea¬
sure ; he formed his taste, style, and manner, by the
compositions of that esteemed artist j and his strongest
ambition Avas to imitate him so that he soon became
eminent in that style beyond all his contemporaries. His
composition is rich j the truth of his perspective is cri¬
tically exact; and his paintings are universally esteemed
for the grandeur of the architecture, for the clearness of
his colouring, for the beautiful figures which he gene-
rally introduced, and also for the elegant taste with
which he disposed them. He ahvays designed them
correctly, and set them oft with suitable attitudes and
expression.
HoAvever, this description of his merit must be suppo¬
sed to allude to his early and prime performances; for
in his latter time, his pictures Avere distinguishable by a
free and broad touch, but they are feeble in their colour¬
ing and effect. At all times, indeed, he Avas too apt to
-design his figures rather too large for the architecture,
which diminished the grandeur of the most magnificent
parts of his composition, and Avas quite contrary to the
practice of Ghisolfi ; Avliose vvorks must perpetually af¬
ford a pleasing deception to the eye, by the perspective
proportions observed between the figures, buildings, and
distances.
At Rivoli, a pleasure house belonging to the king of
Sardinia, there are several of Panini’s paintings, which
are views of that fine retreat and its environs. Ihey
are beautifully coloured, Avell handled, and Avith a touch
full
PAN
Pamm
full of spirit j though in some parts the yellow seems a
little too predominant, and the lights are not always
distributed in such a manner as to produce the most
striking effect.
PANIONIA, in antiquity, a festival celebrated in
honour of Neptune by a concourse of people from all the
cities of Ionia. It is remarkable in this festival, that if
the bull offered in sacrifice happened to bellow, it was
accounted an omen of divine favour; because that sound
was thought to be acceptable to Neptune.
P ANN All [A, one of the Lipari islands. See Ll-
PARA and Lipari.—The ancients called it Thernisia,
from the hot waters which they found in it. It may be
about eight or nine miles in circumference. It bears
wheat, and grapes, from which the inhabitants make wine.
Pannaria, like the other adjacent islands, appears to be
a volcano 5 its original having been destroyed by conti¬
nued eruptions. It is now no longer of a conical figure.
It contains about icc inhabitants, reckoning every soul,
men, women, and children. It is, like Stromboli, go¬
verned by a curate, who depends on the priest of the pa¬
rish of St Joseph in Lipari; and when any couple in the
island determine to marry, they must cross the sea to
Lipari to receive the nuptial benediction in the parish of
St Joseph, or pay a sum for a license to empower the
curate of Pannaria to perform the ceremony. All the
other adjoining islands are subject to the same regula¬
tion.
The inhabitants of Pannaria live by fishing, and by
taking small quantities of game on this and the little
contiguous islands. They bring up and tame those bird®
known by the name oigulls, which are seen in tempes¬
tuous weather flying near the surface of the sea. They
are here called cbrracio. The body of the bird and the
tips of its wings are white j but the head, the tail, and
the rest of the wings, are gray: they are of the size of
Indian hens ; their wings are prodigiously large : they
have their nests on the steep inaccessible cliffs of the se¬
veral islands. When the islanders bring these birds up
tame, they feed them with fish, which, though of such
size that you would think it impossible for theirstomachs
to receive them, they eagerly stretch their necks and
swallow rapaciously. These birds are thus brought up
to be as tame as pullets or pigeons j and such an attach¬
ment do they often acquire to the places in which they
are reared, that some of them have been known to re¬
turn to these islands after being conveyed to Mellazzo
and Messina.
On the summit of a hill in this island, which projects
over the sea, the inhabitants pretend to show a castle
and an inscription. But their castle is only an elevated
peak of the rock, which nature seems to have prepared
as a retreat for birds. It consists of puzzolana and has
been actually formed by the action of winds and rains,
for a long course of time, into a fantastic figure, which
may appear, when carelessly viewed from a distance by
an undistinguishing eye, the remains of some ancient
structure. The-good people of the island, not being
able to judge of it otherwise than from appearance, are
persuaded, that it can be nothing but a castle, which
must have been reared for the defence of the island a-
gainst the Turks and the corsairs of Barbary. These
they consider as the most dreadful scourge with which
mankind can possibly be afflicted, and'fear them much
t 727 1
PAN
more than the eruptions of the volcano. When they Pannariw
feel their island shaken, they embark with all their ||
wealth, which a single sloop easily contains j and on Panormus.
board they are safe from both the shaking of the’'Y—
earth and the eruptions of the lava, but not from an ho¬
stile fleet.
In this island there appear various remains of ancient
buildings, but very ruinous and very scanty. In plough¬
ing the fields, many remains of sepulchres, in different
modes of construction, are found ; seme of rough stones,
tiles, or bricks others consisting each of a single stone.
ases of various sorts and sizes are also said to have been
found in the same fields, utensils of different kinds, mo¬
ney, chains, and medals of lead. But none of these re¬
licks of antiquity have been preserved : the good peo¬
ple who found them were ignorant of their value, and
therefore neglected them as trifles. In places along the
shore of the island, where the sea appears to have en¬
croached, there are some hewn stones to be seen : they
seem to be remains of walls, which must have been very
strong and of elegant architecture. In other places far¬
ther distant from the shore, there likewise appear frag¬
ments of walls sunk in the ground, and apparently over¬
whelmed with mud, which the winds and rains have
brought down from the mountain above. These remains-
show, that Pannaria, either under the Greeks, or in
that period when all the elements were taxed for the
gratification of Roman luxury, must have been adorned-
with superb buildings, as well as the adjacent islands of
Lipari, Stromboli, and Basiluzzo.
PANNELS of a Saddle, are two cushions or bol¬
sters, filled with cows, deer, or horses hair, and placed
under the saddle, on each side, to prevent the bows and
bands from galling the horse.
PANNICULUS carnosus, in Comparative Anato¬
my, a robust fleshy tunic, situated in beasts between the
skin and the fat} by means of which they can move
their skin in whole or in part. It is altogether wanting-
in mankind.
PANNONIA (Pliny, Strabo, Dio), an extensive
country of Europe, having the Danube on the north,
Dalmatia on the south, Noricumon the west, and Moe-
sia on the east. It is divided into Superior and Inferior
(Ptolemy, Dio). The common boundary between both
were the river Arabo and Mount Cetius, having the
Superior to the west, and the Inferior on the east side.
This division is thought to be no older than the times of
the Antonines. Pannonicus the epithet (Martial).
PANOMPHiEUS, in antiquity, a designation giv¬
en to Jupiter, because he was said to be the original au¬
thor of all sorts of divination, having the books of fate,
and out of them revealing either more or less, as he
pleased, to inferior demons.
PANOPOLIS. See Achmim.
PANORMUS (Polybius, Pansanias), a town of A-
chaia, in Peloponnesus, near the promontory Rhium.—
Another (Ptolemy, Pliny), a town on the north side of
Crete.—A third (Ptolemy), in Macedonia, on the .Ae¬
gean sea, near Mount Athos.—A fourth, of Samos
(Livy).—A fifth, of Sicily j an ancient city, built by
the Phoenicians (Thucydides) j a principal town of the
Carthaginians (Polybius) j situated between Lilybaeus
and Pelorus (Mela) 5 a Roman colony. Now Palermo^
capital of the island, on the north side. E. Long. 13.
PAN [12
Panonnus N. Lat. 38. 30.—A sixth Panoimus ci the 1 hracian
|| Oheraonesus, placed by Pliny on the west side ol the
Pantaloon peninsula* and mentioned by no other writer.
>... v—' Panormus (Ptolemy), a port of Attica} its name de¬
noting it to be capacious.—Another, of b.pirus (Strabo,
Ptolemy) J a large harbour in the heart ol the Montes
Cerauni, below the citadel Chirnara.—A third of Ionia
(Strabo) \ near Ephesus, with the temple of the Ephe¬
sian Diana.
PANORPA, the Scorpion fly, a genus of insects
belonging to the order of neuropteia. See Entomolo¬
gy Index.
PANTALAPtlA, an island in the Mediterranean
sea, between Sicily and the main land of Africa, about
1 y miles in circumference. It is near the coast of lu-
nis, and abounds in cotton, fruits, and wine ■, but the
inhabitants are obliged to bring all their corn to Sicily,
as it belongs to the king of the two Sicilies. E. Long.
12. 25. N. Lat. 36. 551. . .
PANIVENUS, a Stoic philosopher, horn in Sicily
(though some have erroneously supposed him to be a He¬
brew) about the beginning of the reign of Commodus.
He presided over the celebrated school of Alexandria,
where from the time of St Mark, the founder of that
church, they had always a divine that was eminent for
his learning and piety, to explain the Holy Scriptures,
and to instruct them in human learning. This employ¬
ment Ire Was obliged to leave ■, for when the Indians re¬
quired of Demetrius bishop of Alexandria to send them
one to instruct them in Christianity, lie sent Pantcenus,
who undertook the mission with joy, and behaved him¬
self very properly in it. Me are told, that, the Inmans
had been tinctured with Christianity by St Bartholomew
the apostle •, and that Puntmnus met with the Hebrew
original of St Matthew’s gospel, which the apostle had
left there. St Jerome says that Pant sen us brought it
with him j and that it was, in his time, preserved in the
library of Alexandria. But we suspect St Jerome to be
mistaken in this respect. When Pant sen us returned to
Alexandra, he reassumed the government of the school
of that city, which it is probable, he had, during his
absence, committed to the care ol St Clement, a presby¬
ter of Alexandria. He explained the Scriptures pub¬
licly, under the reigU of Severus Antoninus Caracalla •,
and was, in St Jerome’s opinion, more serviceable to the
church by his discourses than by his writings. He pub¬
lished some commentaries upon the Bible, which are
lost. “That the prophets often express themselves in
indifferent terms, and that they make use of the present
time instead of the past and future,” is a rule of Pantse-
nus, which has been followed by all succeeding interpre¬
ters. Theodorus has related this rule ; but be speaks of
it as if Pantsenus had rather said than written it.
"We may have some notion of Panttenus’s manner of
explaining the Scriptures by the like performances of
St Clement of Alexandria, Origen, and others who were
brought up in that school.
PANTALOON, a sort of garment consisting of
breeches and stockings of one piece ; said to have been
first introduced by the Venetians.
Pantaloon, on the theatre, is a buffoon or masked
person, who perfoi-ms high and grotesque dances, and
shows violent and extravagant postures and airs. The
word is likewise used for the habit or dress these buf¬
foons usually wear 3 which is made precisely to the
5
]
PAN
form of their body, and all of a piece from head to Pantaloon
foot. _ j 11
And hence those who wear a habit of this kind, for
conveniency, under their other clothes, are called pan~
taloom of Venice.
PANTHEA, in antiquity, were single statues, com¬
posed of the figures, or symbols, of several different di¬
vinities together. Father Joubert, who calls them/>««-
thcce, and who has remarked them sometimes on medals,
says their heads are most commonly adorned with the
symbols or attributes belonging to several gods. An in¬
stance of this appears in a medal of Antoninus Pius 5
which represents Serapis by the bushel it bears j the Sun
by the crown of rays j Jupiter Ammon by the ram’s
horns-, Pluto by the large beard j and Aisculapius by
the serpent twisted in his band. M. Baudelot, in a dis¬
sertation on the Lares, observes, that the panthea had
their origin from the superstition of those, who, taking
several gods for the protectors ol their houses, united
them, all in the same statue, by adorning it with the se¬
veral symbols proper to each of these deities.
PANTHEISM, a philosophical species of idolatry
leading to atheism, in which the universe was considered
as the supreme God. V* ho was the inventor of this ab¬
surd system, is, perhaps, not known 5 but it was of ear¬
ly origin, and differently modified by different philoso¬
phers. Some held the universe to be one immense ani¬
mal, of which the incorporeal soul was properly their
God, and the heavens and earth the body of that God j
whilst others held but one substance, partly active and
partly passive and therefore looked upon the visible
universe as the only Numcn. The earliest Grecian Pan¬
theist of whom we read was Orpheus, who called the
world the body of God, and its several parts V/zs mem¬
bers, making the whole universe one divine animal.
According to Cudworth, Orpheus and his followers be-
i cm 11 of tno ivnrlil : tlier
greeing with Aristotle, who certainly be id that God and
matter are coeternal j and that there is some such union
between them as subsists between the souls and bodies of
men. See Metaphysics, Nt0 264.
In the ancient Orphic theology, we are taught, that
“ this universe, and all things belonging to it, were
made within God j that all things are contained toge¬
ther in the womb of God j that God is the head and
middle of all things ; that he is the basis of the earth
and heaven j that he is the depth of the sea, the uu we
breathe, the force of the untameablej?/r; that he is
the sun, moon, and stars ; that there is one divine body;
for,
Tlctflcc yUQ 2V piyoi'Xu vot 01 ertopoti. iczltoU,
“ all these things lie in the great body of God.”—-But
further, to prove that the most ancient Greek philoso¬
phers resolved all things into God, and made God <7//,
we shall cite a most remarkable passage from Plutarch’s
Defect of Oracles. “ Whereas there are two causes of
all generations, the divine and the human, the most an¬
cient theologers and poets attended only to the more ex¬
cellent of these two *, resolving all things into God, and
pronouncing this of them universally j
Zwi Zivi pirect, Aie? S’ e* wwlct viXovreu,
‘ that God is both the beginning and middle, and that
all tilings are out of God j’ insomuch, that they had no
0 regard
%
I
PAN
Tantheism, regard at all to the other natural and necessary causes
Pantheon, of things : but on the contrary, their juniors, who were
called natui'alists,deviating from this most excellent and
divine principle, placed all in bodies, their passions, col¬
lisions, mutations, and commixtures.”
That by the most ancient theologers here mentioned,
Plutarch meant Orpheus and his immediate followers, is
plain from the Orphic verse by which he proves their
antiquity. By their juniors, whom he calls naturalists,
he could mean no other than the first Grecian philoso¬
phers, Anaximander, Anaximenes, and Hippo, who wei-e
followed by the atheistical atomists, Leucippus,Dcmocj'i-
tus, Protagoras, and Epicurus. But with respect to the
universe being God, and all things divine and human
being modifications of mere matter, the stoics undoubt¬
edly agreed with Anaximander and his followers ; for
tire school of Zeno held but one substance. See Meta¬
physics, N° 265. This impious doctrine, that all
things are God, and that there is but one substance, was
revived in modern times by Spinoza, an apostate Jew.
As we shall give a life of him and a view' of his princi¬
ples, we must refer the reader for a fuller account of
Pantheism to Spinoza. See also Pan.
PANTHEON, a beautiful edifice at Rome, ancient¬
ly a temple, dedicated to all the gods j but now con¬
verted into a church, and dedicated to the Virgin and
all the martyrs.
This edifice is generally thought to have been built
by Agrippa son in-law to Augustus, because it has the
following inscription on the frieze of the portico.
M. AGRIPPA L. F. COS. TERTIUM FECIT.
Several antiquarians and artists, however, have suppo¬
sed that the pantheon existed in the times of the com¬
monwealth ; and that it was only embellished by Agrip¬
pa, who added the portico. Be this as it will, however,
the pantheon, when perfected by Agrippa, was an ex¬
ceedingly magnificent building 5 the form of whose bo¬
dy is round or cylindrical, and its roof or dome is sphe¬
rical : it is 144 feet diameter within 5 and the height of
-it, from the pavement to the grand aperture on its top,
through which it receives the light, is just as much. It
is of the Corinthian order. The inner circumference is
divided into seven grand niches, wrought in the thick¬
ness of the wall} six of which are flat at the top j but
the seventh, opposite to the entrance, is arched. Be¬
fore each niche are two columns of antique yellow mar¬
ble fluted, and of one entire block, making in all 14,
the finest in Rome. The wdiole wall of the temple, as
high as the grand cornice inclusive, is cased with divers
sorts of precious marble in compartments. The frieze is
•entirely of porphyry. Above the grand cornice arises
an attic, in which were wrought, at equal distances, 14
•oblong square niches : between each niche Were four
marble pilasters, and between the pilasters marble tables
of various kinds. This attic had a complete entabla¬
ture ; but the cornice projected less than that of the
grand order below. Immediately from the cornice
springs the spherical roof, divided by bands which cross
each other like the meridians and parallels oi an artifi¬
cial terrestrial globe. The spaces between the bands
decrease in size as they approach the top of the roof j
to which, however, they do not reach, there being a
considerable plain space between them and the great
opening. That so bold a roof might be as light as pos-
Vol. XV. Part II. t
r 729 ]
PAN
sible, the architect formed the substance of the spaces Pantheor
between the bands of nothing but lime and pumice- ——•
stones. The walls below were decorated with lead and
brass, and works of carved silver over them ; and the
roof was covered on the outside with plates of gilded
bronze. There was an ascent from the springing of the
roof to the very summit by a flight of seven stairs. And
if certain authors maybe credited, these stairs were or¬
namented with pedestrian statues ranged as an amphi¬
theatre. This notion was founded on a passage of Pli¬
ny, who says, “ That Diogenes the sculptor decorated
the pantheon of Agrippa with elegant statues, yet that
it was difficult to judge of their merit, upon account of
their elevated situation.” The portico is composed of
16 columns of granite, four feet in diameter, eight of
which stand in front, with an equal iutercolumniatioo
all along, contrary to the rule of Vitruvius, who is for
having the space answering to the door of a temple,
wider than the rest. On these columns is a pediment,
whose tympanum, or flat, was ornamented with bas-re¬
liefs in brass j the cross beams which formed the ceiling
of the portico were covered with the same metal, and
so were the doors. The ascent up to the portico was by
eight or nine steps.
Such was the pantheon, the richness of which in¬
duced Pliny to rank it among the wonders of the
wmrld. ,
The eruption of Vesuvius, in the reign of Tiberius,
damaged the Pantheon very considerably: it was repair¬
ed by Domitian^ which occasioned some writers to men¬
tion that prince as the founder of the building. The
emperor Adrian also did something to it. But it ap¬
pears that the pantheon is more indebted to Septimius
Severus, than to any one since its erection. The most,
perhaps, that any of his predecessors had done, was the
adding some ornament to it: Septimius bestowed essen¬
tial reparations upon it. The following inscription
appears upon the architrave :
IMP. CAES. SEPTIMIVS. SEVERVS.
PIVS. PERTINAX.
ARABICVS. PARTHICVS. FONTIF.
MAX. TRIB. POT.
XI. COS. III. P. P. ET. IMP. CAES.
MARCVS.
AVREMVS. ANTONINUS. FIVS.
FELIX. AVG. TRIB.
POT. V. COS. PROCOS. PANTHEVML
VET VST ATE.
OBRVPTVM. CVM. OMNI. CVLTV.
RESTITVERVNT.
It is really a matter of astonishment, that a structure,
which, granting it to have been built by Agrippa, was
not more than 200 years old, should have fallen into
decay through age. This single consideration seems suf-*
ficient to confirm the opinion of these who believe it to
have stood in the times of the tommonwealth.
The temple subsisted in all its •grandeur till the in¬
cursion of Alaric in the time of Honorius. Zozymus
relates, that the Romans having engaged to furnish
this barbarian prince with 3000 pounds weight of gold
and 5000 pounds weight of silver, upon condition that
be should depart from their walls 5 and it proving im¬
possible to raise those sums either out of the public trea¬
sury or private purses, they were obliged to strip the tem-
4 Z pies
PAN [ 730 ] PAN
Pantheon, pies of their statues anti ornaments of gold and silver.
<—-v It is probable that the Pantheon supplied a good part,
as that of Jupiter Capitolinus was the only one in liome
that could vie with it for riches.
Alarie carried oil nothing from the Romans besides
their precious metals. ’Ihirty-nine years alter this,
Genseric king of the Vandals took away part of their
marbles j and whether from a greediness ot plunder,
or from a relish of the productions of art, loaded one
of his ships with statues. It cannot be questioned,
but that on this occasion the Pantheon was forced to
part with mere of its ornaments, and that the inesti¬
mable works of Diogenes became the prey of this bar¬
barian.
Before these unwelcome visits ol the Goths and Van¬
dals. the Christian emperors had issued edicts lor demo¬
lishing the Pagan temples. But the Romans, what¬
ever were tHeir motives, spared the Pantheon, which is
known to have sufl'ered no damage from the zeal of the
pontiffs, or the indignation of the saints, belore the first
siege of Rome by Alaric. It remained so rich till about
the year 655, as to excite the avarice of Constantine II.
who came from Constantinople to pillage the Pantheon,
and executed his purpose so far as to strip it both of its
inside and outside brazen coverings, which he transport¬
ed to Syracuse, where they soon after fell into the hands
of the Saracens.
About fifty years before this, Pope Boniface IV. had
obtained the Pantheon of the emperor Phocas, to make
a church of it. The artists of these days were totally
ignorant of the excellence of the Greek and Roman ar¬
chitecture, and spoiled every thing they laid their hands
upon. To this period certain alterations are to be re¬
ferred, of which we shall speak by and by.
After the devastations of the barbarians, Rome was
contracted within a narrow compass: the seven hills
were abandoned •, and the Campus Martius, being an
even plain, and near the Tyber, became the ground-
plat of the whole city. The Pantheon happening to
stand at the entrance of the Campus Martius, was pre¬
sently surrounded with houses, which spoiled the fine
prospect of it; and it was yet more deplorably disgra¬
ced by some of them which stood close to its walls.
Pedlars sheds were built even within its portico, and
the intercolumniations were bricked up, to the irrepa¬
rable damage of the matchless pillars, of which some
lost part of their capitals, some of their bases, and
others'were chisseled out six or seven inches deep,
and as many feet high, to let in posts. Which excava¬
tions are to this day half filled up with brick and mor¬
tar } a sad monument of the licentiousness of the
vulgar, and of the stupid avarice of those who sold
them the privilege to ruin the noblest piece of art in
the world !
This disorder continued till the pontificate of Eu¬
gene IV. whose zeal for the decency of a consecra¬
ted place, prevailed upon him to have all the houses
cleared away that encumbered the Pantheon, and so
the miserable barracks in the portico were knocked
down.
From the time Constantius carried off the brass pla¬
ting of the external roof, that part was exposed to the
injuries of the weather, or at best was but slightly tiled
in, till Benedict II. covered it with lead, which Nicho¬
las V. renewed in a better style.
3
It does not appear that from this time to Urban Pantheon.
VIII. any pope did any thing remarkable to the Pan- v~—<<
theon.
Raphael Urban, who had no equal as a painter, and
who as an architect had no superior, left a considerable
sum by his will for the reparation of the Pantheon,
where his tomb is placed. Perino de la Vagua, Jaco-
mo Udino, Hannibal Carracci, Flamingo \ acca, and
the celebrated Archangelo Corelli, did the same. All
the ornaments within, that have any claim to be called
good, are of the later times *, the paintings merit es¬
teem 5 and the statues, though not masterpieces, do
honour to sculpture, which alone is a proof that they
are posterior to the 15th century.
But, with all the respect due to a pontiff, who was
otherwise a protector, and even a practiser of the arts,
it were much to be wished that Urban VIII. had not
known that the Pantheon existed. The inscriptions cut
at the side of the door inform us, that he repaired it j
yet, at the same time that he built up with one hand,
he pulled dowrn with the other. He caused two bel¬
fries of a wretched taste to be erected on the ancient
front work, and he divested the portico of all the re¬
mains of its ancient grandeur, viz. the brazen cover¬
ture of the cross beams, which amounted to such a
prodigious quantity, that not only the vast baldaquin
or canopy of the confessional in St Peter’s was cast out
of it, but likewise a great number of cannon for the
castle of St Angelo. This pope, who was of the fa¬
mily of Barberini, presented also as much of this men¬
tal to his nephew, as was sufficient for the decoration
of his new palace j on which occasion this remarkable
pasquinade was stuck up :
Quod non fccerunt Barbarifcccre Barberini.
If ever gingle added force to wit, it wTas certainly in
this instance.
It is surprising, that whilst these operations were
carrying on in the portico, he never once thought of
repairing the damages which time had wrought in it!
Of the 16 pillars which supported this magnificent pile,
there were no more than 13 left } the three next the
temple of Minerva had disappeared; with these the
entablature and an angle of the front had tumbled
down. There were not wanting in Rome fragments
enough of antique columns that might have been put
together, and set up, to have prevented the downfal
of a pile which deserved to> stand as long as the world
endured.
Alexander VII. did what Urban VIII. had neglec¬
ted to do. At the same time that Bernini was con¬
structing the colonnade of St Peter, this pontiff order¬
ed search to be made for pillars to match those of the
portico of the Pantheon j and some were found not far
from the French church of St Lewis of the very same
model. They were granite of the isle of Uva, or Elba,
and those of the portico were Egyptian granite j the co¬
lour, however, was the same, so that the effect was equal.
The pope’s zeal did not stop here; he cau-ed all the
old houses before the portico to be pulled down, and
the soil and rubbish to be cleared away which covered
the steps, and even the bases of some of the pillars.
He began covering the roof with marble, and raised a
lantern over the aperture, to keep out rain ; but death
took him off before his project was completed. Cle¬
ment
PAN
Pantheon menfc IX. his successor, inclosed the portico within iron
rails. Several later popes have added to its decorations,
which were all in the taste of the times they were
t done in j and the body of the edifice and its architec¬
ture gained nothing from them. The main object of
their holinesses liberality was the embellishment of the
grand altar. One gave purple curtains, another be¬
stowed silver tabernacles ; others again vases, and superb
dresses, suited to the solemn ceremonies of religion.
A.11 these might be called rich j but they had in no sense
a tendency to retrieve the ancient majesty or original
splendour of the temple. The true gusto of the orna¬
ments was a little imitated at the revival of the arts.
Good statues took place of the skeletons and squat
figures that ridiculously disgraced the altars for the
space of eight centuries. The paintings of Perugino,
Co/./.a, and Gressi, covered the dull mosaics with
which the Greeks of Constantinople had loaded the
walls ot most of the churches in Rome. The porphyry
and the green and yellow antique found among the old
niins were employed to much advantage.
There was besides at Rome another pantheon, dedi¬
cated to Minerva as the goddess of medicine. It was
in the form of a decagon, and the distance from one
angle to another measured about 22 feet and a half.
Between the angles there were nine round chapels, each
t>( which was designed for a deity; and over the gate
there was a statue of Minerva. The pantheon of A-
thens was in many respects little inferior to the Roman
one built by Agrippa. The Greek Christians also con¬
verted it into a church, dedicated it to the Virgin, un¬
der the name of Panegia ; and the Turks changed it
into a mosque. The pantheon of Nismes was a temple
in that city, wherein were 12 niches for statues, supposed
to have been destined for the 12 great gods. In the
Escurial is a most magnificent chapel, called pantheon,
35 feet in diameter, and 38 feet high from the pavement,
which is composed of marble and jasper inlayed. The
whole inside of the chapel is of black marble, except
the luthern, and some ornaments of jasper and red
marble. In this chapel are deposited the bodies of the
kings and queens j there are only places for 26, and
eight of them are already filled.
PANTHER. See Felis, Mammalia Index.
PANTING, consists in a rapid succession of inspira¬
tions and expirations, which happens rvhen we run or
perform any violent motion.
PANTOMIME, ntwrtfupai;, among the ancients,
a person who could imitate all kind of actions and cha¬
racters by signs and gestures without speaking.
The pantomimes made a part in the theatrical en¬
tertainments of the ancients 5 their chief employment
was to express, in gestures and action, whatever the
chorus sung, changing their countenance and behaviour
as the subject of the song varied. They were very an-
[ 73i ]
PAP
cient in Greece, being derived from the heroic times,
according to some j but however this may be, they were
certainly known in Plato’s time. In Rome, it was so
late as the time of Augustus before they made their ap-
pearance. As to their dress, it was various, being al¬
ways suited as near as possible to that of the person they
Were to imitate. The crocota was much used among
the Roman pantomimes, in which and other female-
dresses they personated women.
We have this account of them in Gibbon’s history ,
“ The pantomimes (a), who maintained their reputa¬
tion from the age of Augustus to the sixth century,
expressed, without the use of words, the various fables
of the gods and heroes of antiquity •, and the perfection
of their art, which sometimes disarmed the gravity of
the philosopher, always excited the applause and won
der of the people. The vast and magnificent theatres
of Rome were filled by 3000 female dancers, and by
3000 singers, with the masters of the respective cho-
russes. Such w7as the popular favour which they enjoy¬
ed, that in a time of scarcity, when all strangers were
banished from the city, the merit of contributing to the
public pleasures exempted them from a law which was
strictly executed against the professors of the liberal
arts (b.)”
Pantomimes are still very common in England: they
differ indeed in some respects from those of antiquity ;
hut they retain the name, and like these they consist in
the representation of things merely by gestures.
PANE CO, a town and province of North America,
in New Spain, lying to the north of Mexico, wdth a
bishop’s see. There are veins of gold, and salt works,
which are the principal revenue of the inhabitants.—
It is seated near the mouth of a river of the same name,
at a small distance from the gulf of Mexico. W.
Long. 100. 5. N. Lat. 24. o.
PAO-iing-fou, in China, where the viceroy resides,
is the most considerable city in the province next to
Pekin. It has 20 others under its jurisdiction, three of
the second and 17 of the third class. The country
around it is pleasant, and inferior in fertility to no part
of China. It is necessary to pass this citv in going from
Pekin to the province of Chan-si.
PAOLO, Marco. See Paulo.
PAPA, a small but strong town of Lower Hungary-,
in the county of Vesprin. It was taken from the Turks
in 1683, after raisingthe siege of Vienna, and is subject
to the house of Austria. It is seated on a mountain,
near the river Marchaez, in E. Long. 18. 10. N. LaL
47- 20*
PAP-CASTLE, in England, in Bridekirk parish, Cum- '
berland, stood two miles from Cockermouth, on the other
side of the Derwent, whose Roman antiquity is proved
by several monuments; and a large green stone vessel
found here, with little images upon it, is supposed to
4 Z 2 have
Panta-
mime
castle,
(a) “ See the dialogue of Lucian, entitled, De Saltatione, tom. ii. p. 265—317. edit. Reitz. The pantomimes
obtained the honourable name of xi^oo-tQot j and it was required that they should be conversant with almost every
art and science. Burette (in the Memoires de l"1 Academic des Inscriptions, tom. i. p. i27j &c.) has given a short
history of the art of pantomimes.
(b) “ Ammianus, 1. xiv. C. 6. He complains, with deceftt indignation, that the streets of Rome were filled
with crowds of females, who might have given children to the state, but whose only occupation wras to curl and
dress their hair; venAjactari volubilibus gyris^dum exprimunt innvmera simukicra, quae finxcrefabulee thcatralesP
PAP [ 732 ] PAP
Pap-castle, have been formerly a Danish font for dipping infants j
Paper, and has been since used at Bridekirk in the neighbour-
' 1 hood for their sprinkling.
The name of Pap-castle seems to be contracted from
Pipard its owner: it is said to have been demolished, and
the materials employed to build Cockermouth castle.
Mr Routh, in a letter to Mr Gale, thus describes the
ruins discovered at Pap-castle, Jan. 16. 1741*
Camden's “ I made particular inquiry of the man in whose
Britannia, grounds they were discovered, and some of the neigh-
Gough's hours present at the discovery. The close in which
edit. t|)ey ]ay |s a t0 the south of the fort, on the de¬
clivity of the hill to the river, and bounded on the west
by a narrow lane, probably the via militaris continued ;
and is usually shown to strangers as the most remarkable
here for finding Roman coins. They are the largest
ruins ever known to be discovered in these parts: for
they met with three walls besides the pavement} the
first lay east and west, and was covered with earth near
a foot high 5 parallel to it, at seven yards, they found a
second ; and between these two, about two yards deep
(the height of the walls, which were six yards broad,
and strongly cemented), they came to a pavement cu¬
riously laid with large flags, three quarters of a yard
square, and two or three inches thick, as I measured
them : but imagining there must be money under it,
they covered it up till night, and then tore it all up.
It was composed of flags of different thickness : under
the thinner was a coarse strong cement, which caused
them to be broken in taking up j but the thicker are
pretty entire. Part of the wall stood on the floor, and
the edge was secured by a fine red cement two inches
thick, supposed to be intended to keep the floor dry.
They imagined themselves at the corner of the building,
the third wall standing at right angles with the first,
and the second parallel to the stony lane, on which was
an old hedge. On the floor they found a stone trough,
or rather base of a pillar, about a foot high, and the
hollowed part square, and two inches deep. They like¬
wise found a small earthen patera, which I procured, of pap castle
the fine red clay, beautifully smooth, with letters im- |]
pressed on the bottom •, but so defaced as not to be in- , PaPaw-
telligible.—Some years ago, the man’s father who found v"*"“
these ruins dug up a conduit. The owner had no coins,
nor knew of any. One of his neighbours showed me a
large brass one defaced.”
Mr Routh, in another letter to Mr Gale, April 13.
I <743, describes a fibula, a coin of Trajan, . . . IANO
AVG. . . . P. M. Rev. the emperor seated on a pile
of arms, a trophy before him, S. P. Q. R. OPTI . .
. . S. C. and two oaken pieces of the adjoining timber
of a house which appeared to have been burnt, in the
gardens of Jerome Tully, Esq. of Carlisle. The earth
as far as they dug was artificial, and antiquities are only
found at a considerable depth.
Dr Stukeley says, the Roman castrum lies on the top
of the hill above the village, and he traced its whole cir¬
cumference, a bit of the Roman wall by the river side
going to Wigton, and there the ditch is plainly visible,
though half filled up with the rubbish of the wall. A
subterraneous vault, floored with large slabs oi free¬
stone, was found in the pasture of the south-east angle.
The name of Boroughs includes both closes where it
stood ; and they find stones and slates with iron pins in
them, coins, &c. on the whole spot below it, towards the
water-side. It w^as a beautiful and well chosen plan, on
the south west side of a hill, a noble river running un¬
der, and pretty good country about it. Coins of Clau¬
dius, Adrian, and a. silver Geta, PONT. rev. frinceps
1 VVENTVTis. He supposes its ancient name Ucrvcutio,
derived from the Derwent.
PAP AVER, the Poppy j a genus of plants belong¬
ing to the polyandria class, and in the natural method
ranking under the 27th order, R/iauedce. See Botany
and Materia Medica Index.
PAP AW, or Papa-tree. See Carica, Botany
Index.
PAPER.
TJAPER is a wrord evidently derived from the Greek
-*■ flraTrygoj, papyrus, the name of that celebrated Egyp¬
tian plant which was so much used by the ancients in
all kinds of writing. It would be unnecessary particu¬
larly to describe the different expedients which men in
every age and country have employed for giving sta¬
bility to their ideas, and for handing them down to
their children. When the art of writing was once dis¬
covered, stones, bricks, leaves of trees, the exterior and
interior bark, plates of lead, wood, wax, and ivory,
were employed. In the progress of society, men have
invented the Egyptian paper, paper of cotton, paper
manufactured from the bark of trees, and in our times
from old rags.
The inhabitants of Ceylon, before the Dutch made
themselves masters of the island, wrote on the leaves of
the talipot. The manuscript of the bramins, sent to
Oxford from Fort St George, is written on the leaves
of a palm of Malabar. Herman speaks of another palm
in the mountains of that country which produces leaves
of several feet in breadth. Ray, in his History of Plants,
vol. ii. book xxxii. mentions some trees both in India
and America, the leaves of which are proper for wrriting.
From the interior substance of these leaves they draw a
whitish membrane, large, and somewhat like the pellicle
of an egg •, but the paper made by art, even of the
coarsest materials, is much more convenient in use than
any of these leaves.
The Siamese, for example, make two kinds of paper,
the one black and the other white, from the bark of a
tree called Pliokkloi. These are fabricated in the coarsest
manner j but they can be used on both sides with a bod¬
kin of fullers earth.
The nations beyond the Ganges make their paper of
the bark of many trees. The other Asiatic nations
within the Ganges, excepting those toward the south,
make it of old rags of cotton cloth j but from their
ignorance of the proper method, and the necessary ma¬
chinery, their paper is coarse. This, however, is by
no means the case with that made in China and Japan,
which
; History.
PAPER.
733
i
I 'Egyptian
! aper.
wliicU deservrs attention from tlie beauty, the regulari¬
ty, the strength, and fineness of its texture. In Europe
they have discovered, or rather carried to perfection, the
ingenious art of making paper with old rags, originally
either from flax or hemp; and since this discovery the
paper produced from our manufactures is sufficient for
every purpose. And though these materials have been
hitherto abundant, several philosophers have attempted
to substitute other vegetable substances in their place.
In the 6th volume of the Transactions of the Society
for the Encouragement of Arts, we have an account of
paper made by Mr Grooves near Warrington from the
bark of willow-twigs ; and it has been observed by a so¬
ciety of able critics, that hop-buds would probably an¬
swer this purpose better. The rags in common use for
paper-making are a texture of supple and strong fibres
separated by a lee from the bark of the plants. It would
be in vain to employ the whole body of the plant, as
this substance forms a very improper stuff for the opera¬
tions of the paper-mill. From these principles we are
directed in the choice of vegetable substances fit for the
present purpose. The greater or less degree of purity
in the materials is not absolutely necessary ; for flax it¬
self, without any preparation, could be made into pa¬
per; but it would be extremely coarse, and the bark of
nettles or mallows would not bear the expence of labour.
Although cotton be used in the fabrication of paper in
the Eevant, and perhaps in China, we are not to con¬
clude that the down of plants in Europe, without the
strength or suppleness of cotton, will answer the same
purpose.
History.
The chief kinds of paper which merit attention in
this work are, I. The Egyptian paper; 2. The paper
made from cotton ; 3. Paper from the interior bark
of trees or liber; 4. Chinese paper ; 5. Japanese paper ;
6. Paper made from asbest; and, 7. Paper made from
linen rags.
This is the famous paper used by the ancients, which
was made of a kind of reed called papyrus, growing in
Egypt on the banks of the Nile. According to Isido-
rus this paper was first used at Memphis, and Lucan
seems to be of the same opinion,
Nondzwi flamineas Memphis connexere bibios
Noverat ’. Pharsal. lib. iii. ver. 222.
Whatever truth may be in this, it is certain, that of
all the kinds of paper used by the ancients, the papyrus
was the most convenient, both from its flexibility and
from the ease of fabrication. It was a present from na¬
ture, and required neither care nor culture.
It is not certain at what particular period the ancients
began to make paper of papyrus ; but there are several
authorities which prove the use of it in Egypt long be¬
fore the time of Alexander the Great.
Pliny, lib. xni. cap. 11, gives a full description of the
method of making this paper in Egypt. They divide,
says he, with a kind of needle the stem of the papyrus
into thin plates or slender pellicles, each of them as large
as the plant will admit. These are the elements of
which the sheets of paper are composed. The pellicles
in the centre are the best; and they diminish in value
as they depart from it. As they were separated from
the reed, they were extended on a table, and laid across
each other at right angles. In this state they were
moistened by the water of the Nile, and while wet were
put under a press, and afterwards exposed to the rays of
the sun. “ It was supposed that the water of the Niletf Pliny,
h id a gummy quality necessary to glue these stripes to- hk xui-
gether. This, says Mr Bruce, we may be assured is with- °‘ 1
out foundation, no such quality being found in the water
of the Nile ; on the contrary, I found it of all others the
most improper, till it had settled and was absolutely di¬
vested of all the earth gathered in its turbid state. I
made several pieces of this paper both in Abyssinia and
Egypt; and it appears to me, that the sugar or sweet¬
ness with which the whole juice of this plant is impreg¬
nated, is the matter that causes the adhesion of these
stripes together ; and that the use of the water is no
more than to dissolve this, and put it perfectly and equal¬
ly in fusion.” When there was not enough of sugar in
the plant, or when the water did net sufficiently dissolve
it, the pellicles were united by a paste made of the finest
wheat flour, mixed with hot water and a little vinegar,
and when dried they were flattened and smoothed by
the heating of a mallet.
The size of this paper varied much; it seldom ex¬
ceeded two feet, but it was oftentimes smaller. It had
different names, according to its size and quality :
The first was called Imperial, which was of the finest
and largest kind, and was used for writing letters by
the great men among the Homans. The second sort
was called by the Romans the Livian paper, from Li-
via the wife of Augustus ; each leaf of this kind was 12
inches. The third sort was called the Sacerdotal pa¬
per, and was 11 inches in size.
The paper used in the amphitheatres was of the di¬
mensions of nine inches. But what was esteemed of
greatest vrjue in it, was its strength, whiteness, and
polish. The ink, however, sunk less in paper highly
polished ; and therefore the characters were more liable
to be effaced. When it was not carefully soaked in the
first preparation, the paper brought a less price ; because
letters were with difficulty formed upon it, and it sent
forth a disagreeable smell. Jo remedy this defect, the
paper went through a new course of sizing and hammer¬
ing; and the size used on that occasion was made of
light bread steeped in boiling water, and passed through
a filtering cloth. By this means the paper became in
the highest degree united, and smoother than the finest
linen. It was this paper which gave so long a duration
to the works of the Gracchi, Jiberius and Caius, in
their own hand-writing. “ I have seen them (says
Pliny) in the library of Pomponius Secundus, a poet
and citizen of the first rank, near 200 years after they
were written.” We may add, that manuscripts of this
paper still remain, which have undoubtedly been writ¬
ten 1000 or 1200 years ago. It appears from Pliny,
that the Egyptians pasted together the pellicles of the
papyrus by means of the water of the Nile ; but that,
the "polishing with ivory, and the operations of the ham¬
mer and the press, were added by the invention and in¬
dustry of the Roman artists. Jhe Egyptians seem to
have known the use of size; but it is evident from the
same.author, that the Romans used a stronger size in the
making of paper. Notwithstanding the care w'hich was
taken to give strength and consistency to the paper of
Egypt, the leaves, although collected into a book, were
too weak to support themselves ; and for this reason it
was
734
PAPER.
History,
<vas a common practice, after every five leaves, to insert
a leaf of parchment. There still remains in the abbey
of St German de-pres a fragment of the epistles of St
Augustine ■written in this manner. The manusciipt is
at least 11oo years old, and in a high state of preserva¬
tion.
This paper was an important branch of commerce to
file Egyptians, which continued to increase towards the
end of the Roman republic, and became still more ex¬
tensive in the reign of Augustus. The demand from
foreign nations was often so great, as to occasion a scar¬
city at Rome; and we read in the reign of Tiberius of
a tumult among the people in consequence of this scar¬
city. In a letter of the emperor Adrian, the preparing
of the papyrus is mentioned as one of the principal oc¬
cupations at Alexandria. “In this rich and opulent
city (says he) nobody is seen idle: Some are employed
in the manufactory of cloth, some in that of writing pa¬
per,&C. During the time of the Antoliines, this
commerce continued equally to flourish. Apuleius says,
that he wrote on the paper of Egypt with a reed of the
Nile prepared at Memphis.
The demand for this paper was so great towards
the end of the third century, that when the tyrant Fir-
mus conquered Egypt, he boasted that he had seized
as much paper and size as would support his whole
army.
St Jerotne informs us, that it was as much in use in
the fifth century when he flourished. The duty on the
importation of this commodity had grown excessive
towards the end of this or the beginning of the sixth
century j and being abolished by Theodoric king of
Italy, Cassiodorus, in the 38th letter of his nth book,
congratulates the whole wmrld on the discharge of an
impost on a merchandise so essentially necessary to
mankind.
The fathers Montfaucon and Mabillon mention se¬
veral fragments written on this paper in the sixth cen¬
tury. One of them was a charter of the emperor
Justinian, entitled Chartaplenarice securitatis. Father
Montfaucon saw in 1698, in the library of Julio Justi-
niani, three or four fragments of paper of Egypt of
the same antiquity. And Mabillon speaks of some
books of the Jewish antiquities by Josephus translated
into Latin, which seemed to have been written in the
.same century, and which were preserved in the library
of St Ambrose of Milan, but he had not seen the ma¬
nuscripts. The same father mentions to have seen in
the library of St Martin of Tours the remains of an old
Greek manuscript of the paper of Egypt, and which
appeared to him to be of the seventh century. He also
believes that the copy of St Mark’s gospel preserved in
the register-office of Venice is written on the same pa¬
per, that it is the most ancient of any of the evangelical
manuscripts, and may be supposed to be written at the
latest in the fourth century.
According to the same antiquarian, the paper of
Egypt was used in France and Italy, and other Euro¬
pean countries, both for hooks of learning and public
records j and there still remains, adds he, a great num¬
ber of these in the archives of the church at St Dennis,
at Corbie, in the abbey De Grasse, and in other con¬
vents.
It is probable, that the invention of paper made of
cotton, of which we ate afterwards to treat, insensibly
destroyed the reputation and manufacture of the paper
of Egypt; but it is still a question at what particular
period the fabrication of the latter totally ceased. Eu-
stachius, the learned commentator on Homer, assures
us, that in his time in 1170 it was no longer in use ;
but Father Mabillon maintains, that many of the popish
bulls were written on the papyrus in the nth cen¬
tury.
The Count Maffei, in his Istor. Diplomat, lib. ii.
JSiblioth. Ital. tom. ii. p. 251. is decidedly of opinion,
that the paper of Egypt was not in use in the fifth ten-
tUry. He considers all records written on this paper
dated posterior to this period as not authentic 5 and the
popish bulls mentioned by Father Mabillon appear to
this learned person, as well as the copy of St Mark’s
gospel, to be written on paper manufactured from cot¬
ton. To reconcile in some measure these contradictory
accounts, it may be observed, that on some particular
occasions, and by some particular persons, the paper of
Egypt might have been employed for several hundred
years after it ceased to he of general use. .Whoever
wishes for a fuller account of the paper of Egypt, may
consult among the ancients Pliny, lib. xiii. and Theo¬
phrastus, lib. iv. chap. ix. and among the moderns,
Guilandinus, Scaliger, Saumaise, Kerchmayer, Nigri-
soli ; Father Hardouin in his edition of Pliny ; Father
Mabillon in his work De re Diplomat.', Montfaucon in
his Paleography, and in his Collections j the illustrious
Maffei in his Istor. Diplomat.; the count de Caylus in
the Memoirs of the Academy of Inscriptions ; and Mr
Bruce in his Travels to discover the Source of the
Nile.
It is generally supposed that the invention of the pa-papermade
per, called charta bombycina, supplanted the Egyptian from cot-
paper in Greece. This paper is incomparably moreton-
lasting, and better calculated for all the purposes of
writing. It is not precisely known at what period this art,
which supposes a great variety of previous experiments,
was first reduced to practice. The application of cot¬
ton to the purposes of paper-making requires as much
labour and ingenuity as the use of linen rags; and for
this reason, if we could determine the precise time when
paper was made from cotton, we should also fix the in¬
vention of the art of paper-making as it is presently
practised in Europe. Father Montfaucon proves, by
incontestable authorities, that paper from cotton was in
use in 1100. This paper, in the Greek language, is
called fZvp%vx.uitt;, or jistp&etmvet j for although
fitpGvZ is the Greek word for silk, yet in those times it
was applied, as w’ell as fietpGctJ', to cotton 5 and hence
the Italians to this day call cotton bambaccio.
The most ancient manuscript of this paper which
‘ Father Mofitfaucon saw with the date, was that in the
French king’s library, written A. D. 1050 j but as the
manuscripts without date are infinitely more numerous
than those which are dated, and as some conjecture can
be formed concerning them from the manner of writing,
tliis father believes some of these to have been written
in the 10th century.
The researches of the same learned antiquarian amount
almost to a proof that this paper was discovered towards
the end of the ninth century or beginning of the tenth 5
for before the twelfth century it was commonly used in
the eastern empire, and even in Sicily. Roger king of
Sitily says, in a diploma written in 1145, ^iat ^,e
renewed
Iktory. p A
renewed bn parchment a charter which had been written
on paper oi cotton, in the year noo, and another which
was dated in the year m2. About the same time the
empress Irene, in the statutes for some religious houses at
Constantinople, says that she had left three copies of the
same statutes, two in parchment and one in paper from
cotton. From that period this paper was still more in
use through all the eastern empire ; and innumerable
Greek manuscripts are found written on it in all the
great libraries.
This discovery happened at a time when there seems
to have been a great scarcity of parchment ; for it
was about this period that the Greeks erased the
writings of Polybius, Diodorus of Sicily, and many
valuable ancient authors, for the sake of the parch¬
ment.
It was the invention of this paper of cotton which
destroyed the manufacture of the paper of Egypt ;
for, if we may believe Eustathius, who wrote towards
the end of the 12th century, the latter paper had
gone into disuse but a little before his time. We may
easily believe, however, that this new invention, al¬
though of great advantage to mankind, was introduced
by degrees.
The manufacture of this kind of paper has flourished
in the Levant for many ages, and is carried on with
great success even to this day. It is not necessary to
say any thing farther, than that the paper produced
from cotton is extremely white, very strong, and of a
fine grain.
iperfrom This paper of the ancients was made from the white
e interior pellicle or inner coat found in many trees between the
irk of bark and the wood. The trees commonly in use were
ees oi j.jie map]e^ fjie p]ane tree, the elm, the beech, the mul¬
berry, and most frequently the lindin-tree. The ancients
wrote on this inner coat after they had separated it from
the bark, beat, and dried it.
The fathers Mabilion and Montfaucon speak frequent¬
ly of manuscripts and diplomas written on paper made
from bark j and positively distinguish it from the Egyp¬
tian paper, because it was thicker, and composed of parts,
less adhering together.
There are many palm trees in India and America to.
which botanists have given the name papijraceousy be¬
cause the natives have written with bodkins either on the
leaves or the bark. Such is the American palm, called.
tal by the Indians *, and of the same kind is the guaja-
raba of New Spain. Every palm, the bark of which is
smooth, and the leaves large and thick, may be used for
this purpose.
The art of making paper from vegetables reduced
to stuflF was known in China long before it was prac¬
tised in Europe 5 and the Chinese have carried it to a
degree of perfection hitherto unknown to the European
artists. The fine paper in China is softer and,smoother
than that of Europe j and these qualities are admirably
adapted to the pencil, which the Chinese use in writing.
Several kinds of their paper discover the greatest art and
ingenuity, and might be applied with much advantage
to many purposes. They are capable of receiving, for
example, the impression of types ; and both maps and
prints have been executed with success on the Chinese
paper.
The different sorts of paper vary in China according
to the materials of which they are composed, and to.
P E K.
the different manner of manufacturing those materials.
Every province has its peculiar paper. That of Se-
chwen is made of linen rags as in Europe ; that of
Fo-kien, of young bamboo ; that of the northern pro¬
vinces, of the interior bark of the mulberry ; that of the
province of Kiang-nan, of the skin which is found in the
webs of the silk-worm $ finally, in the province of Hu-
quang, the tree chu or ko-chu furnishes the materials
with which they make paper.
The method of fabricating paper with the bark of
different trees is nearly the same with that which is
followed in the bamboo. T.o give an idea, therefore,
of the manner of manufacturing the interior barks of
the mulberry, the elm, and the cotton-tree, it will be
sufficient to confine our observations to the bamboo.
'i he bamboo is a kind of cane or hollow reed, divided,
by knots; but larger, more elastic, and durable than
any other reed.
I he whole substance of the bamboo, composed of
filaments, and a great abundance of fibrous materials, is
employed in this operation. The shoots of one or two
years, nearly the thickness of a man’s leg, are preferred.
They strip the leaves from the stem, cut them into pieces
of four or five feet long, make them into parcels, and
put them into water to macerate. As soon as they are
softened, which generally happens in five days, they
wash them in pure water j put them into a dry ditcli 5
cover them with lime for some days, which they water
for the purpose of slacking: they wash them carefully a
second time 5 cut every one of the pieces into filaments,.
which they expose to the rays of the sun to dry and to.
bleach them. After this they are boiled in large ket-,
ties ; and then reduced to stuff in mortars of wood, by
means of a hammer with a long handle, which the work-,
man moves with his foot*
The stuff being thus prepared, they take some shoots
of a plant named kote/ig, which, steeped in water four
or five days, is reduced to an unctuous or glutinous
substance j and when they proceed to make the paper, ,
this is mixed with the stuff in certain exact quantities,
for on this mixture depends the goodness of the paper.
When the extract from the koteng is mixed with,
stuff of the bamboo, the whole mixture is beat toge-*
ther in mortars till it becomes a thick and viscous,
liquor. This is poured into large tubs or reservoirs,
so exactly framed as that no part of the liquor can
escape.
The workmen after this plunge their forms into the
liquor 5 take out what is sufficient for a sheet of paper;
which immediately, from the glutinous substance, be-*
comes firm and shining; and is detached from the form
by turning down the sheet on the heap of paper already
made, without the interposition of pieces of woollen
cloth, as in Europe.
In order to dry this paper, they have a hollow wall,
the two fronts of which are smooth and extremely white.
At the extremity of this wall is placed a stove, the pipes
of which are carried in a circular manner through the
whole empty space. The sheets of paper are laid on the
surface, to which they adhere till they come over them
with a soft brush; and after they are dry, it is easy to
distinguish the side which received impressions from
the brush from that which adhered to the wall. By
means of this stove the Chinese dry their paper as fast as
they can make it; but it is only in cold seasons, or in
certain
735
736
S
Japanese
paper.
PAP
certain provinces, that they fiiul this expedient neces¬
sary. . . „
The Chinese paper must be dipped m a solution ot
alum before it can take either ink or colours. They
call this operation faner, from the Chinese word/«•/?,
which signifies alum. rlhe following is the. manner ot
preparing this solution: Six ounces of isinglass cut
Very small is put into boiling water, and constantly
stirred, that it may dissolve equally. When the isin¬
glass is wholly dissolved in the water, they throw in
twelve ounces of calcined alum, which is also stirred
till it is completely dissolved and mixed with the isin¬
glass. This composition is afterwards poured into a
large and deep bason, at the mouth of which is a little
round piece of wood ; the extremity of every sheet of
paper is fixed in another piece of wood, with a slit
made to receive it *, by means of this equipage they
plunge the sheet of paper into the composition of alum
and isinglass j and when it is fully penetrated, they
draw it out, making it glide over the little round
piece of wood. The long piece of wood which holds
the ^Jicet by one end, and keeps it from tearing, is
afterwards suspended with it on a wall till it is sufti-
ciently dry.
The Chinese give the paper intended tor dillerent
purposes different preparations. We shall confine our
observations to the silver colour which they give to some
paper. They take two scruples of paste made of cows
hide, one scruple of alum, and a pint of water: the
whole is boiled on a slow fire till the water be evaporat¬
ed. The sheets of paper are then stretched on a smooth
table, and covered over with two or three layers of this
- paste. They take afterwards a certain quantity of talc,
washed and boiled in water, with the proportion of one-
third of alum j this is dried, reduced to.a powder, passed
through a sieve, boiled a second time in water, dried in
the sun, and again passed through the sieve. -This pow¬
der is spread equally over the sheets ol paper, prepared
as we mentioned above y and then they are dried slowly
in the shade.
The sheets of paper, covered in this manner with
talc, are laid upon a table, and rubbed with a little cot¬
ton j which fixes a certain quantity of the talc in the pa¬
per, and carries off the overplus to be used on another
occasion. By means of this composition the Chinese
draw all manner of figures on their paper.
Formerly the Chinese wrote with a bodkin of iron on
tablets of bamboo j afterwards on satin with a pencil *,
and during the dynasty of their tyrants, about 160 years
before Christ, they discovered the art of making paper.
The paper made from the bamboo is sufficiently
white, soft, closely united, without the least inequality
on the surface to interrupt the motion of the pencil, or
to occasion the rising of the materials which compose it.
Meanwhile every kind of paper made from the bamboo
or the bark of trees, is readier to crack than that made
in Europe j besides, it is more susceptible of moisture,
and sooner destroyed with dust and worms. To obviate
this last inconveniency, they are obliged frequently to
beat their books in China, and to expose them to the
sun. It may be observed, however, that the Chinese
paper, employed for various purposes in Europe, has
been preserved for a long time without receiving da¬
mage either from moisture or insects.
According to Kempfer, the bark of the morus papi-
E R.
Hi
f to saliva, or true paper free, is chiefly employed for
making paper in Japan. Every year after the fall of the
leaves, which happens in the tenth month, corresponding
to our December, the Japanese cut the young shoots of
this tree into pieces of about three feet, collect them
into parcels, which they boil in water into which they
have cast a certain quantity of ashes. If the wood is.
dry, they take care to steep it 23 hours in water before
it is boiled. The parcels are kept in a close copper till
the bark at the extremity of the shoots is separated from
the stem about half an inch j they are then cooled j and
the bark alone is fit for making paper. They begin by
a preparation which consists of cleaning the bark, and
separating the good from the had. For this purpose
they steep it in water three or four hours •, and as soon
as it is softened they scrape off with a knife whatever
is blackish or gteen, and at the same time separate the
strong bark of a year’s growth from the slender which
covers the young shoots. The first of these gives the
whitest and best paper. If there is any of the bark of
more thati a year’s growth, it is laid aside for the coar¬
sest.
After the bark has been culled and cleaned in this
manner, it is boiled in a clear ley till the matter is of
that consistency, that, being touched gently with the
finger, it draws off in the form of hairs, or like a collec¬
tion of fibres. During the time of boiling it is con¬
stantly stirred with a strong reed, and the waste by eva¬
poration supplied from time to time with additional quan¬
tities of the clear ley. To make this ley, they put two
pieces of wood across the mouth of a tub, cover them
with straxv, on which they lay a bed of ashes a little
moistened and pouring boiling water on the ashes, the
salts contained in them are carried down to the tub.
This is what is called a clear ley.
After the bark is in the condition we have just now
stated, it is washed with great care •, for on this wash¬
ing depends in a great measure the goodness of the
paper. It is put "into a kind of sieve through which
the water can flow freely and great care is taken to
turn it with the hand till it is sufficiently diluted, and
reduced to soft and tender fibres. I or the finest papei
a second washing is requisite, and a piece of cloth is used
instead of a sieve.
When the bark is washed* it is laid on a strong and
smooth table, and beat with a kind of baton of hard
wood till it is reduced to a proper consistency. It be¬
comes indeed so soft, that it resembles paper steeped
in water.
The hark prepared in this manner is put into a nar¬
row tub, with a glutinous extract from rice and the root
oreni, which is very viscous. Ihese three substances,
mixed together, are stirred with the reed till they form
a liquor of an equal and uniform consistency. This com¬
position is poured into tubs similar to those usedtoi filling
the forms in our paper mills.
As soon as the sheets are made and detached from
the form, they are laid in a heap on a table covered
with a double mat. A small chip of cane is placed
betwixt every sheet. This piece of cane jutting out,
serves to distinguish the sheets, and afterwards to raise
them. Every one of the heaps is covered with a plate
or thin board of the exact size of the paper. In pro¬
portion as the paper dries, oris able to bear it with¬
out danger of being compressed into one mass, they lay
131
History. P A
On additional wei^lits. 11ns pressure, intended to carry
oft any unnecessary moisture, is continued for 24 hours,
when the sheets are suspended, by means of the little
pieces of feed, to long plants, in the open air, till they
are completely dried.
The extract from rice is made in an unvarnished
earthen pot. The pot is agitated at first gently, then
more briskly : new water is poured in, and then it is
filtered through a linen cloth. The finishing of the pro¬
cess is determined by the viscosity of the substance.
The infusion of the root oreni is made in the follow¬
ing manner : The root peeled and cut into small pieces,
is infused into water for one night, during which time
it communicates a viscosity sufficient for the purpose to
which it is applied.
The Japanese paper is of such prodigious strength, that
the materials of which it is composed might be manufac¬
tured into ropes. There is sold at Serige, the capital
city of the province of Japan of that name, a kind of it
fit for bed hangings and wearing apparel ; resembling so
much stuff's of wool and silk, that it is often taken for
them. The following is Kempfer’s catalogue of trees
used in Japan for the manufactory of paper. 1. The
/ true paper tree, called in the Japanese language kaadsi,
Kempfer characterizes thus: PapyvusfrUctu moricelsce,
sive moms sativa foliis nrticce mortuce cortice papifera.
2. The false paper tree, called by the Japanese Azrtef&ai/-
sire ; by Kempfer, papyrus procumbens lactescens folio
longo lanceato cortice chartacco. 3. The plant which the
Japanese call oreni is named by Kempfer malva radice
viscosa flore ephc?nero magnopunico. 4. The fourth tree
used for paper is the futokadsura^ named by Kempfer
frutex viscosus procumbens folio telephii vulgaris cniulo
fructu racemoso.
The description of these trees, given more particu¬
larly by Kempfer than the limits of this work will per¬
mit, may be of great service to lead botanists to discover
the European plants and shrubs adapted, like the Japa¬
nese, for the fabrication of paper.
Before finishing our reflections on this part of the sub¬
ject, it will be proper to give a just idea of the attempts
which have been made to increase the original materials
of paper in Europe.
A slight attention to the process in China in reducing
the bamboo to a paste, by a careful and ingenious ana¬
lysis, and to the long and proper method of the Japanese
of separating the principal fibres of the bark of the mul¬
berry, will show the absurdity not only of taking plants
without any kind of choice, but of giving them no pre¬
paration except that of pounding them with mallets.
With a proper selection, and good principles, it ap¬
pears not improbable that many of the European plants
might be used with great advantage in constructing se¬
veral kinds of paper.
It is evident that the materials used by the Chinese
require less labour and preparation than the stuff of
linen rags. The sheets of the Chinese paper are easily
detached from the form ; they are laid in heaps with¬
out the interposition of pieces of woollen cloth ; the
superfluous water is immediately discharged j and they
require not, as in Europe, the vigorous action ol presses
to unite the parts more closely together.
6 The asbestos is a fibrous substance of little strength,
ionfasbc-6 ^le threads of which are easily broken. See Minera-
1 Ws. LOGY Index. This substance has the peculiar property of
Vol. XV. Part II. +
E R.
supporting the action of fire without receiving any da¬
mage : whence pieces of cloth and garters made of it are
incombustible. From the knowledge of this property-
paper has been made of the asbestos. Dr Brukman, pro¬
fessor at Brunswick, published the natural history of this
fossil ; and four copies of his book, in the library of
Wdlfenbuttle, are on this paper.
The manner of fabricating this paper is described by
M. Lloyd in the Philosophical Transactions, N° 166.
A certain quantity of the asbestos is pounded in a mor¬
tar of stone till it be reduced to a substance like cotr
ton. All the parts of earth or stone remaining in the
asbestos are then taken oft by means of a fine sieve, and
it is formed into sheets of paper by an ordinary paper
mill. Mixing it with water reduces it to stuff’; only,
as it is heavier than that from linen rags it requires
to be continually stirred when they are taking it up
with the frames. The only excellence of this paper
is, that the writing disappears when it is cast into the
fire. It must be observed, at the same time, that as it
is of a slender consistency, and easily torn, it is more
an object of curiosity than use. 7
This paper is manufactercd through all Europe of^>aPe'',Ba^
linen rags collected in the cities and in the country/10*11 ra^s‘
This kind of paper was utterly unknown to the an¬
cients. The libri lintei mentioned by Livy, I. lib. iv.
Pliny, XIII. c. xi. and by other Roman writers, are
demonstrated by Guilandin, in his commentary on Pliny,
&c. to have been written on pieces of linen cloth, or
canvas prepared in the manner of painters.
But it is not sufficient to be certain that paper from
linen is a modern invention ; it is necessary to know
by what nation, and at what period, it was discovered.
Polydore Virgil, De Invcntoribus Iterum, C. II, c. viii.
confesses his ignorance of these facts. Scaliger, wdth-
out any kind of proof, gives the glory to the Ger¬
mans ; and Count Mallei to the Italians. Other wri¬
ters ascribe this honour to some Greek refugees at Basil,
to whom the manner of making paper from cotton in
their own country had suggested the idea. Du Halde is
persuaded that Europe derived this invention from the
Chinese, who, in several provinces, make paper of rags
nearly in the same manner that we do. But this inven¬
tion was practised by the Eui’opeans before they had any
communication with China, and before the taking of
Constantinople, at which time the Greek refugees were
supposed to have retired to Basil. The precise time of
this disco%ery in Europe is not exactly known. Father
Mabillon believes that it was in the twelfth century ;
and cites a passage of Pierre de Clugny, born A. D.
1100, to prove it. The books which we read every
day, says that abbe in his treatise against the Jews, are
written on sheep and calves skins ; or on oriental plants;
or, finally, Ex rasuris vetcrum punnorum. If these last
words signify paper, such as we use, there were books of
it in the twelfth century. But this citation is the more
to be suspected, as Montfaucon himself, alter the mi¬
nutest search in France and Italy, could find no book on
this paper antecedent to the death of St Louis, A. D*
1270.
The epocha of this invention was not determined till
1762, M. Mierman having proposed a reward to the
person who could procure the most ancient manuscript
written on this kind of paper. The collection of all the
memoirs sent to him along with the manuscripts was
•s A published
738 PAP
Art of Ma- published at the Hague in 1767 : and it appeared that
king Paper this paper had been used in Europe before the year
in Europe. 1300.
• y - 1782 the Abbe Andrez published a work entitled
DelP Origins, Progress!, e Stato attualc cV Ogni hi ter a-
tura; wherein he speaks of the discovery ol many kinds
of paper, and particularly of that made of rags. rl he
Abbe Andrez maintains, that paper made from silk rvas
very anciently fabricated in China, and in the eastern
parts of Asia that the art of making this paper was
carried from China to Persia about the year 652, and to
Mecca in 706. The Arabs substituted cotton, the com¬
modity of their own country, in place of silk or rather
bamboo. This paper of cotton was carried into Africa
and Spain by the Arabs. The Spaniards, from the
quantity of linen to be found in the kingdom of Valen¬
cia, seem first to have adopted the idea of using linen
rags ; and the most ancient paper of this kind is of Va¬
lencia and Catalonia. From Spain it passed intoFrance,
as may be learned from a letter of Joinville to St Louis
about the year 1 260. It is discovered to have been in
Germany in 1312, and in England in 1320 and 1342.
In consequence of the paper made from cotton in the
Levant, the paper from linen was introduced much later
into Italy. See the work of Abbe Andrez, printed at
Parma, 1782, in 8vo; and Mierman’s Collection, pub¬
lished at the Hague.
Sect. I. Art of Making Paper in Europe.
To give a concise view of this subject, it will be ne¬
cessary to proceed with all the important parts of the
3 operation in their order.
The selec- The selection of the rags, is the arranging of them
tion of rags. inj-0 different lots, according to their quality and to the
demand of the paper mill. In general this selection is
very much neglected: The degrees of fineness and
whiteness, distinguished with little care, are thought to
be the only objects of importance; w hereas the hard¬
ness and softness, the being more or less worn, are much
more essential in this selection. It is certain, that a
mixture of soft and hard rags occasions much more loss
in the trituration than a difference in point of fineness
or of colour. This exactness in the selection is still
more necessary wdiere cylinders are used instead of mal¬
lets. We cannot do better than to give the method
practised in Holland as worthy of imitation.
They begin by a general separation of the rags into
four lots •, superfine, fine, middle, and coarse. These
lots are given to selectors, who subdivide each of them
into five chests. They have besides a bench, on which
is fixed vertically a hook, and a piece of scythe which
is terminated by a crooked point.
The pei'son, for example, who has the charge of the
fine lot, puts into one of the chests the hard rags, or
those which are little used, into another the soft, into a
third the dirty, into a fourth those which are stitched
or hemmed, and finally, into the fifth the superfine rags
which happen to be among the fine.
After this process, the women who have the charge
of it are at extreme pains to pick out every kind of sew¬
ing, and especially the knots of thread and the hems, by
means of the hook or scythe which they have under their
hands. They take care also by the same means to cut and
reduce the rags exactly by the warp and the woof into
E R. Sect. I.
small pieces. It is of great advantage to cut or tear Art of Ma-
the pieces of rags by a thread, whether it be by the warp king Paper
or woof; because if it is done obliquely, many of the in Europe,
ends are lost in the operation. v J
When they have selected a certain quantity of each
of these subdivisions, they are placed on an iron grate,
which covers a large chest where they are beat, and
otherwise turned, till the filth and dust pass through
the bars of the grate and fall into the chest.
The number of lots in the selection of rags must be
proportioned to the mass from which the selection is
made, and to the kinds of paper produced by the mill.
Some mills, the work of which is considerable, make
nine lots of their rags, five of which respect the fine¬
ness, and the rest the cleanness and the colour. In or¬
dinary mills there are only four lots, and in some two.
We have already observed, that the selection which
regards the hardness of the materials is the most essen¬
tial j because it is of great impox'tance to obtain stuff
composed of equal parts, and without any loss. But
it is necessary to add, that the fineness and heauty of
the paper depend in some cases on a selection not ri¬
gorous. Thus, for example, it is of great service to
allow the middling to retain some part of the fine, and
the fine some part of the superfine ; for without this
the inferior kinds of paper can never be of great value.
The most common fault is to mix the x'ags of the infe¬
rior lots with the superior j which thougli it augments
the quantity of paper, is extremely injurious to the qua¬
lity. It does much better to mix parts of the superior
lots with the inferior. It is the want of attention to
this mixture which makes some paper mills excel in the
superior sorts of paper, while the inferior kinds are of a
very bad quality.
The selection of rags being made with exactness,
however, and the lots being fermented and triturated
separately, the mixture may be made with much great¬
er advantage when they are both reduced to stuH j al¬
ways taking care that it be in the same pi'oportion as
if it were in the state of rags, and only in the manner
which we just now mentioned j for the inferior sorts
gain more in beauty and quality by this mixture than
is lost in stuff; whereas if the fine stuff receives a cer¬
tain quantity of the inferior, the paper is more dama¬
ged in its value than increased in quantity. In this
manner the interest of the manufacturer, as in all cases,
is intimately connected with the goodness of his com¬
modities. p
In some mills the place for fermentation is divided The wash-
into two parts, one of which serves for washing away ’nkr
the filth from the rags. After allowing them to s^ep "frags>
for some time in a large stone vat, they stir them, and
pour in fresh water till the impurities connected with
the rags run over. When they are as clean as they
possibly can be made with this kind of washing, they are
laid in a heap to putrefy. In this condition they expe¬
rience a degree of fermentation, which is first discovered
by a mouldiness of the different pieces of cloth. Aftex*-
wards the mass grows wax’m ; and then it is of gi’eat con¬
sequence to attend to the progi’ess of this heat, in order
to moderate its effects: for this purpose, the middle of
the heap, where the fermentation is strongest, is turned
out, and vice versa. In mills wdiere mallets are used, the
putrefaction is carried to a great height, which is fre¬
quently attended with two inconveniences. The fii-st is,
that
Sect. I. PA
Art of \ia- that a part of the rags is reduced to an earthy substance,
June Paper which is foun(l Jn g,.eat abundance about the cutting
iii mope^ as we sjjaii afterwards have occasion to see. But
besides this waste, excessive fermentation makes the stuff
incapable of sustaining the action of the mallets till it is
equally pounded. A paper made from a stuff too hard
and too little fermented, is coarse and ill compacted j
that made from rags too much fermented, is composed
of fibres without softness and without strength.
The second inconveniency is, that the rags turn greasy
by too much fermentation, and of consequence it is very
difficult to separate and reduce them by all the washings
of the trituration.
We shall not describe the form of the place for fer¬
mentation, because in different paper works these places
are of different constructions: it is sufficient to say, that
they are all placed in low situatiors and made very close.
The selected rags are placed in them in heaps, and wa¬
tered from time to time to bring on the fermentation.
In different paper mills they practise different methods
in the putrefaction of their rags.
In certain provinces in France, they lay in the place
for putrefaction a heap equivalent to what the mill can
triturate in a month. When this is equally and suf¬
ficiently moistened by means of moveable pipes, they
cover it with an old heap, which has lain a month in a
state of fermentation. W hen this old heap is exhausted
by the mill, the new one becomes a covering to another,
and so on. From this detail it is easy to perceive, that
there must be near three weeks difference of putrefaction
in the same heap, and also that in this method there is
no allowance for those seasons in which the fermenta¬
tion advances more rapidly.
In general the putrefaction goes on more slowly in
proportion to the fineness of the rags. But when, on
any occasion, it advances more rapidly than the demand
from the mill, the rags are turned over and watered, to
stop the fermentation and prevent the bad effects.
All the inconveniences attending the excess of putre¬
faction are remedied in Holland by machines which tri¬
turate the rags without having recourse to it; and their
success in this manner of preparing the stuff has attract¬
ed the notice of the French artists, some of whom have
adopted with advantage the Dutch machinery.
Meanwhile, it is possible to carry the method of pu¬
trefaction to much greater perfection ; and several ma¬
nufacturers have made attempts so well concerted, as to
deserve the attention of those who study the subject.
In the neighbourhood of Brussels some paper manu¬
facturers, who have constructed their mills after the
Dutch plan, have still found it necessary to putrefy their
rags j but, at the same time, they have an excellent me¬
thod for moderating the effects of this putrefaction. In
the great galleries connected with the buildings of the
paper mill, they have constructed a continuation of chests,
capable each of them of containing a certain quantity of
rags y for example, the quantity which the cylinder can
triturate in one day. The number of chests is equal to
the number of days which the rags in any season require
for putrefaction ; and the number actually employed is
greater or less according to the season. In prosecuting
this plan, they lay a heap of rags in one chest, as often
as they take one from another. It should also be observ¬
ed, that, for the sake of the fermentation, the rags are
P E E.
739
first moistened in a large hollow stone before they are Art of Ma-
arranged into the chests. king Paper
The peculiar advantages of this method are, the ia Europe,
equal fermentation of the rags, without any part of
them being weakened 5 great ease in washing them j
and it is even pretended, that a less degree of fermen¬
tation renders the impurities and the discoloured parts
both of hemp and linen more soluble, and consequently
the stuff of a purer white.
When the rags are reduced to a proper state of pu- Cutting
tref'action, they are carried to the cutting table, which table*
is placed on solid tressels, and enclosed on three sides
to contain the rags cut in it. Before the table is fix¬
ed vertically a part of the blade of a scythe, the edge
of which is turned from the operator. This workman,
in a situation rather elevated, takes from the left side
a handful of the putrefied rags, and arranging them the
long way, gives them a gentle twist, presses the half-
formed rope against the blade of the scythe, and, in
the manner of sawing, cuts it into three or four pieces,
which he throws to the right side of the table. In
this operation the rags lose part of their filth, and espe¬
cially of the earthy particles occasioned by too much
putrefaction.
When the rags have been submitted to all the fore- Mills for
going operations, they are in a condition to be reduced triturating
into a fibrous stuff, of which the paper is made. To tlie ra»s‘
obtain this stuff, mills are constructed on different prin¬
ciples. Those which have been used for a long time
over all Europe, and which by a statement in the Ency-
c/opedie Met/iodiquey published at Paris in 1789, are
still used in France, are mills with mallets. But the
mills invented by the Dutch, and used in the neighbour¬
ing provinces, and, excepting one instance, in every
part of Great Britain, are mills with cylinders or rol¬
lers. In the former of these, the mallets are raised by
notches fixed at convenient distances in a large circular
beam of wood. The teeth fixed on the end of the
mallet fall into a corresponding gap made the whole
breadth of the plate, and the strokes are repeated till
the rags are reduced to a proper consistency. On sup¬
plying the vat with water, and carrying off all the im¬
purities, the operation is nearly similar to that in the
mills with cylinders.
Such is the nature of what may be called the o/d me¬
thod of making paper. It was proper to speak of this
old method, because at one time, and that not very di¬
stant, it universally prevailed. That it was inferior to
that now in practice, seems very evident 5 and that the
rotting of the rags was peculiarly absurd, cannot be de¬
nied, as the paper made of fermented stuff could neither
be so strong nor so durable as that which is made in the
common way without putrefaction. The only kind of
paper that, with any propriety, could be made from pu¬
trefied stuff, was pasteboard ; but we are informed by
the most intelligent papermakers in Britain, that they
seldom or never even putrefy the rags or ropes of which
pasteboard is made. It will now be requisite to state
the method presently in practice, with the improve¬
ments lately made in the art. 12
The duster is made in the form of a cylinder, four T"e duster-
and a half feet in diameter, and five feet in length. It
is altogether covered with a wire net, and put in motion
by its connection with some part of the machinery. A
5 A 3 •onvement
74° PAP
Art of Ma- convenient quantity of rags before the selection are en¬
ding Paper closed in the duster, and the rapidity of its motion sepa-
m Kiiropc. rates tl,e (|ust from them, and forces it through the
v ‘ wire. It is of considerable advantage to use the duster
before selection, as it makes that operation less pernici¬
ous to the selectors.
The selection is performed much in the same manner
as we have already described j only it is found more
convenient to have the tables for cutting off the knots
and stitching, and for forming them into a proper
shape, in the same place with the cutting table. The
surface both of these and of the cutting table is com¬
posed of a wire net, which in every part of the opera¬
tion allows the remaining dust and refuse of every kind
to escape.
The rags, without any kind of putrefaction are again
carried from the cutting table back to the duster, and
from thence to the engine, where, in general, they are
in the space of six hours reduced to the stuff proper for
making paper. The hard and soft of the same quality
are placed in different lots; but they can be reduced
to stuff at the same time, provided the soft be putsome-
t-; what later into the engine.
■Description The engine is that part of the mill which performs
mill ^i^)er t'le whole action of reducing the rags to paste, or, as
it may be termed, of trituration. The number of the
engines depends on the extent of the paper work, on
tire force of water, or on the construction of the ma¬
chinery.
It will afford a sufficient idea of the work, to give in
pjate detail a description of the different parts of the engine.
€CCCIV. l'iffure I* represents the chapiter which covers the rol-
iig. x. ler. It is four feet three inches in length, and two feet
eight inches in breadth. The superior part is pierced
with two openings running crosswise, I, 2, 3, 4, into
which enter the chesses, or wicker frames, figures 6. and
7. *, the first, made of wire cloth, enters into the opening
3 and 4 ; the second made of hair cloth, and strength¬
ened with several cross bars of wood, enters into the
opening 1, 2, serves to retain the small .pieces of rags
which escape through the first, and prevents them from
falling into the dalot or hole-scupper, fig. 2. This hole-
-■cupper is placed across the vat of the engine, parallel
to the axle of the roller; the part g enters into the
notch c of the chapiter; and the extremity // enters in¬
to the opening & of the tunnel £ / (fig. 3.), by which
means the water dashed through the wicker frames by
every revolution of the roller is precipitated into the ca¬
nal / and loses itself below the engine. The figures
4, 9, and 10, represent the roller in perspective, in plane,
and in profile. It is two feet in diameter, and two feet
three inches in length. The trundle head A is 16
inches in diameter, about half as much in length, and
furnished with seven spindles of iron, which are screwed
to the end of the trundle head, made also of iron. The
teeth or blades of the roller are 27 in numbex-, and fit¬
ted strongly into the wood which composes its body,
parallel to its axis. rIbey are of that thickness as to
leave as much empty space as they occupy. The exte¬
rior face of each of the blades should be made round,
and divided into two parts, with a longitudinal motion,
as in the profile a a a, fig. 10.
The axis AB of the roller (fig. 4. and 9.) has two
parts perfectly rounded in A aud in B, which perforin
tfie office of pivots. These pivots rqst in the sockets A
E R.
Sect. I,
and B (fig. 8.) in the middle of the levers QAH and Art ofMa-
OBH. It is by means of these levers that they raise at king Paper
pleasure, or lower the axis of the roller, and fit it exact- ,in KuroP''-
ly, and in a parallel manner, to the plate. The plates 'r^'
(see fig. 5.) are made of steel cut into channels, in such
a manner as to correspond with the blades of the roller.
Their channels are not perpendicular, but oblique; and
there are two rows of them, b x, x f/, consisting of seven
or eight blades each on one plate.—Those in b x, for
the purpose of changing the plate, lie in an opposite di¬
rection to those in a* d. The levers are kept in their po¬
sition near the vat by bands of iron, MN and m n; be¬
tween which they are made higher or lower by the cog¬
ged wheel H, which supports one of the extremities.
Wedges N n are likewise employed to fix the levers at
a convenient height above the plates. Finally, Every
vat is supplied with a small slide door, which is occasion¬
ally raised to carry the prepared stuff by means of the
scuppers of wood to the general repositories. j.
Fig. 5. is placed in the vat fig. 8.; the roller (fig. 4.) Working
is placed above it in such a manner that the pivots rest°ftlie en-
in the sockets of the levers ; the scupper (fig. 2.) andgine’
the chapiter ai-e disposed in the maimer above mention¬
ed. The vat is charged with a proper quantity of rags,
and fresh water is admitted by a spigot placed at one
of the corners. In this situation, when the engine is put
in motion, the roller turning upon its axis draws the wa¬
ter and the rags by the least inclined plane, and making
them pass between its blades and the channels of the
plate, dashes them against the chapiter and the wicker-
frames ; and, in short, part of them falls back into
the vat, and i-eturns into the circulation. The cause
of this circulation is evidently the continual void oc¬
casioned by the movement of the roller on the one
side, and the return of the water and the stuff on the
other.
As all the rags are not thrown towards the part B d
of the chapiter, from whence they might fall back into
the vat, but a part of them to a greater distance ; it is
necessary to have the wicker frames formerly descxdbed,
not only to prevent their loss, but to allow the dirty wa¬
ter to escape. The spigot at the corner of the vat con¬
tinually supplies this waste of water. This operation
would be sufficient to whiten the rags, although the rol¬
ler's wei’e raised considerably from the plate ; and thei'e-
fore the force and action of the rollers i-educing them
to stuff must be much more effectual. It requires great
skill to conduct the engine, whether it be with regard
to the first quantity, to the pi’oper time for adding the
softer rags, to the augmenting or diminishing the wa¬
ter in proportion to the trituration ; or, finally, to
knowing exactly when the stuff is reduced to a proper
consistency.
In the paper manufactory at Montargis, it was at¬
tempted to introduce rollers of the greatest strength and
the least weight possible, in oi'der to give them the great¬
er i-apidity ; but the expei'iment did not succeed: the
rollers of prodigious x'apidity were found to produce
stuff neither in greater quantity nor of superior quality.
The most experienced artists have established a px-opoi'-
tion between the motion of the roller and the greater
or less resistance of the rags. And the Dutch, who
have arrived at very great perfection in this art, have
followed a method totally different from that practised
at Montargis. A roller in Holland complete in all its
parts
Sect
yaf
W P
iiE«
Scot. i. pa;
Art of Ma- parts weighs nearly 30 hundred weight j and they find
king Paper this necessary for cutting the rags, especially if they
in Europe have not been putrefied. In proportioning the rapidity
to the resistance, they have also discovered, that a slow
motion is preferable to a rapid one. The rollers at Saar-
dam, by calculation made from the different parts of
the machinery, make about 68 revolutions in a minute j
those at Montargis about 166.— In Holland, too, this
trituration of the rags is divided into two distinct ope¬
rations, performed by rollers constructed on different
principles : the first of them, for cutting the rags and
preparing for the other, is furnished with blades of steel
without any moisture, and with a considerable space be¬
tween them; the second, intended to reduce the stuff'
to the proper consistency, has a greater number of
blades, composed of a mixture of brass and copper.
The mills with rollers are in every respect superior to
those formerly in use with mallets. Two Dutch rollers
of the construction we have just now described will pre¬
pare as much stuff in the same time as 24 mallets ; they
require infinitely less room *, they do it without putre¬
faction, and as they do it in less time, and with less wa¬
ter, they occasion much less waste of the stuff’.
When the stuff is brought to perfection, it is convey¬
ed into a general repository, which supplies the vat from
which the sheets of paper are formed. This vat is made
of wood, and generally about five feet in diameter, and
two and a half in depth. It is kept in temperature by
means of a grate introduced by a hole, and surrounded
on the inside of the vat with a case of copper. For
fuel to this grate, they use charcoal or wood ; and, fre¬
quently, to prevent smoke, the wall of the building
comes in contact with one part of the vat, and the fire
lias no communication with the place wdiere they make
the paper.
Every vat is furnished on the upper part with planks,
enclosed inwards, and even railed in with wood, to pre¬
vent any of the stuff from running over in the opera¬
tion. Across the vat is a plank which is called the
trepan, pierced with holes at one ot the extremities,
and resting on the planks which surround the vat.
The forms or moulds are composed ot wire-cloth, and
a moveable frame. It is with these that they fetch up
the stuff’ from the vat, in order to form the sheets of pa¬
per. The sides of the form are made of oak, which is
previously steeped in water, and otherwise prepared to
prevent warping. The wire-cloth is made larger than
the sheet of paper, and the excess ot it on all sides
is covered with a moveable frame. This frame is ne¬
cessary to retain the stuff of which the paper is made
on the cloth ; and it must be exactly adapted to the
form, otherwise the edges of the paper will be ragged
and badly finished. The wire-cloth of the form is va¬
ried in proportion to the fineness of the paper and the
nature of the stuff.
The felts are pieces of woollen cloth spread over
every sheet of paper, and upon which the sheets are
laid, to detach them from the form, to prevent them
from adhering together, to imbibe part of the water
with which the stuff is charged, and to transmit the
whole of it when placed under the action of the press.
The two sides of the felt are differently raised: that of
which the hair is longest is applied to the sheets which
are laid down j and any alteration of this disposition
would produce a change in the texture of the paper.
E li. 741
The stuff’ of which the felts are made should he suffi- Art of Mu-
ciently strong, in order that it may be stretched exact-king Paper
ly on the sheets without forming into folds and, at the in Europe,
same time, sufficiently pliant to yield iu every direc- " "J
tion without injury to the wet paper. As the felts have
to resist the reiterated efforts of the press, it appears
necessary that the warp be very strong, of combed
wool, and well twisted. On the other hand, as they
have to imbibe a certain quantity of ivater, and to rt -
turn it, it is necessary that the woof be of carded wool,
and drawn out into a slack thread.—These are the
utensils, together with the press, which are used in
the apartment where the sheets of paper are formed. r-
The vat being furnished with a sufficient quantity ofTlie fabri-
stuff and of water, two instruments are employed tocat’onoi
mix them ; the one of which is a simple pole, and the^a^C)*
other a pole armed with a piece of board, rounded and
full of holes. This operation is repeated as often as
the stuff’ falls to the bottom. In the principal writing
mills in England, they use for this purpose what is
called a hog, which is a machine within the vat, that,
by means of a small wheel on the outside, is made to
turn constantly round, and keep the stuff in perpetual
motion. When the stuff and water are properly mix¬
ed, it is easy to perceive whether the previous opera¬
tions have been complete. When the stuff floats close,
and in regular flakes, it is a proof that it has been well
triturated ; and the parts of the rags which have es¬
caped the rollers also appear.
After this operation the workman takes one of the
forms, furnished with its frame, by the middle of the
short sides, and fixing the frame round the wire-cloth
with his thumbs, he plunges it obliquely lour or five
inches into the vat, beginning by the long side, which
is nearest to him. After the immersion he raises it to a
level: by these movements he fetches up on the form a
sufficient quantity of stuff ; and as soon as the form is
raised the water escapes through the wire-cloth, and the
superfluity of the stuff over the sides of the frame. The
fibrous parts of the stuff' arrange themselves regularly
on the wire-cloth of the form, not only in proportion as
the water escapes, but also as the workman favours this
effect by gently shaking the form. Afterwards, having
placed the form on a piece of board, the workman takes
oft' the frame or deckle, and glides this form towards
the toucher j who, having previously laid his felt,
places it with his left hand in an inclined situation,
on a plank fixed on the edge ol the vat, and full ot
holes. During this operation the workman applies his
frame, and begins a second sheet. The coucher seizes
this instant, takes with his left hand the form, now
sufficiently dry, and laying the sheet of paper upon tlm
felt, returns the form by gliding it along the trepan of
the vat.
They proceed in this manner, laying alternately a
sheet and a felt, till they have made six quires of paper,
which is called a ; and this they do with such swift¬
ness, that, in many sorts of paper, two men make up¬
wards of 20 posts in a day. When the last sheet of the
post is covered with the last felt, the workmen about the
vat unite together, and submit the whole heap to the ac¬
tion of the press. They begin at first to press it with a
middling lever, and afterwards with a lever about fif¬
teen feet in length. After this operation another person
separates the-sheets of paper from the felts, laying then*
/
Grain of
paper.
742 PAP
Art of Ma- in a heap anil several of these heaps collected together
king Paper are again put under the press.
in Europe, 'j'jjg which forms a sheet of paper is received,
as we have already said, on a form made of wire cloth,
which is more or less fine in proportion to the stufl, and
surrounded with a wooden frame, and supported in the
middle by many cross bars of wood. In consequence
of this construction, it is easy to perceive, that the sheet
of paper will take and preserve the impressions of all
the pieces which compose the form, and of the empty
spaces between them.
The traces of the wire-cloth are evidently perceived
on the side of the sheet which was attached to the form,
and on the opposite side they form an assemblage of pa¬
rallel and rounded risings, *n ^ie Paper which is
most highly finished the regulai-ity of these impressions
is still visible, it is evident that all the operations to
which it is submitted have chiefly in view to soften
these impressions without destroying them.—It is of
consequence, therefore, to attend to the combination of
labour which operates on these impressions. The cou-
cher, in turning the form on the felt, flattens a little the
rounded eminences .which are in relievo on one of the
surfaces, and occasions at the same time the hollow
places made by the wire-cloth to be partly filled up.
Meanwhile the effort which is made in detaching the
form, produces an infinite number of small hairs on
every protuberant part of the sheet.
Under the action of the press, first with the felts and
then without them, the perfecting of the grain of paper
still goes on. The vestiges of the protuberances made
by the wires are altogether flattened, and of consequence
the hollows opposite to them disappear also ; but the
traces formed by the interstices of the wire, in conse¬
quence of their thickness, appear on both sides, and are
rounded by the press.
The risings traced on each side of the paper, and
which can be discovered by the eye on that which is
most highly finished, form what is called the grain of
paper. The different operations ought to soften but not
destroy it; which is effectually done by employing the
hammer. This grain appears in the Dutch paper;
which is a sufficient proof, that though they have
brought this part of the art to the greatest perfection,
they have not employed hammers, but more simple and
ingenious means. The grain of paper is often disfigur¬
ed by the felts when they are too much used, or when
the wool does not cover the thread. In this case, when
the paper is submitted to the press, it takes the addi¬
tional traces of the warp and the woof, and composes a
surface extremely irregular.
The paper, the grain of which is highly softened, is
much fitter for the purposes of writing than that which
is smoothed by the hammer : on the other hand, a coarse
and unequal grain very much opposes the movements of
the pen ; as that which is beat renders them very un¬
certain. The art of making paper, therefore, should
consist in preserving, and at the same time in highly
softening, the grain : the Dutch have carried this to
the highest perfection.
The exchange succeeds the operation last described.
It is conducted in a hall contiguous to the vat, supplied
with several presses, and with a long table. The work¬
man arranges on this table the paper, newly fabricated,
into heaps j each heap containing eight or ten of those
'1
Exchange.
E IX. Sect. I,
last under the press, kept separate by a woollen felt. Art of Ma.
The press is large enough to receive two of them at king Paper
once, placed the one at the other’s side. When the *n Europe,
compression is judged sufficient, the heaps of paper are L“" V~'|J
carried back to the table, and the whole turned sheet
by sheet, in such a manner that the surface of every
sheet is exposed to a new one $ and in this situation they
are again brought under the press. It is in conducting
these two operations sometimes to four or five times, or
as often as the nature of the paper requires, that the
perfection of the Dutch plan consists. If the stuff be
fine, or the paper slender, the exchange is less frequent¬
ly repeated. In this operation it is necessary to alter
the situation of the heaps, with regard to one another,
every time they are put under the press \ and also, as
the heaps are highest towards the middle, to place small
pieces of felt at the extremities, in order to bring every
part of them under an equal pressure. A single man
with four or five presses may exchange all the paper
produced by two vats, provided the previous pressing at
the vats be w'ell performed. The work of the exchange
generally lasts about two days on a given quantity of
paper.
When the paper has undergone these operations, it
is not only softened in the surface, but better felted, and
rendered more pliant in the interior parts of the stuff.
In short, a great part of the water which it had im¬
bibed in the operation of the vat is dissipated. By the
felting of paper is understood the approximation of the
fibres of the stufl’, and their adhering more closely to¬
gether. The paper is felted in proportion as the water
escapes j and this effect is produced by the manage¬
ment and reiterated action of the press. Were it not
for the gradual operation of the press, the paper would
be porous, and composed of filaments adhering closely
together. The superiority of the Dutch over the French
paper depends almost entirely on this operation.
If the sheets of paper are found to adhere together,
it is a proof that the business of the press has been bad¬
ly conducted. To avoid this inconveniency, it is ne¬
cessary to bring down the press at first gently, and by
degrees with greater force, and to raise it as suddenly
as possible. By this means the water, which is impel¬
led to the sides of the heaps, and which has not yet
escaped, returns to the centre •, the sheets are equally
dry, and the operation executed without difficulty.
According to the state of dryness in which the paper
is found when it comes from the apartment of the vat,
it is either pressed before or after the first exchange.
The operation of the press should be reiterated and ma¬
naged with great care-, otherwise, in the soft state of
the paper, there is a danger that its grain and transpa¬
rency be totally destroyed. Another essential principle
to the success of the exchange is, that the grain of the
paper be originally well raised. For this purpose the
wire cloth of the Dutch forms is composed of a rounder
wire than those used in France, by which they gain the
greatest degree of transparency, and are in no danger
of destroying the grain. Besides this, the Dutch take
care to proportion the wires even where the forms are
equal to the thickness of the paper.
Almost every kind of paper is considerably improved
by the exchange, and receives a degree of perfection
which renders it more agreeable in the use. But it is
necessary to observe at the same time, that all papers
;3ect. I.
Art of Ala- are not equally susceptible of this
PAPE H.
melioration ; on the
743
ng of pa.
jer,
ing Paper contrary, if the stuff be unequal, dry, or weakened
11 '^l ~ i by the destruction of the fine parts, it acquires no¬
thing of that lustre and softness, and appearance of
velvet, which the exchange gives to stuffs properly pre-
18 pared.
Df the dry- Ihe sheds for drying the paper are in the neighbour¬
hood of the paper mill 5 and are furnished with a vast
number of cords, upon which they hang the sheets both
before and after the sizing. The sheds are surrounded
with moveable lattices, to admit a quantity of air suffi¬
cient for drying tbe paper. The cords of the shed are
stretched as much as possible ; and the paper, four or
five sheets of it together, is placed on them by means of
a wooden instrument resembling a pickaxe. Tbe prin¬
cipal difficulty in drying the paper, consists in gradually
admitting the external air, and in preventing the cords
from imbibing moisture. With regard to the first of
these, the Dutch use very low sheds, and construct their
lattices with great exactness. By this means the Dutch
paper is dried equally, and is extremely supple before
the sizing. They prevent the cords from imbibing the
water by covering them with wax. In using such cords,
the moisture does not continue in the line of contact be¬
tween the paper and the cord, which prevents the sheet
from stretching in that particular place by its weight,
and from the folds which the moisture in the subsequent
operations might occasion. The Dutch also employ
cords of considerable thickness, and place feAver of them
under the sheets 5 by which means they diminish the
points of contact, and give a freer and more equal cir¬
culation to the air.
The size for paper is made of the shreds and pairings
got from the tanners, curriers, and parchment makers.
All the putrefied parts and the lime are carefully sepa¬
rated from them, and they are enclosed into a kind of
basket, and letdown by a rope and pulley into the caul¬
dron. This is a late invention, and serves two valuable
purposes. It makes it easy to draw out the pieces of
leather when the size is extracted from them by boiling,
or easy to return them into the boiler if the operation
be not complete. When the substance is sufficiently ex¬
tracted, it is allowed to settle for some time; and it is
twice filtered before it is put into the vessel into which
they dip the paper.
Immediately before the operation, a certain quantity
of alum is added to the size. The workman takes a
handful of the sheets, smoothed and rendered as supple
as possible, in his left hand, dips them into the vessel,
and holds them separate with his right, that they may
equally imbibe the size. After holding them above the
vessel for a short space of time, he «eizes on the other
side with his right hand, and again dips them into the
vessel. When he has finished ten or a dozen of these
handfuls, they are submitted to the action of the press.
The superfluous size is carried back to the vessel by
means of a small pipe. The vessel in which the paper
is sized is made of copper, and furnished with a grate,
to give the size when necessary a due temperature ; and
a piece of thin hoard or felt is placed between every
handful as they are laid on the table of the press.
The Dutch are very careful, in sizing their paper, to
have every sheet in the same handful of equal dryness 5
because it is found that the dry sheets imbibe the size
more slowly than those which retain some degree of moi-
)f the
zing of
aper.
sture. They begin by selecting the padges in the dry- Art of Ma-
ing house j and alter having made them supple, and ha- king Paper
ving destroyed the adherence between the sheets, theyin Europe,
separate them into handfuls in proportion to the dryness, v~
eaeh of them containing that number which they can
dip at one time. Besides this precaution, they take care
to apply two sht'ets ol brown paper of an equal size to
every handful. This brown paper, firm, solid, and al¬
ready sized, is of use to support the sheets.
As soon as the paper is sized, it is the practice of some
paper mills to carry it immediately to the drying house,
and hang it, before it cools, sheet by sheet on the cords.
The paper, unless particular attention be paid to the lat¬
tices of the drying-house, is apt to dry too fast, whereby
a great part ol the size goes oil in evaporation ; or, if
too slow, it tails to the ground. The Dutch drying-
houses are the best to prevent these inconveniencies
But the exchange after the sizing, which is generally
practised m Holland, is the best remedy. They begin
this operation on the handfuls of paper, either while
they are still hot, or otherwise, as they find it conveni¬
ent. But, after the exchange, they are careful to allow
the heaps to be altogether cold before they are submit¬
ted to the press. Without this precaution, the size
would either be wholly squeezed out by the press of the
exchange, or the surface of the paper become very irre¬
gular. It is of consequence that the paper, still warm
from the sizing, grow gradually firm under the opera¬
tion of the exchange, in proportion as it cools. By
this method it receives that varnish which is afterwards
brought to perfection under the press, and in which the
excellency of the paper either for writing or drawing
chiefly consists. It is in consequence of the exchanging
and pressing that the Dutch paper is soft and equal, and
that the size penetrates into the body of it, and is ex¬
tended equally over its surface.
The exchange after the sizing ought to be conducted
with the greatest skill and attention, because the grain
of the paper then receives impressions which can never
be eradicated. When the sized paper is also exchanged,
it is possible to hang more sheets together on the cords
of the drying-house. The paper dries better in this con¬
dition, and the size is preserved without any sensible
waste, because the sheets of paper mutually prevent the
rapid operation of the external air. And as the size has
already penetrated into the paper, and is fixed on the
surface, the insensible progress of a well conducted dry¬
ing-house renders all the good effects more perfect in
proportion as it is slowly dried.
If to these considerations be added the damage done
to the paper in drying it immediately after the press of
the sizing room, whether it be done in raising the hairs
by separating the sheets, or in cracking the surface, it is
evident that the trouble of the second exchange is infi¬
nitely overpaid by the advantage.
When the paper is sufficiently dry, it is carried to the 20
finishing room, where it is pressed, selected, examined, lAc
tolded, made up into quires, and finally into reams.—It^^ ^
is here put twice under the press ; first, when it is at its
full size, and secondly, after it is folded.
The principal labour of tnis place consists in assorting
the paper into different lots, according to its quality and
faults j after which it is made up into quires. The per¬
son who does this must possess great skill, and be capable
of great attention, because he acts as a check on those
who
744
Art of Ma¬
king- Paper
in Europe.
PAPER.
Sect. I.
ai
A new me¬
thod of
bleaching
the rags
or stuff.
who separated the paper into different lots. He takes
the sheets with his right hand, folds them, examines
them, lays them over his left arm till he has the number
requisite for a quire, brings the sides parallel to one
another, and places them in heaps under the table.
An expert workman, if proper care has been taken in
assorting the lots, will finish in this manner near 6co
quires in a day.
The paper is afterwards collected into reams of 20
quires each, and for the last time put under the press,
where it is continued for 10 or 12 hours, or as long as
the demand of the paper-mill will permit.
A method has lately been discovered of bleaching
the rags or stuft’, which will undoubtedly be adopted
everywhere in the preparation ot writing paper, pro¬
vided the expence ot the process be not too great.
This discovery was made by Scheele, M. Berthollet,
and M. Chaptal. The first of these illustrious writers
communicated to the Swedish Academy ot Sciences an
Essay on Manganese, containing a numerous series of
experiments, intended to investigate the nature and
properties of that substance. Among these experi¬
ments were several which pointed out a new state of
the muriatic acid, or the acid distilled from sea-salt,
otherwise known under the name of the acid or spirit
of sca-salt. This state of the muriatic acid was pro¬
duced by Mr Scheele, in consequence of putting the
said acid into a retort or distilling vessel, along with
the above-mentioned substance called manganese, and
distilling over the acid into a proper receiver; it was
found to have changed its nature and properties in a
very remarkable manner, while at the same time the
manganese remaining in the retort bad suftered a very
material alteration.
To the new state of the acid thus produced, in con¬
sequence of certain theoretic ideas which Mr Scheele
entertained respecting the mutual action of the original
muriatic acid and the manganese on each other during
the process of distillation, he gave the name of dephlo-
gisticated muriatic acid. Since the time of this original
discovery, in consequence of certain changes which
have occurred in the theory or philosophy of chemi¬
stry, this new state of the acid ot sea-salt has been
called the oxygenated muriatic acid. Among many other
properties of it discovered by Mr Scheele, the most re¬
markable was, that it destroyed the colour of every vege¬
table substance which was exposed to its action ; or, in
ether -words, it bleached them ; or, in the language of
the dyers, it discharged their colours; that is to say,
whatever happened to be the colour of any vegetable
body that was submitted to the action of the oxygena¬
ted or dephlogisticated muriatic acid, it always became
white, or lost its colouring matter.
In the year 1786, Dr Beddoes, then professor of che¬
mistry in the university of Oxford, published an Eng¬
lish translation of the Chemical Essays of Mr Scheele ;
and thereby made known to the chemists of Great
Britain the power of the oxygenated or dephlogistica-
ted muriatic acid, to bleach or whiten vegetable sub¬
stances, or to discharge or decompose their colours.
But M. Berthollet, a celebrated chemist in France, and
one of the members of the Academy of Sciences at
Paris, appears to have been the first who thought of
rendering the above-recited discovery subservient to the
purposes of manufacture.
In 1789, he published in the Annales de Chimie an Art of Ma
essay calculated entirely for the use of manufacturers, king Paper
by being divested of theoretic discussions ; of which the 111 F-urope.
title is, “ Method of Bleaching Linen or Cotton Cloths, '' '
Threads, and Yarns, by means of oxygenated Muriatic
Acid, and of some other properties of that Tiquor which
may be useful in Manufactures.”
In the same work, and in the same year, Mr Chap¬
tal, another French chemist, published an account of
some experiments, in which, among many other appli¬
cations of the oxygenated muriatic acid to purposes use¬
ful in the economical arts, he gives information of ha¬
ving bleached or whitened coarse rags used by the pa¬
per-makers, so as greatly to improve the quality of the
paper into which they were afterwards manufactured.
His preparation of this bleaching liquor differs not
from Berthollet’s, which is as follows : “ Take six
ounces of manganese and sixteen ounces of sea-salt,
both reduced to fine powder; mix these accurately,
and introduce them into a retort or distilling vessel:
Then take twelve ounces of oil of vitriol and eight
ounces of water, mixed together, and allowed to cool ;
add these to the other ingredients in the retort, and
connect the retort with a cask or receiver capable of
holding twenty-seven gallons and a half of water, but
only containing twenty-five gallons, which is to be im¬
pregnated with the gas or vapour of the oxygenated
muriatic acid ; and proceed to distillation, first without
and afterwards with a fire gradually raised, till the
whole acid comes over ”
Experiments have been made with this liquor both
by some of the principal paper-makers in the neigh¬
bourhood of Edinburgh, and by Messrs Clement and
George Taylors of Maidstone in Kent. By the form¬
er it was found, that paper made of rags and pulp
whitened in this manner, was superior to any other
made of similar materials, not only in colour but in
fineness of texture. By the latter, the excellence of the
liquor was found to be so great, that probably having
never heard of Scheele, Berthollet, and Chaptal, and
conceiving themselves to be the first inventors of it,
they obtained a patent for its exclusive use, which other
manufacturers will doubtless disregard. It is not to be
concealed, however, that, even with all the precautions
which can possibly be taken at first, various circum¬
stances of imperfection must necessarily remain to he re¬
moved by means of farther experience, both in the per¬
fection of the bleaching process and the economy of its
application to use ; but for the attaining of this experi¬
ence a short time will rarely be sufficient. The above
account, it must appear, refers to the time when the
bleaching of rags by this process was first introduced.
The practice, we find is still (1808) successfully conti¬
nued by some of the manufacturers in the vicinity of
Edinburgh, and has been improved by using the bleach¬
ing salt (the hyperoxymuriate of lime), the right to
the preparation of which is exclusively vested by patent
in Messrs Tennant and Company of Glasgow.
Sect. II. OJ the different Kinds of Paper.
53
The paper proper for writing should be without Wrjting
knots, without any parts of the stuff not tritura-paper,
ted, without folds, and without wrinkles, of a supple
texture, its grain uniform and regular, softened in the
exchange,
Sect. II. PAP
Different exchange, and not destroyed by smoothing. The
kinds of ground of this paper must be extremely white, or shad-
Paper. e(j wJth a very light blue, which adds to its natural
~v splendour. It is of great importance that it be fully
and equally sized, otherwise the writing cannot be well
finished, and the turnings of the letters will be very
imperfect. This paper should be made from stuff not
putrefied, which tak.es a better grain, receives more
benefit from the exchange, is more equally sized, and,
finally, is less subject to folds and wrinkles in the dil-
Fordura ferent operations. To make paper peculiarly fit for
ble writing.durable writing, Dr Lewis recommends the impregna¬
tion of it with astringent materials. “ It is observable
(says he) that writings first begin to fade or change
their colour on the back of the paper, where the larger
strokes have sunk in, or are visible through it; as it part
of the irony matter of the vitriol was in a more subtile
or dissolved state than the rest, and sunk further, on ac¬
count of its not being fully disengaged from the acid,
or sufficiently combined with the astringent matter, of
the galls. Hence, it should seem probable, that it the
paper was impregnated with astringent matter, the co¬
lour of the ink tvould be more durable. To see how far
this notion was well founded, I dipt some paper in an
infusion of galls : and, when dry, repeated the dipping
a second and third time. On the paper thus prepared,
and some that was unprepared, I wrote with different
inks j several of which, that the effects might be more
sensible, had an over-proportion of vitriol. 1 he wri¬
tings being exposed to the weather till the best of the
inks on the unprepared paper had faded and changed
their colour, those on the prepared paper were all
found to retain their blackness. It is therefore recom¬
mended to the consideration of the paper-makers,
whether a particular kind of paper might not be pre¬
pared for those uses where the long duration of the
writing is of principal importance, by impregnating it
with galls or other astringents, in some of the opera¬
tions it passes through before it receives the glazing j
as, for instance, by using an astringent infusion, instead
of common water, in the last operation, when the mat¬
ter is reduced into a pulp for being formed into sheets.
The brownish hue which the paper receives from the
galling, would not perhaps be any great obstacle to
its use ; and, if the proposal should be thought worthy
of being carried into execution, further inquiries may
possibly discover the means of obviating the imperfection,
and communicating astringency without colour.”
The paper used for drawing, or for coloured maps, is
in some mills made from one kind of white stufl, either
fine or middling j in others, from a mixture of three or
four kinds of stuff of different colours. The Dutch
were not long ago almost wholly in possession of this
manufacture. The same qualities are necessary in this
paper as in that for writing. The grain, however, must
be a little more raised, although softened by the ex¬
change $ for, without this grain, the pencil would leave
with difficulty the traces of the objects. Great care
is also necessary in the sizing of this paper, tiat t ic
drawing be neatly performed, and also that the sinking
of the ink or colours into the irregularities of the stuff
be prevented. r • u . ir
This paper is also made in greatest perfection by stuffs
ure paper. not rotted. These take a more even gloss, and are xn
Vol. XV. Part II. f
E E.
745
Paper.
26
24
Paper fit
for draw¬
ing, or for
coloured
maps.
„ 25
Of furni-
better condition to receive all the impressions of the Dlft’erent
painter. It is also necessary that furniture paper be hinds oi
well softened, and submitted to the exchange, to take
more exactly the outlines of the figures. The French
have carried this part of the manufacture of paper to
the highest state of perfection.
The British and Dutch have had the greatest success Pasteboard
in manufacturing pasteboard, which they make eitherusec^ 'n t'u
from a single mass of stufl on the form, or from a Co1' ture of
lection of several sheets pasted together. In both cases, woollen
the sheets of pasteboard are made of stuff not rotted, cloth,
and triturated with rollers furnished with blades of well
tempered steel. By the operation of the exchange, and
smoothing continued for a long time, the British and
Dutch obtain solid and smooth stufls, which neither
break under the folds of cloth, nor adhere to them.
The stuffs not putrefied have another advantage in this
species of pasteboard, namely, that of resisting the ac¬
tion of heat, which they experience between the folds
of cloth, without wasting or tarnishing, and of conse¬
quence they may be used tor a long time.
In England they have at least equalled any other Printing
nation in the manufacture of this paper ; and even inPaPer*
Scotland they have arrived to such a degree of perfec¬
tion in this art, that great part of what they manu¬
facture is sent into England. It requires to be made of
a soft and equal stuff, without folds or wrinkles, of a
natural whiteness, and with a shade of blue. It must be
sized less strongly than writing paper, but sufficiently
xvell to give neatness to the characters. The paper,
thus properly prepared, yields easily to the printing
press, and takes a sufficient quantity of ink. The stuff
must be without grease, and wrought with that degree
of slowness, as to make it spread equally over the form,
and take a neat and regular grain j without this the
characters will not be equally marked in every part of
the page ; and the smallest quantity of grease renders
the sizing unequal and imperfect. Some artists with
considerable success, both to meliorate the grain,. and
to reduce the inequalities of the surface, have submitted
this paper to the exchange. And it is proper to add,
that a moderate degree of exchanging and of pressing
may be of great service after the sheets are printed, to
destroy the hollow places occasioned by the press, and
the relievo of the letters. p *Sf
Engraving requires a paper of the same qualities Pavi
with the last mentioned, with respect to the stuff, which
must be pure, without knots, and equally reduced j the
grain uniform, and the sheets without folds or wnnl es.
To preserve the grain, it is necessary that it be dried
slowly in the lowest place of the drying-house. It it is
submitted to the exchange, the effects of it must be mo¬
derated with the greatest care, and the action of the two
first presses must be equally distributed oyer the whole
mass, otherwise the inequality of the moisture at the
middle and sides will expose it to wrinkles in the drying.
The sizing of this paper must also be moderate. Ihese
circumstances are necessary to make it receive with
neatness all the soft and delicate touches of the plate.
 The soft and yielding paper of Auvergne possesses
all those advantages j and accordingly a great quantity
of this and of printing paper were formerly imported
into Britain and Holland from France, where they still
continue to rot the materials from which they make en-
5 B graving
746
PAPER.
39
Paper for
cards or
anv kind
Miscellane-graving paper. The wire-^ove frame, though but late-
ous Obser- ly invented, is, we tv're told, peculiarly adapted to this
vatious on kind of paper.
. Paper. , paper foi: tar(ls niUst be manufactured from a pretty
firm stuff, in order to take that degree of smoothness
which makes the cards glide easily over one another in
using. For this reason the cardmakers reject every
kind of paper which is soft and without strength. I his
on a smooth PaPer requires to be very much sized, since the sizing
surface. holds the place of varnish, to which the smoothing gives
a glazed and shining surface. To answer all these pur¬
poses, the rags require to be a little rotted, and the
mallets strongly armed with iron studs. Formerly An-
goumois was almost the only province in France which
sold card-paper to the .Dutch and the other northern
nations. The rags of Angoumois have the peculiar
quality of not turning too soft in the putrefaction,
and the mills of that province reduce them to stuff
though they he not much putrefied, rhe French, we
believe, excel every other nation in this branch of the
manufacture of paper.
Sect. III. Miscellaneous Observations on Paper.
3°
To preserve To hinder paper from sinking, take about the size
paper from of a nut 0f rock 3!^ dissolve it in a glass of clear wa-
kin ter, and apply it to the paper, which has not been suf¬
ficiently sized, with a fine sponge. It is in this man¬
ner that the paper-manufacturers of Paris prepare the
paper for drawing called papiers laves. When there is
occasion to write on a printed book, or on paper too
fresh, it is sufficient to mix a little gum with ordinary
ink.
To give to writing paper a brilliant varnish, take
that which is of an ordinary fineness, very smooth,
without any kind of stain or hairs on its surface 5 stretch
it on a smooth plank, and by means of a hare’s foot
cover it with a thin and equal layer of sandarac finely
powdered. Afterwards, if a whole ream is to be var¬
nished, take eight ounces of rock alum and one ounce
of white sugarcandy 5 bring them to boil in six pints
of water j and when the liquor is lukewarm, wet that
side of the sheet which has been covered with the san ¬
darac with a fine sponge ; lay the sheets in a heap, one
sheet exactly above another 5 and submit the ream to
the press for the space of twelve hours : hang them
afterwards sheet by sheet on the cords of the drying-
house ; put them again under the press for some days
to stretch them j and, finally, beat them with a book¬
binder’s mallet. This paper can only be used for three
or four months after it is prepared.
Painters prepare their paper for drawing, and give
it a dark ground, which spares them much labour of
the pencil afterwards in those places where shade is
necessary. For this purpose, they take white paper
and pass a sponge over it, which has imbibed water
impregnated with soot, leaving the light places to he
formed afterwards. They use also a kind of paper for
drawing, which is called tainted paper. A light co¬
lour is passed over the w’hole ground, which deprives the
paper of its original brightness, and makes the light
Paper pre- places °f ^ie print appear more in relievo, and more
pared for luminous.
copying a The method most common and most convenient for
print.
Paper var¬
nished for
writing.
32
Paper pre¬
pared for
drawing.
34
Sect. Ill,
copying a print, is to use oiled paper. The manner jviisce]]alle,
of preparing this paper is to take that which is tbinous Obser-
and smooth, known commonly by the name of serpent vat-i°ns on
paper, and moisten it with a composition, two parts of v ^per.
the oil of walnuts and one part of the oil of turpen¬
tine mixed well together. A sheet of pasteboard and a
sheet of paper are laid on a smooth table ; above them
are placed two sheets of paper to be prepared \ and a
layer of the oil applied to the uppermost is sufficient to
penetrate both. This may he done to any number of
sheets, and a strong sheet of pasteboard is placed over
the whole. The heap is afterwards submitted to the
press, under which it remains for two or three days till
the oil he completely dry. Paper prepared in this man¬
ner serves to copy very readily and exactly all kinds ot
figures and plansj because, being altogether transpar¬
ent, all the parts of the drawing, whether of light or
shade, are easily distinguished.
Besides the paper made from the asbestos, it is ne-Incombuati-
cessary for wrapping up gunpowder and valuable wri-l)ie Paper.
tings, to have a paper that will not easily take fire. The
manner in which this is prepared is extremely simple.
Ordinary paper is dipped into boiling liquid, consist¬
ing of three-fourths of water, and one-fourth of dissolv¬
ed alum. This salt, which is not inflammable, covers
the surface of the paper, and renders it in some mea¬
sure incombustible. 35
In the season of verjuice, a little of it diluted with A methed
water is sufficient for obliterating any fresh spot ofpf^asinS
ink. The salt of the verjuice dissolved in water answers paper0
the purpose equally well, and the salt of sorrel or oxalic
acid is also employed with this view. If the spots be
dry, and the above acids are insufficient to eradicate
them, a little aquafortis diluted in water, and applied
with the feather of a quill or a fine hair pencil, will
make them entirely disappear. ^6
Books and manuscripts are sometimes defaced by A method
accidental stains with oil. To remove such blemishes, fpr takin&
burn sheeps bones and reduce them to a fine powder .°l1 htams
lay a quantity of this powder on each side ot the stain jper>
place it between two sheets of white paper, and sub¬
mit it for 12 hours to the press. If the stains have
not disappeared, it will he necessary to reiterate the
process. 37
To make oiled papers take colours •, mix with the co- A method
lours a very small quantity either of the gall of a pike or of making
carp ; and, as these substances are of the nature of soap, Papcr
they dissolve the grease that is in the paper, and permit j^ul,s
the colours to he spread over the surface. ?s
Emery paper, which is employed for taking the rust po make
from iron without wasting it, is made by impregnating emery pa-
coarse paper with gummed water or any other tenaci-Per-
ous substance, and then covering it over with the finest
emery. 39
The colours proper for paper are not different from staining 01
those used for other substances, and are enumerated colouring
under the article Colour-Making. They are applied01 PaPer
with soft brushes, after being tempered to a due de¬
gree with size or gum-water. If the paper on which
they are to be laid is soft, so that the colours are apt
to go through, it must also he sized before they are laid
on, or a proportionably larger quantity must be used
along with the colours themselves. If a considerable
extent of the paper is to he done over with one colour,
ifc
Sect. III.
PAPE R.
Miscellane¬
ous Obser¬
vations on
Paper.
40
To gild
paper.
4i
To silver
paper after
the Chinese
method
without sil-
42
White and
coloured
grounds for
paper hang-
iags.
43
Method of
painting
the paper
hangings.
it must receive several coatings, as thin as possible, let¬
ting each coat dry before another is put on, otherwise
the colour will he unequal.
Take yellow ochre, grind it with rain-water, and
lay a ground with it upon the paper all over 5 when
dry, take the white of eggs, beat it clear with white
sugarcandy, and strike it ail over; then lay on the leaf-
gold ; and when dry, polish it with a tooth. Some
take saffron, boil it in water, and dissolve a little gum
with it ; then they strike it over the paper, lay on the
gold : and, when dry, they polish it.
Take two scruples of clear glue made of neats lea¬
ther, one scruple of white alum, and half a pint of
clear water j simmer the whole over a slow' lire, till the
water is consumed, or the steam ceases : Then, your
sheets of paper being laid on a smooth table, you dip
a pretty large pencil into that glue, and daub it over
as even as you can, repeating this two or three times :
then sift the powder of talc through a fine sieve, made
of horse-hair or gauze, over it; and then hang it up
to dry ; and, when dry, rub oft’ the superfluous talc,
which serves again for the same purpose. The talc
you prepare in the following manner : Take fine white
transparent Muscovy talc ; boil it in clear water for
four hours ; then take it oft' the fire, and let it stand
so for two days : then take it out, wash it well, and put
it into a linen rag, and beat it to pieces with a mallet:
to 10 pounds of talc add 3 pounds of white alum, and
grind them together in a little hand-mill ; sift it
through a gauze-sieve; and being thus reduced to a
powder, put it into water, and just boil it up : then let
it sink to the bottom, pour off the water from it, place
the powder in the sun to dry, and it will become of a
hard consistence. Beat this in a mortar to an impal¬
pable powder, and keep it, for the use above mention¬
ed, free from dust.
The common grounds laid in w'ater are made by
mixing whiting with the common glovers size, and
laying it on the paper with a proper brush in the most
even manner. This is all that is required, where the
ground is to be left white j and the paper being then
hung on a proper frame till it he dry, is fit to he paint¬
ed. When coloured grounds are required, the same
method must be pursued, and the ground of whiting first
laid; except in pale colours, such as straw-colours or
pink, where a second coating may sometimes be spared,
by mixing some strong colour with the whiting.
There are three methods by which paper-hangings
are painted ; the first by printing on the colours j the
second by using the stencil; and the third by laying
them on with a pencil, as in other kinds of painting.
When the colours are laid on by printing, the im¬
pression is made by wooden prints \ which are cut in
such manner, that the figure to be expressed is made
to project from the surface by cutting away all the
other part •, and this, being charged with the colours
tempered with their proper vehicle, by letting it gent¬
ly down on a block on which the colour is previously
spread, conveys it from thence to the ground of the pa¬
per, on which it is made to fall more forcibly bv means
of its weight, and the effort of the arm of the person
who uses the print. It is easy to conclude, that there
must be as many separate prints as there are colours to
he printed. But where there are more than one, great
747
care must be taken, after the first, to let the pfintMiscell.fi.
tall exactly in the same part oi the paper as that which 011s Obser-
went before •, otherwise the figure of the design would valions on
he brought into irregularity and confusion. In common , Papcr
paper of low price, it is usual, therefore to print only ^
the outlines, and lay on the rest of the colours by sten¬
cilling j which both saves the expence of cutting more
prints, and can be practised by common workmen, not
requiring the great care and dexterity necessary to the
using several prints.
The manner of stencilling the colours is this. The
figure, which all the parts of any particular colour make
in the design to he painted, is to be cut out, in a piece
of thin leather or oil-cloth, which pieces of leather or
oil-cloth are called stencils; and being laid flat on the
sheets of paper to be printed, spread on a table or floor
are to be rubbed over with the colour, properly tem¬
pered, by means of a large brush. The colour passino
over the whole is consequently spread on those parts of
the paper where the leather or cloth is cut away, and
give the same effect as if laid on by a print. This is
nevertheless only practicable in parts where there are
only detached masses or spots of colours: for where
there are small continued lines, or parts that run one
into another, it is difficult to preserve the connection
or continuity of the parts of the cloth, or to keep the
smaller corners close down to the paper: and therefore,
in such cases, prints are preferable. Stencilling is in¬
deed a cheaper method of ridding coarse work than
printing : but without such extraordinary attention and
trouble as render it equally difficult with printing, it
is far less beautiful and exact in the effect. For the
outlines of the spots of colour want that sharpness and
regularity that are given by prints, besides the fre¬
quent extralineations, or deviations from the just figure,
which happen by the original misplacing of the sten*
cils, or the shifting the place of them during the opera¬
tion.
Pencilling is only used in the case of nicer work, such
as the better imitations of the India paper. It is per¬
formed in the same manner as other paintings in water
or varnish. It is sometimes used only to fill the out¬
lines already formed by printing, where the price of
the colour, or the exactness of the manner in which it
is required to be laid on, render the stencilling or
printing it less proper j at other times, it is used for
forming or delineating some parts of the design, where a
spirit of freedom and variety, not to be had in printed
outlines, are desired to be had in the work. 44
The paper designed for receiving the flock is first ^“age-
prepared with a varnish-ground with some proper co-
lour, or by that of the paper itself. It is frequently
practised to print some mosaic, or other small running
figure in colours, on the ground, before the flock be
laid on ; and it may be done with any pigment of the
colour desired, tempered with varnish, and laid on by a
print correspondently to that end.
The method of laying on the flock is this. A wooden
print being cut, as is above described, for laying on
the colour in such manner that the part of the design
which is intended for the flock may project beyond
the rest of the surface, the varnish is put on a block
covered with the leather or oil-cloth, and the print is to
be used also in the same manner, to lay the varnish on
5 B 2 all
748 PAP
Miscella- all the parts where the flock is to be fixed. The sheet,
ueous Ob- thus prepared by the varnished impression, is then to
servattons [,e ixnioved another block or table, and to be strew-
on Paper. et| over flock ^ which is afterwards to be gently
compressed by a board, or some other flat body, to
make the varnish take the better hold of it: and then
the sheet is to be hung on a frame till the varnish be
perfectly dry j at which time the superfluous part of
flock is to be brushed off" by a soft camel’s hair brush j
and the proper flock will be found to adhere in a very
strong manner.
The method of preparing the flock is, by cutting
woollen rags or pieces of cloth with the hand, by means
E R. Sect. III.
of a large bill or chopping knife } or by means of a ma- Miscella- Pap1
chine worked by a horse-mill. neous Ob- M°ne
There is a kind of counterfeit flock-paper, which, servations
when well managed, has very much the same effect to ,on j*per‘.
the eye as the real, though done with less expence.
The manner of making this sort is, by laying a ground
of varnish on the paper; and having afterwards printed
the design of the flock in varnish, in the same manner as
for the true ; instead of the flock, some pigment, or dry
colour, of the same hue with the flock required by the
design, but somewhat of a darker shade, being well
powdered, is strewed on the printed varnish, and pro¬
duces nearly the same appearance.
PAP
PAPER-Money is a term frequently made use of for
bank-bills, which pass currently in trade instead of gold
and silver.
Concerning this species of currency, the national u-
tility of which has been controverted by some, we have
the following observations in Dr Smith’s Treatise on
the Wealth of Nations : “ The substitution of paper in
the room of gold and silver money replaces a very ex¬
pensive instrument of commerce w ith one much less cost¬
ly, and sometimes equally convenient. Circulation comes
to be carried on by a new wheel, which it costs less
both to erect and maintain than the old one.
“ When the people of any particular country have
such confidence in the fortune, probity, and prudence
of a particular banker, as to believe that he is always
ready to pay upon demand such of his promissory notes
as are likely at any time to be presented to him, those
notes come to have the same currency as gold and silver
money, from the confidence that such money can at any
time be bad for them.
A particular banker lends among his customers
his own promissory notes, to the amount, we shall sup¬
pose, of ioo,oool. As those notes serve all the pur¬
pose of money, his debtors pay him the same interest
as if he had lent him so much money. This interest
is the source ot his gain. Though some of those notes
are continually coming back upon him for payment,
part of them continue to circulate for months and years
together. Though he has generally in circulation,
therefore, notes to the amount of ico,oool. 2Q,ocol.
in gold and silver may frequently be a sufficient pro¬
vision for answering occasional demands. By this ope¬
ration, therefore, 20,ocol. in gold and silver perform
ail the functions which ioo,oool. could otherwise have
performed. Eighty thousand pounds of gold and sil¬
ver can therefore, in this manner, be spared from the
circulation of the country ; and if different operations
of the same kind should at the same time be carried on
by many different hanks and bankers, the whole circu¬
lation may be thus conducted with a fifth part only of
the gold and silver.
“ Let us suppose, for example, that the whole cir¬
culating money of some particular country amounted,
at a particular time, to i,ooo,oool. sterling, that sum.
being then sufficient for circulating the whole annual
produce of their land and labour. Let us suppose too,
3
P A P
that some time thereafter, diflerent banks and bankers
issued promissory notes, payable to the bearer, to the
extent of i,ooo,oool reserving in their different coffers
200,000l. for answering occasional demands. There
would remain, therefore, in circulation 8oo,oooI. in
gold and silver, and i,ooo,ocol. of bank notes, or
i,8oo,oool. of paper and money together. But the
annual produce of the land and labour of the country
had before required only 1,000,oool. to circulate and
distribute it to its proper consumers, and that annual
produce cannot be immediately augmented by those
operations of banking. One million, therefore, will
be sufficient to circulate it after them. The goods to
be bought and sold being precisely the same as before,
the same quantity of money will be sufficient for buy¬
ing and selling them. The channel of circulation, if
I may he allowed such an expression, Avill remain pre¬
cisely the same as before. One million we have sup¬
posed sufficient to fill that channel. Whatever, there¬
fore, is poured into it beyond this sum, cannot run in
it, but must overflow. One million eight hundred
thousand pounds are poured into it. Eight hundred
thousand pounds, therefore, must overflow, that sum
being over and above what can be employed in the cir¬
culation of the country. But though this sum cannot
be employed at home, it is too valuable to be allowed
to lie idle. It will therefore be sent abroad, in order
to seek that profitable employment which it cannot
find at home. But the paper cannot go abroad ; be¬
cause, at the distance from the banks which issue it,
and from the country in which payment of it can be ex¬
acted by law, it will not be received in common pay¬
ments. Gold and silver, therefore, to the amount of
800,oool. will be sent abroad, and the channel of home
circulation still remain filled with I,OOO,oool. of paper
instead of i,ooo,ocol. of those metals which filled it be¬
fore.
“ But though so great a quantity of gold and sil¬
ver is thus sent abroad, we must not imagine that it is
sent abroad for nothing, or that its proprietors make a
present of it to foreign nations. They will exchange
it for foreign goods of some kind or another, in order-
to supply the consumption either of some other foreign
country or their own.
“ If they employ it in purchasing goods in one fo¬
reign country in order to. supply the consumption of
another,
PAP
t 749 J
PAP
Paper another, or in what is called the carrying trade, what-
Money. ever profit they make will be an addition to the neat
% revenue of their own country. It is like a new fund,
created for carrying on a new trade 5 domestic business
being now transacted by paper, and the gold and silver
being converted into a fund for this new trade.
“ If they employ it in purchasing foreign goods for
home consumption, they may either first purchase such
goods as are likely to be consumed by idle people who
produce nothing, such as foreign wines, foreign silks,
&c. j or, secondly, they may purchase an additional
stock of materials, tools, and provisions, in order to
employ an additional number of industrious people,
who reproduce, with a profit, the value of their annual
consumption.
“ So far as it is employed in the first way, it pro¬
motes prodigality, increases expence and consumption
without increasing production, or establishing any per¬
manent fund for supporting that expence, and is in
every respect hurtful to the society.
“ So far as it is employed in the second way, it
promotes industry *, and though it increases the con¬
sumption of the society, it provides a permanent fund
for supporting that consumption, the people who con¬
sume, reproducing, with a profit, the whole value of
their annual consumption. The gross revenue ©f the
society, the annual produce of their land and labour, is
increased by the whole value which the labour of those
workmen adds to the materials upon which they are em¬
ployed *, and their neat revenue by what remains of this
value, after deducting what is necessary for supporting
the tools and instruments of their trade.
“ That the greater part of the gold and silver
which, being forced abroad by those operations of
banking, is employed in purchasing foreign goods for
home consumption, is, and must be employed for pur¬
chasing those of this second kind, seems not only pro¬
bable, but almost unavoidable. Though some parti¬
cular men may sometimes increase their ex pence very
considerably, though their revenue does not increase at
all, we may be assured that no class or order of men
ever does so because, though the principles of com¬
mon prudence do net always govern the conduct of
every individual, they always influence that of the ma-
jority of every class or order. But the revenue of idle
people, considered as a class or order, cannot in the
smallest degree be increased by those operations of
banking. Their expence in general, therefore, cannot
be much increased by them, though that of a few in¬
dividuals among them may, and in reality sometimes is.
The demand of idle people, therefore, for foreign goods,
being the same, or very nearly the same, as before,
a very small part of the money, which being forced
abroad by those operations of banking, is employed in
purchasing foreign goods for home consumption, is like¬
ly to be employed in purchasing those for their use.
The greater part of it will naturally be destined for the
employment of industry, and not for the maintenance of
idleness.
li When we compute the <|uantity of industry which
the circulating capital of any society can employ, we
must always have regard to those parts ot it only which
consist in provisions, materials, and finished work : the
other, which consists in money, and which selves only
to circulate those three, must always be eleducted. Ill
order to put industry into motion, three things are re- Paper
quisite J materials to work upon, tools to work with, Money,
and the wages or recompense for the sake of which the v
work is done. Money is neither a material to work
upon, nor a tool to work with j and though the ivages
of the workman are commonly paid to him in money,
his real revenue, like that of all other men, consists, not
in the money, but in the money’s worth j not in the
metal pieces, but in what can be got for them.
“ The quantity of industry which any capital can
employ, must evidently be equal to the number of
workmen whom it can supply with materials', fools,
and a maintenance suitable to the nature ot the work.
Money may be requisite for purchasing the materials
and tools of the work, as well as the maintenance of
the workmen. But the quantitj of industry which the
whole capital can employ, is certainly not equal both
to the money which purchases, and to the materials,
tools, and maintenance, which are purchased with it,
but only to one or other of those two values, and to the
latter more properly than to the former.
“ When paper is substituted in the room of gold and
silver money, the quantity of the materials, tools, and
maintenance, which the whole circulating capital can
supply, may be increased by the whole value of gold
and silver which used to be employed in purchasing
them. The whole value of the great wheel of circula¬
tion and distribution is added to the goods which are
circulated and distributed by means of it. The opera¬
tion, in some measure, resembles that of the undertaker
of some great work, who, in consequence ot some im¬
provement in mechanics, takes down his old machi¬
nery, and adds the diflerence between its price and
that of the new to his circulating capital, to the fund
from which he furnishes materials and wages to his
workmen.
“ What the proportion is which the circulating mo¬
ney of any country bears to the whole value of the an¬
nual produce circulated by means ot it, it is perhaps
impossible to determine. It has been computed by dif¬
ferent authors at a fifth, at a tenth, at a twentieth, and
at a thirtieth part of that value. But how small soever
the proportion which the circulating money may bear
to the whole value of the annual produce, as but a part,
and frequently but a small part, of that produce, is ever
destined for the maintenance of industry, it must always
bear a very considerable proportion to tlutt part. When,
therefore, by the substitution of paper, the gold and sil¬
ver m cessary for circulation is reduced to perhaps a fifth
part of the former quantity, if the value of only the-
greater part of the other four fifths be added to the funds
which are destined for the maintenance of industry, it
must make a very considerable addition to the quantity
of that industry, and consequently to the value ot the
annual produce of land and labour.
“ That part of bis capital which a dealer is obliged
to keep by him unemployed, for answering occasional
demands, is so much dead stock, producing nothing ei¬
ther to him or to his country. The judicious opera¬
tions of banking enable him to make it active and
productive. The gold and silver money which circu¬
lates in any country, and by means of which the pro¬
duce of its land aiid labour is annually circulated and
distributed to the proper consumers, is in the same man¬
ner as the ready money of the dealer, all dead stock. It
■ is
Paper
Money
Papier.'
PAP [
is a very valuable part of the capital of the country,
which produces nothing to the country. The judicious
operations of banking, by substituting paper in the room
rof a great part of it, enables the country to make a great
part of this dead stock active and productive. Ihe
gold and silver money which circulates in any country,
may very properly be compared to a highway, which,
while it circulates and carries to market all the grass
and corn of the country, produces itself not a single pile
of either. The judicious operations of banking, by pro¬
viding, if I may be allowed so violent a metaphor, a
sort of waggon-way through the air, enable the country
to convert, as it were, a great part of its highways into
good pastures and corn fields, and thereby to increase
very considerably the annual produce of its lands and
labour. The commerce and industry of the country,
however, it must be acknowledged, though they may
be somewhat augmented, cannot be altogether so se¬
cure, when they are thus, as it were, suspended upon the
Daedalian wings of paper money, as when they travel
about upon the solid ground of gold and silver.
“ The whole paper money of every kind which can
easily circulate in any country, never can exceed the
value of the gold and silver, of which it supplies the
place, or which (the commerce being supposed the
same) would circulate there if there was no paper mo¬
ney. If twenty shilling notes, for example, were the
lowest paper money current in Scotland, the whole of
that currency, which can easily circulate there, cannot
exceed the sum of gold and silver which would be ne¬
cessary for transacting the annual exchanges of twenty
shillings value and upwards, usually transacted within
that country. Should the circulating paper at any
time exceed that sum, as the excess could neither be
sent abroad, nor be employed in the circulation of the
country, it must immediately return upon the banks to
be exchanged for gold and silver. Many people would
immediately perceive that they had more of this paper
than was necessary for transacting their business at
home, and as they could not send it abroad, they w'ould
immediately demand payment of it from the banks.
When this superfluous paper was converted into gold
and silver, they could easily find a use for it by send¬
ing it abroad 5 but they could find none while it re¬
mained in the shape of paper. There would immedi¬
ately, therefore, be a run upon the banks to the whole
extent of this superfluous paper, and, if they showed
any difficulty or backwardness in payment, to a much
greater extent ; the alarm which this would occasion
necessarily increasing the run.” See Banking and
Exchange, Supplement.
Paper Office, an office in the palace of Whitehall, in
which all the public writings, matters of state and coun¬
cil, proclamations, letters, intelligences, negociations
abroad, and generally all despatches that pass through
the offices of the secretaries of state, are lodged, by way
of library.
PAPIER MACHE. This is a substance made of cut¬
tings of white or broivn paper, boiled in water, and
beaten in a mortar, till they are reduced to a kind of
paste, and then boiled with a solution of gum arable or
of size, to give tenacity to the paste, which is afterwards
formed into different toys. &c. by pressing it into oiled
moulds. When dry, it is done over with a mixture of
.size and lamp black, and afterwards varnished. The
4 ' '
PAP
75° ]
black varnish for these toys, according to Dr Lewis, is
prepared as follows : some colophony, or turpentine
boiled down till it becomes black and friable, is melted
in a glazed earthen vessel, and thrice as much amber in
fine powder sprinkled in by degrees, with the addition
of a little spirit or oil of turpentine now and then: when
the amber is melted, sprinkle in the same quantity of
sarcocolla, continuing to stir them, and to add more
spirit of turpentine, till the whole becomes fluid j then
strain out the clear through a coarse hair bag, pressing
it gently between hot boards. This varnish, mixed with
ivory black in fine powder, is applied, in a hot room, on
the dried paper paste j which is then set in a gently
heated oven, next day in a hotter oven, and the third
day in a very hot one, and let stand each time till the
oven grows cold. The paste thus varnished is hard,
durable, glossy, and bears liquor hot or cold.
PAPHLAGONIA, in Ancient Geography, a coun¬
try of the Hither Asia, beginning at Parthenius, a river
of Bithynia, on the west, and extending in length to
the Halys eastward, with the Euxine to the north, and
Galatia to the south. Pliny enlarges the limits on the
west side to the river Billis, on this side the Parthenius.
It is called Pylcemeniahy some (Pliny). Puphlagones,
the people, mentioned by Homer, and therefore of no
small antiquity. A superstitious and silly people
(Lucian)*, a brave people (Homer) j taking their name
from Phaleg (Bocchart).
PAPHOS, in Ancient Geography, two adjoining
islands on the west side of the island of Cyprus; the one
called Hallce Paphos (Strabo, Ptolemy, Pliny) ; the
other Nea Paphos; and when mentioned without an
adjunct, this latter is always understood. Both dedi¬
cated to Venus, and left undistinguished by the poets
(Virgil, Horace). Hence Venus is surnamed Paphia.
Paphii, the people, (Coins, Stephanus). It was restored
by Augustus, after a shock of an earthquake, and called
Augusta (Dio).
The abbe Mariti, in his Travels through Cyprus,
gives the following account of the island of Paphos. “ It
is situated (says he) on the southern side : it contained
the celebrated temple of Venus ; which, together with
the city, was destroyed by an earthquake, so that the
least vestige of it is not now to be seen. A lake in the
neighbourhood, which even in summer overflows with
stagnant and corrupted water, renders the air in some
degree unwholesome. On the western coast is the new
Paphos, called by some of the modern geographers Baf-
fos; a name which is unknown in the island of Cyprus.
That we may not positively ascribe to the latter every
thing that history tells us of Paphos in general, it may
not be here improper to mention that it has been several
times destroyed. This city had a port, where vessels
trading upon that coast still cast anchor : but this hap¬
pens only in summer; for, being exposed to every wind,
it is extremely dangerous. The bottom of it is full of
sharp rocks ; which sometimes destroy the cables so
much, that mariners are obliged to keep them afloat on
the surface of the water, by means of empty casks fixed
to them at certain distances. In the neighbourhood
there are two castles; one on the borders of the sea, and
the other on the summit of a little hill : but the latter
is at present in ruins. The government of Paphos con¬
sists of a digdaban or commissary ; a cadi; and an aga,
who presides over the customhouse. Of all the Christian
edifices,
papln
Paplios.
PAP [ 75i ] PAP
edihces, there is none remaining but the church of St
George, in which service is performed by the Greek
ministers. The productions of this part of the island,
which are all of an excellent quality, are silk, barley,
and other kinds of grain. To discover the origin of the
Old and New Paphos, would be carrying light into the
midst of the thickest darkness. When we have added
conjecture to conjecture, we are still in the same situa¬
tion. As this is an attempt superior to my abilities, I
shall leave it to the divining, though uncertain, know¬
ledge of our antiquaries. I must, however, observe, that
there was here formerly a temple dedicated to Venus,
which was entirely destroyed by an earthquake. In this
island St Paul by his eloquence converted Sergius, a
Homan proconsul. He here likewise conferred the dea-
conship on his disciple and colleague Titus, who soon
after suffered martyrdom. Paphos was an episcopal
city in the time of the Lusignans j and it is still the
seat of a bishop, who is a suffragan to the archbishop
of Nicosia. On the western side of the island there
are a great number of scattered villages 5 but they are
not worthy of notice, being either abandoned or in
ruins.”
Mr Bruce informs us, that in the neighbourhood of
this place many silver medals of excellent workmanship
are dug up j they are, however, but of little estimation
among the antiquarians, being chiefly of towns, of the
size of those found at Crete and Rhodes, and in all the
islands of the Archipelago. There are some excellent
Greek intaglios; generally upon better stones than usual
in the islands. This illustrious traveller informs us, that
he has seen some heads of Jupiter, remarkable for bushy
hair and a heard, which were of excellent workmanship,
and worthy of any price. All the inhabitants of the
island are subject to fevers, but especially those in the
neighbourhood of Paphos. The same traveller observes,
that Cyprus was very long undiscovered ; for though
ships had been sailing on the Mediterranean 1700 years
before Christ, and though the island is only a day’s sail¬
ing from the continent of Asia on the north and east,
and little more from that of Africa on the south, it was
not known at the building of Tyre, a little before the
Trojan war, that is, 500 years after the neighbouring
seas had been navigated. It was covered with wood at
its first discovery ; and our author is of opinion, that it
was not well known even at the time of building of So¬
lomon’s temple ; because we do not find that Hiram
king of Tyre, though just in its neighbourhood, ever
had recourse to it for wood : though the carriage would
undoubtedly have been easier from thence, than to have
brought it down from the top of Mount Lebanon. Era¬
tosthenes informs us, that in ancient times the island was
so overgrown with wood, that it could not be tilled ;
so that they first cut down the timber to be used in the
furnaces for melting silver and copper ; that after this
they built fleets with it : but finding even this insuffi¬
cient, they gave liberty to all strangers to cut it down
for whatever purpose they pleased; and not only so, but
they gave them afterwards the property of the ground
they had cleared. Matters arc now quite altered ; and
the want of wood is a principal complaint in most parts
of the island. About Acamas, however, on the west
side of the island, the wood is still thick and impervious,
inhabited by large stags and wild boars of a monstrous
size. Mr Bruce was informed, that a live elephant had
lately been seen there, but gave no credit to the ac- paphos
count. j]
PAPIAS, bishop of Hieropolis, a city of Phrygia, Papyrus,
was the disciple of St John the Evangelist, and the v~““'
companion of Polycarp, as St Jerome observes, and
not of John the Ancient, as some other authors have
maintained. He composed a work in five books,
entitled Expositions of the Discourses of our Lord, of
which there are only some fragments now remaining.
He it was who introduced the opinion of the Millena-
rians.
PAPILIQ, the Butterfly, a genus of insects be¬
longing to the order of lepidoptera. See Entomology
Index.
PAPILIONACEOUS, among Botanists, an appel¬
lation given to the flowers of plants belonging to va¬
rious classes, from their resembling the wings of a but¬
terfly.
PAPINIAN, a celebrated Roman lawyer of the
third century, under the emperor Severus ; who had
so high an opinion of his worth, that he recommended
his sons Caracalla and Geta to his care. Caracalla
having first murdered his brother, ordered Papinian to
compose a discourse to excuse this murder to the senate
and people ; which when he refused to undertake, the
brutal emperor ordered him to be beheaded ; and his
body was dragged through the streets of Rome. Pa¬
pinian wrote several treatises in the line of his profes¬
sion.
PAPISTS, are those who believe the pope or bishop
of Rome to be the supreme pastor of the universal
church, who profess to believe all the articles of Pope
Pius’s creed, and who promise implicit obedience to the
edicts of the church, especially the decrees of the coun¬
cil of Trent See Pope and Trent.
PAPPENHEIM, a town of Germany, in the king-
kom of Bavaria, and capital of a county of the same
name, with a castle, where the counts reside. It is
seated near the river Altmal, 17 miles north-west of
Neuburg, and 32 south of Nuremburg; and is subject to
its own count. E. Long. IQ. 51. N. Lat. 48. 58. The
count of Pappenheim was hereditary marshal of the em¬
pire, and performed his office at the coronation of the
emperor.
PAPPUS, an eminent philosopher of Alexandria,
said by Suidas to have flourished under the emperor
Theodosius the Great, who reigned from A. D. 379 ta
395. His writings show him to have been a consum¬
mate mathematican : Many of them are lost; the rest
continued long in manuscript, detached parts having
only been occasionally published in the last century, un¬
til Carolus Manolessius published his remains entire at
Bologna, in 1660, in folio.
Pappus, in Botany, a soft downy substance that
grows on the seeds of certain plants, as thistles, hawk-
weed, &.c. serving to scatter and buoy them up in the
air.
PAPYRUS, the famous reed from which was made
the far-famed paper of Egypt. Before entering on
the description of the papyrus, it is natural to say a
word or two on the opinion generally received in Eu¬
rope concerning the loss of this plant. Supposing this
loss possible, the date of it must be fixed at no distant
period ; for it is not 200 years since Gullandin and’
Prosper Alpin observed the papyrus on the banks ot
Papyrus,
Appendix
to Bruce’s
Travels.
PAP [75
the Nile. Guilandin saw the inhabitants of the coun¬
try eating the inferior and succulent part of the stem in
the manner of the ancients ; a fact which alone shows it
to be the papyrus, and of which other travellers seem
not to have availed themselves. This practice, toge¬
ther with those related by Prosper Alpin, are sufficient
to convince us, that this plant is not wholly useless, al¬
though it is not now employed in the fabrication of pa¬
per. The alteration on the soil of Egypt, and on the
methods of agriculture, have in all probability rendered
this plant less common } but causes altogether local
could not occasion the destruction of the papyrus, espe¬
cially as its residence in the marshes would prevent their
operation. But it is needless to reason from probabili¬
ties or analogy : Mr Bruce not only saw the papyrus
growing both in Egypt and Abyssinia, but actually
made paper of it in the manner in which it was made
by the ancients. He tells us likewise, that, so far from
any part of it being useless, the whole plant is at this
day used in Abyssinia for making boats, a piece of the
acacia tree being put in the bottom to serve as a keel.
That such were the boats of ancient Egypt, we know
from the testimony of Pliny, who informs us, that the
plants were first sewed together, and then gathered up
at stem and stern, and tied fast to the keel : “ Conseritur
bibula Memphitis cymba papyro.”
“ The bottom, root, or woody part of this plant was
likewise of several uses before it turned absolutely hard ;
it was chewed in the manner of liquorice, having a
considerable quantity of sweet juice in it. This we
learn from Dioscorides •, it was, I suppose, chewed, and
the sweetness sucked out in the same manner as is done
with sugar cane. This is still practised in Abyssinia,
where they likewise chew the root of the Indian corn,
and of every kind of cyperus : and Herodotus tells us,
that about a cubit of the lower part of the stalk was cut
off, and roasted over the fire, and eaten.
“ From the scarcity of wood, which was very great
in Egypt, this lower part was likewise used in making
cups, moulds, and other necessary utensils : we need not
doubt, too, one use of the woody part of this plant was,
to serve for what we call boat'ds or covers for binding
the leaves which were made of the bark •, we know that
this was anciently one use of it, both from Alcaeus and
Anacreon.”
The papyrus, says Pliny, grows in the marshes of
Egypt, or in the stagnant places of the Nile, made by
the flowing of that river, provided they are not beyond
the depth of two cubits. Its roots are tortuous, and
in thickness about four or five inches: its stem is tri¬
angular, rising to the height of ten cubits. Prosper
Alpin gives it about six or seven cubits above the wa¬
ter ; the stem tapers from the bottom, and terminates
in a point. Theophrastus adds, that the papyrus car¬
ries a top or plume of small hairs, which is the thyrsus
of Pliny. Guilandin informs us, that its roots throw
to the right and left a great number of small fibres,
which support the plant against the violence of the wind,
and against the waters of the Nile. According to him,
the leaves of the plant are obtuse, and like the typha of
the marshes. Mr Bruce, on the other hand, assures us,
that it never could have existed in the Nile. “ Its head
(says he) is too heavy j and in a plain country the wind
must have had too violent a hold of it. The stalk is
2 ] PAP
small and feeble, and withal too tall j the root too short Papyrus,
and slender to stay it against the violent pressure of the
wind and current; therefore I do constantly believe it
never could be a plant growing in the river Nile itself,
or in any very deep or rapid river but in thecalishes
or places where the Nile had overflowed and was stag¬
nant.
The Egyptians made of this plant paper fit for
writing (see Paper), which they call or ■philuria^
and also and hence the Latin churta; lor in
general the word charta is used lor the paper ot E-
gypt.
The papyrus was produced in so great quantities
on the banks of the Nile, that Cassiodorus (lib. xi. 30.)
compares it to a forest. There, says he, rises to the
view, this forest without branches, this thicket without
leaves, this harvest of the waters, this ornament of the
marshes. Prosper Alpin is the first who gives us a plate
of the papyrus, which the Egyptians call berdi. This
corresponds in some degree with the description of the
plant mentioned by Theophrastus 5 but the best draw¬
ing of it has been given by Mr Bruce.
The ancient botanists placed the papyrus among the
graminous plants or dog grass j ignorant of the particu¬
lar kind to which it belonged, they were contented to
specify it under the name of papyrus, of which there
were two kinds, that of Egypt, and that of Sicily. T-he
moderns have endeavoured to show, that these two plants
are one and the same species of cyperus. It is under
this genus that they are found in the catalogues and de¬
scriptions of plants published since the edition of Mor¬
rison’s work, where the papyrus is called cijpetuis nilo*
ticus Syriacus maximus papyraceus.
In the manuscripts of the letters and observations of
M. Lippi physician at Paris, who accompanied the en¬
voy of Louis XIV. to the emperor of Abyssinia, we find
the description of a cyperus which he had observed on
the banks of the Nile in 1704. After having describ¬
ed the flowers, he says that many ears covered with
young leaves are supported by a pretty long pedicle;
and that many of those pedicles, equally loaded and
coming from one joint, form a kind of parasol. The
disk of this parasol is surrounded with a quantity of
leaves which form a crown to the stem which sup¬
ports it. The stem is a pretty long prism, the cor¬
ners of which are a little rounded; and the leaves, not
at the top, but at the side, are formed like the blade of
a sword j the roots are black and full of fibres ; and
this plant is called cyperus Niliacus major, umbella
multiplici.
The same Lippi describes another kind which rises
not so high ; the stem and leaves correspond with the
former, but the ears form rather a kind of head than
any thing like the spreading of an umbrella ; this head
was very soft, shining, and gilded, rich and airy, much
loaded, supported by pedicles which were joined to¬
gether at the bottom like the knitting of a parasol.
It is called by him cyperus Niliacus major aurea, divisa
panicula. These two kinds of cyperus have a marked
resemblance in their leaves, their stem, their foliage,
and the marshy places where they grow. The only
difference consists in their size, and in the position of
the ears, which serve to distinguish them ; and they
seem to bear a resemblance to the papyrus and the sari,
described
Papyrus.
P A P [ 7
clescribed by ancient authors. The first is perhaps the
papyrus, and the second the sari $ but this is only con¬
jecture.
The papyrus, which grew in the waters, is said to
have produced no seed ; but this Mr Bruce very pro¬
perly calls an absurdity. “ The form of the flower
(says he) sufficiently indicates, that it was made to re¬
solve itself into the covering of one, which is certainly
very small, and by its exalted situation and thickness of
the head of the flower, seems ts have needed the extra¬
ordinary covering it has had to protect it from the vio¬
lent hold the wind must have had upon it. For the
same reason, the bottom of the filaments composing the
head are sheathed in four concave leaves, which keep
them close together, and prevent injury from the wind
getting in between them.” Its plume was compo¬
sed of slender pedicles, very long, and somewhat like
hair, according to Theophrastus. The same peculiarity
exists in the papyrus of Sicily j and the same is found
to exist in another kind of papyrus sent from Madagas¬
car by M. Poivre, correspondent of the Academy of
Sciences.
It is impossible to determine whether the papyrus of
Sicily was used in any way by the Romans. In Italy
it is called papero, and, according to Cesalpin, pipcro.
This papyrus of Sicily has been cultivated in the gar¬
den of Fisa ; and if we can depend on the authority of
Cesalpin, who himself examined the plant, it is differ¬
ent from the papyrus of Egypt.
The papyrus, says he, which is commonly called pi-
pero in Sicily, has a longer and thicker stem than the
plant cyperus. It rises sometimes to four cubits ; the
angles are obtuse, and the stem at the base is sur¬
rounded with leaves growing from the root j there are
no leaves on the stem even when the plant is at the
greatest perfection, but it carries at the top a large
plume which resembles a great tuft of dishevelled hairs ;
this is composed of a great number of triangular pedi¬
cles, in the form of reeds ; at the extremity of which
are placed the flowers, between two small leaves of a
reddish colour like the cyperus. The roots are woody,
about the thickness of reeds, jointed, and they throw
out a great number of branches which extend them¬
selves in an oblique direction. These are scented some¬
what like the cyperus, but their colour is a lighter
brown ; from the lower part issue many small fibres,
and from the higher a number of stems shoot up,
which in proportion as they are tender contain a sweet
juice.
The plume of the papyrus of Sicily is pretty well de¬
scribed in a short account of it in the second part ol the
Musceutn deBoceone. This plume is a tuft or assemblage
of a great number of long slender pedicles, which grow
from the same point of division, are disposed in the man¬
ner of a parasol, and which carry at the top three long
and narrow leaves, from which issue other pedicles,
shorter than the former, and terminating in several knots
of flowers. Micheli, in his 'Nova Plantarum Genera,
printed at Florence 1728, has given an engraving of
one of the long pedicles in its natural length : it is sur¬
rounded at the base with a case of about one inch and a
half in height 5 towards the extremity it carries three
long and narrow leaves, and four pedicles, to which are
fixed the knots of flowers. Every pedicle has also a
small case surrounding its base. In short, we find in
Vol. XV. Fart II. t
53 1 PAP
the Grosto Graphia of Scheuchzer a very particular de¬
scription of the plume of a kind of cyperus, which ap¬
pears to be a Sicilian plant. From this account it ap¬
pears that the papyrus of Sicily is well known to bota¬
nists. It were to be wished that we had as particular a
description of the papyrus of Egypt j but meanwhile it
may be observed, that these two plants have a near affi¬
nity to one another ; they are confounded together by
many authors ; and, according to Theophrastus, the sari
and the papyrus nilotica have a decided character of
resemblance, and only differ in this, that the papyrus
sends forth thick and tall stems, which being divided
into slender plates, are fit for the fabrication of papery
whereas the sari has small stems, considerably shorter,
and altogether useless for any kind of paper.
The papyrus, which served anciently to make paper,
must not be confounded with the papyrus of Sicily,
found also in Calabria 5 for, according to Strabo, the
papyrus was to be found in no place excepting Egypt
and India. The greatest part of botanists have believed
that the Sicilian plant is the same with the sari of Theo¬
phrastus ; others have advanced that the papvrus of E-
gypt and the sari were the same plant in two different
stages of its existence, or considered with respect to the
greater or less height, which, according to them, might
depend on the qualities of the soil, the difference of the
climate, or other accidental causes. In proof of this,
it is maintained, that there is an essential difference be¬
tween the papyrus growing in the waters and the same
plant growing on the banks of rivers and in marshes.
The first of these has thick and tall stems, and a plume
in the form of a tuft of hair very long and slender, and
without any seed : the second differs from the first in
all these particulars ; it has a shorter and more slender
stem, its plume is loaded with flowers, and of conse¬
quence it produces seed. In whatever way rve consider
these facts, it is sufficient for us to know, that the dif¬
ference between the papyrus and the sari neither de¬
pends on climate, nor soil, nor on situation. The plants
whose difference depended on these circumstances, both
grew in Egypt, and were both employed in the manu¬
facture of paper. But it is an established fact, that the
sari cannot be employed for this purpose.
Finally, The papyrus of Sicily began to be known
by botanists in 1570,' 1572, 1583, at which periods the
works of Lobel, of Guilandin, and of Cesalpib, first ap¬
peared. The ancients had no manner ol knowledge of
this plant. Fliny makes no mention of it in his Natu*
ral History •, from which it is evident that it was neither
used in Rome nor in Sicily. If he had seen this plant,
he must have been struck with its resemblance to the
papyrus and the sari, as they were described by Theo¬
phrastus j and since he gives a particular descrip¬
tion of these last mentioned, he would have most
naturally hinted at their conformity to the Sicilian
papyrus. #
Among many dried plants collected in the East In¬
dies by M. Poivre, there is a kind of papyrus very dif¬
ferent from that of Sicily. It carries a plume composed
of a considerable tuft of pedicles, very long, weak, slen¬
der, and delicate, like single threads, terminating most
frequently in two or three small narrow leaves, without
any knot of flowers between them ; hence this plume
must be altogether barren. Those pedicles or threads
are furnished with a pretty long membranous case, in
5 C which
Papyrus.
PAP
which they are inserted } and they issue from the same
point of direction, in the manner ot a parasol, iiie
plume, at its first appearance, is surrounded with leaves
like the radii of a crown. The stem which supports
it is, according to M. Poivre, about ten feet in height,
where there is two feet under water} it is ol a triangu¬
lar lorm, but the angles are rounded} its thickness is
about the size of a walking staff which fills the hand.
The interior substance, although soft and full of
fibres, is solid, and of a white colour. By this means
the stem possesses a certain degree of strength, and is
capable of resistance. It bends without breaking *, and
as it is extremely light, it serves in some sort for a cane:
The same M. Poivre used no other during a residence
of several months at Madagascar. This stem is not of
equal thickness in its whole length ; it tapers insen¬
sibly from the thickest part towards the top. It is
without knots, and extremely smooth. When this
plant grows out of the waters, in places simply moist,
it is much smaller, the stems are lower, and the plume
is composed of shorter pedicles or threads, terminating
at the top in three narrow leaves, a little longer than
those at the plume when the plant grows in the water.
From the base of these leaves issue small knots of flow¬
ers, arranged as they are in the cyperus j but these
knots are not elevated above the pedicles, they occupy
the centre of the three leaves, between which they are
placed, and form themselves into a small head. The
leaves which spring from the root and the lower part of
the stem resemble exactly those in the cyperus. This
plant, which the inhabitants call sanga-sanga, grows in
great abundance in their rivers and on their banks, hut
particularly in the river Tartas, near the Foule-point in
Madagascar. The inhabitants of these.cantons use the
bark of this plant for mats-, they make it also into sails,
into cordage for their fishing houses, and into cords for
their nets.
This kind of papyrus, so lately discovered, and differ¬
ent from the papyrus of Sicily by the disposition of its
flow-ers, shows, that there are two kinds of the cyperus
which might easily be confounded with the papyrus of
Egypt ; whether we consider, on the one hand, to what
purposes the inhabitants of the places where they grow
have made them subservient; or, on the other compare
their form, their manner of growth, and the points in
which they resemble each other. This comparison can
he easily made from the accounts which Piiny and
Theophrastus gave of the papyrus of Egypt, and by the
figure and description given by Prosper Alpin, after
having observed the plant on the banks of the Nile.
But if we can depend on the testimony of Strabo, who
affirms that the papyrus is found nowhere hut in Egypt
and in India, it is perhaps possible that the papyrus
of the isle of Madagascar is the same with that of
Egypt.
Whatever truth may be in this conjecture, the inha¬
bitants of this island have never derived from it those
advantages which have immortalized the papyrus of
Egypt. They have not made that celebrated paper,
quo usu muxime humanitas, vita, constat et memoria.
Mr Russel, a recent traveller (1817% mentions, that a
nobleman at Syracuse had succeeded in making paper
of the Sicilian papyrus by a process similar to that de¬
scribed by Pliny.
] PAR
PAR, in Commerce, signifies any two things equal par
in value. See Exchangk. (j
PARABLE, a fable or allegorical instruction, found- Fnradise^
ed on something real or apparent in nature or history,
from which a moral is drawn by comparing it with
something in which the people are more immediately
concerned ; such are the parables of Dives and Lazarus,
of the Prodigal Son, of the Ten Virgins, &c. Dr Biair
observes, that “ of parables, which form a part of alle¬
gory, the prophetical writings are full j and if to us they
sometimes appear obscure, we must remember, that in
those early times it W'as universally the mode through¬
out all the eastern nations to convey sacred truths under
mysterious figure anil representations.”
PARABOLA. See Conic Sections.
PARABQLE. See Oratory, N° 84.
PARACELSUS, Aurelius Philip Theophras¬
tus Bombastus de Hohenheim, a famous physician,
horn at Einfidlen, a town in the canton of Sclnveitz in
Swisserland. He was educated with great care bv his
father, who was the natural son of a prince, and in a
little time made a great progress in the study of physic.
He afterwards travelled into France, Spain, Italy, and
Germany, in order to become acquainted with the most
celebrated physicians. At his return to Swisserland, he
stopped at Basil, where he read lectures on physic in the
German tongue. He was one of the first who made use
of chemical remedies with success, by which he acquir¬
ed a very great reputation. Paracelsus gloried in de-
stroyirg the method established by Galen, which he be¬
lieved to he very uncertain ; and by this means drew
upon himself the hatred of the other physicians. It is
said, that he boasted of being able, by his remedies, to
preserve the life of man for several ages: but he him¬
self experienced the vanity of his promises, by his dying
at Saltzburg, in 1505, at 37 years of age according
to some, and at 48 according to others. The best edi¬
tion of his works is that of Geneva in 1658, in 3 vols.
folio.
PARACENTESIS, an operation in surgery, com¬
monly called tapping. See Surgery.
PARACLET, the Comforter, a name given to
the Holy Ghost.
PARADE, in a military sense, the place where
troops assemble or draw together, to mount guard, or
for any other purpose.
Parade, in fencing, implies the action of parrying
or turning off any thrust.
PARADISE, a term principally used for the garden
of Eden, in which Adam and Eve were placed imme¬
diately upon their creation.
As to this terrestrial paradise, there have been many
inquiries about its situation. It has been placed in the
third heaven, in the orb of the moon, in the moon itself,
in the middle region of the air, above the earth, under
the earth, in the place possessed by the Caspian sea, and
under the arctic pole. The learned Huetius places it
upon the river that is produced by the conjunction of
the Tigris and Euphrates, now' called the river of the
Arabs, between this conjunction and the division made
by the same river before it falls into the Persian sea.
Other geographers have placed it in Armenia, between
the sources of the Tigris, the Euphrates, the Araxes,
and the Pkasis, which they suppose to be the four rivers
described
[ 7S4
PAR [ 755 ] PAR
Paradise, described by Moses. But concerning tbe exact place
i——v--—' we must necessarily be very uncertain, if indeed it can
be thought at all to exist at present, considering the
many changes which have taken place on the surface of
the earth since the creation.
* Vkysico- “ Learned men (says Mr Mi!n*) have laboured to
Tteol. flnfi out tj)e situation of Paradise, which seems to be but
Lectures. a vague and uncertain inquiry; for the Mosaic descrip¬
tion of it will not suit any place on the present globe.
He mentions two rivers in its vicinity, viz. Pi&on and
Gihon, of which no vestiges can now be found. The
other two still remain, viz. the Hiddekel, supposed to be
the Tigris, and the Euphrates, whose streams unite to¬
gether at a considerable distance above the Persian gulf;
in some part of which, it is highly probable the happy
garden once lay (a). This gulf is eastward both of the
land of Midian and the wilderness ot Sinai ; in one of
which places Moses wrote his history. But since the
formation of this earth, it has undergone great changes
from earthquakes, inundations, and many other causes.
The garden, however, seems to have been a peninsu¬
la, fur the way or entrance into it is afterwards men¬
tioned. We are told that a ‘ river went out of it;’
which, according to some, should be rendered ‘ run on
the outside of it,1 and thus gave it the form of a horse¬
shoe : for had the Euphrates run through the middle
of the garden, one half of it would have been useless to
Adam, without a bridge or boat wherewith to have
crossed it.”
The learned authors of the Universal History, in their
account of rarities natural and artificial in Syria, men¬
tion “ a spot which is still shown as the place where
once stood the garden of Eden, or Terrestrial 1 aradise.
And indeed it is in all respects so beautiful and rich,
and yields so delightful a prospect from the adjacent
hills, that there is hardly another place in the world
that has a fairer title to the name it bears. Its proxi¬
mity to Damascus, the capital of Syria, near the foun¬
tain head of the Jordan ; its situation between the Ti-
o-ris or Hiddekel, the Euphrates, the Phasis or Pison,
the Araxes or Gihon (which last has those names from
its vast rapidity above all other known rivers), its bor¬
dering upon the land of Chus, famed for its fine gold ;
all these and many other marks specified by Moses, to¬
gether with its charming and surprising fruitfulness, and
constant verdure, have induced a great number of com¬
mentators to settle that celebrated and so much sought-
after spot here, and to deem it the most valuable of all
the natural rarities of this country.
Christians, we presume, need not be told, that however
curious or amusing this inquiry may be, the determina¬
tion of it is of no importance, since we are all well as¬
sured that the celestial paradise is that place of pure and Paradise.
refined delight in which the souis of the blessed enjoy 
everlasting happiness.
It may not be improper, however, in this place to
give a description of tbe paiadise of the Mohamme¬
dans. The sensuality and absurdity of that impostoi must
be apparent to all men. i heir religion has no consisten¬
cy in its parts, and the descriptions of the future enjoy¬
ments of the faithful are miserable instances of human
weakness and folly.
“ The paradi e of the Mohammedans is said by them
to be situated above the seven heavens, or in the se¬
venth, and next under the throne of God ; and to ex¬
press the amenity of the place, thev tell us that the
earth of it is of the finest wheat flour, or ol the j u est
musk, or of saffron ; and that its stoms are pearls and
jacinths, the walls of it* buildings enriched with gold
and silver, and the trunks of all its trees of gold, amongst
which the most remarkable is the tree tuba, or tree of
happiness. They pretend that this tree stands in the
palace of Mohammed, though a branch of it w.li reach
to the house of every true believir, loade d with pome¬
granates, dates, grapes, and other fruits of surprising
bigness, and delicious tastes, unknown to mortals. If
a man desires to eat of any particular kind of Iruit, it
will immediately be presented to him ; or it he chooses
flesh, birds ready dressed will be set beiore him, and
such as he may wish for. They add, that this tree
will supply the blessed not only with fruit, but with
silk garments also, and beasts to ride on, adorned with
rich trappings, all which will burst tortb trom the
fruit; and that the tree is so large, that a person mount¬
ed on the fleetest horse would not be able to gallop from
one end of its shade to the other in 100 years. Plenty
of water being one of the greatest additions to tbe plea¬
santness of any place, the Alcoran often speaks ot the
rivers of paradise as the principal ornament. Some of
these rivers are said to flew with water, seme with milk,
some with wine, and others with honey: all ot them have
their sources in the root of this trie ot happiness ; and,
as if these rivers were not sufficient, we are told that the
garden of this paradise is also watered by a great number
of lesser springs and lountains, whose pebbles are rubies
and emeralds, their earth of camphor, their beds of musk,
and their sides ol saffron. But all these glories will be
eclipsed by the resplendent and exquisite beauiy of the
girls of paradise, the enjoyment of wbo.-e company will
constitute the principal felicity of the faithful. Ihese
(they say) are not formed of clay, as mortal women,
but of pure musk; and are, as their prophet often affirms,
in his Alcoran, free from all the natural defects and in¬
conveniences incident to the sex. Being also of the
^ C 2 strictest
„ r„d r_ are tom placed at the east of the garden of Eden cherMms and a flaming sue, d which turned
(l ' ! ,,f the tree of life. In Scripture, the extraordinary judgments ol God are 'aid to be
■everyway, to sometimes compared to flames of lire. Therefore the cherubim and the flaming
executed by lus ^ ’ . . mnre cRan that a large portion of gi’ound on the eastward of I aradise was set on
sword may such8 violence, that the flame thereof at a distance
fire during the above awful occa. 10 , _ & Now if the soil of Eden was bituminous, like
nppeared like a pg^prltile as^^be compared'tothe^'garden^iTthe Lord”), the tire would con-
that of Gomorrah C^hic was on ;n the one lace as it did in the other, and turned a great part of that
IZl which seems to countenance the opinion of those who place the situation of Faradtse m seme part of
ihe Persian gulf.”
PAR [ 750 ] PAR
Paradise strictest modesty, they keep themselves secluded from
II public view in pavilions of hollow pearls, so large, that
, Pmadox as some traditions have it, one of them will be no less
than 16, or, as others say, 60 miles long, and as many
broad. With these the inhabitants of paradise may taste
pleasures in their height j and for this purpose will be
endowed with extraordinary abilities, and enjoy a per¬
petual youth.”
Paradise Lost, the name of a modern epic poem,
the first and finest of those composed by Milton.
The subject of this poem is extraordinary j it had
never before been attempted, and seemed to be above
the elforts of human genius. Angels and devils are
not the machinery, but the principal actors in it} so
that what would appear marvellous in any other com¬
position, is in this only the natural course of events.—
The poet’s intention was, as he expresses it himself, to
vindicate the ways of God to men. How far Milton
was happy in the choice of his subject, may be
questioned. It has led him into difficult ground,
though it certainly suited the daring sublimity of his
genius. It is a subject for which he alone was fitted 5
and, in the conduct of it, he has shown a stretch both
of imagination and invention which is perfectly won¬
derful.
Bird of Paradise. See the following article.
PARADISE A, a genus of birds belonging to the
order of picse. See Ornithology Index.
PARADOX, 7rx£xdo%ov, in philosophy, a proposition
seemingly absurd, as being contrary to some received
opinions, but yet true in fact.
The vulgar and illiterate take almost every thing,
even the most important, upon the authority of others,
without ever examining it themselves. Although this
implicit confidence is seldom attended with any bad
consequences in the common affairs of life, it has never¬
theless, in other things, been much abused 5 and in po¬
litical and religious matters has produced fatal effects.
On the other hand, knowing that learned men, to avoid
this weakness have fallen into the contrary extreme :
some of them believe every thing to be unreasonable or
impossible, that appears so to their first apprehension ;
not adverting to the narrow limits of the human under¬
standing, and the infinite variety of objects, with their
mutual operations, combinations, and affections, that
may be presented to it.
It must be owned, that credulity has done much more
mischief ih the world than incredulity has done, or ever
will do 5 because the influences of the latter extend only
to such as have some share of literature, or affect the re¬
putation thereof. And since the human mind is not ne¬
cessarily impelled, without evidence, either to belief or
unbelief, but may suspend its assent to, or dissent from,
any proposition, till after a thorough examination ; it is
to be wished that men of learning, especially philoso¬
phers, would not hastily, and by the first appearances,
determine themselves with respect to the truth or false¬
hood, possibility or impossibility of things.
A person who has made but little progress in the ma¬
thematics, though in other respects learned and judi¬
cious, would be apt to pronounce it impossible that two
lines, which were nowhere two inches asunder, may
continually approach towards one another, and yet never
meet though continued to affinity ; and yet the truth of
this proposition may be easily demonstrated. And manv,
who are good mechanics, would be as apt to pronounce Paradox
the same, if they were told, that though the teeth of (1
one wheel should take equally deep into the teeth of Paraguay.
three others, it should affect them in such a manner,
that, in turning it any way round its axis, it should
turn one of them the same w'ay, another the contrary
way, and the third no way at all.
No science abounds more with paradoxes than geo¬
metry : thus, that a right line should continually ap¬
proach to the hyperbola, and yet never reach it, is a
true paradox : and in the same manner a spiral may con¬
tinually approach to a point, and yet not reach it in any
number of revolutions, however great.
The Copernican system is a paradox to the common
people ; but the learned are all agreed as to its truth.
Geometricians have of late been accused of maintain¬
ing paradoxes 5 and some do indeed use very mysterious
terms in expressing themselves about asymptotes, the
sums of infinite progressions, the areas comprehended
between curves and their asymptotes, and the solids
generated from these areas, the length of some spirals,
&c. But all these paradoxes and mysteries amount to
no more than this j that the line or number may be
continually acquiring increments, and those increments
may decrease in such a manner, that the whole line or
number shall never amount to a given line or number.
The necessity of admitting it is obvious from the na¬
ture of the most common geometrical figures : thus,
while the tangent of a circle increases, the area of the
corresponding sector increases, but never amounts to a
quadrant. Neither is it diflicult to conceive, that if a
figure be concave towards a base, and have an asymp¬
tote parallel to the base (as it happens when we take
a parallel to the asymptote of the logarithmic curve,
or of the hyperbola, for a base), that the ordinate in
this case always increases while the base is produced,
but never amounts to the distance between the asy mptote
and the base. In like manner, a curvilinear area may
increase while the base is produced, and approach conti¬
nually to a certain finite space, but never amount to ity
and a solid may increase in the same manner, and yet
never amount to a given solid. See AILaurin's Flux¬
ions. See Logarithmic Curve.
PARADOXI, a sort of mimes or buffoons among
the ancients, who entertained the people with extem¬
pore effusions of drollery. They were also called Pa-
radoxologi, Ordonurii, Neanicoiogi, and Aretalogi. See
Mimi.
PARA GAUDiE, among the Romans, were wreaths
of gold, or silk and gold, interwoven in, not sewed to
their garments. The garment was sometimes of one co¬
lour with one paragaudae } sometimes of two colours,
with two paragaudse; of three colours, with three
paragaudae, &c. They were worn both by men and wo¬
men.
PARAGOGE, in Grammar, a figure whereby a let¬
ter or syllable is added to the end of a word, as tned, for
me; dicier, for did, &c.
PARAGRAPH, in general, denotes a section or
division of a chapter y and in references is marked
thus, ^f.
PARAGUAY, or La Plata, a province of Spa¬
nish America, bounded on the north by the river of
the Amazons •, on the cast, by Brazil; on the south,
by Patagonia j and on the west, by Chili and Peru.
This
PAR
Paraguay. Thlfe country was first discovered by Sebastian Cabot,
i—-y—■» in 1526, passed from Rio de la Plata to the river
Parana in small barks, and tlience entered the river call¬
ed Uruguay. It was not, however, thoroughly reduced
till the Jesuits obtained possession of it. A few of these
went to Paraguay soon after the city of Assumption
was founded, and converted about 50 Indian families,
who soon induced many others to follow their example,
on account of the peace and tranquillity they enjoyed
under the fathers. They had long resisted the Spa¬
niards and Poi'tuguese •, but the Jesuits, by learning
their language, conforming to their manners, &c. soon
acquired great authority among them*, till at last, by
steadily pursuing the same artful measures, they arrived
at the highest degree of power and influence, being in a
manner the absolute sovereigns of a great part of this ex¬
tensive country j for above 350,000 families are said to
have been subject to them, living in obedience and awe
bordering on adoration, yet procured without the least
violence or constraint.
Gent- Mag. We have the following particular account of the mis-
*753- sions of Paraguay, in the words of Don Jorge Juan, &c.
“ The territories of the missions of Paraguay compre¬
hended not only the province of that name, hut also a
great part of the provinces of Santa Cruz de la Sierra,
Tucuman, and Buenos Ayres. The temperature (a)
of the air is good, though somewhat moist, and in some
parts rather cold : the soil in many places is fertile (b) j
and produces in great abundance not only the fruits and
vegetables peculiar to America, but also those of Europe
which have been introduced there. The chief articles of
their commerce are cotton, tobacco, some sugar, and the
herb called Paraguay. Every town gathers annually
more than 2000 arrohas of cotton, of a quarter of an
hundred weight each, which the Indians manufacture
into stuff’s. There are also great quantities of tobacco
produced. But the chief article is the herb Paraguay:
for it grows only in the districts of the missions j and
there is a vast consumption of this herb in all the pro¬
vinces of Chili and Peru, especially of that called camini,
which is the pure leaf $ the infusion of which is called
mate, and is drank by the inhabitants of Lima twice a
day in lieu of tea or chocolate. The mate which is made
by the infusion of the stalk is not so much esteemed.
“ ’Tis now almost two centuries since these missions
were first set on foot by the Jesuits. The had ma¬
nagement of the Portuguese greatly favoured the views
of these fathers. There was a nation of Indians called
Guaranies, some whereof were settled upon the banks ol
P A it
the rivers Uruguay and Parana, and others a hundred p arngimy
leagues higher up in the country to the north-west of "-y*—^
Guayra. The Portuguese frequently came upon them,
and by force carried away as many as they thought pro¬
per to their plantations, and made slaves of them. Of*
fended by such treatment, the Guaranies resolved to quit
their settlements in the neighbourhood ot the Portuguese,
and to remove into the province of Paraguay. Accord¬
ingly a migration of 12,000 persons, great and small, en¬
sued. These the Jesuits soon converted ■, and having had
the like success in converting about an equal number of
the natives of Tape, a district in Paraguay, they united
the two nations, and laid the foundation of their future
dominion. These fathers seem to have trode in the steps
ot the first Incas, and to have civilized nations and con¬
verted souls in order to acquire subjects. According to
a very exact account taken in the year 1734, there were
then 32 towns of the Guaranies, which were reckoned to
contain above 30,000 families ; and as the new converts
were continually increasing, they were then about lay¬
ing the foundations of three new towns. There were also
then seven very populous towns inhabited by the con 1
verted Chiquito Indians, and they were preparing to
build others for the reception of the new converts of
that nation which were daily made.
“ The missions of Paraguay are surrounded on all
sides with wild or unconverted Indians ; some of whom
live in friendship with the towns, hut others harass them
by frequent incursions. The father missionaries frequent¬
ly visit those Indians, and preach to them 5 and from
these expeditions they seldom return without bringing
along with them some new converts to incorporate with
their civilized subjects. In the performance of this duty
they sometimes penetrate 100 leagues into those uncul¬
tivated tracts where wild Indians range ; and it is obser¬
ved that they meet with the least success amongst those
nations with whom any fugitive Mestizos, or Spanish
criminals, have taken refuge. The diligence of these
fathers is certainly worthy the imitation of the Protes¬
tant clergy.
“ Every town has its curate, who is assisted by one,
and very often by two priestsr of the same order, ac¬
cording to the largeness and extent of the town and its
district. These two or three priests, together with six
boys who assist them in the service of the church, form
a small college in every town, wherein the hours and
other exercises are regulated with the same formality
and exactness as in the large colleges in the cities of
Peru and Chili. The most troublesome part of the duty
of
[ 757
(a) The climate of Paraguay differs hut little from that of Spain j and the distinctions between the seasons
are much the same. In winter, violent tempests of wind and rain are very frequent, accompanied with such
dreadful claps of thunder and lightning as fill the inhabitants with terror and consternation. In summer, the
excessive heats are mitigated by gentle breezes, which constantly begin at eight or nine in the morning.
(b) It produces maize, manioc, and potatoes, besides many fruits and simples unknown in Europe. \ ines,
however, do not thrive, except in some particular places. Wheat has also been tried 5 but it is only used for
cakes, and other things of that kind. There are great numbers of poisonous serpents, and others of enormous
size, many of which live on fish. It produces also abundance of sugar, indigo, pimento, ipecacuanha, and va¬
riety of other drugs ; and above all the herb Paraguay, which it exports to the value of ioo,oool. annually, to
the provinces of Chili and Peru. The manner of using it is, to dry and reduce it almost to powder, then put it
into a cup with lemon juice and sugar 5 boiling water is then poured on it, and the liquor drank as soon as may
he. It is supposed to be serviceable in all disorders of the head, breast, and stomach j it preserves the miners
from the noxious mineral steams with which they would otherwise he suffocated; it is a sovereign remedy in pu¬
trid fevers and the scurvy $ allays hunger j and purifies all kind of water, by infusing it therein.
PAR [ 758 J PAR
Paraguay, of the assistant priests are the personal visitations which
“'V'-—' they are obliged to make to the Indians to prevent their
giving themselves up to idleness *, for such is the sloth-
fulness of the Guaranies, that if they were not very
carefully looked after, the society would receive no be¬
nefit or advantage from them. They also attend the
public shambles, where the cattle necessary for the sus¬
tenance of the Indians are daily slaughtered, and distri¬
bute the flesh amongst all the families in the town, in
proportion to the number of persons whereof each fa¬
mily consists j so that all may have what is necessary,
none what is superfluous. They also visit the sick, and
see that they are properly taken care of. They are ge¬
nerally employed the whole day in these affairs, so that
they have seldom time to assist the curate in his spiri¬
tual functions. All the boys and girls in the parish go
to church every day in the week (except on festivals
and Sundays), where they are instructed by the curate.
.On Sundays the whole parish goes to church to be in¬
structed. The curate is besides obliged to go to con¬
fess the sick, and to administer the viaticum to those
who desire it, and also to perform all the other func¬
tions peculiar to this office. In strictness the curate
should be appointed in this manner. The society should
nominate three persons to the governor of Buenos Ayres
(in whose government the missions of Paraguay are in¬
cluded), as being vice patron of the missions, that he
may choose one of them for curate; and the curates
should be instructed in the duties orf their office by the
bishop : but as the provincials of the order can best
judge who are properly qualified for the office, the go¬
vernor and bishop have ceded their rights to them, and
by them the curates are always appointed. The mis-
.sions of the Guaranies and the missions of the Chiqui-
toS, into which the missions of Paraguay are divided,
have each their distinct father-superior, by whom the
coadjutors or assistant curates of the several towns in
the respective divisions are appointed. These superi¬
ors are continually visiting the towns, to see that they
be well governed, and to endeavour to improve and aug¬
ment them. They likewise from time to time take care
to send out some fathers of the order into the countries
of the wild Indians to make new converts. The better
to enable him to discharge these duties, the superior of
the Guaranies is assisted by two vice superiors ; one of
whom resides in Parana, the other upon the banks of
the river Uruguay, and the superior himself resides in
fthe town of Candelaria. The post of superior of the
Chiquitos is not near so troublesome as that of the su¬
perior of the Guaranies : for the Chiquitos are not only
less numerous, but much more docile and industrions
than the Guaranies, so that they need not be continual¬
ly watched and attended in order to prevent their idle¬
ness, The king allows an annual stipend of 300 pezas
to each curate of the Guaranies, for the maintenance
of himself and his assistants. The money is paid to the
superior, who issues out monthly to each curate as much
as is necessary for his subsistence ; and when they want
any thing extraordinary, their wants are supplied upon
application to him. But the Chiqnitos maintain their
own curates. In every town there is a plantation set
apart for the maintenance of the curate, which is cul¬
tivated by the joint labour of all the inhabitants. The
produce of these plantations is generally more than suf¬
ficient for the subsistence of the curates, and the sur-
z
plus is sold to buy ornaments for the churches. Nor Parsjpmy,
are the curates the spiritual rectors of the towns only ; v——«
they are also in effect the civil governors. It is true
there are in every town of the missions a governor, re¬
gie! ores, and alcaldes, as there are in the other towns
and cities under the Spanish government. But though
the governor is elected by the Indians, he must be ap¬
proved by the curate before he enters upon his office-,
nor can he chastise or punish delinquents without the
curate’s permission. The curate examines those who
are accused of offences ; and if he finds them guilty,
delivers them to the governor to be punished, -accord¬
ing to the nature and quality of the offence committed.
He sometimes orders them to be imprisoned for a few
days, sometimes to fast, and, when the fault is consid¬
erable, to be whipped, which is the severest punish¬
ment that is ever inflicted j for the regulations and in¬
structions of the curates have been so efficacious, that
murder and such like heinous crimes are never here
committed. And even before they undergo these gen¬
tle corrections, the curate discourses the offenders in a
mild friendly maimer 5 and endeavours to excite in them
a due sense of their crime, and of the ill consequences
that might flow from it, and to convince them that they
merit a much greater punishment than is inflicted. 1
This mild treatment prevents tumults and insurrections,
and acquires the curates universal veneration and
esteem. The alcaldes are chosen annually by the re-
gidores. The governor, regidores, and alcaldes are all
Indians of the best capacities j and are in effect only
so many overseers appointed by the curate, and digni¬
fied with these empty titles.
Every town has its armory or magazine, in which
are lodged the fire-arms or other weapons wherewith
the militia are armed when they take the field to repel
the irruptions of the Portuguese and wild Indians. The
militia are very dexterous and expert in the manage¬
ment of their arms j and are exercised on the eves of
festivals in the squares or public places of the towns.
The militia is composed of all those who are able to
bear arms : they are formed into companies, w'hich have
each a proper number of officers, chosen from amongst
those who are most distinguished for judgment and con¬
duct. The dress of the officers is rich, adorned with
gold and silver, and the device of the town to which
they belong: they always appear in their uniforms on
festivals, and on the days of military exercise. The
governor, alcaldes, and regidores have also proper robes
and dresses suitable to their respective offices, in which
they appear on public occasions. There are schools in
every town, in which the common people are taught
reading and writing, and also music and dancing; in
which arts they become very skilful. The Jesuits are
very careful in consulting the natural bent and genius
of their scholars, and in dirteting their studies and ap¬
plication accordingly. The lads of the most promising
genius ax-e taught the Latin tongue with great success.
In one of the court yards of evex-y curate’s house are
various shops or workhouses of painters, carvers, gil¬
ders, silversmiths, caxpenters, weavers, and clock-
makers, and of several other mechanics and artizans,
who daily work for the public under the direction of
the coadjutors, and at the same |time teach the youth
their respective arts and occupations.
The churches are large, well built, finely decorated
and
P A K f 759 ] PAR
Paraguay, and enlightened, and not inferior to the richest in Peru.
■" ■' Each church has a choir of music, composed of instru¬
ments of all sorts, and very good voices ; so that divine
service is celebrated here with as much pomp and solem¬
nity as in cathedrals : nor are the public processions less
splendid, especially that of the host j which, whenever
it is carried abroad, is attended by the governor, alcal¬
des, and regidores, in their robes, and also by the mili¬
tia in a body. The houses of the Indians are as well
built and as well furnished as most of the Spanish houses
in Peru. The greatest part indeed have mud walls,
others are built with brick, and some with stone, but all
are covered with tiles. In every town there is a house
where gunpowder is made, that they may never want it
when they are obliged to take arms, and always have it
ready to make artificial fireworks on rejoicing days : for
all festivals are here observed with as great ceremony and
exactness as in the greatest cities. Upon the proclama¬
tion of a new king of Spain, the governors, alcaldes, re¬
gidores, and officers of the militia, appear dressed in new
robes and uniforms of a difiercnt fashion from those they
wore before. There is a sort of convent in every town ;
in one part whereof are confined women of an ill life, and
the other part is destined for the reception of married
women who have no family, and who retire thither
when their husbands are absent. For the maintenance
of this house, and for the support of orphans, and of old
and infirm people, all the inhabitants of the town work
two days in every week } and the profits of their laboui',
which is called t/ie labour of the community^ are set
apart for the purpose. If the produce of this labour be
more than is necessary for their subsistence, the surplus
is laid out to buy ornaments for the churches, and
clothes for the orphans and aged and infirm people j so
that here are no beggars, nor any who want the neces¬
saries of life. In short, by the wise policy and prudent
regulations of the .Jesuits, the whole community enjoys
peace and happiness.
“ The Guaranies are so profuse and negligent, that
the curates are obliged to take into their hands all their
goods and stuffs as soon as they are manufactured and
made ready for sale ; otherwise they would waste and
destroy them, and not be able to maintain themselves.
The Chiquitos, on the contrary, are diligent and frugal j
so that the curates have no other trouble with them than
the assisting them in the disposal of their goods, and pro¬
curing returns for them. For this purpose the society
keeps a factor or procurator at Santa Fe and Buenos
Ayres, to whom the merchandise of the missions is sent
to be disposed of; and these factors return the value to
the fathers in such sort of European commodities as are
wanted. The goods of every town are kept separate ;
and the royal taxes are taken out of them without any
other discount or allowances, save the stipends of the
curates of the Guaranies and the pensions of the ca¬
ciques. The fathers choose to manage the commerce
of their subjects themselves, lest they should contract
vices by their communication with other people. In
this respect the fathers are so careful, that they will
not suffer anv of the people of Peru, whether they be
Spaniards, Mestizos, or Indians, to enter into the ter¬
ritories of the missions. However, there are some who
suspect that these are all specious pretences ; and that
the society’s real motive for prohibiting all intercourse
with strangers, is the fear of rivals in the beneficial
commerce of Paraguay, which is now entirely in their Paraguay,
hands.” < — t—
Such is the account they themselves have given us of
their own conduct: but others have treated their charac¬
ters with more severity ; accusing them of pride, haugh¬
tiness, and abusing their authority to the greatest degree;
insomuch that they would have caused the magistrates to
be whipped in their presence, and obliged persons of the
highest distinction within their jurisdiction to kiss the
hem of their garment, as the greatest honour at which
they could possibly arrive. To this might be added, the
utter abolition of all ideas of property; which indeed was
rendered useless by the general magazines and store¬
houses, which they established, and from which, to¬
gether with the herds of cattle kept for the public use,
they supplied the wants of individuals as occasion re¬
quired ; yet still it was objected to the character of the
fraternity, that they possessed large property themselves,
and claimed the absolute disposal of the meanest effects
in Para guay. All manufactures belonged to them;
every natural commodity was brought to them : and the
treasures annually remitted to the superior of the order
were thought to be a proof that zeal for religion was
not the. only motive by which they wete influenced.
Besides the parochial or provincial governments, there
was a kind of supreme council, composed of an annual
meeting of all the fathers, who concerted the measures
necessary for promoting the common concerns of the
mission, framed new laws, corrected or abolished old
ones, and, in a word, adapted every thing to circum¬
stances. It is said to have been one of the great objects
of the annual councils to take such measures as should
effectually deprive strangers of all intelligence concern¬
ing the state of the mission. Hence the natives were
restrained from learning the Spanish tongue, and -were
taught, that it was dangerous for their salvation to hold
any conversation with a subject of Spain or Portugal.
But the circumstance that rendered their designs most
suspicious, was the establishment of a military force.
Every parish had its corps of horse and foot, who were
duly exercised every Sunday ; and it was said, that the
whole amounted to a body of 70,000 or 80,000 troops,
well disciplined.
The city of Buenos Ayres, the metropolis of this vast
province, was taken by the naval and military forces of
his Britannic majesty, under the command of Sir Home
Popham and Major-general Beresford, on the 26th of
June 1806. It was attacked on the 9th of August the
same year, by a detachment of Spanish troops from
Monte Video, and obliged to surrender on the 1 2th
under a capitulation, the terms of which were not after¬
wards observed ; and General Beresford, the officers,
troops, marines of the squadron, and a few seamen, re¬
mained prisoners of war. A more considerable force,
under the command of Lieutenant-general Whitelocke,
was afterwards sent to reduce it. That officer, after a
number of skirmishes and partial engagements with the
enemy, in which the officers and troops under his
command exhibited abundant proofs of great bravery,
thought proper to abandon the idea ol reducing the
town. The reason assigned by him for this mysteri¬
ous conduct, the dread that all the prisoners would be
massacred by an exasperated mob, might have done
honour to his humanity, but it is extremedy doubtful
whether or not that was founded on fact. Fhe British
government
P A li
Paraguay government certainly thought otherwise, and the degrad-
|| ing sentence of the court martial by which he was tried,
Paralipo- gives us reason to conclude that his anxiety for the life
, nu‘na- < 0f General Beresford and the rest of the British prisoners
was nothing more than a pretext.
Since the failure of the British expedition, this co¬
lony has been the theatre of an important revolution.
When the news arrived at Buenos Ayres, in 1810, of
the dispersion of the central junta by the French in
Old Spain, the viceroy Cisneros, by the advice of the
cabildo, called a congress, which appointed a junta.
The junta, which commenced its sittings on 25th May
3810, was opposed by the Spanish authorities in Monte
Video and some of the other provinces, and afterwards
by the viceroy and members of the audiencia. The
latter were exiled, the forces marching against the city
were defeated, and Liniers and other leaders executed.
The new government of Buenos Ayres now sent a force
into Chili, which effected a revolution there, and even
threatened Lima. The royalists, however, made head
again, and battles were lost and won by both parties 5 but
the independents have finally established themselves in
Chili, though Peru is still in the hands of their opponents.
The independents were long annoyed by the royalists in
Monte Video, but in June 1814 the town fell into their
hands. But Artigas, one of their own officers, having
abandoned their cause, got possession of the town next,
and held it by his own authority, till he was disposses¬
sed in January 1817 by the Portuguese, who had long
wished to extend their territories in this direction. In the
mean time the government of Buenos Ayres was a prey
to anarchy. The congress and the juntas Avere dis¬
tracted by furious factions. Sometimes the municipal¬
ity displaced the civil authorities, or one member of
the government deposed the others, or the military com¬
manders seized the supreme power by force. At length,
in July 1816, Don J. M. Puyrredon was appointed
supreme director, and has ever since continued to ad¬
minister the public affairs with great steadiness and
moderation. The independence of the provinces of La
Plata was formally announced by the congress on the
pth July 1816. From the report of the American com-
irfissioners, Messrs Graham and Rodney (Dec. 1818),
it appears that the government is now well consolidat¬
ed, the press enjoys a great degree of freedom, infor¬
mation and industry are increasing, religious toleration
is making progress, and the situation of the people has
been in every respect much ameliorated. They have
kept an army in Chili for some years; and have lately
organized a x'espectable naval force, the command of
which has been given to our countryman Lord Coch¬
rane. The population of the whole provinces, in 1818,
has been estimated at 1,300,000, exclusive of Indians.
But according to Mr Graham, one of the American
commissioners, the population of those provinces which
•Are represented in the congress is only about 489,000,
excluding Indians $ and adding the provinces of Upper
Peru, the population does not exceed one million.
The foreign trade is chiefly with Britain. According
to a parliamentary paper, the exports to Buenos Ayres
in 1818, were 730,808!. See Buenos Ayres and
South America, Suppeement.
PARALIPOMENA, in matters of literature, de¬
notes a supplement of things omitted in a preceding
work.
2
Plate
CCCCIV.-
[ 760 ] PAR
PARALEPSIS, See Oratory, N° 87. FaralepsU
PARALLACTIC, in general, something relating jj
to the parallax of heavenly bodies. See Parallax. Parallax.
PARALLAX, in Astronomy, is the difference be- 1 'f
tween the places of any celestial object, as seen from the
surface and from the centre of the earth at the same
instant. r
Let E in figure of parallax, represent the centre of Illustration,
the earth, O tiie place of an observer on its surface,
whose visible horizon is OH, and true horizonEF: Now
let ZDT be a portion of a great circle in the heavens,
and A the place of any object in the visible horizon 5
join EA, and produce it to C; then C is the true place
of the object, and H is its apparent place, and the angle
CAH is the parallax; or, because the object is in the
horizon, it is called the horizontal parallax. But OAE,
the angle which the earth’s radius subtends at the object,
is equal to CAH : Hence the horizontal parallax of an
object may be defined to be the angle which the earth’s
semidiameter subtends at that object. For the various
methods hitherto proposed to find the quantity of the
horizontal parallax of an object, see Astronomy.
The whole effect of parallax is in a vertical direction:
For the parallactic angle is in the plane passing through
the observer and the earth’s centre; which plane is ne¬
cessarily perpendicular to the horizon, the earth being
considered a sphere. / 2
The more elevated an object is above the horizon, the The parat
less is the parallax, its distance from the earth’s centreiax dtcrea-
continuing the same. When the object is in the zenith, ses with the
it has no parallax ; but when in the horizon, its paraLlax^
is greatest. The horizontal parallax being given, the from the
parallax at any given altitude may be found by the fol-zenith,
lowing rule. 3
To the logarithmic cosine of the given altitude, add the sine of
the log. sine of the horizontal parallax, the sum, reject-
ing 10 from the index, will be the log. sine of the pa-^ 5^ 0f
rallax in altitude. the hor.par.
Demonstration. Let B be the place of an object; pro-as theco-
duce OB, ED to F and D ; then the angle BOZ willsine oi aP'.
be the apparent altitude of the object, BEZ the true
altitude, and OBE the parallax in altitude. Now in the radius,
the triangle AOE.
R : sine OAE :: EA : EO.
And in the triangle OBE
BE (=EA : EO :: sine BOE : sine OBE.
Hence R : cosine BOA :: sine OAE : sine OBE.
As the two last terms are generally small quantities,
the arch may be substituted in place of its sine xvithout
any sensible error.
Example. Let the apparent altitude of the moon’s
centre be 390 25', and the moon’s horizontal parallax
56' 54". Required the parallax in altitude.
Moon’s apparent alt. 390 25' cosine 9.8879260
Moon’s horizontal par. 56' 54" sine 8.2188186
Moon’s par. in altitude 43' 57" sine 8.1067446
Or, to the secant of the moon’s apparent altitude,
add the proportional logarithms of the parallax in alti¬
tude.
As the apparent place of an object is nearer the hori¬
zon than its true place, the parallax is therefore to be
added to the apparent altitude, to obtain the true alti¬
tude. Hence also an object Avill appear to rise later
and set sooner.
The
P A K
inverse ra
tio of its
distance
from the
earth’s
centre.
.5
Parallax in¬
parallax. The sine of the parallax of an object is inversely as
u—v—“ its distance from the earth’s centre.
vre of VemonOration. Let A be the place of an object,
thi parallax am* H the place of the same object at another time, or
of an ob tllat of another object at the same instant 5 join EH,
ject in the then in the triangles AOE, HOE,
R : sine OAE:: AE: OE
sine OHE : R : : OE : EH
Hence sine OHE : sine OAE : : AE : EH.
The parallax ot an object makes it appear more di¬
stant from the meridian than it really is.
tin- Demonstration. The true and apparent places of an
creases the"?hJect are in tlie same vertical, the apparent place be-
appaient ing lower than the true ; and all verticals meet at the
distance of zenith : Hence the apparent place of an object is more
from'the1 <,istant from plane of the meridian than the true
meridian. ^a^* . .
Cy A he longitude, latitude, right ascension, and decli-
Parallax in nation of an object are aflected by a parallax. The dif-
l^kude e’ ^'rence betvveen true and apparent longitudes is cal-
riglnascen-led tlie Parallax in longitude; in like manner, the dif-
sion, and ference between the true and apparent latitudes, right
declination, ascensions, and declinations, are called the parallax in
latitude, right ascension, and declination, respectively.—-
When the object is in the nonagesimal, the parallax in
longitude is nothing, but that in latitude is greatest :
and when the object is in the meridian, the parallax in
right ascension vanishes, and that in declination is a
maximum. The apparent longitude is greater than the
true longitude, when the object is east of the nonagesi¬
mal, otherwise less ; and when the object is in the east¬
ern hemisphere, the apparent right ascension exceeds the
true, but is less than the true right ascension when the
object is in the western hemisphere. The apparent place
of an object is more distant from the elevated poles of
the ecliptic and equator than the true place : hence,
when the latitude of the place and elevated pole of the
ecliptic are of the same name, the apparent latitude is
less than the true latitude, otherwise greater 5 and the
apparent declination will be less or greater than the true
declination, according as the latitude of the place, and
declination of the object, are of the same or of a contra¬
ry denomination.
The parallaxes in longitude, latitude, right ascension,
and declination, in the spheroidal hypothesis, may be
found by the following formulae j in which L represents
the latitude of the place, diminished by the angle con¬
tained between the vertical and radius of the given place;
P the horizontal parallax for that place; a the altitude
of the nonagesimal at the given instant; d the apparent
distance of the object from the nonagesimal ; / A the true
and apparent latitudes of the object; D $ the true and
apparent declinations respectively ; and m its apparent
distance from the meridian.
Then par. in long, rr P sine a. sine d. secant /, to ra¬
dius unity; and par. in lat. ~ P. cosine a, cosine
A rpr p. cosine d. sine a. sine A.
The sign •— is used when the apparent distance of
the object from the nonagesimal and from the elevated
pole of the robotic are of the same affection, and the
sign -f- if of different affection. If the greatest precision
be required, the following quantity o.oooooi 21216.
par. long. % sine 2 l, is to be applied to the parallax in
latitude found as above, by addition or subtraction,
Vol. XV. Part II. f
t ?<Si ] PAH
according as the true distance of the object from the ele¬
vated pole of the ecliptic is greater or less than 90°.
Agiiin, par. in right ascen. rr P. cosine L, sine m.
secant L). to radius unity ; and par. in declination
= P. sine L. cosine 2 rrp P. cosine L. sine <1, co¬
sine m.
The upper or lower sign is to be used, according as
the distance of the object from the meridian and from
the elevated pole ot the equator are of the same or dif¬
ferent afiection. Part 2d ol par. in declination —
0.00000121216 par. in right ascen. *, sine 2 D, which
is additive to, or subtractive from, part first of parallax
in declination, according as the true distance of the ob¬
ject from the elevated pole ot the equator is greater or
Jess than 90°. I* or the moon’s parallax, see Astrono-
MY* There is also a curious paper in the first volume
of Asiatic Researches, p. 320, &c. on the same subject,
to which we refer our readers.
Parallax of the Earth's annual Orbit, is the dif¬
ference between the places of a planet as seen from the
sun and earth at the same instant. The difference be¬
tween the longitudes of the planets as seen from the
sun and earth is called the parallax in longitude; and
the difference between its latitude is the parallax in la¬
titude.
Parallax of the Fixed Stars. See Astronomy,
art. 268. which contains an account of the method used
by Dr Herschel, to ascertain the parallax of a star
which appears to be double, from observations made at
opposite points of the orbit of the earth. M. Piazzi,
the discoverer of the planet Ceres, has made many ob¬
servations of the zenith distances of * Lyrse, Arcturus,
Procyon, and Aquilge, &c. at those times when the ef¬
fects of parallax ought to be the greatest. His obser¬
vations are published in the loth volume of the Italian
Society. Let p be the absolute parallax, consequently,
sinep— ~. ft;—"T—? r~‘ ; J ^ien the pa-
distance ot the star from the earth
rallax of Arcturus in declination will be O.595 p, and
that in right ascension, 1.005p; hence, he observes,
that observations of the right ascension of this star are
preferable to those of the declination, for determining
the parallax of this star.
M. Calendrelli, in a work printed at Rome in 1806,
has given the result of his observations of the zenith di¬
stances of et Lyrae, made with the sector of Mess. Maire
and Boscovich. By comparing five observations in June,
with four in December 1805, and five in March with
the same number in June, he deduced the parallax of a
Lyrse in declination to be q."?, and that in.right ascen¬
sion -According to M. Piazzi, the parallax is
less than half of these quantities ; and, hence, the re¬
quired quantity not exceeding the unavoidable differ¬
ences attending observations, it appears difficult to de¬
termine it, so as to be free from doubt.
Mess. Delambre and Mechain have made many ob¬
servations of the pole star, and /2 Urste minoris, being
those stars which ought to have the greatest parallax in
declination, at the times most proper to discover their
parallax ; but from the comparison, which M. De¬
lambre made, of the zenith distances of these stars, he
discovered nothing that could give the least suspicion of
a parallax ; and the small anomalies which he observed
are often in a contrary direction. M. Delambre adds,
5 D that
Parallax.
PAR [
Parallax that these stars being of the second magnitude, may
li too far distant from us to have a parallax ; however, al-
Piranympli; though
this may be the case, yet it appears to him that
the fixed stars have no parallax.
The parallax of Venus affords the most correct me¬
thod, hitherto proposed, of finding the distance of the
earth from the sun ; and, hence the distances of the
other planets, and also their magnitudes. For this dis¬
covery we are indebted to the celebrated Dr Halley.
From observations of the transits of this planet, in 1761
and 1769, the parallax of the sun has been more accu¬
rately determined than previous thereto. The parallax
of Mars has also been employed for the same purpose.
Parallax, is also used to denote the change of
place in any object arising from viewing it obliquely
■with respect to another object. Thus the minute hand
of a watch is said to have a parallax when it is viewed
obliquely; and the difference between the instants
shown by it, when viewed directly and obliquely, is the
quantity of parallax in time.
PARALLEL, in Geometry, an appellation given to
lines, surfaces, and bodies, everywhere equidistant from
each other. See Geometry.
Parallel Sphere, that situation of the sphere where¬
in the equator coincides with the horizon, and the poles
with the zeinth and nadir.
Parallel Sailing. See Navigation, book i.
chap.iv.
Parallels of Latitude, in Astronomy, are lesser cir¬
cles of the sphere parallel to the ecliptic, imagined to
pass through every degree and minute of the col ares.
Parallels of Altitude, or Almucantars, are circles
parallel to the horizon, imagined to pass through every
degree and minute of the meridian between the horizon
and zenith, having their poles in the zenith.
Parallels of Declination, in Astronomy, are the
same with parallels of latitude in geography.
PARALLELOP1PED, in Geometry, a regular so¬
lid comprehended under six parallelograms, the opposite
ones whereof are similar, parallel, and equal to each
other.
PARALOGISM, in Logic, a false reasoning, or a
fault committed in demonstration, when a consequence
is drawn from principles that are false, or, though true,
are not proved $ or when a proposition is passed over
that should have been proved by the way.
PARALYSIS, the Palsy. See Medicine Index.
PARAMARIBO, the capital of the former Dutch
settlement of Surinam, situated about 18 miles from the
mouth of a river of the same name. See Surinam.
PARAMOUNT, (compounded of two French
words, par, i. e. per, and monter, ascendere'), signifies
in our law the “ highest lord of the fee, of lands, tene¬
ments, and hereditaments.” As there may be a lord
mesne where lands are held of an inferior lord, who
holds them of a superior under certain services 5 so this
Superior lord is lord paramount. Also the king is the
chief lord, or \orA paramount, of all the lands in the
kingdom. Co. Lit. 1.
PARANYMPH, among the ancients, the person
who waited on the bridegroom, and directed the nuptial
solemnities j called also pronubus and auspex, because
the ceremonies began by taking anspicia. As the para-
nymph officiated only on the part of the bridegroom,
2 ] PAR'
a woman called pronuba officiated on the part of the ParanympH
bride. ||
PARAPET, in Fortification, an elevation of earth Parasite,
designed for covering the soldiers from the enemy’s
cannon or small shot. See Fortification.
PARAPHERNALIA, or Parapherna, in the
civil law, those goods which a wife brings her husband
besides her dower, and which are still to remain at hex-
disposal exclusive of her husband, unless there is some
provision made to the contrary in the marriage contract.
Some of our English civilians define the paraphernalia to
be such goods as a wife challengeth over and above her
dower or jointure, after her husband’s deatli} as furni¬
ture for her chamber, wearing apparel, and jewels,
which are not to be put into the inventory of her hus¬
band’s goods j and a French civilian calls paraphernalia
the moveables, linen, and other female necessaries, which
are adjudged to a wife in px-ejudice of the creditors,
when she renounces the succession of her husband.
PARAPHIMOSIS, a disorder of the penis, where¬
in the prepuce is shrunk, and withdiawn behind the
glans, so as not to be capable of being brought to cover
the same j which generally happens in venereal disor¬
ders. See Surgery.
PARAPHRASE, an explanation of some text in
cleai'er and more ample terms, whereby is supplied what
the author might have said or thought on the subject.
Such are esteemed Erasmus’s Paraphrase on the New
Testament, the Chaldee Paraphrase on the Pentateuch,
&c.
PARAPHRENITIS, an inflammation of the dia¬
phragm. See Diaphragm, Medicine Index.
PARAPHROSYNE, a word used by medical writ¬
ers to denote a delirium, or an alienation of mind in fe¬
vers, or from whatever other cause.
PARAPLEGIA, a species of palsy. See Medicine.
Index.
PARASANG, an ancient Persian measure, different
at different times, and in different places j being usually
30, sometimes 40, and sometimes 50 stadia or furlongs.
—The word, according to Littleton, has its rise from
parasch angarius, q. d. the. space a postman rides from
one station, angaria, to another.
PARASCENIUM, in the Grecian and Roman
theatres, was a place behind the scenes whither the
actors withdrew to dress and undress themselves. The
Romans more frequently called it Postscenium. See
Theatre.
PARASELENE, in Natural Philosophy, a mock
moon; a meteor or phenomenon encompassing or adja¬
cent to the moon, in form of a luminous ringj wherein
are observed sometimes one and sometimes two or more
images of the moon.
PARASEMON, among the Greeks, was the figure
carved on the prow of the ships to distinguish them from
each other. This figure was generally that of a bull,
lion, or other animal; sometimes the repi-esentation of
a mountain, tree, flower, &c.
PARAS FTE, among the Greeks, was originally a?
very reputable title; the parasites being a kind of priests,
at least ministers, of the gods, in the same manner, as
the epulones were at Rome. They took care of the sa-
cred corn, or the corn destined for the service of the
temples and the gods, viz. sacrifices, feasts, &c. They
bad
v a n
f 753 1 PAR
Parasite had even tire xntendance over sacrifices ; and took care
!| that they were duly performed. At Athens there was
.Parchment.a 0f college of twelve parasites ; each people of
Attica furnishing one, tvho was always chosen out of
the best families. Polybius adds, that a parasite was
also an honourable title among the ancient Gauls, and
was given to their poets. But of late it has been made
a term of reproach, and used for a flatterer or mean de¬
pendent.
PARASITES, or Parasitical Plants, in Botany,
such plants as are produced out of the trunk or branches
of other plants, from whence they receive their nourish¬
ment, and will not grow on the ground. Such are the
misletoe, &c.
PARASTATVE, in Anatomy. See Prostate.
PARATALASS1A. See Primorie.
PARBUNCLE, in a ship, the name of a rope al¬
most like a pair of slings : it is seized both ends toge¬
ther, and then put almost double about any heavy
thing that is to be hoisted in or out of the ship; hav¬
ing the hook of the runner hitched into it, to hoist it
up by.
PARC/E, in heathen mythology, goddesses who were
supposed to preside over the accidents and events, and to
determine the date or period, of human life.
The Parcte were three, Clotho, Lachesis, and Atro-
pos j because, forsooth, all things have their beginning,
progress, and end. Hence the poets tell us, the Parcse
spun the thread of men’s lives 5 that Clotho held the di¬
staff, and drew the thread; Lachesis twirled the spindle,
and spun it; and Atropos cut it. Clotho colum retinet,
Lachesis net, Atropos sccat.
The ancients represent the Parcse divers ways : Lu¬
cian, in the shape of three poor old women, having large
locks of wool, mixed with daffodils on their heads ; one
of which holds a distaff, the other a wheel, and the third
a pair of scissars, wherewith to cut the thread of life.
Others represent them otherwise: Clotho appearing in a
long robe of divers colours, wearing a crown upon her
head adorned with seven stars, and holding a distaft' in
her hand ; Lachesis in a robe beset with stars, with se¬
veral spindles in her hand ; and Atropos, clad in black,
cutting the thread with a pair of large scissars.
The ancients imagined that the Parcae used white
wool for a long and happy life, and black for a short and
unfortunate one. See Necessity, in Mythology.
PARCHMENT, the skins of sheep or goats prepa¬
red after such a manner as to render it proper for writing
upon, covering books, &c.
The word comes from the Latin pergamena, the an¬
cient name of this manufacture ; which is said to have
been taken from the city Pergamos, to Eumenes king
whereof its invention is usually ascribed; though, in rea¬
lity, that prince appears rather to have been the impro¬
ver than the inventor of parchment. For the Persians
of old, according to Diodorus, wrote all their records
on skins ; and the ancient lonians, as we are told by
Herodotus, made use of sheep skins and goat skins in
writing, many ages before Eumenes’s time. Nor need
we doubt that such skins were prepared and dressed for
that purpose, after a manner not unlike that of our parch¬
ment; though probably not so artificially.——The manu¬
facture of parchment is begun by the skinner, and fi¬
nished by the parchment maker.
The skin having been stripped of its wool, and placed
in the lime pit, in the manner described under the arti- parchment
cle Shammy, the skinner stretches it on a kind of frame,
and paresoff the flesh with an iron instrument; this done, 1>anl°n-
it is moistened with a rag; and powdered chalk being v
spread over it, the skinner takes a large pumice stone,
flat at bottom, and rubs over the skin, and thus scours
off the flesh; he then goes over it again with an iron in¬
strument, moistens it as before, and rubs it again with
the pumice stone without any chalk underneath : this
smooths and softens the flesh side very considerably. He
then drains it again, by passing over it the iron instru¬
ment as before, llic flesh side being thus drained, by
scraping oft the moisture, he in the same manner passes
the iron over the wool or hair side : then stretches it on
a frame, and scrapes the flesh side again : this finishes
its draining; and the more it is drained the whiter it
becomes. The skinner now throws 011 more chalk,
sweeping it over with a piece of lamb skin that has the
M'ool on ; and this smooths it still farther. It is now-
left to dry, and when dried, taken off the frame by cut¬
ting it all round. 1 he skin thus far prepared by the
skinner, is taken out of his hands by the parchment ma¬
ker, who first, while it is dry, pares it on a summer,
(which is a calf skin stretched in a frame), with a sharp¬
er instrument than that used by the skinner; and work¬
ing with the arm from the top to the bottom of the
skin, takes away about one half of its thickness. The
skin thus equally pared on the flesh side, is again render¬
ed smooth, by being rubbed with the pumice stone, on
a bench covered with a sack stuffed with flocks; which
leaves the parchment in a condition fit for writing up¬
on. The parings thus taken off the leather, are used in
making glue, size, &c. See the article Glue, &c. '
What is called vellum is only parchment made of the
skins of abortives, or at least sucking calves. This has
a much finer grain, and is whiter and smoother than
parchment; but is prepared in the same manner, except,
its not being passed through the lime pit.
PARDALIS. See Felis, Mammalia Index.
BARDIES, Ignatius Gaston, an ingenious and
learned French Jesuit, born at Paris in 1636. He taught
polite literature for several years; during which time he
composed several small pieces, both in prose and verse,
with peculiar delicacy of thought and style. At length
he devoted himself entirely to mathematics and natural,
philosophy, and read all authors, ancient as well as mo¬
dern, in those branches of knowledge. He died in 1673,
of an infectious disorder contracted by confessing and
preaching to the prisoners in the Bicetre during the
Easter holidays. Father Pardiespublishedseveral works ;
of which his Elements of Geometry are well known in
this country, where a translation of them has gone
through several editions. In 1672 he had a dispute with
Sir Isaac Newton respecting the Theory of Light and
Colours; which may be seen in the Philosophical Trans¬
actions for that year.
PARDON, in CriminalLaw, is the remitting or for¬
giving an offence committed against the king.
Law (says an able writer) cannot be framed on prin- Beccaria on
ciples of compassion to guilt; yet justice, by the comti-Crimes and
tution of England, is bound to be administered in ,aer*^^'
cy : this is promised by the king in his coronation oath;
and it is that act of his government which is the most,
personal and most entirely his own. The king con¬
demns no man; that rugged task he leaves to his courts
5 D 2 "‘"Jy of
\ /
PAR [ 7^4 3 PAR
Pardon, of justice ; the great operation of his sceptre is mercy.
jjjg power of pardoning was said by our Saxon ancestors
to be derived a fege slice dignitatis : and it is declared in
parliament, by stat. 27 Hen. VITI. c. 24. that no other
person hath power ^o pardon or remit any treason or fe¬
lonies whatsoever j but that the king hath the whole
and sole power thereof, united and knit to the imperial
crown of this realm.
This is indeed one of the greatest advantages of mo¬
narchy in general above any other form of government,
that there is a magistrate who has it in his power to ex¬
tend mercy wherever he thinks it is deserved *, holding
a court of equity in his own breast, to soften the rigour
of the general law, in such criminal cases as merit an
exemption from punishment. Pardons (according to
some theorists) should be excluded in a perfect legisla¬
tion, where punishments are mild, but certain ; for that
the clemency of the prince seems a tacit disapprobation
of the laws. But the exclusion of pardons must necessa¬
rily introduce a very dangerous power in the judge or
jury ; that of construing the criminal law by the spirit
instead of the letter 5 or else it must be holden, what no
man will seriously avow, that the situation and circum¬
stances of the offender (though they alter not the essence
of the crime) ought to make no distinction in the punish¬
ment. In democracies, however, this power of pardon
can never subsist $ for there nothing higher is acknow¬
ledged than the magistrate who administers the laws :
and it would be impolitic for the power of judging and
of pardoning to centre in one and the same person. This
(as the president Montesquieu observes) would oblige
him very often to contradict himself, to make and to
unmake his decisions: it would tend to confound all
ideas of right among the mass of people •, as they would
find it difficult to tell, whether a prisoner were dischar¬
ged by his innocence, or obtained a pardon through fa¬
vour. In Holland, therefore, if there be no stadtholder,
there is no power of pardoning lodged in any other
member of the state. But in monarchies the king acts
jp a superior sphere ; and though he regulates the whole
government as the first mover, yet he does not appear
in any of the disagreeable or invidious parts of it. When¬
ever the nation see him personally engaged, it is only
in works of legislature, munificence, or compassion.
To him therefore the people look up as the fountain of
nothing but bounty and grace j, and these repeated acts
of goodness, coming immediately from his own hand,
endear the sovereign to his subjects, and contribute more
than any thing to root in their hearts that filial affection
and personal loyalty which are the sure establishment
of a prince.
The king may pardon all offences merely against the
crown or the public 5 excepting, 1. That, to preserve
the liberty of the subject, the committing any man to
prison out of the realm, is, by the habeas corpus act,
31 Car II. c. 2. made a praemunire, unpardonable even
by the king. Nor, 2. can the king pardon, where pri¬
vate justice is principally concerned in the prosecution of
offenders : Now potest rexgratiam, facere cum injuria et
damno dliorum. Therefore, in appeals of all kinds
(which are the suit, not of the king, but of the party
injured), the prosecutor may release; but the king can¬
not pardon. Neither can he pardon a common nuisance,
while it remains unredressed, or so as to prevent an a-
batement of it; though afterwards he may remit the T&rctm
fine : because though the prosecution is vested in the y—"
king to avoid the multiplicity of suits, yet (during its
continuance) this offence savours more of the nature of
a private injury to each individual in the neighbourhood,
than of a public wrong. Neither, lastly, can the king
pardon an offence against a popular or penal statute, af¬
ter information brought: for thereby the informer hath
acquired a private property in his part of the penalty.
There is also a restriction of a peculiar nature, that
affects the prerogative of pardoning, in case of parlia¬
mentary impeachments, viz. that the king’s pardon can¬
not be pleaded to any such impeachment, so as to im¬
pede the inquiry, and stop the prosecution of great and
notorious offenders. Therefore, when in the reign of
Charles II. the earl of Danby was impeached by the
house of commons of high treason and other misdemean¬
ors, and pleaded the king’s pardon in bar of the same,
the commons alleged, “ That there was no precedent
that ever any pardon was granted to any person im¬
peached by the commons of high treason, or other high
crimes, depending the impeachmentand thereupon
resolved, “ That the pardon so pleaded was illegal and
void, and ought not to be allowed in bar of the im¬
peachment of the commons of England for which re¬
solution they assigned this reason to the house of lords,
“ That the setting up a pardon to be a bar of an im¬
peachment defeats the whole use and effect of impeach¬
ments : for should this point be admitted, or stand
doubted, it would totally discourage the exhibiting any
for the future ; whereby the chief institution for the pre¬
servation of the government would be destroyed.” Soon
after the Revolution, the commons renewed the same
claim, and voted, “ That a pardon is not pleadable in
bar of an impeachment.” And at length, it was enact¬
ed by the act of settlement, 12 and 13 W\ III. c. 2.
“ That no pardon under the great seal of England shall
be pleadable to an impeachment by the commons in par¬
liament.” But, after the impeachment has been solemn¬
ly heard and determined, it is not understood that the
king’s royal grace is farther restrained or abridged: for,
after the impeachment and attainder of the six rebel
lords in I7I5» three of them were from time to time re¬
prieved by the crown; and at length received the be¬
nefit oi the king’s most gracious pardon.
The eftect of such pardon by the king, is to make
the offender a new man ; to acqpit him of all corporal
penalties and forfeitures annexed to that offence for
which he obtains his pardon; and not so much to restore
his former, as to give him a new credit and capacity.
But nothing can restore or purify the blood when once
corrupted, if the pardon he not allowed till after attain¬
der, but the high and transcendent power ol parlia¬
ment. Yet if a person, attainted receive the king’s par¬
don, and afterwards hath a son, that son may be heir to
his father ; because the father being made a new man,
might transmit new inheritable blood ; though, had he
been born before the pardon, he could never have inhe¬
rited at all.
Such is the nature of pardons in this kingdom.
These, like other good things, may doubtless be abu¬
sed; and if they are in any instance, their abuse deserves
censure : but that in their nature they should be counted
absurd, arbitrary, and destructive of morality, can, we
suspect,
Pardon.
Godwin's
Inquiry
concerning
Political
Justice.
i
PAR [7
suspect, proceed from nothing but from the presumptive
petulance of modern reformers, or from the new system
of civil equality.
We are told, however, by a late champion for the
Rights of Man, that “ the very word to a reflecting
mind is fraught with absurdity. ‘ What is the rule that
ought in all cases to prescribe to my conduct ?’ Surely
justice : understanding by justice the greatest utility of
the whole mass of things that may be influenced by my
conduct. * What then is clemency ?’ It can be nothing
but the pitiable egotism of him who imagines he can do
something better than justice. ‘ Is it right that I should
suffer constraint for a certain offence ?’ The rectitude of
my suffering must be founded in its tendency to promote
the general welfare. He therefore that pardons me, ini-
quitously prefers the imaginary interest of an individual,
and utterly neglects what he owes to the whole. He
bestows that which I ought not to receive, and which
he has no right to give. ‘ Is it right, on the contrary,
that I should not undergo the suffering in question ?
Will he, by rescuing me from suffering, do a benefit to
me, and no injury to others?’ He will then be a noto¬
rious delinquent, if he allow me to suffer. There is in¬
deed a considerable defect in this last supposition. If,
while he benefits me, he do no injury to others, he is
infallibly performing a public service. If I suffered in
the arbitrary manner which the supposition includes, the
whole would sustain an unquestionable injury in the in¬
justice that was perpetrated. And yet the man who pre¬
vents this odious injustice, has been accustomed to arro¬
gate to himself the attribute of clement, and the appa¬
rently sublime, but in reality tyrannical, name of for¬
giveness. For, if he do more than has been here de¬
scribed, instead of glory he ought to take shame to him¬
self, as an enemy to the interest of human kind. If
every action, and especially every action in which the
happiness of a rational being is concerned, be susceptible
of a certain rule, then caprice must be in all cases ex¬
cluded : there can be no action, which, if I neglect, I
shall have discharged my duty j and, if I perform, I
shall be entitled to applause.’'’
Such is the reasoning of this singular writer ; rea¬
soning which, in our opinion, betrays want of feeling or
ignorance of human nature. That human nature is sueh,
as, in the aggregate, to need controul, no one who is
acquainted with it will deny j and there appears to be
no other method of controuling mankind but by general
laws} and these laws may, thi’ough the natural imper¬
fection of human affairs, be cruel in one case, where
they are just in another. Cases may likewise occur
where the sentence of the law, without its execution,
will answer every purpose which could be expected from
it: and where the execution of it would be extreme
cruelty, though it might in strict unfeeling language be
called justice, because in conformity with the letter of
the law : Yet though such cases may and do often oc¬
cur, it would indeed be absurd to abolish any of those
laws which the security of civil society has required }
and therefore the only natural remedy against legal in¬
justice is the system of pardons.
Our author next goes on to trace the origin of par¬
dons \ and instead of a definite system of law, we are
told that it is necessary to have a court of reason, to
which the decisions of a court of law shall be brought
for revisal: a remedy apparently too vague and indeter-
65 ] PAR
minate to produce any lasting or good effect; and the
proposal of which results from supposing mankind more
virtuous and more knowing than they really are. We
are next led to consider the abuses of pardons : from
whence our author would draw an argument for their
abolition j a species of reasoning unfair and unphiloso-
phical. He tells us, that the authority in this case is pla¬
ced first in the judge, and next in the king and council.
“ Now (says he), laying aside the propriety or impro¬
priety of this particular selection, there is one grievous
abuse which ought to strike the most superficial obser¬
ver. These persons with whom the principal trust is re¬
posed, consider their functions in this respect as a mat¬
ter purely incidental, exercise them with supineness,
and in many instances with the most scanty materials
to guide their judgment. This grows in a considerable
degree out of the very name of pardon, which implies a
work of supererogatory benevolence.”
Now it is obvious to remark, that pardons are in ge
neral granted in consequence of an application from peo¬
ple who have more than scanty materials to guide their
judgments, and on whose fidelity in relating the circum¬
stances of the case, confidence is placed or not accord¬
ing to their several characters. Our author next pro¬
ceeds to the arbitrary character of pardons. “ Such a
system (he says), to speak it truly, is a lottery of death,
in which each man draws his ticket for reprieve or
execution, as undefinable accidents shall decide.” The
allusion here to a lottery ticket is peculiarly unfortunate
and indelicate, nor does the whole sentence show any
great degree of candour. It is possible to define a par¬
ticular crime, and to annex a particular punishment to
the commission of it} but the nature of morality consists
not in the external action, but in the motives which
prompted to it. Definite law cannot,, however, always
make this distinction j and after the sentence of the law
is pronounced, it comes to be considered whether there
are any alleviating circumstances in the case 5 and
whether there are or not, must depend on the parti¬
culars or accidents of the case : and it is indeed im¬
possible to suppose that these accidents could be pre¬
viously defined; their nature does not admit of it.
To particularize and define every mode of an action
which imagination can conceive, or which experience
has shown us may happen, would indeed be an Hercu¬
lean labour j and we might literally say with the apostle,
that the world could not contain the hooks that might be
written. We are, however, told, that “ reason is a
thousand times more explicit and intelligible than law 5
and when we are accustomed to consult her, the cer¬
tainty of her decisions would be such, as men practised
in our present courts are totally unable to conceive.”
Were reason, however, appointed to be appealed to in
all cases, and to be the final criterion, it would leave
far greater room for villany than any mode at present in
practice. Reason is a very uncertain and indefinite term,
and may be made any thing, according to the circum¬
stances or passions of men. Our reforming neighbours
the French have raised a statue to reason and to truth ;
but what claim they have to either, Mr Godwin must
himself decide.
We are next told that pardons are destructive to mo¬
rality. “ Another very important consequence (says our
author) grows out of the system of pardons. A system
of pardons is a system of unmitigated slavery. I am
taught
PAR [ 766 ] * PAR
to expect a certain desirable event j from what P
From the clemency, the uncontrouled, unmerited kind¬
ness of a fellow mortal. Can any lesson be more dc-
grading ? The pusillanimous servility of the man, who
devotes himself with everlasting obsequiousness to an¬
other, because that other having begun to be unjust, re¬
lents in his career ; the ardour with which he confesses
the rectitude of his sentence and the enormity of his de¬
serts, will constitute a tale that future ages will find it
difficult to understand. What are the sentiments in this
respect that are alone worthy of a rational being ? Give
me that, and that only, which w-ithout injustice you can¬
not refuse. More than justice it would be disgraceful
for me to ask, and for you to bestow. I stand upon the
foundation of right. This is a title which brute force
mav refuse to acknowledge, but which all the force in
the world cannot annihilate. By resisting this plea you
may prove yourself unjust, but in yielding to it you
grant me but my due. If, all things considered, I be
‘'the fit subject of a benefit, the benefit is merited : merit
in any other sense is contradictory and absurd. If you
bestow upon me unmerited advantage, you are a recreant
from the general good. I may be base enough to thank
you *, but if I were virtuous, I should condemn you.
These sentiments alone are consistent with true indepen¬
dence of mind. He that is accustomed to i*egard virtue
as an affair of favour and grace, cannot be eminently
virtuous. If he occasionally perform an action of appa¬
rent kindness, he will applaud the generosity of his sen¬
timents j and if he abstain, he will acquit himself with
the question, ‘ May I not do what I will with my own ?’
In the same manner, when he is treated benevolently
by another, he will in the first place he unwilling to ex¬
amine strictly into the reasonableness of this treatment,
because benevolence, as he imagines, is not subject to
any inflexibility of rule •, and, in the second place, he
will not regard his benefactor with that erect and unem¬
barrassed mien, that complete sense of equality, which
is the only immoveable basis of virtue and happiness.”
Such is Mr Godwin’s conclusion on this subject j and
we leave it with our readers to determine, whether his
system or that which we at present enjoy would be the
more rigorous or unjust; or whether mankind have in¬
deed arrived at that eminent pitch of virtue, as to dis¬
dain every favour which they do not absolutely merit.
The Christian religion speaks a very different language.
PAREGORICS, in Pharmacy, medicines that as¬
suage pain, otherwise called Anodynes.
P AREIRA FLA VA, in the Materia Medico, a kind of ob-
1 on g and large root brough t from the Brasils.—It is cert ain-
ly adiureticof no mean character, and is said to have done
great service in nephritic cases, pleurisies, and quinsies.
PARELCON, in Grammar, a figure by which a
word or syllable is added to the end of another.
PAREMBOLE, in Rhetoric, a figure wherein some¬
thing relating to the subject is inserted in the middle of
a period. All the diflerencebetween the parembole and pa¬
renthesis, according to Vossius, is, that the former relates
to the subject in hand, whereas the latter is foreign to it.
PARENCHYMA, in Anatomy, a term introduced
by Erasistratus, signifying all that substance which is
contained in the interstices betwixt the blood vessels of
the viscera, which he imagined to be extravasated and
concreted blood.
Parenchyma of Plants. Grew applies tbe term
4
parenchyma to the pith or pulp, or that inner part of a Parendiy.
fruit or plant through which the juice is supposed to be ma,
distributed. See Plants. , PaL'ent-
PARENT, a term of relation applicable to those
from whom we immediately derive our being. See Mo¬
ral Philosophy, N° 129. and 137.
To this ai-tiele belongs an inquiry into, 1. The legal
duties of parents to their legitimate children. 2. Their
power over them.
I. The duties of parents to legitimate children consist
in three particulars j their maintenance, their protec¬
tion, and their education.
1. The duty of parents to provide for the maintenance Blackst.
of their children, is a principle of natural law } an obli-
gation, says Puff’endorff, laid on them not only by na¬
ture herself, but by their own proper act, in bringing
them into the world; for they would be in the highest
manner injurious to their issue, if they only gave their
children life, that they might afterwards see them pe¬
rish. By begetting them, therefore, they have entered
into a voluntary obligation, to endeavour, as far as in
them lies, that the life which they have bestowed shall
be supported and preserved. And thus the children will
have a perfect right of receiving maintenance from their
parents. And the president Montesquieu has a very just
observation upon this head, that the establishment of
marriage, in all civilized states, is built on this natural
obligation of the father to provide for his children •, for
that ascertains and makes known the person who is
bound to fulfil this obligation; whereas, in promiscuous
and illicit conjunctions, the father is unknown ; and the
mother finds a thousand obstacles in her way ; shame,
remorse, the constraint of her sex, and the rigour oi
laws, that stifle her inclinations to perform this duty 5
and besides, she generally wants ability.
The municipal laws of all well regulated states have
taken care to enforce this duty : though Providence has
done it more effectually than any laws, by implanting
in the breast of every parent that natural s-ogy», or in¬
superable degree of affection, which not even the defor¬
mity of person or mind, not even the wickedness, ingra¬
titude, and rebellion ol children, can totally suppress or
extinguish.
The civil law obliges the parent to provide main¬
tenance for his child ; and if he refuse, judex de ea re
cognoscet. Nay, it carries this matter so far, that it
will not suffer a parent at his death totally to disinhe¬
rit his child, without expressly giving his reason for so
doing j and there are 14 such reasons reckoned up,
which may justify such disinherison. If the parent
alleged no reason, or a bad, or a false one, the child
might set the will aside, tanquam testamentuminofficio-
sum, a testament contrary to the natural duty of the
parent. And it is remarkable under what colour the
children were to move for relief in such a case 5 by sug¬
gesting, that the parent had lost the use ot his reason
when he made the tnojficious testament. And this, as
Buffendorff observes, was not to bring into dispute the
testator’s power of disinheriting his own offspring; but
to examine the motives upon which he did it; and il
they were found defective in reason, then to set them
aside. But perhaps this is going rather too far ; every
man has, or ought to have, by the laws of society, a
power over his own property : and as Grotius very
well distinguishes, natural right obliges to give a ne¬
cessary
PAR [ 667 ] PA R
Parent.
cessary maintenance to children j but what is more than
that, they have no right to, than as it is given by the
favour of their parents, or the positive constitutions of
the municipal law.
Let us next see what provision our own law's have
made for this natural duty. It is a principle of law,
that there is an obligation on every man to provide for
those descended from his loins ; and the manner in
which this obligation shall he performed, is thus point¬
ed out. The father and mother, grandfather and
grandmother, of poor impotent persons, shall maintain
them at their own charges, if of sufficient ability, ac¬
cording as the quarter sessions shall direct *, and, if a
parent runs away, and leaves his children, the church
wardens and overseers of the parish shall seize his rents,
goods, and chattels, and dispose of them towards their
relief. By the interpretations which the courts of law
have made upon these statutes, if a mother or grand¬
mother marries again, and was before such second mar¬
riage of sufficient ability to keep the child, the hus¬
band shall be charged to maintain it j for this being
a debt of her’s, when single, shall, like others, extend
to charge the husband. But, at her death, the relation
being dissolved, the husband is under no farther obliga¬
tion.
No person is bound to provide a maintenance for his
issue, unless where the children are impotent and unable
to work, either through infancy, disease, or accident 5
and then is only obliged to find them with necessaries,
the penalty on refusal being no more than 20s. a month.
For the policy of our laws, which are ever watchful to
promote industry, did not mean to compel a father to
maintain his idle and lazy children in ease and indo¬
lence-, but thought it unjust to oblige the parent, against
his will, to provide them with superfluities, and other
indulgencies of fortune } imagining they might trust to
the impulse of nature, if the children were deserving of
such favours. Yet, as nothing is so apt to stifle the
calls of nature as religious bigotry, it is enacted, that
if any Popish parent shall refuse to allow his Protestant
child a fitting maintenance, with a view to compel him.
to change his religion, the lord chancellor shall by order
of court constrain him to do what is just and reasonable.
But this did not extend to persons of another religion,
of no less bitterness and bigotry than the Popish : and
therefore, in the very next year, we find an instance
of a Jew of immense riches, whose only daughter ha¬
ving embraced Christianity, he turned her out of doors ;
and on her application for relief, it was held she was-
entitled to none. But this gave occasion to another-
statute, which ordains, that if Jewish parents refuse to
allow their Protestant children a fitting maintenance,
suitable to the fortune of the parent, the lord chancellor,
on complaint, may make such order therein as he shall
see proper.
Our law has made no provision to. prevent the disin¬
heriting of children by will j leaving every man’s pro¬
perty in his own disposal, upon a principle of liberty in
this as well as every other action ; though perhaps
it had not been amiss if the parent had been bound
to leave them at the least a necessary subsistence. In¬
deed, among persons of any rank or fortune, a compe¬
tence is generally provided for younger children, and
the bulk of the estate settled upon the eldest by the
marriage articles. Heirs also, and children, are fa¬
vourites of our courts of justice, and cannot be disinhe¬
rited by any dubious or ambiguous words ; there being-
required the utmost certainty of the testator’s intentions
to take away the right of an heir.
2. From the duty of maintenance we may easily
pass to that of protection ; which is also a natural du¬
ty, but rather permitted than enjoined by any muni¬
cipal laws j nature, in this respect, working so strong¬
ly as to need rather a check than a spur. A parent
may, by our laws, maintain and uphold his children
in their law-suits, without being guilty of the legal
crime of maintaining quarrels. A parent may also ju¬
stify an assault and battery in defence of the persons of
his children} nay, where a man’s son was beaten by
another boy, and the father went near a. mile to find
him, and there revenged his son’s quarrel by beating
the other hoy, of which beating he afterwards unfor¬
tunately died ; it was not held to be murder, but man¬
slaughter merely. Such indulgence does the law show
to the frailty of human nature, and the workings of pa¬
rental aflection.
3. The last duty of parents to their children is that
of giving them an education suitable to their station in
life : a duty pointed out by reason and of far the
greatest importance of any. For, as PufTendorff very
well observes, it is not easy to imagine or allow, that
a parent has conferred any considerable benefit upon
his child by briuging him into the world, if he af¬
terwards entirely neglects his culture and education,
and sufters him to grow up like a mere beast, to lead a
life useless to others, and shameful to himself. Yet the
municipal laws of most countries seem to he defective
in this point, by not constraining the parent to bestow-
a proper education upon Iris children. Perhaps they
thought it punishment enough to leave the parent who
neglects the instruction of his family, to labour under
those griefs and inconveniences which his family, so
uninstructed, will he sure to bring upon him. Our
laws, though their defects in this particular cannot be
denied, have in one instance made a wise provision for
breeding up the rising generation: since the poor and
laborious part of the community, when past the age of
nurture, are taken out of the hands of their parents,,
by the statutes for apprenticing poor children j and
are placed out by the public in such a manner as may
render their abilities, in their several stations, of the
greatest advantage to the commonwealth. The rich
indeed are left at their own option, whether they will
breed up their children to be ornaments or disgraces
to their family. Yet in one ease, that of religion, they
are under peculiar restrictions ; for it is provided that
if any person sends any child under his government be¬
yond the seas, either to prevent its good education in
England, or in order to enter into, or reside in, any
Popish college, or t» be instructed, persuaded, or
strengthened in the Popish religion j in such case, be¬
sides the disabilities incurred by the child so sent, the
parent or person sending shall forfeit look which shall
go to the sole use and benefit of him that shall discover
the offence. And if any parent, or other, shall send
or convey any person beyond sea, to enter into or be
resident in, or trained up in, any priory, abbey, nun¬
nery, Popish university, college or school, or house of
Jesuits or priests, or in any private Popish family, in
order to be instructed, persuaded or confirmed, in the,
Popish
Parent;
PAR [768] PAR
Popish religion 5 or shall contribute any thing towards
their maintenance when abroad by any pretext what¬
ever, the person both sending and sent shall be disabled
to sue in law or equity, or to be executor or administra¬
tor to any person, or to enjoy any legacy or deed of
gift, or to bear any office in the realm, and shall for¬
feit all his goods and chattels, and likewise all his real
estate for life. See Nonconformists.
II. The power of parents over their children is de¬
rived from the former consideration, their duty; this
authority being given them, partly to enable the pa¬
rent more effectually to perform his duty, and partly
as a recompense for his care and trouble in the faith¬
ful discharge of it. And upon this score the munici¬
pal laws of some nations have given a much larger au¬
thority to the parents than others. The ancient Ro¬
man laws gave the father a power of life and death
•over his children j upon this principle, that he who gave
had also the power of taking away. But the rigour of
these laws was softened by subsequent constitutions :
so that we find a father banished by the emperor Ha¬
drian for killing his son, though he had committed a
very heinous crime; upon this maxim, that patris po-
testas in pietate debet, non in atrocitate, consistere. But
still they maintained to the last a very large and abso¬
lute authority : for a son could not acquire ariy proper¬
ty of his own during the life of his father j but all his
acquisitions belonged to the father, or at least the profits
of them for his life.
The power of a parent by the English law is much
more moderate ; but still sufficient to keep the child in
order and obedience. He may lawfully correct his
child, being under age, in a reasonable manner: for
this is for the benefit of his education. The consent
or concurrence ef the parent to the marriage of his
child under age, was also directed by our ancient law
to be obtained : but now it is absolutely necessary •, for
without it the contract is void. And this also is an¬
other means which the law has put into the parent’s
hands, in order the better to discharge his duty 5 first,
of protecting his children from the snares of artful and
designing persons 5 and next of settling them properly
in life, bv preventing the ill consequences of too early
and precipitate marriages. A father has no other
power over his son’s estate, than as his trustee or guar¬
dian : for though he may receive the profits during
the child’s minority, yet he must account for them
when he comes of age. He may indeed have the be¬
nefit of his children’s labour while they live with him
and are maintained by him *, but this is no more than
he is entitled to from his apprentices or servants. The
legal power of a father (for a mother, as such, is en¬
titled to no power, but only to reverence and respect),
the power of a father, we say, over the persons of his
children ceases at the age of 21 j for they are then en¬
franchised by arriving- at years of discretion, or that
point which the law has established (as some must
necessarily be established) when the empire of the fa¬
ther, or other guardian, gives place to the empire of
reason. Yet, till that age arrives, this empire of the
father continues even after his death •, for he may by
his will appoint a guardian to his children. He may
also delegate part of his parental authority, during his
life, to the tutor or schoolmaster of his child 5 who is
then in loco parentis, and has such a portion of the
3
power of the parent committed to his charge, viz. that
of restraint and correction, as may be necessary to an¬
swer the purposes for which he is employed.
In the Gentleman’s Magazine for 1750, we have the
following case of conscience. “ A person has his own
parents and his own children living, both parties equally
indigent, both equally incapable of assisting themselves,
and both equally earnest in calling upon him for relief.
Things are so circumstanced that he can possibly assist
but one party, and not both. Query, Which party has
the greatest claim to his assistance, and to which is he
obliged, by all ties human and divine, to give the pre¬
ference ?” One solves this difficulty, by informing us
of a pretty print done at Rome, representing a young
woman suckling her aged father, on which the follow¬
ing lines are quoted.
My child and father vital nurture crave,
Parental, filial, fondness both would save,
But if a nursling only one can live,
1 choose to save the life I cannot-give.
Here Ave find the preference given to the parent
and another correspondent gives the same decision in
these words. “ The obligations arising from nature,
and natural affection, seem to be in this case recipro¬
cal and equipollent j the child is as strongly attracted
to the parent, as the parent to the child. But ,will
not filial gratitude operate and decide in favour of the
parents ? Does not the person, either mediately or im¬
mediately, owe his present power and abilities to re¬
lieve, to his parents P and are they not on that ac¬
count best entitled to relief ? Does not the fifth com¬
mandment declare more strongly in favour of the parents,
than any other divine precept does in favour of the
children ? If a person had an opportunity given him of
delivering either his parent or his child (but not both)
from certain death, I dare say the voice of nature and
of mankind would applaud him that saved his parent,
and condemn him that should prefer his child. There
is more of selfishness in preferring the child $ and to
save the parent seems to me to be much the more ge¬
nerous, noble and exalted conduct. It is indeed, upon
the whole, a melancholy alternative ; but if both parties
continue importunate, and neither will relinquish their
claims in favour of the other, I say relieve the pa¬
rent.” There are two correspondents, however, who
think differently, and their reasons are as follows:
“ A person’s children have the greatest claim to his
assistance, and he is obliged by all ties to prefer them,
in that respect, to his parents. It is true, when a
man’s parents are in want, they have a claim to bis
assistance 5 but that claim is not equal to that which
his children have. His parents he has of necessity j
his children, of choice. It is his duty before he be¬
get children, to consider how he is to provide for
them : and by being wilfully the cause of their exist¬
ence, he comes under such an obligation to provide
for their comfortable subsistence, as must be stronger
than any obligation of that kind he can be under to
persons with whom his connexion is involuntary. But
nature and reason point it out as the duty of all pa¬
rents to provide for their children •, but not vice versa.
If a man’s parents happen to be indigent, and he himself
able, he is bound to maintain them out of respect and
gratitude; but bis obligation to provide for his children
PAR [ 769 } PA R
Tarent. is a dfcbt of strict justice 5 anti therefore ought to he
preferred. Nevertheless the description of the case to
which the query is subjoined, is so general, that it is
easy to figure a case according to that description in
which the person ought to prefer his parents. This
obligation to provide for his children may have been
dissolved by monstrous ingratitude, such as their plotting
against his life 5 or he may have given them proper edu¬
cation, and ample provisions, which they have riotously
squandered away : in either of which cases it is thought
he is undoubtedly discharged from his obligation. But
if they have lost their portion purely by misfortunes,
without their fault, it is thought his obligation to assist
them is not wholly extinguished ; and in that case their
claim to his assistance, or that of bis parents, is prefer¬
able.” “ I find (says the author of the last answer)
that all your correspondents agree, that the life of the
parents is to be preserved. It is very certain, that the
relation between me and my child is exactly equal to
that which is between me and my parent; and there¬
fore relation cannot decide in favour of the one or the
other: I. must then be determined by a difl’erent consi¬
deration ; and I know of none more weighty than the
following : If I preserve the life of my child, I am in¬
strumental in giving life to all his descendants, which
may, perhaps, be very numerous; but if I preserve the
life of my parent, I preserve a single life only, and that
a short one. I therefore say, relieve the child. But it
is thought that the voice of nature will applaud the
person who preserves the parent: if so, nature must ap¬
plaud a rule which she herself does not observe : it is
natural for old men to die before young ones. Be¬
sides, the command, Be fruitful and multiply, and re¬
plenish the earth, may be opposed to the fifth command¬
ment.” Still, however, it is doubtless difficult to de¬
termine in such cases when they occur, as there are no
fixed rules whereby to decide. With respect to the
power of parents and the duty of children, much may
he said. There are, however, scax-cely any instances
where both are oftener abused than with respect to
marriage. This, as it is the most important event in
the civil life either of a man or woman, so it is often
rendered peculiarly unfortunate, by precipitate folly
and want of duty in children; and as often through the
unreasonable severity of parents. As a child is bound
not to give unreasonable offence to a parent in the
choice of a partner $ so neither ought the parent to im¬
pose any improper or arbitrary restraint upon the child.
The power of a parent in China is very great 5 for
a father, while living, has the power of an absolute
despotic tyrant, and after his death is worshipped as a
god. Let a son become ever so rich, and a father
ever so poor, there is no submission, no point of obe¬
dience, that the latter cannot command, or that the
former can refuse. The father is absolute master, not
only of his son’s estate, but also of bis concubines and
cbildren, who, whenever they displease him, he may
sell to strangers. If a father accuses his son before a
mandarin, there needs no proof of his guilt ", for they
cannot believe that any father can be so unnatural as
to bring a false accusation against his own son. But
should a son be so insolent as to mock his father, or
arrive at such a pitch of wickedness as to strike him,
all the province where this shameful act of violence is
You XV. Part II. +
committed is alarmed j it even becomes the concern of Parent,
the whole empire j the emperor himself judges the cri- y——
minal. All the mandarins near the place are turned
out of their posts, especially those of the town where he
lived, for having been so negligent in their instruc¬
tions j and all the neighbours are reprimanded for ne¬
glecting, by former punishments, to put a stop to the
wickedness of the criminal before it arrived at such fla¬
gitiousness. As to the unhappy wretch himself, they
cut him into a thousand pieces, burn his bones, level
his house to the ground, and even those houses that
stand near it, and set up monuments and memorials of
the horrid deed.
The emperor of China, who is one of the most power¬
ful and despotic monarchs upon earth, pays the greatest
attention to his mother. An instance of this Pere
Amyot relates as having happined at Pekin, A. D.
1752, when the emperor’s mother entered her 60th
year, which, among the Chinese, is accounted a very
remarkable period. Grosier likewise particularly de¬
scribes the homage the emperor pays his mother every
new-year’s day in the palace, at which ceremony all the
great officers of his court assist. See Children, Fi¬
lial Piety, Parental Affection, §c.
Parent, Anthony, a mathematician, was horn at
Paris in 1666. He showed an early propensity to
mathematics. He accustomed himself to write re¬
marks upon the margins of the books which be read 5
and he had filled a variety of books with a kind of com¬
mentary at the early age of thirteen. At fourteen he
was put under a master, who taught rhetoric at Chartres.
It was here that he happened to see a doclecaedroh.
upon every face of which was delineated a sun dial, ex¬
cept the lowest whereon it stood. Struck as it were
instantaneously with the curiosity of these dials, he at¬
tempted drawing one himself: but having a book which
only showed the practical part without the theory, it
was not till after his master came to explain the doc¬
trine of the sphere to him that he began to understand
how the projection of the circles of the sphere formed
sun dials. He then undertook to write a Treatise upon
Gnomonics. The piece was indeed rude and unpolish¬
ed ; but it was entirely his own, and not borrowed.
About the same time he wrote a book of Geometry, in
the same taste, at Beauvois. His friends then sent for
him to Paris to study the law ; and, in obedience to
them, he studied a course in that faculty ; which was
no sooner finished, than, urged by his passion for mathe¬
matics, he shut himself up in the college of Dormans,
that no avocation might take him from his beloved study:
and, with an allowance of less than 200 livres a-year,
he lived content in this retreat, from which he never
stirred but to the Royal College, in order to hear the
lectures of M. de la Hire or M. Sauveur. \Mien
he found himself capable of teaching others, he took
pupils : and fortification being a branch of mathema¬
tics which the war had brought into particular notice,
he turned his attention to it j but after some time be¬
gan to entertain scruples about teaching what he had
never seen, and knew only by the foree of imagination.
He imparted this scruple to M. Sauveur, who recom¬
mended him to the marquis d’Aligre, who luckily at
that time wanted to have a mathematician with him.
Parent made two campaigns with the marquis, by which
5 E he
PAR
Parent he instructed himself sufficiently in viewing fortified
Parental, places •, of which he drew a number of plans, though he
' ' had never learned the art of drawing. From this pe¬
riod he spent his time in a continual application to the
study of natural philosophy, and mathematics in all its
branches, both speculative and practical j to which he
joined anatomy, botany, and chemistry. His genius
managed every thing, and yet he was incessant and in¬
defatigable in his application. M. de Billettes, who
was admitted into the Academy of Sciences at Pans m
1699, with the title of their mechanician, nominated
for his disciple Parent, who excelled chiefly in this
branch. It was soon discovered in this society, that
he engaged in all the various subjects which were
brought before them ; and indeed that he had a hand
in every thing. But this extent of knowledge, joined
to a natural impetuosity of temper, raised in him a
spirit of contradiction, which he indulged on all occa¬
sions } sometimes to a degree of precipitancy highly cul¬
pable, and often with but little regard to decency. In¬
deed the same behaviour was shown to him, and the
papers which he brought to the academy were often
treated with much severity. He was charged with ob¬
scurity in his productions •, and he was indeed so no¬
torious for this fault, that he perceived it himsell, and
could not avoid correcting it. The king had, by a
regulation in 1716, suppressed the class ol scholars of
the academy, which seemed to put too great an inequa¬
lity betwixt the members. Parent was made a joint
or assistant member for geometry : but he enjoyed this
promotion but a short time; for he was taken oft by
the small-pox the same year, at the age of 50. He was
author of a great many pieces, chiefly on mechanics and
geometry.
PARENTAL, something belonging to the relation
of parent. See Parent.
Parental Affection, the endearing attachment of
parents to their children, including in it love j a desire
of doing good to those who by an act of our own de¬
pend upon us for all that they enjoy. Nature even ex¬
cites this affection in brutes : but in them it continues
only so long as it is necessary for the preservation of their
offspring", for when these are able to provide for them¬
selves, it ceases, and the relation is forgotten. In man,
however, though it lessens, or at least becomes less
anxious as the dependence of the child becomes less,
it never entirely ceases, except in some few instances
of extreme depravity. Authors, however, have ima-
* Sketches gined, and Lord Karnes * among the rest, that after
of the Hi- tjje js provided for, and no more depends on the
'nan parent, all affection would cease, were it not artificially
preserved and confirmed by habit. Whether his lord-
ship, in this opinion, be right or wrong, we shall not
pretend to say. One thing, however, is certain, that
be it natural or not, it is one of the greatest comforts
of life, even when all dependence has ceased. It
matters not that there are many instances where this
comfort is not felt. Human depravity has often obli¬
terated the finest feelings of the mind 5 and it is not to
be wondered at if in some instances it do so in the ease
before us. A good heart certainly can enjoy no great¬
er satisfaction than that arising from grateful returns of
kindness and affection to an aged parent. As the vexa¬
tions which parents receive from their children hasten
the approach of age, and double the force of years)
PAR
so the comforts which they reap from them are balm to Parental
all other sorrows, and disappoint the injuries of time. []
Parents repeat their lives in their offsprings ; and their Parenzo.
concern for them is so near, that they feel all their suf-
ferings, and taste all their enjoyments, as much as if
they regarded their own persons. However strong we
mav suppose the fondness of a father for his children,
yet they will find more lively marks of tenderness in
the bosom of a mother. There are no tics in nature to
compare with those which unite an affectionate mother
to her children, when they repay her tenderness with
obedience and love.
We have a remarkable instance of parental affection
in Zaleucus t prince of the Locrines ) who made a j
decree, that whoever was convicted of adultery should lib. xiii.
be punished with the loss of both his eyes. Soon
after this establishment, the legislator’s own son was
apprehended in the very fact, and brought to a public
trial. How could the father acquit himself in so
tender and delicate a conjuncture ? Should he execute
the law in all its rigour, this would be worse than
death to the unhappy youth : should he pardon so noto¬
rious a delinquent, this would defeat the design of his
salutary institution. To avoid both these inconvenien¬
ces, he ordered one of his own eyes to be pulled out
and one of his son’s.
Diodorus Siculus also, lib. 34. relates a surprising in¬
stance of the same warm affection. Cambalus, a young
gentleman of character and fortune in the city of Mul-
geatum, being one day out coursing, was way-laid, and
very near being robbed and murdered by the banditti
who infested that part of the country. Gorgus, the
young gentleman’s father, happened to come bj at the
very instant, to whom Cambalus related the danger he
was in. The son was on foot, the father on horseback)
but no sooner had he heard the melancholy tale, than
he leapt from his horse, desired his son to mount, and
make the best of his way into the city : but Cambalns,
preferring his father’s safety to his own, would by no
means consent to it j on the contrary, conjured his fa¬
ther to leave him, and take care of himself. T-he fa¬
ther, struck with the generosity and affection of his son,
added tears to entreaties, but all to no purpose. The
contest between them is better conceived than described
—while bathed in tears, and beseeching each other to
preserve his own life, the banditti approached and stab¬
bed them both.
Amongst the ancient Greeks, the sentiments of pa¬
rental affection were exceedingly strong and ardent.
The mutual tenderness of the husband and the wife
was communicated to their offspring 5 while the father
viewed in his child the charms of its mother, and the
mother perceived in it the manly graces of its father.
As parental kindness is the most simple and natural ex¬
pansion of self-love, so there are innumerable instances
of it in all countries savage and civilized.
PARENTALIA, in antiquity, funeral obsequies,
or the last duties paid by children to their deceased pa¬
rents.
PARENTHESIS, in Grammar, certain intercalary
words inserted in a discourse, which interrupt the sense
or thread, but seem necessary for the better understand¬
ing of the subject.
PARENZO, a small but strong town of Italy, and
in Istria, with a bishop’s see and a good harbour j seat¬
ed
[ 77° 1
PAR t 771 ] PAR
Paronzo on V enice, in E. Long. 13. 46. N. Lat.
;; 39. 28. It submitted to the Venetians in 1267.
Parhelion. PARESIS, in Medicine^ a palsy of the bladder
u‘—v ~ wherein the urine is either suppressed or discharged in¬
voluntarily.
PARGETING, in building, is used for the plaster¬
ing of walls, and sometimes for plaster itself.
Pargeting is of various kinds : as, 1. White lime and
hair mortar laid on bare walls. 2. On bare laths, as in
partitioning and plain ceiling. 3. Rendering the in¬
sides of walls, or doubling partition walls. 4. Rough¬
casting on heart laths. 5. Plastering on brick work,
with finishing mortar, in imitation of stone work $ and
the like upon heart laths.
PARHELION, or Parhelium, formed from wag*,
near, and sun, in Natural Philosophy, a mock sun
or meteor, in form of a very bright light, appearing on
the one side of the sun.
Appearances of this kind have been made mention
of both by the ancients and moderns. Aristotle ob¬
serves, that in general they are seen only when the sun
is near the horizon, though he takes notice of two
that were seen in Bosphorus from morning to evening j
and Pliny has related the times when such phenomena
were observed at Rome. Gassendi says, that in 1635
and 1636 he often saw one mock sun. Two were ob¬
served by M. de la Hire in 1689 ; and the same num¬
ber by Cassini in 1693, Mr Grey in 1700, and Dr
Halley in 1702: but the most celebrated appearances
of this kind were seen at Rome by Scheiner, by Mns*
chenbroeck at Utrecht, and by Hevelius at Sedan. By
the two former, four mock suns were observed, and by
the latter seven.
Parhelia are apparently of the same size with the
sun, though not always of .the same brightness, nor
even of the same shape ; and when a number appear
at once, there is some difference in both these respects
among them. Externally they are tinged with colours
like the rainbow *, and many have a long fiery tail op¬
posite to the sun, but paler towards the extremity. Par¬
helia are generally accompanied with coronas, some of
which are tinged with rainbow colours, but others are
white. They differ in number and size *, but all agree
in breadth, which is that of the apparent diameter of
the sun.
A very large white circle, parallel to the horizon,
generally passes through all the parhelia 5 and, if it
were entire, it would go through the centre of the
sun. Sometimes there are arcs of lesser circles con¬
centric to this, touching those coloured circles which
surround the sun. They are also tinged with colours,
and contain other parhelia. There are also said to have
been other circles obliquely situated with respect to all
those we have mentioned ; but of this we have met with
no authentic account. The order of the colours in these
circles is the same as.in the rainbow j but on the inside,
with respect to the sun, they are red, as is also observed
in many other coronas.
Parhelia have been visible for I, 2, 3> an^ 4 ^ours
together ; and in North America, they are said to
continue some days, and to be visible from sunrise to
sunset.
When the parhelia disappear, it sometimes rains, or
there falls snow in the form of oblong spiculas, as Ma-
.xaldi, Weidler, Krafft, and others, have observed ; and
because the air in North America abounds with such Parhelion.
frozen spiculte, which are even visible to the eye, ac-  «—
cording to Ellis and Middleton, such particles have
been thought to be the cause of all coronas and par¬
helia.
Mr Ellis says, that, at Churchill in Hudson’s Bay,
the rising of the sun is always preceded by two long
streams of red light, one on each side of him, and about
20° distant from him. These rise as the sun rises; and
as they grow longer begin to bend towards each other,
till they meet directly over the sun, just as he rises,
forming there a kind of parhelion or mock sun. These
two streams of light, he says, seem to have their source
in two other parhelia, which rise with the true sun ; and
in the winter season, when the sun never rises above the
haze or fog, which he says is constantly found near the
horizon, all these accompany him the whole day, and set
with him in the same manner as they rise. Once or
twice he saw a fourth parhelion directly under the true
sun; but this, he says, is not common. These facts being
constant, are very valuable, and may throw great light on
the theory of these remarkable phenomena.
Sometimes parhelia appear in a different manner;
as when three suns have been seen in the same vertical
circle, well defined, and touching one another. The
true sun was in the middle, and the low'est touched
the horizon ; and they set one after the other. This
appearance was seen by M. Maleziew in 1722. Other
appearances similar to this are recited by M. Muschen-
broeck.
Sometimes the sun has risen or set with a luminous
tail projecting from him, of the same breadth with
his diameter, and perpendicular to the horizon. Such
an appearance was seen by Cassini in 1672 and 1692,
by De la Hire in 1702, and by Mr Ellis in Hudson’s
Bay.
As M. Feuillee was walking on the banks of the ri¬
ver La Plata, he saw the sun rising over the river with a
luminous tail projecting downwards, which continued
till he was six degrees!’high.
Paraselenee, or mock moons, have also been seen, ac¬
companied with tails and coloured circles, like those
which accompany the parhelia. An account of several,
and a particular description of a‘fine appearance of this
kind, may be seen in Musc'henbroeck.
The Roman phenomenon, observed by Scheiner, is
famous on account of .its having been the first appear¬
ance of the kind that engaged the attention of philosp-
phers. It is represented in fig. I. *, in which A is the
place of the observer, B his zenith, C the true sun, AB j. ^
a plane passing through the observer’s eye, the true sun,
and the zenith. About the sun C, there appeared two
concentric rings, not complete, but diversified with co¬
lours. The lesser of them, DEE, was fuller, and more
perfect; and though it was open from D to E, yet those
ends were perpetually endeavouring to unite; and some¬
times they did so. The outer of these rings was much
fainter, sp as scarcely to be discernible. It had, how¬
ever, a variety of colours ; but was very inconstant.
The third circle, KLMN, was very large, and all over
white, passing through the middle of the sun, and every
where parallel to the horizon. At first this cii’cle was
entire ; but towards the end of the appearance it was
weak and ragged, so as hardly to be perceived from M
towards N.
5E2 In
P A 11
[ 773 1
PAR
Pavhclion.
2.
In the intersection of this circle, and the outward iris
1 GKI, there broke out two parhelia or mock suns N
and K, not quite perfect; K being rather weak, but
N shone brighter and stronger. The brightness ot the
middle of them was something like that of the sun j but
towards the edges they were tinged with colours like
those of the rainbow j and they were uneven and ragged.
The parhelion N was a little wavering, and sent out a
spiked tail, NP, of a colour somewhat fiery, the length
of which was continually changing.
The parhelia at L and M in the horizontal ring
were not so bright as the former; but were rounder,
and white, like die circle in which they were placed.
The parhelion N disappeared before K ; and while M
grew fainter, K grew brighter, and varnished the last
of all , r ,
It is to be observed farther, that the order ot the co¬
lours in the circles DEF, GKN, was the same as in
the common halos, namely, red next the sun ; and the
diameter of the third circle was also about 45 degrees ;
which is the usual size of a halo.
The reverend Dr Hamilton sent the following ac¬
count of parhelia, seen at Cookstown, to the Royal Iiish
Academy.
“ Wednesday, September 24th, 1783, as I was pre¬
paring to observe the sun passing the meridian, before
the first limb touched the centre wire, it ivas obscured
by a dark well defined cloud, about io° in diameter.
Upon going to the door of the transit room, to see if
it was likely soon to pass off the disk of the sun, I ob¬
served the following phenomena: From the western edge
of the cloud issued a luminous arc parallel to the hori¬
zon, perfectly well defined, extending exactly, to the
northern meridian ; it was about 30' broad, white, and
ended in a blunted termination. On it were two par¬
helia ; the nearest to the sun displaying the prismatic
colours; the remote one white, and both ill defined. In
a short time the cloud had passed off, and showed the
luminous almucantar, reaching perfect to the true sun.
While things were thus situated, I measured with an
accurate sextant the distances of the parhel'? ; I found
the coloured one 26°, the remoter one 90°, from the true
sun. Just as 1 had done this, a new and prismatic circle
surrounded the sun immediately with the prismatic par¬
helion. And now another coloured parhelion appeared
on the eastern board.—The sextant with its face up and
down, exactly measured this and the former at the ori¬
ginal distance of 26°; the luminous almucantar still re¬
maining perfect In about 10 or 12 minutes whitish
hazy clouds came on, and obscured all these uncommon
appearances.—I did not observe that the atmospherical
phenomena before or after were at all uncommon. The
wind a light breeze at SSW. Bar. 29. 6. rising. Ther¬
mometer 550.
In fig 2. SM represents the south meridian ; NM
the north meridian ; PP the prismatic circle, with two
prismatic suns or parhelia, at 26° distance on each side
the true un ; W the white parhelion, at 90° distance
from the true sun ; LA the luminous almiicantar; and
HO the horizon.
Various hypotheses have been framed by philosophers
to account for this phenomenon, particularly by M.
Marriotte, Descartes, and Huygens. None of them,
however, are satisfactory : but those readers who wish
to become acquainted with them may consult Huy¬
gens’s Dissertation on this subject, in Smith’s Optics, parhelion
book i. chap. xi. Muschenbroeck’s Introduction, &c. |j
vol. xi. p. 1038, &c. 4to.; but especially Dr Priest- , Panas.
ley’s History of Vision, Light, and Colours, vol. ii. p. v
613, &c.
PARIA, or New Andalusia, a country of Terra
Firm a in South America ; bounded on the north by the
North sea ; on the east by Surinam ; on the west by
New Granada and the Caraccas ; and on the south
by Guiana. It produces colouring drugs, gums, me¬
dicinal roots, Brazil wood, sugar, tobacco, and some
valuable timber; the inland parts being woody and
mountainous, but interspersed with fine valleys that
yield corn and pasturage. Comana is the capital
town.
PARIAN Chronicle. See Arundelian Marblcsy
and Parian Chronicle.
Under the article Parian Chronicle, we have been
as full as the subject seemed to require, or as the nature
of our work would admit. It is unnecessary, therefore,
to resume it in this place. Such of our readers, how¬
ever, as wish for further inlormation on this subject
(which is equally interesting to the scholar and to the
antiquarian) we must refer to Robertson s attack upon
their authenticity, and to Gough’s learned and judicious
vindication of the authenticity, published m Aic/nrologiQ
for 1789. The extent of his learning, and the solidity
of his arguments, appear upon the whole to outweigh
the objections of his sensible and plausible opponent.
Hewlett’s book upon the same side of the question may
command some degree of attention. It is ingenious.
See Sandwich Marble.
Parian Marble, among the ancients, the white mar¬
ble used by them, and to"this day, for carving statues,
&c. and called by us at this time statuary marble.
Too many of the later writers have confounded all
the white marbles under the name of the Parian; and
among the workmen, this and all the other white
marbles have the common name of alabasters; so that
it is in general forgotten among them, that there is such
a thing as alabaster difi'erent from marble ; which, how¬
ever, is truly the case. Almost all the world also have
confounded the Carrara marble with this, though they
are really very different; the Carrara kind being ot a
finer texture and clearer white than the 1 arian ; but
less bright and splendid, harder to cut, and not capable
of so glittering a polish.
The true Parian marble lias usually somewhat of a
faint bluish tinge among the white, and often has blue
veins in different parts of it. It is supposed by some to
have had its name from the island Paros f, one of the^ See Pa„
Cyclades in the iEgean sea, where it was first found ;m.
but others will have it to have been so called from
Agoracritus Parius, a famous statuary, who ennobled it
bv cutting a statue of Venus in it.
' PARIAS, or Perreas, a tribe of Hindoos, so pe¬
culiarly distinguished from all others, that they live by
themselves in the outskirts of towns; and, 111 the coun¬
try, build their houses apart from the villages, or rather
have villages of their own, furnished with wells; for ModVn:Vi
they dare not so much as fetch water from those which Hist. y. 5.
other families make use of; and, lest these latter should
inadvertently go to one of theirs, they are obliged to
scatter the bones of dead rattle about their wells, that
they may be known. They dare not in cities pass
J through
Pali
V-W
P A B [ 773 ] P A B
P»iias. tlirougU the streets where the Bramins live j nor set foot
—v—' in the villages where they dwell.—They are likewise
forbidden to enter a temple, either of their god Wist-
now or Eswara $ because they ax-e held impure. They
get their bread by sowing, digging, and building the
walls of mud houses j most of those inhabited by the
common people being raised by these Parias > who also
do such kinds of dirty work as other people do not care
to meddle with. Nor is their diet much more cleanly j
for they do not scruple to eat cows, horses, fowl, or other
carrion, which die of themselves, and ai'e even putrid.
One would scarce imagine, that contentions for prece¬
dency should ever enter into the thoughts of a people
who have renounced all cleanliness, and, like swine, w'al-
low in filth -y and yet pride has divided the Parias into
two classes : the first are simply called Parias, the other
Seriperes. The employment of these latter is to go
about selling leather, which they di-ess j also to make
bridles, and such kind of tilings: some of them like¬
wise serve for soldiers. The Parias, who reckon them¬
selves the better family, w ill not eat in the house of the
Seriperes ; but the Seriperes will readily eat with the
Parias. For this reason they axe obliged to pay them
respect, by lifting their hands aloft, and standing up¬
right before them. These Seriperes, when they marry,
cannot set up a pan del, a kind of garland, before their
doors, made with more than three stakes or ti’ees ; should
they exceed that number, the whole city would be in
motion. The Seriperes are likewise subject to some sort
of slavery j for when any person of credit or authority
dies in the families of the Komitis, Siltis, Palis, farriers,
or goldsmiths, and the friends have a mind to be at the
expence of some clothes to give the Seripex-es, these lat¬
ter must suffer their beards to be shaven ; and when the
corpse is carried out of town to be burned or inten-ed,
they must do that office j for which each receives a fa-
num, or one piece and a half of silver, worth three sous
and a half. These are the same sort of people who are
called at Surat Halalchors ; that is, in the Persian lan¬
guage, “ eat-alls, or eaters at large.” Nothing can of¬
fend an Hindoo more than to be called a Halalchor:
vet these poor people are not offended, cringe and bow
to all they pass, and go through their drudgery without
noise or concern.
The Parias are very vicious, stupid, and ignorant, oc¬
casioned by their wretched way of life : The Bramins
and nobility shun them as if they had the plague, and
look on the meeting a Parias as the greatest misfortune.
To come near one of them is a sin, to touch them a sa¬
crilege. If a Parias were dying, it is infamy to visit
him, or to give him the least assistance, in the utmost
danger or distress. A Bramin who unavoidably should
touch a Parias, immediately w ashes himself from the im¬
purity. Even their shadow and breath being reckon¬
ed contagious, they are obliged to live on the east side
of their towns, that the westerly winds which prevail in
this country may keep back their breath. And it is
lawful for a Bramin to kill one of these unhappy crea¬
tures, if he does not avoid it by getting out of his way :
In short, they think them reprobated by God, and be¬
lieve the souls of the damned enter into the Parias, to be
punished for their Grimes.——A et the mission have found
among these dregs of the people very active zealous ca¬
techists, who by their labours have very much contribu¬
ted to the conversion of their countrymen, particularly
one Kajanaiken a Paria soldier, who, of all the inferior Pami
missionai'ies, has distinguished Iximself most by his la- |1
hours and sufferings. Paris.
PARIETALIA ossa. See Anatomy Index. -\—
PAIUETARIA, Pellitory of the Wail : A genus
of plants belonging to the polygamia class ; and in the
natural method ranking under the 53d order, Scabrida:,
See Botany Index.
PARIETES, in Anatomy, a term used for the enclo*
sures or membranes that stop up or close the hollow parts
ot the body; especially those of the heart, the thorax,
&c. The parietes of the two ventricles of the heart
ai-e of unequal strength and thickness •, the left exceed¬
ing the right, because of its office, which is to force the
blood through all parts of the body j whereas the right
only drives it through the lungs.
PARIS, Matthew, one of our best historians from
William the Conquej-or to the latter end of the reign of
Henry III. but of his life few particulars have been
ti’ansmitted to us. Eeland his original biographer, with¬
out determining whether he was born in France or Eng¬
land, informs us, that be was a monk of St Alban’s,
and that be was sent by Pope Innocent to reform the
monks of the convent at Holm in Norway. Bishop
Bale, the next in point of time, adds to the above rela¬
tion, that, on account of his extraordinary gifts of body
and mind, he was much esteemed, particularly by King
Henry III. yvho commanded him to yvrite the history
of his reign. Fuller makes him a native of Cambridge¬
shire, because there was an ancient family of his name
in that county. He also mentions bis being sent by the
pope to visit the monks in the diocese of Norwich.
Bishop Tanner, Bishop Nicholson, Doctor Du Pin, and
the Nouviait Dictionnaire Hi.storicjue, add not a single
fact to those above related. Matthew Paris died in the
monastery of St Alban’s in the year 1259. was
doubtless a man of extraordinary knowledge for the 13th
century 5 of an excellent moral character, and, as an his¬
torian, of strict integrity. His style is unpolished $ but
that defect is sufficiently atoned for by the honest free¬
dom with which he relates the truth, regardless of the
dignity or sanctity of the persons concerned. His works
are, 1. Historia ub Adamo ad Conquestum Anglice, Lib.
I. manuscript, col. C. C. Cantab, c. ix. Must of this
book is transcribed, by Matthew of Westminster, into
the first part of his Florileginm. 2. Historia major, seit
rerum Anglicanarum historia a Gul. Conquestons ad-
ventu ad annum 43 Henrici III. &c. several times
printed. The first part of this history, viz. to the year
123 5, is transcribed almost verbatim from the Chronicle
of Roger Wendover *, and the Appendix, from the
year 1260, is the yvork of William Rash.nger, yvho was
"also a monk of St Alban’s. 3. Vita' duorum Off (mum,
Mercice regum, S. Albani fundatorum. 4. Gesta 22
abhatum S. Albani. 5. Additamenta chronicormn ad
hist, majorem ; printed. 6. Historia minor, sive epi¬
tome majoris histories; manuscript. Besides many
other things in manuscript.
Paris, son of Priam, king of Troy, by Hecuba, al¬
so named Alexander. He was decreed, even liefore his
birth, to become the ruin of his country ", and when his
mother, in the first months of her pregnancy, had dream¬
ed that she should bring forth a torch yvhieh would set
fire to her palace, the soothsayei’s foretold the calamities
which were to be expected from the imprudence of her
future
PAR L 774 ] PAR
future Son, and which would end in the riim ot Troy.
Priam, to prevent so great and so alarming an evil, or¬
dered his slave Archelaus to destroy the child as soon as
he was born. The slave, either touched with humanity,
or influenced by Hecuba, did not obey, but was satisfied
to expose the child on Mount Ida, where the shepherds
of the place found him, and educated him as their own.
Some attribute the preservation of his life, before he was
found by the shepherds, to the motherly tenderness of a
she-bear who suckled him. Young Paris, though edu¬
cated among shepherds and peasants, gave very early
proofs of courage and intrepidity 5 and from his care in
protecting the flocks of Mount Ida from the rapacity of
the wild beasts, he was named Alexander, “ helper or
defender.” He gained the esteem of all the shepherds ;
and his graceful countenance and manly deportment
recommended him to the favours of Oeuone, a nymph
of Ida, whom he married, and with whom he lived
with the most perfect tenderness. Their conjugal peace
was, however, of no long duration. At the marriage
of Peleus and Thetis, the goddess of discord, who had
not been invited to partake of the entertainment, showed
her displeasure, by throwing into the assembly of the
gods who were at the celebration of the nuptials, a gol¬
den apple, on which were written the words Detur pul-
chriori. All the goddesses claimed it as their own ; the
contention at first became general 5 but at last only
three, Juno, Venus, and Minerva, wished to dispute their
respective right to beauty. The gods, unwilling to be-
icome arbiters in an affair so tender and so delicate in its
nature, appointed Paris to adjudge the prize of beauty
to the fairest of the goddesses } and indeed the shepherd
seemed sufficiently qualified to decide so great a contest,
as his wisdom was so well established, and his prudence
and sagacity so well known. The goddesses appeared
before their judge without any covering or ornament,
and each endeavoured by promises and entreaties to
gain the attention of Paris, and to influence his judg¬
ment. Juno promised him a kingdom j Minerva mili¬
tary glory $ and Venus the fairest woman in the world
-Tor his wife, as Ovid expresses it, Hesiod 17. v. 118.
Unaque cum regnuiu ; belli duret altera laudem ;
Tyndaridis conjux, tertia dixit, eris.
After he had heard their several claims and promises,
Paris adjudged the prize to Venus, and gave her the
golden apple, to which perhaps she seemed entitled as
the goddess of beauty. This decision of Paris drew up¬
on the judge and his family the resentment of the two
other goddesses. Soon after, Priam proposed a contest
among his sons and other princes, and promised to re¬
ward the conqueror with one of the finest bulls of Mount
Ida. His emissaries were sent to procure the animal,
and it was found in the possession of Paris, who reluc¬
tantly yielded it. The shepherd was anxious to regain
his favourite, and he went to Troy and entered the lists
of the combatants. He was received with the greatest
applause, and obtained the victory over his rivals, Nestor
the son of Neleus, Cyenus son of Neptune, Polites, He-
- lenus, and Deiphobus, sons of Priam. He likewise ob¬
tained a superiority over Hector himself $ which prince,
enraged to see himself conquered by an unknown stran¬
ger, pursued him closely; and Paris must have fallen a
victim to his brother’s rage, had he not fled to the altar
of Jupiter. This sacred retreat preserved his life 5 and
Cassandra the daughter of Priam, struck with the simi¬
larity of the features of Paris with those of her brothers,
inquired his birth and age. From these circumstances
she soon discovered that he was her brother, and as such
she introduced him to her father and to her brothers.
Priam acknowledged Paris as his son, forgetful of the
alarming dreams which had caused him to meditate his
death, and all jealousy ceased among the brothers. Paris
did not long sufi’er himself to remain inactive j he equip¬
ped a fleet, as if willing to redeem Hesione his father’s
sister, whom Hercules had carried away and obliged to
marry Telamon the son of JEacus. This was the pre¬
tended motive of his voyage, but the causes were far
different. Paris remembered that he was to be the hus¬
band of the fairest of women } and, if he had been led
to form those expectations while he was an obscure shep¬
herd of Ida, he had now every plausible reason to see
them realized, since he Was the acknowledged son of the
king of Troy. Helen was the fairest woman of the
age, and Venus had promised her to him. On these
grounds, therefore, he went to Sparta, the residence of
Helen, who had married Menelaus* He was received
with great respect 5 but he abused the hospitality of
Menelaus, and while the husband was absent in Crete,
Paris persuaded Helen to elope with him, and to fly to
Asia. Helen consented 5 and Priam received her into
his palace without difficulty, as his sister was then de¬
tained in a foreign country, and as he wished to show
himself as hostile as possible to the Greeks. Tfiis affair
was soon productive of serious consequences. When
Menelaus had married Helen, all her suitors had bound
themselves by a solemn oath to protect her person, and
therefore the injured husband reminded them of their
engagements, and called upon them to recover her.
Upon this all Greece took up arms in the cause of
Menelaus $ Agamemnon was chosen general of ail
the combined forces, and a regular war Was begun.
Paris, meanwhile, who had refused Helen to the peti¬
tions and embassies of the Greeks, armed himself, with
his brothers and subjects, to oppose the enemy j but the
success of the war was neither hindered nor accelerated
by his meanSi He fought with little courage, and at
the very sight of Menelaus, whom he had so recently
injured, all his resolution vanished, and he retired from
the front of the army, where he walked before like a
conqueror. In a combat with Menelaus, which he un¬
dertook by means of his brother Hector, Paris must
have perished, had not Venus interfered, and stolen him
from the resentment of his antagonist. He wounded,
however, in another battle, Machaon, Euryphilus, and
Diomedes} and, according to some opinions, he killed
-with one of his arrows the great Achilles.
The death of Paris is differently related: some say
that he was mortally wounded by one of the arrows of
Philoctetes, which had been once in the possession ot
Hercules ; and that when he found himself languid on
account of his wounds, he ordered himself to be carried
to the feet of Oenone, whom he had basely abandoned,
and who in the years of his obscurity had foretold him
that he would solicit her assistance in his dying moments.
He expired before be came into the presence of Oeno¬
ne ; and the nymph, still mindful of their former loves,
threw herself upon his body, and stabbed herself to the
heart, after she had plentifully bathed it with her tears.
According to others, Paris did not immediately go to
PAR
Palis. Troy when he left the Peloponnesus, hut he was driven
—v 1 on the coasts of Pgypt, where Proteus, who w^as king
of the country, detained him; and when he heard of
the violence which had been ofl'ered to the king of Spar¬
ta, he kept Helen at his court, and permitted Paris to
retire. Whatever was the mode of his death, it took
place, we are told, about 1188 B. C. See Troy, &c.
Paris, the capital of the kingdom of France, is
situated on the river Seine, in the department of the
Seine, at the distance of 120 miles from the sea, and is
one of the largest and finest cities in Europe. It deri¬
ved its modern name from the ancient Parisii; and is
supposed by some to have had the Latin name of Lutetia,
from lutum, “mud,” the place where it now stands hav¬
ing been anciently very marshy and muddy. Ever since
the reign of Hugh Capet, that is, for near 800 years, this
city has been the usual residence of the kings of France.
It is of a circular form 5 its extent along the river is about
four miles and a half, its breadth three and a half, and its
circumference about 16 miles. The number of its inhabi¬
tants in 1817, was 713,000. Paris is the see of an arch¬
bishop, the seat of the court, of the chief tribunals, and
public bodies in the kingdom. Before the revolution,
it contained 46 parish churches, 20 subsidiary churches,
11 abbeys, 133 monasteries and convents, 13 colleges,
15 public schools, and 26 hospitals. Of the convents
and monasteries, the greater number wTere suppressed
in the course of the revolution. Three have been con¬
verted into commodious prisons, four into hospitals,
three into barracks, and several others into markets
and manufactories of various kinds. The Seine, upon
which Paris stands, is much smaller than the Thames.
It forms two islands, the Isle of St Louis, and the Isle
of Notre Dame. The former was the site of the ancient
city. In the oldest part of Paris, as in London, the
streets are narrow, dark, and dirty. Few of them have
pavements for foot passengers, who are exposed to be
trodden down or crushed by the carriages plying back
and forward. The gutter, which is in the centre, is
generally filled with a stream of mud even in summer,
which the pedestrian often finds it difficult to cross, and
from which he is sure to be bespattered by the drivers
of the cabriolets. There are few of those splendid equi¬
pages which crowd the streets of London to be seen in
Paris, the higher classes in the latter being compara¬
tively poor} but fiacres and cabriolets are very nume¬
rous. The houses are generally of stone, six or seven
stories high, with one gable or wing to the street, and
with the lower windows barricaded with iron. The
street entrance is often by a massive gate which opens
into a court, and out of this court there is one common
entrance into a large building called a hotel, the first
floor of which is probably occupied by a person ot rankj
who pays 300I. per annum of rent} above him are ten¬
ants in difierent gradations of fashion or opulence, to
the sixth or seventh floor, which is inhabited by the
milkman, the cobler, or the scavenger, paying only ten
pounds of rent. The whole of this ill assorted commu¬
nity use the same magnificent staircase, decorated with
marble columns and bas-reliefs, and embrowned by the
filth of a hundred dirty feet. When a hotel (or large
house) is inhabited by one opulent or noble family, it
is not unusual to make the upper story the receptacle
for the hay and provender for the horses. The lamps
are suspended by cords across the middle ef the street,
2
L 775 ]
PAR
but usually afford more light than those of London.
The shops are generally small and dark, without pro-
jecting windows for the display of goods, or any other
mark to distinguish them except a sign-board. In view¬
ing the city from a distance, nothing strikes an English¬
man more than the great transparency of the atmos¬
phere, and absence of that cloud of smoke which hovers
over our cities, in consequence of the use of pitcoal for
fuel: the Parisians scarcely use any thing else than wood.
Paris surpasses all the other capitals of Europe in
in the number and splendour of its public edifices. Of
these one of the most distinguished is the Palace of the
rI huilleries, founded by Catherine de Medicis. The front
consists of five pavilions comprising that of the centre,
with four ranges of buildings connecting them together,
and forming one grande facade, adorned with columns
of the various orders, and with vases and statues.. In
front of the building stands a beautiful triumphal arch
erected by Napoleon. Behind it are extensive gardens
laid out with exquisite taste by Lenostre, embellished
with orange trees, statues, fountains, and basins of
water. In the morning they are the resort of the poli¬
tician, who is accommodated with a chair and news¬
paper for four sous} in the evening they are crowded
with gay and fashionable company. 2. The Palais
Royal, originally built by Cardinal Richelieu, is a magni¬
ficent edifice adorned with Doric and Ionic columns, with
a garden, basin, and fountain. The arcades of the
ground story are occupied by innumerable shops, of small
dimensions, but elegantly fitted up. Beneath are apart¬
ments where various groups are dancing, regaling with
liquor, engaged in play, or in scenes of vice and de¬
bauchery. Other apartments are occupied by restau-
rateurs, lecturers on belles lettres and philosophy, or
literary societies. It is in short a little world within
itself. 3. The Luxembourg, or Palace of the Chamber
of Peers, is one of the most magnificent palaces in Paris.
It consists of one vast court of a square form, 360
feet by 300, surrounded by porticos, and flanked by
square buildings called pavilions. The garden is fine,
and from its elevated situation commands many delight¬
ful views of the city. 4. The Palace of Justice is a
large and handsome building, forming three sides of a
square, and occupied partly by some of the tribunals,
5. The Hotel de Bourbon, or Palace of the Representa¬
tives, is chiefly distinguished by its noble portico, with
a colonnade of the Corinthian order surmounted by a
pediment. It is delightfully situated on the banks of
the Seine. 6. The Louvre is connected by a gallery
with the Thuilleries. The facade of this building, call¬
ed the colonnade, is justly regarded as one of the
most perfect pieces of architecture to be found any¬
where. In this building was the celebrated museum,
which was stript of so many works of art after the
battle of Waterloo. 7. The Palace of the Fine Arts,
formerly called the College of the-1 our Nations, is an
elegant edifice of a semicircular form, with a dome
which is much admired. It contains two libraries } and
the school of fane arts, and the meetings of the institute,
now called the royal academy, are held here. 8. 'I he
Royal Observatory, erected in 1667, is distinguished by
the simplicity of its design and the harmony of its parts.
It is vaulted throughout, and has neither wood nor iron
in its construction. It has a well 170 foet deep, to the
bottom of which there is a descent by a stair} and the
stair
Paris.
PAR [ 776 ] PAR
Pan’s, stair is so constructed as to leave a vacuity in the
—N—' middle, through which the stars are seen from the bot¬
tom of the well at midday. Three astronomers are al¬
ways resident here, p’ The Hotel de Ville, or town
hall, is worthy of notice both tor its antiquity and its
architecture. It is rich in beauty and ornament. An
equestrian statue of Henry IV. in bas relict is placed
over the principal entrance. Hither Robespierre re¬
treated after he was outlawed. In Iront ol the Hotel
de Ville is the famous lamp iron, and within it is pre¬
served the still more famous guillotine. 10. The Mint
is one of the finest ornaments of the banks of the Seine.
It is 360 feet long by 84 in height, and combines
simplicity of design, with a tasteful display ot orna¬
ment. 11. The cathedral of Notre Dame, the mother
church of France, was built about the year 1010, or
according to others 1177. Its architecture, though
Gothic, is singularly bold and delicate, and it has ever
been esteemed one of the handsomest structures in the
kingdom. It is 414 feet long, 144 wide, and 10 2 high.
12. Abbay du Val de Gt'ace, now converted into an hos¬
pital $ it has a fine dome decorated in the inside with
some excellent fresco paintings. 13. The church of St
Eustache, is a model of the boldness and lightness ol
the Gothic style. 14. The Pantheon, a large and mag¬
nificent temple, 339 feet long by 2^3 broad, with a
dome rising to the height of 282 feet. The portal,
formed by 22 Corinthian columns 58 feet high, is 112
feet long and 36 deep, and is crowned with a grand
bas relief, sculptured by Coustou. It was originally
built on a plan too light to sustain its own weight,
and the alterations rendered necessaiy to support
it, have injured its beauty: but it is still a grand
and imposing structure. It was designed to com¬
memorate men whose talents or achievements had
reflected honour on their country. There are four
Protestant churches in Paris, of which that in the
Rue St Honore is much admired for its elegance $ and
two Jewish synagogues. Several of the remaining con¬
vents are worth visiting. The Catacombs of Paris are
justly classed among the curiosities of the place. These
are very extensive quarries excavated in ancient times
in the limestone rock under the city, and used at a la¬
ter period as a depository for the bones of the dead.
For many centuries the inhabitants of Paris buried
their dead in large trenches, into which the corpses were
thrown in heaps, and thinly covered ivith earth. From
the small extent of the burying grounds, these trenches
were soon opened again, and the putrid mass often
spread contagion oA’er the town. At length the govern¬
ment forbid all burials Avithin the walls, and had these
immense masses of corruption Avhich had been accumu¬
lating for ten centuries, taken up, the bones separated
and cleaned, and deposited in these catacombs. They
are placed along the walls in toavs, those of one size and
kind being placed together. There are some of the
apartments resembling chapels, in Avhich are vases and
altars sometimes formed of human bones, and sometimes
having skulls of different sizes disposed about them as
ornaments. Some of the altars are cut out of the solid
rock; and it is believed that, in a very early age, they
were frequented as places of Christian worship. The
descent to these caverns is by a narrow staircase of
eigb'y steps, and the A'isitor is conducted out at another
passage more than half a mile distant. The guide as
1
Avell as the stranger bears a torch j the former traces pW[i<
his course by a black line marked on the roof. With- v—
out this, there would be a risk of losing the way amidst
the labyrinth of passages and chambers.
There are upAvards of seventy squares in Paris, many
of which aie Avell deserving of attention for the beauty,
richness, and uniformity of the buildings, and for the
columns and statues that adorn them. Among these
may be mentioned the Place des Victoires, Place Ven-
dome, Place de Louis XV. There are sixty fountains,
some of which exhibit very beautiful specimens of ar¬
chitecture. The Fountain of the Elephant, in which the
water was to have been throAvn out from the trunk of
a bronze statue of an elephant 72 feet high, was begnn
by Napoleon, but Avas left unfinished at his overthrow,
and the work has not since been resumed. The bridges
of Paris cannot vie with those of London. rl lie most
remarkable are, the Pont Neuf, completed by Henry
the fourth, 996 feet long, and 90 broad. The Pont
Royal 5 Pont Louis XVI ; Pont au Change ; Pont St
Michael •, Pont Notre Dame ; Pont de la Tournelle ;
Pont de Austerlitz, completed in 1807 } Pont tie Jena,
lately finished 5 Pont des Arts, consisting of nine cast
metal arches. Paris contains also a number of triumph¬
al arches. Those called the Gate of St Dennis and
the Gate of St Martin were erected in the reign of Louis
XIV, and are very fine pieces of architecture., The
triumphal arch of the Thuilleries erected by Bonaparte,
is also of exquisite workmanship ; but the bronze horses
Avhich were placed over it have been restored to Venice,
and the statue of Napoleon has been cast doAvn.
The hospitals and charitable institutions of Paris
which are numerous, and many of them on an extensive
scale, are supported by the government. More than
15,000 beds are made up at the diflerent hospitals, and
the annual expenditure is computed at 300,000!.sterling.
The Hotel des Invalids, or hospital for disabled and su¬
perannuated soldiers, is a magnificent building, in a
a fine situation near the Seine. The colours taken from
the different nations which were suspended here, Avere
burnt by the A^eterans, AA'hen the allies Avere before Paris,
to prevent them from being retaken. We can only
mention the Hotel Dieu, or hospital for the sick, the
Hospice de Salpetriere, which is a charity Avorkhouse
for Avomen, the Hospital de Charite, Maison de Santd,
the Hospital de Maternite for lying-in Avomen and
foundling children. There is besides a foundling hos-
jntal.
The Royal University of Paris, suppressed in 1792, but
since re-established, consists of lour faculties, A’iz. theo¬
logy, in Avhich there are six professors; law, in which
there are seven; surgery, in which there are about
twenty lecturers, many of Avhom are men of distinguish¬
ed abilities ; and lastly, letters and science, which in¬
cludes professorships on philosophy, literature, poetry,
history, and geography. At the royal college of 1'ranee,
lectures are given gratuitously on many branches of
science and literature; and among the lecturers are the
names of Delambre, Biot, Portal, and Cuvier. At the
polytechnic school, about 300 young men, selected from
those who ha\re distinguished themselves at the inferior
schools, are furnished Avith the higher branches of edu¬
cation gratuitously. They go chiefly into the service ot
the artillery. There are besides a school of the fine
arts, a school of mines, and a variety of others. The
- institution
ft
U»"
PAR
Paris,
Parish.
institution for the blind, and that for the deaf and
dumb, are meritorious establishments, and extremely
well conducted. The museums and libraries of various
kinds in Paris, are too numerous to admit of separate
description here. The museum of natural history in¬
cludes a botanic garden, a menagerie, a collection of
minerals, of animal remains, of anatomy, with a lib¬
rary, all on the most extensive scale, and in the most
perfect order. The museum of French monuments con¬
tains many interesting remains of antiquity, along with
those of a late period. The Louvre, though it has been
despoiled of many of its choicest pieces, still presents
1104 pictures, with 355 specimens of sculpture. Of the
1200 paintings of the great gallery, however, about 950
were carried away. Those with which it is now filled
have been furnished from other galleries, and from private
collections. The royal library was founded by King
John, and has ever since been increasing. It is now
the most magnificent library in Europe, containing
360,000 printed books, besides 80,000 MSS. Tables
are placed in the room for the accommodation of visi¬
tors, who may call for whatever books they please, and
are immediately supplied with them. There are several
other public libraries upon a less extensive scale.
At one period of the revolution there were thirty
theatres in Paris opened nightly. At present the num¬
ber is limited to ten, four large, and six smaller. The
first of these in point of rank is the Theatre Fran^ais,
at which the exhibitions are chiefly confined to the clas¬
sical productions of the French stage. The opera is un¬
rivalled for the beauty and splendour of the ballet, and
the excellence of the dancing $ but the singing is not
above mediocrity.
Paris, Herb Paris, or Truelove, a genus of plants
belonging to the octandria class, and in the natural me¬
thod ranking under the nth order, Sarmentaccce. See
Botany Index.
Herb Paris of Canada, a genus of plants belonging
to the hexandria class. See Trillium, Botany Index.
Plaster of Paris, or Stucco, or Parget of Montmar¬
tre, the first and the last name being derived from the
place where it is found in great abundance, is a substance
composed of lime and sulphuric acid, which on account
of its property of rapidly absorbing water, after being
calcined, is much employed in making casts and models.
See Gypsum, Mineralogy and Geology Index.
PA LUSH, the precinct of a parochial church, or a
circuit of ground inhabited by people who belong to
one church, and are under the particular charge of its
minister.
The word comes from the Latin parOc/iify the Greek
habitation; compounded of Trctyx., near, and
«<*#?, house.—Accordingly Du Cange observes, that the
name was anciently given to the whole terri¬
tory of a bishop, and derives it from neighbourhood /
because the primitive Christians, not daring to assemble
openly in cities, were forced to meet secretly in neigh¬
bouring houses.
In the ancient church there was one large edifice in
each city for the people to meet in $ and this they
called pat'oehia, “ Parish.” But the signification of the
word was afterwards enlarged, and by a parish was
meant a diocese, or the extent of the jurisdiction of a
bishop, consisting of several churches, unless we will
suppose, as some do, th^t those bishops were only pas-
Vol. XV. Part IL *
L 777 ]
PAR
tors of single churches. Du Pin observes, that country
parishes had not their origin before the 4th century j
but those of cities are more ancient. The city of Al¬
exandria is said to have been the first that was divided
into parishes.
OL the first division of parishes there is no certain,
information j for in the early ages of Christianity in
this island, parishes were unknown, or at least signified
the same that a diocese now does. There was then no
appropriation of ecclesiastical dues to any particular
church ; but every man was at liberty to contribute
his tithes to any priest or church he pleased, but he
he was obliged to do it to some j or if he made no spe¬
cial appropriation thereof, they were paid to the bishop,
whose duty it was to distribute them among the clergy,
and for other pious purposes, according to bis own dis¬
cretion. Camden says England was divided into pa¬
rishes by Archbishop Honorius about the year 630. Sir
Henry Hobart maintains that parishes were first erected
by the council of Lateran, held A. D. 1179. ®ut M-1*
Selden proves, that the clergy lived in common without
any division of parishes, long after the time mentioned
by Camden ; and it appears from the Saxon laws, that
parishes were in being long before the council of Late-
ran in 1179. The distinction of parishes occurs in the
laws of King Edgar, about the year 970. It seems
pretty clear and certain, says Judge Blackstone (Com.
vol. i. p. 112.) that the boundaries of parishes were first
ascertained by those of a manor or manors j because it
very seldom happens that a manor extends itself over
more than one parish, though there are often many ma¬
nors in one parish. The lords, he adds, as Christianity
spread, began to build churches upon their own de¬
mesnes or wastes, in order to accommodate their tenants
in one or two adjoining lordships ; and that they might
have divine service regularly performed therein, obliged
all their tenants to appropriate their tithes to the main¬
tenance of the one officiating minister, instead of leaving
them at liberty to distribute them among the clergy of
the diocese in general 5 and this tract of land, the tithes
of which Were so appropriated, formed a distinct parish ;
and this accounts for the frequent intermixture of pa¬
rishes one with another. For if a lord had a parcel of
land detached from the main of his estate, but not suf¬
ficient to form a parish of itself, it was natural for him
to endow his newly erected church with the tithes of
such lands. Extra-parochial wastes arid marsh lands,
when improved and drained, are by 17 Geo. II. cap.
37. to be assessed to all parochial rates in the parish next
adjoining. Camden reckons 9284 parishes in England ",
and Chamberlayne makes 9913. They are now gene¬
rally reckoned about 10,000.
PARISH-Clerk. In every parish the parson, vicar, &c.
hath a parish clerk under him, who is the lowest officer
of the church. These were formerly clerks in orders,
and their business at first was to officiate at the altar j
for which they had a competent maintenance by offer¬
ings ; but they are now laymen, and have certain fees
with the parson on christenings, marriages, burials,
&c. besides wages for their maintenance. The law
looks upon them as officers for file : and they are cho¬
sen by the minister of the parish, unless there is a cu¬
stom for the parishioners or churchwardens to choose
them } in which case the canon cannot abrogate such
custom; and when chosen it is to be signified, and
. 5 F they
Parish.
PAR t 778 ] PAR
Parish cliey al'fc L*8 sworn into their office by the archdea-
|| con, i’or which the court of king’s bench will giant a
Park. mandamus.
*   PARISH, in Ancient Geography, a people of Gallia
Celtica, inhabiting the country about the Sequana and
Matrona. Now a great part of the Isle of France.—
jPam/V(Ptolemy), a people of Britain, having the Bri-
gantes to tbe north and west, the German sea to the
west, and tbe Coritani to the south, from whom they
were separated by the Humber. Now Holdernesse, a
peninsula of the east riding of Yorkshire.
PARISIGRUM civitas. See Lutetia.
PARIUM, in Ancient Geography, a noble city of
My sia Minor, with a port on the Propontis ; called
Adrastia by Homer, according to Pliny; but Strabo di¬
stinguishes them : according to others, the Paestos of
H omer. Pariani, the people (Strabo). The birthplace
of Neoptolemus surnamed Glossograpkus (Strabo).
Here stood a Cupid equal in exquisite workmanship to
the Cnidian Venus.
PARK (French parque, i. e. locus inclust/s), is a
large quantity of ground enclosed and privileged for
Wild beasts of chase, bv the king’s grant or prescription.
See ( hase and Forest.
Manwood defines a chase to be “ a privileged place,
for beasts of venery, and other wild beasts of the fo¬
rest and chase, tarn sylvestres cjuam campestres;'n and
differs from a chase or warren, in that it must be en¬
closed : for if it lies open, it is good cause of seizure
into the king’s hand, as a thing forfeited ; as a free
chase is, if it be enclosed : besides, the owner cannot
have an action against such as hunt in his park, if it
lies open. No man can erect a park without license
under the broad seal $ for the common law does not
encourage matter of pleasure, which brings no profit
to the commonwealth. But there may be a park in
reputation erected without any lawful warrant; and
the owner may bring his action against persons killing
his deer.
To a park three things are required. 1. A grant
thereof. 2. Enclosures by pale, wall, or hedge. 3.
Beasts of a park; such as the buck, doe, &c. And
where all the deer are destroyed, it shall no more be ac¬
counted a park ; for a park consists of vert, venison,
and enclosure : and if it is determined in any of them,
it is a total disparking.
Parks as well as chases are subject to the common
law, and are not to be governed by the forest laws.
Park, as connected with gardening. See Garden-
‘ ING.
A park and a garden are more nearly allied than a
* See jFVnvnfarm and a garden*, and can therefore be accommoda-
and GVtr- ted to each other without any disparagement to either.
t>m°' A farm loses some of its characteristic properties by the
connexion, and the advantage is on the part of the gar¬
den : but a park thus bordered retains all its own excel¬
lencies 5 they are only enriched, not counteracted, by
the intermixture. The most perfect composition of a
place that can be imagined, consists of a garden opening
into a park, with a short walk through the latter to a
farm, and ways along its glades to ridings in the coun¬
try but to the farm and the ridings the park is no paik.
more than a passage; and its woods and its buildings '——\—
are but circumstances in their views j its scenes can be
communicated only to the garden.
The affinity of the two objects is so close, that it
would be difficult to draw the exact line of separation
between them. Gai’dens have lately encroached very
much both in extent and in style on the character of a
park •, but still there are scenes in the one which are
out of the reach of the other. The small sequestrated
spots which are agreeable in a garden would be trivial
in a park; and the spacious lawns which are among the
noblest features of the latter, would in the former fa¬
tigue by their want of variety 5 even such as, being of
a moderate extent, may be admitted into either, will
seem bare and naked, if not broken in the one; and
lose much of their greatness, if broken in the other.
The proportion of a part to the whole is a measure of
its dimensions : it often determines the proper size for
an object, as well as the space fit to be allotted to a
scene ; and regulates the style which ought to be assign¬
ed to either.
But whatever distinctions the extent may occasion
between a park and a garden, a state of highly cultiva¬
ted nature is consistent with each of their characters;
and may in both be of the same kind, though in diffe¬
rent degrees.
The excellencies both of a park and of a garden are
happily blended at Hagley (a), where the scenes are
equally elegant and noble. It is situated in the midst
of a fertile and lovely country, between the Clent and
the Witchberry hills ; neither of which are within the
pale but both belong to the place. The latter rise in
three beautiful swells. One of them is covered wTith
wood ; another is an open sheep walk, with an obelisk
on the summit; on the third, the portico of the temple
of Theseus, exactly on the model of that of Athens,
and little less in the dimensions, stands boldly out upon
the brow, backed by the dark ground of a fir planta¬
tion, and has a most majestic appearance above the
steeps which fall before and beside it. The house is
seen to the greatest advantage from these eminences,
and every point of them commands some beautiful
prospect. The busy town of Stourbridge is just be¬
low them ; the ruins of Dudley castle rise in the oft-
skip; the country is full of industry and inhabitants;
and a small portion of the moor, where the minerals,
manufactured in the neighbourhood, are dug, breaking
in upon the horizon, accounts for the richness, without
derogating from the beauty, of the landscape. From
the Clent hills the views are still greater: they extend
on one side to the black mountains in W ales, a long
ridge which appears, at 60 miles distance, in the inter¬
val between the unwieldy heap of the Malvern hills and
the solitary peak of the Wrekin, each 30 miles oil’, and
as many asunder. The smoke of Worcester, the churches
in Birmingham, and the houses in Stourbridge, are di¬
stinctly visible. The country is a mixture of hill and
dale, and strongly enclosed; except in one part, where
a heath, varied by rising grounds, pieces of water, and
several objects, forms an agreeable contrast to the culti¬
vation
(a) Near Stourbridge, in Worcestershire, the seat of Lord Lyttleton.
PAH [ 779 ] PAH
Vation which surrounds it. From the other extremity
of the Clent hills, the prospect is less extensive j but the
ground is more rude and broken 5 it is often overspread
with large and beautiful woods 5 and the view is digni¬
fied with numerous seats. The hills also being very ir¬
regular, large advanced promontories frequently inter¬
rupt the sight, and vary the scene: in other parts, deep
valleys shelving down towards the country below, exhi¬
bit the objects there in different liglrs. In one of
these hollows is built a neat cottage, under a deep
descent, sheltered besides by plantations, and presenting
ideas of retirement in the midst of so much open ex¬
posure: from the heights above it, is seen all that view
which before was commanded from the Witehberry
hills, but which is seen here over Hagley park ; a noble
fore ground, beautiful in itself, and completing the land¬
scape.
The houses though low in the park, is yet above the
adjacent country, which it overlooks to a very distant
horizon. It is surrounded by a lawn of fine uneven
grounds, and diversified with large clumps, little groups,
and single trees. It is open in front, but covered on one
side by the Witchberry hills ; on the other side, and
behind, by the eminences in the park, which are high
and steep, and all overspread with a lofty hanging wood.
The lawn pressing to the foot, or creeping up the slopes
of these hills, and sometimes winding along glades into
the depth of the wood, traces a beautiful outline to a
sylvan scene, already rich to luxuriance in massiness of
foliage and stateliness of growth,
But though the wood appears to be entire, it in rea¬
lity opens frequently into lawns, which occupy much
of the space within it. In the number, the variety,
and the beauty of these lawns, in the shades of the se¬
paration between them, in their beauties also, and their
varieties, the glory of Hagley consists. No two of the
openings are alike in dimensions, in shape, or in charac¬
ter. One is of no more than five or six acres; another
of not less than fifty; and others are of all the interme¬
diate sizes. Some stretch out into lengthened glades ;
some widen every way : they are again distinguished by
buildings, by prospects, and often by the style only of
the plantations around them. The boundary of one is
described by a few careless lines ; that of another is com¬
posed of many parts, very difterent, and very irregular;
and the ground is never flat, but falls sometimes in
steep descents, sometimes in gentle declivities, waves
along ea^y swells, or is thrown into broken inequalities,
with endless variety.
An octagon seat,' sacred to the memory of Thomson,
and erected on his favourite spot, stands on the brow
of a steep ; a mead winds along the valley beneath, till
it is lost on either hand behind some trees. Opposite to
the seat, a noble wood crowns the top, and feathers
down to the bottom of a large oval swelling hill.
As it descends on one side, the distant country becomes
the olfskip. Over the fall, on the other side, the Cdent
hills appear. A dusky antique tower stands just below
them, at the extremity of the wmod ; and in the midst
of it is seen a Doric portico, called l ope s Build¬
ing, with part of the lawn before it. 1 he scene is veiy
simple: the principal features are great; they prevai
over all the rest, and are intimately connected with eac 1
'other.
The next opening is small, circling about a rotunda
on a knoll, to the foot of which the ground rises every
way. The trees which surround it are large ; but their
foliage is not very thick ; and their stems appearing be¬
neath, their ramifications between the boughs are, in so
confined a spot, very distinguished and agreeable cir¬
cumstances. It is retired ; has no prospect; no visible
outlet but one, and that is short and narrow, to a bridge
w'ith a portico upon it, which terminates a piece of
water.
The grove behind the rotunda separates this from a
large, airy, forest glade, thinly skirted with wood, care¬
less of dress, and much overgrown with fern. The
wildness is an acceptable relief in the midst of so much
elegance and improvement as reign in the neighbour¬
ing lawns: and the place is in itself pleasant; in no
part confined ; and from a Gothic seat at the end is a
perspective view of that wood and tower which wrere
seen before in front, together with the Witchberry hills,
and a wide range of country.
The tower, which in prospect is always connected
with wood, stands, however, on a piece of down, which
stretches along the broad ridge of a hill, and spreads
on each hand for some way down the sides. Thick
groves catch the falls. The descent on the right is soon
lost under the trees; but that on the left being steeper
and shorter, it may be followed to the bottom. A wood
hangs on the declivity, which is continued in the val¬
ley beneath. The tower overlooks the whole : it seems
the remains of a castle, partly entire, partly in rums,
and partly overgrown with bushes. A finer situation
cannot be imagined : It is placed in an exposed unfre¬
quented spot ; commands an extensive prospect; and
is everywhere an interesting object.
At the end of the valley below it, in an obscure cor¬
ner, and shut out from all view, is a hermitage, com¬
posed of roots and of moss : high banks, and a thick
covert darkened with horse chesnuts, confine the se¬
questered spot: a little rill trickles through it, and two
small pieces of water occupy the bottom. 1 hey are
seen on one side through groups ot trees ; the other is
open, but covered with fern. Ihis valley is the extre¬
mity of the park; and the Clent hills rise in all their
irregularity immediately above it.
The other descent from the castle is a long declivi¬
ty, covered like the rest with noble woods, in which
fine lawns are again embosomed, diflering still fiom
the former, and from each other. In one, the ground
is very rough, the boundary is much bioken, and
marked only by the trunks of the trees which shoot up
high before the branches begin. The next is more
simple ; and the ground falls from an even brow into
one large hollow, which stops towards the glyn, where
it sinks into the covert. This has a communication
through a short glade, and.between two groves, with
another called the Tinian lawn, from the resemblance
which it is said to bear to those ot that celebrated
island : it is encompassed with the stateliest tiees, all
fresh and vigorous, and so full of leaf, that not a stem,
not a branch, appears, but large masses of foliage only
describe an undulating outline ; the effect, however, is
not produced by the boughs feathering down to the bot¬
tom ; they in appearance shoot out horizontally, a lew
feet above the ground, to a surprising distance, and form
underneath an edging of shade, into which the retreat is
immediate at every hour of the day. The verdure of
F 2 the
PAR
Park, the turf is as luxuriant there as in the open space : the
■—V“" 1 .round gently waves in both over easy swells and little
dips, ]usl varying, not breaking, the surface. No strong
lines are drawn •, no striking objects are admitted } but
all is of an even temper, all mild, placid, and serene j in
the gayest season of the day not more than cheerful, in
the stillest watch of night not gloomy. The scene is in¬
deed peculiarly adapted to the tranquillity ot the latter,
when the moon seems to repose her light on the thick
foliage of the grove, and steadily marks the shade oi
every bough. It is delightful then to saunter here, and
see the grass, and the gossamer which entwines it, gli¬
stening with dew ; to listen and hear nothing stir, ex¬
cept perhaps a withered leaf dropping gently through a
tree; and, sheltered from the chill, to catch the fresh¬
ness of the evening air : a solitary urn, chosen by Mr
Pope for the spot, and now inscribed to his memory,
when shown by a gleam of moonlight through the trees,
fixes that thoughtfulness and composure to which the
mind is insensibly led by the rest of this elegant
scene.
The Doric portico, which also bears his name, though
not within sight, is near: it is placed on the declivity of
a hill j and Thomson’s seat, with its groves and appen¬
dages, are agreeable circumstances in the prospect before
it. In the valley beneath is fixed a bench, which com¬
mands a variety of short views } one is up the ascent to
the portico, and others through openings in the wood to
the bridge and the rotunda.
The next lawn is large : the ground is steep and ir¬
regular, but inclines to one direction, and falls from
every side into the general declivity : the outline is di¬
versified by many groups of trees on the slopes j and
frequent glimpses of the country are seen in perspec¬
tive through openings between them. In the brow is
a seat, in the proudest situation of all Hagley ; it com¬
mands a view down the bold sweep of the lawn, and
over a valley filled with the noblest trees, up to the
heights beyond. One of those heights is covered with
a hanging wood 5 which opens only to show Thom¬
son’s seat, and the groves and the steeps about it *, the
others are the Witchberry hills, which seem to press
forward into the landscape •, and the massy heads of
the trees in the vale, uniting into a continued surface,
form a broad base to the temple of Theseus, hide the
swell on which it is built, and crowd up to the very
foundation. Farther back stands the obelisk 5 before
it is the sheep walk ; behind it the Witchberry wood.
The temple is backed by the firs ; and both these plan¬
tations are connected with that vast sylvan scene which
overspreads the other hill and all the intermediate
valley. Such extent of wood; such variety in the dis¬
position of it ; objects so illustrious in themselves, and
ennobled by their situations, each contrasted to each,
every one distinct, and all happily united j the parts
§0 beautiful of a whole so great, seen from a charm¬
ing lawn, and surrounded by a delightful country,
compose all together a scene of real magnificence and
grandeur.
The several lawns are separated by the finest trees ;
which sometimes grow in airy groves, chequered with
gleams of light, and open to every breeze •, but more
frequently, whose great branches meeting or crossing
each other, cast a deep impenetrable shade. Large
boughs feathering down often intercept the sight j or a
PAR
vacant space is filled with coppice wood, nut, hawthorn, Park.
and hornbeam, whose tufted heads mixing with the foli- v—«• Fa'
age, and whose little stems clustering about the trunks
of the trees, thicken and darken the plantation. Here
and there the division is of such coppice wood only,
which then being less constrained and oppressed, springs
up stronger, spreads further, and joins in a low vaulted
covering : in other places the shade is high, overarched
by the tallest ash, or spreads under the branches of the
most venerable oaks. They rise in every shape, they are
disposed in every form in which trees can grow. The
ground beneath them is sometimes almost level 5 some¬
times a gentle swell} but generally very irregular and
broken. In several places, large hollows wind down
the sides of the hills, worn in the stormy months by wa¬
ter courses, but worn many ages ago. Very old oaks in
the midst of the channels prove their antiquity : some
of them are perfectly dry most part of the year *, and
some are watered by little rills all the summer: they are
deep and broad j the sides are commonly steep j often
abrupt and hollow j and the trees on the bank sometimes
extend their roots, all covered with moss, over the chan¬
nels of the water. Low down in one of these glens,
under a thick shade of horse chesnuts, is a plain bench,
in the midst of several little currents and water falls,
running among large loose stones, and the stumps of dead
trees, with which the ground is broken. On the brink
of another glen, which is distinguished by a numei'ous
rookery, is a seat in a still wilder situation, near a deeper
hollow, and in a darker gloom : the falls are nearly per¬
pendicular ; the roots of some of the trees are almost
bare, from the earth having crumbled away j large
boughs of others, sinking with their own weight, seem
ready to break from the trunks they belong to and the
finest ash, still growing, lie all aslant the water course
below, which, though the streams run in winter only,
yet constantly retains the black tinge of damp, and casts
a chill all around.
Gravel walks are conducted across the glens, through
the woods, the groves, or the thickets, and along the
sides of the lawns, concealed generally from the sight,
but always ready for the communication, and leading to
the principal scenes. The frequency of these walks, the
number and the style of the buildings, and the high pre¬
servation in which all the place is kept, give to the whole
park the air of a garden. There is, however, one spot
more peculiarly adapted to that purpose, and more arti¬
ficially disposed than the rest; it is a narrow vale, divi¬
ded into three parts : one of them is quite filled with
water which leaves no room for a path, but thick trees
on either side come down quite to the brink ; and be¬
tween them the sight is conducted to the bridge with
a portico upon it, which closes the view: another part of
this vale is a deep gloom, overhung with large ash and
oaks, and darkened below by a number of yews : these
are scattered over very uneven ground, and open under¬
neath ; but they are encompassed by a thick covert, un¬
der which a stream falls from a stony channel, down a
rock ; other rills drop into the current, which after¬
wards pours over a secand cascade into the third division
of the vale, where it forms a piece of water, and is lost
under the bridge. The view from this bridge is a per¬
fect opera scene, through all the divisions of the vale up
to the rotunda. Both these buildings, and the other de¬
corations of the spot, are of the species generally confi-
[ 780 ]
PAR
Park, ned to a garden. The hermitage also, which has been
Parker, described, and its appendages, are in a style which does
not belong to a park; but through all the rest of the
place, the two characters are intimately blended. The
whole is one subject; and it was a bold idea to conceive
that one to be capable of so much variety ; it required
the most vigorous efibrts of a. fertile fancy to carry that
idea into execution. See Gardening.
Park of Artillery. See Artillery.
Park of Provisions, in military affairs, the place
where the sutlers pitch their tents in the rear, and sell
their provisions to the soldiers. Likewise that place
where the bread waggons are drawn up, and where the
troops receive their ammunition bread, being the store
of the army.
PARKER, Matthew, the second Protestant arch¬
bishop of Canterbury, was born at Norwich in the year
1504, the 19th of Hen. VII. His father, who was a
man in trade, died when our author was about twelve
years old *, but his mother took special care of his edu¬
cation, and at the age of 17 sent him to Corpus Christi
college in Cambridge, where, in 1523, he took his
bachelor’s degree. In 1527 he was ordained, created
master of arts, and chosen fellow of the college. Ha¬
ving obtained a license to preach, he frequently held
forth at St Paul’s cross in London, and in other parts
of the kingdom. In 1533 or 1534 he was made chap¬
lain to Queen Anne Boleyn, who obtained for him the
deanery of Stoke Clare in Suffdk, where he founded a
grammar school. After the death of the queen, King
Henry made him his own chaplain, and in 1541 preben¬
dary of Ely. In 1544, he was, by the king’s command,
elected master of Corpus Christi college, and the follow¬
ing year vice chancellor of the university. In 1547 he
lost the deanery of Stoke, by the dissolution of that col¬
lege. In the same year he married the daughter of Ro¬
bert Harlestone, a Norfolk gentleman.
In the year 1552 he was nominated, by Edward VI.
to the deanery of Lincoln, which, with his other pre¬
ferments, enabled him to live in great affluence : but
Mary had scarcely succeeded to the throne before he
was deprived of every thing he held in the church, and
was then obliged to live in obscurity, frequently chan¬
ging his place of abode to avoid the fate of the other re¬
formers,
Queen Elizabeth ascended the throne in 1558 j and
in the following year Dr Parker, from indigence and
obscurity, was at once raised to the see of Canterbury;
an honour which he neither solicited nor desired. In
this high station he acted with spirit and propriety. He
visited his cathedral and diocese in 1560, 1565, and
1573. He repaired and beautified his palace at Lam¬
beth at a vast expence. The sum which the repairs of
the palace and great hall at Canterbury cost him was
upwards of 1400b sterling, which is at least equal to ten
times the sum now-a-days. Both the palace and great
hall were in decay, partly through the injuries of time,
and partly through that of fire. The ball, built by
Archbishop Huber in the I2th century, was famous in
history for the great feasts that had been given there by
PAR
archbishops and abbots in former times ; in particular, Parker,
at the nuptial feasts of King Edward I. in 1290 ; at the
installation of the abbot of St Austin’s in 1309 ; at
the enthromzation of George Nevill, archbishop of
Yox*k, in 1464; and of Archbishop Warham in 1504,
when Edward duke of Buckingham acted as lord high
steward of his household ; and lastly, for the entertain¬
ment given by that archbishop in 1519 to the emperor
Charles V. Henry VIII. Queen Catherine, &c. In
1565 Archbishop Parker gave three entertainments in
this hall at Whitsuntide (which lasted three days), on
Trinity Sunday, and in assize time. At the two first of
these the archbishop himself sat in the midst of the up¬
permost table; on his left hand the mayor, &c. and so
on one side of the hall a continued row of men accord¬
ing to their rank filled the other tables ; and on his
right hand sat only some noble women and ladies of
quality, the whole length of the hall, corresponding to
the row of men on the other side : which order of pla¬
cing the women was observed in honour of the queen.
The first rank of guests having risen, and the tables clear¬
ed, they were furnished again, and filled the second time.
At the last feast which was grander than all the rest,
the archbishop entertained the two judges who went
that circuit (b), the attorney-general, the high-sheriff,
with all who met at these assizes, as justices of the
peace, advocates, and common lawyers, and all the rest
of proctors and attorneys ; who all (with a promiscuous
company) in troops came in. The hall was set forth
with much plate of silver and gold, adorned with much
tapestry of Flanders ; and dainties of all sorts were ser¬
ved in excellent order by none but the archbishop’s ser¬
vants, the table being often the same day furnished a-
fresh with new guests ; while the ladies were nobly en¬
tertained in inner parlours by Mrs Parker, the hall be¬
ing now filled with gentlemen. Otherwise, at these
feasts, it was the archbishop’s custom, in honour of ma¬
trimony, to entertain both men and their wives. Of
this noble hall and palace, now within 200 years, there
is little or nothing left except a few ruins. On Whit¬
sunday 1570, and the two following days, this archbi¬
shop feasted the citizens of Canterbury and their wives
in the same manner as he had done before : and on
Trinity Sunday (after consecrating Bishop Curteis of
Chichester) he made another most archiepiscopal feast,
inviting another archbishop (viz. Grindal of York, who
came thither for confirmation) to be his guest : besides
whom were present Horn bishop of Winchester, and
Curteis bishop of Chichester. At the lower tables
sat all the ministers and servants whatsoever, even the
children, who belonged to that church ; and at the re¬
motest tables, but in the same hall, in sight, sat the poor
of both sexes of the hospitals of St John’s and Harble-
down. On July nth, being assizes time, the judges,
high-sheriff, gentlemen, and the common sort, were all
feasted by the archbishop in a splendid manner as be¬
fore. Soon after Bishop Sandys of Worcester, elect of
London, came to Canterbury to be confirmed. The
archbishop, on his return, lodged the first night at Sit-
tingbourn, and the next night (after dining at Grave¬
send)
1 7Sl J
(b) This proves that the judges of assize then came to Canterbury, though it was then a county in itself, being
so made in 1461.
PAR t 782 ] PAR
Pnrkcr. Send) came to Lambeth in barges by Thames, with all
' his family. Sept. 7. 1573, being Q. Elizabeth’s birth¬
day, Archbishop Parker entertained her majesty, and as
many noblemen, &c. as were present at Archbishop
Warham’s entertainment in the same hall 54 years be¬
fore. The archbishop (to use his own words, in a letter
to Archbishop Grindal of York) “ met her highness,
as she was coming to Dover, upon Folkstone Down. I
left her at Dover, and came home to Bekesborn that
nightand after that ivent to Canterbury to receive her
majesty there. "Which I did, with the bishops of Lin¬
coln and Rochester, and my suffragan (of Dover), at
the west door 5 where, after the grammarian had made
his oration to her upon her horse-back, she alighted.
We then kneeled down, and said the psalm Deus misere-
aiui^ in English, with certain other collects briefly; and
that in our chimers and rochets. The quire, with the
dean and prebendaries, stood on either side of the church,
and brought her majesty up with a song ; she going un¬
der a square canopy, borne by four of her temporal
knights, to her traverse, placed by the communion
board, where she heard evening song ; and after depart¬
ed to her lodging at St Austin’s, whither I rvaited upon
her. From thence I brought certain of the council, and
divers of the court, to my house to supper, and gave
them 14 or I 1; dishes, furnished with two mess, at my
long table, whereat sat about 20; and in the same cham¬
ber a third mess, at a square table, whereat sat 10 or
12; my less hall having three long tables furnished
with my officers, and with the guard, and others of the
court: and so her majesty came every Sunday to church
to hear the sermon. And upon one Monday it pleased
her highness to dine in my great hall, thoroughly fur¬
nished with the council, Frenchmen, ladies, gentlemen,
and the mayor of the town, writh his brethren, &c.}
her highness sitting in the midst, having two French
ambassadors (Gondius and Mothe-Fenelon) at the end
of the table, and four ladies of honour at the other
end. And so three mess were served by her nobility
at washing, her gentleman and guard bringing her
dishes, &.c.” On which the archbishop of York, in
his answer, made this reflection : “ Your grace’s large
description of the entertainment at Canterbury did so
lively set forth the matter, that in reading thereof I
almost thought myself to be one of your guests there,
and as it were beholding the whole order of all things
done there. Sir, I think it shall be hard for any of
our coat to do the like for one hunded years, and how
long after God knoweth.” In this progress Lord
Treasurer Burleigh was lodged with Mr Pearson, the
eleventh prebendary, who, the archbishop says, “ had a
fine house.”
He founded several scholarships in Bennet or Corpus-
Christi college in Cambridge, and gave large presents
of plate to that and to other colleges in this university.
He gave lOO volumes to the public library. He like¬
wise founded a free school at Rochdale in Lancashire.
He took care to have the sees filled with pious and
learned men 5 and, considering the great want of Bibles
in many places, he, with the assistance of other learned
men, improved the English translation, had it printed
on a large paper, and dispersed through the kingdom.
This worthy prelate died in the year 1575, aged 72,
and %vas buried in his own chapel at Lambeth. He
was pious without affectation or austerity, cheerful and
5
contented in the midst of adversity, moderate in the Parker
height of power, and beneficent beyond example. He [j
wrote several books 5 and also published tour of our t’arliameafr.
best historians, Matthew of Westminster, Matthew v
Pan's, Asserts Life of King Alfred, and Tho. Walsing-
ham. The learned archbishop also translated the Psal¬
ter. This version was printed, but without a name;
and has been attributed to an obscure poet of the name
ot Keeper. This was Wood’s opinion ; but it is more
than probable that the learned author of the Athenee
Oxon. was wrong. See Gentleman’s Magazine for
1781, p. 566. where Parker is proved to be the author
of a version of the Psalms.
PARKINSONIA, a genus of plants, belonging to
the decandria class ; and in the natural method ranking
under the 33d order, Lomentacece. See Botany In¬
dex.
PARLEY, a conference with an enemy. Hence,
to beat or sound a parley, is to give a signal for holding
such a conference by beat of drum, or sound of trumpet. x
PARLIAMENT, the grand assembly of the three Delinitioa.
states of this kingdom, summoned together by the king’s
authority, to consider of matters relating to the public
welfare, and particularly to enact and repeal laws. 2
The original or fix-st institution of parliament is one Origin noi
of those matters which lie so far hidden in the dark ages c'erta>Dl?
of antiquity, that the tracing of it out is a thing equallylinown’
difficult and uncertain. The word parliament itself (or
colloquium, as some of our historians translate it) is, com¬
paratively, ot modern date j derived from the breneb,
and signifying “ the place where they met and conferred
together.” It was first applied to general assemblies of
the states under Lewis \ II. in France, about the middle
of the 12th century. But it is certain, that long before
the introduction of the Nonnan language into England,
all matters of importance wfere debated and settled in the
great councils of the realm. A practice which seems to
have been Universal among the northern nations, parti¬
cularly the Germans j and carried by them into all the
countries of Europe, which they overran at the dissolu¬
tion of the Roman empire. Relicks of which constitu¬
tion, under various modifications and changes, are still
to be met with in the diets of Poland, Germany, and
Sweden, and lately in the assembly of the estates in
France : for what is there now called the parliament, is
only the supreme court of justice, consisting of the peers,
certain dignified ecclesiastics, and judges *, which nei¬
ther is in practice, nor is supposed to be in theory, a
general council of the realm. 3
In England, however, this general council hath been Antiquity
held immemorially, under the several names of michel-
synoth, or “ great councilmichelgemote, or “ great a
meetingand more frequently wittena-gemotc, or “ the
meeting of wise men.” It was also styled in Latin,
commune concilium regni, magnum concilium regis, cu¬
ria magna, conventus magnatum vel procerum, assisa
gcncralis, and sometimes communitas regni Anglia;. We
have instances of its meeting to order the aflairs of the
kingdom, to make new laws, and to amend the old, oi’,
as Fleta expresses it, novis injuriis emersis nova consti-
tuere remedia, so early as the reign ot Ina king of the
West Saxons, Offa king of the Mercians, and Ethelbert
king of Kent, in the several realms of the heptarchy.
And after their union, the Mivrour informs us, that King
Alfred ordained for a perpetual usage, that these coun-
P A 11 [ 783
Parliament.4'1^ should meet twice in the year, or oltener, if need
 1 be, to treat of the government of God’s people ; how
they should keep themselves from sin, should live in
quiet, and should receive right. Our succeeding Saxon
and Danish monarchs held frequent councils of this sort,
as appears from their respective codes of laws ; the titles
whereof usually speak them to be enacted, either by the
king with the advice of his wittcua-gcmote, or wise men,
as, lLee sunt instituta, quee Edgar us rex coma do sapien-
tium suorum instituit; or to be enacted by those sages
with the advice of the king: as Hcee sunt judicia quee
sapientes consilio regis Ethelstam instituervnt; or, lastly,
To be enacted by them both together, as Hce stmt insti-
tut tones, quas rex Edmundus ct episcopi sui cum sapienti-
bus suis instituerunt.
There is also no doubt but these great councils were
occasionally held under the first princes of the Norman
line. Glanvil, who wrote in the reign of Henry II.
speaking of the particular amount of an amercement in
the sheriff’s court, says, it had never yet been ascertain¬
ed by the general assize or assembly, but was left to the
custom of particular counties. Here the general assize is
spoken of as a meeting well known, and its statutes or de¬
cisions are put in a manifest contradistinction to custom,
or to the common law. And in Edward III.’s time, an
act of parliament, made in the reign of William the
Conqueror, was pleaded in the case of the abbey of St
4 Edmund’s Bury, and judicially allowed by the court.
The nature Hence it indisputably appears, that parliaments, or
general councils, are coeval with the kingdom itself.
How those parliaments were constituted and composed,
is another question, which has been matter of great dis¬
pute among our learned antiquarians ; and particularly,
whether the commons were summoned at all 5 or, if sum¬
moned, at what period they began to form a distinct as¬
sembly. But without entering into controversies of this
sort, it may be sufficient to observe, that it is generally
agreed, that in the main the constitution of parliament,
as it now stands, was marked out so long ago as the 17th
year of King John, A, D. 1215, in the great charter
granted by that prince ; wherein he promises to summon
all archbishops, bishops, abbots, earls, and greater ba¬
rons, personallyand all other tenants in chief under
the crown, by the sheriff and bailiffs; to meet at a cer¬
tain place, with 40 days notice, to assess aids and scu¬
tages when necessary. And this constitution has subsist¬
ed in fact at least from the ypJn' 1266, 49 Henry III.
there being still extant writs of that date, to summon
knights, citizens, and burgesses, to parliament. We
proceed therefore to inquire wherein consists this con¬
stitution of parliament, as it now stands, and lias stood,
for the space of at least 500 years. And in the pro¬
secution of this inquiry, we shall consider, first, The
manner and time of its assembling : Secondly, Its con¬
stituent parts : Thirdly, The laws and customs relating
to parliament : Fourthly, The methods of proceeding,
and of making statutes, in both houses : And, lastly,
The manner of the parliament’s adjournment: proroga-
5 tion, and dissolution.
Parliament I. Tv to the manner and time of assembling. The par-
onl 'T^lle ^ament *s regularly to be summoned by the king’s writ
king'. 0I’ letter» issued out of chancery by advice ol the privy
council, at least 40 days before it begin" to sit. It is a
branch of the royal prerogative, that no parliament can
he convened by its own authority, or by the authority of
J
P A K
of these
early par¬
liaments
not easily
known
any except tne king alone. And this prerogative is Parliament,
founded upon very good reason. For, supposing it had p-"—-v-—
a right to meet spontaneously, without being called to¬
gether, it is impossible to conceive that all the members,
and each ol. the houses, would agree unanimously upon
the proper time and place of meeting ; and if half of the
members met, and half absented themselves, who shall
determine which is really the legislative body, the part
assembled, or that winch stays away P It is therefore ne¬
cessary, that the parliament should be called together at
a.determinate time and place j and, highly becoming its
dignity and independence, that it should be called toge¬
ther by none but one of its own constituent jiarts : and
of the three constituent parts, this office can only apper¬
tain to the king ; as he is a single person, whose will
may he uniform and steady j the first person in the na¬
tion, being superior to both houses in dignity ; and the
only branch of the legislature that has a separate exist¬
ence, and is capable of performing any act at a time
when no parliament is in being. Nor is it an excep¬
tion to this rule, that, by some modern statutes, on the
demise of a king or queen, if there be then no parlia¬
ment in being, the last parliament revives, andjs to sit
again for six months, unless dissolved by the successor:
for this revived parliament must have been originally
summoned by the crown. <j
It is true, that the convention parliament which re- The con-
stored King Charles II. met above a month before hisven^on
return j the lords, by their own authority, and the com-1111 lamcnts
. no just ex-
mons in pursuance of writs issued in the name of the ception to
keepers of the liberty of England by authority of par-this;
liament, and that the said parliament sat till the 29th
of December, full seven months after the Restoration j
and enacted many laws, several of which are still in
force. But this was for the necessity of the thing,
which supersedes all law j for if they had not so met,
it was morally impossible that the kingdom should have
been settled in peace. And the first thing done after
the king’s return was, to pass an act declaring this to
be a good parliament, notwithstanding the defect of the
king’s writ. So that as the royal prerogative was chiefly
wounded by their .so meeting, and as the king himself,
who alone had a right to object, consented to wave the
objection, this cannot be drawn into an example in pre¬
judice of the rights of the crown. Besides, we should
also remember, that it was at that time a great doubt
among the lawyers, whether even this healing act made
it a good parliament, and held by very many in the ne¬
gative, though it seems to have been too nice a scruple.
And yet, out of abundant caution, it was thought neces¬
sary to confirm its acts in the next parliament, by statute
13 Car. II e 7. and c. 14. 7
It is likewise true, at the time of the Revolutionnor t*18* 01
A D. 1688, the lords and commons by their own au-1JJ ’ ^e*
. • 1 1 ,, , e cause they
thonty, and upon the summons 01 the prince or '-'range onoin tecj
(afterwards King William), met in a convention, and ex wecessi-
therein disposed of the crown and kingdom. But it must m-
be remembered, that this assembling was upon a like
principle of necessity as at the Restoration^ that is, upon
a full conviction that King James II had abdicated 'he
government, and that the throne was thereby vacant j
which supposition of the individual members was con¬
firmed by their concurrent resolution, when they actually
came together. And in such a case as the palpable va¬
cancy of a throne, it follows, ex necessitate rei, that the
forms
PAR [ 784
Parliament form of the royal writs must be laid aside, otherwise no
l——v""^ parliament can ever meet again, h or let us put another
possible case, and suppose, for the sake ol argument,
that the whole royal line should at any time fail, and
become extinct, which would indisputably vacate the
throne : in this situation it seems reasonable to presume,
that the body of the nation, consisting of lords and com¬
mons, would have a right to meet and settle the govern¬
ment at all. And upon this and no other principle did
the convention in 1688 assemble. The vacancy of the
throne was precedent to their meeting without any royal
summons, not a consequence of it. They did not as¬
semble without writ, and then make the throne vacant}
but, the throne being previously vacant by the king’s
abdication, they assembled without writ, as they must do
if they assembled at all. Had the throne been full, their
meeting would not have been regular j but, as it was
really empty, such meeting became absolutely necessary.
And accordingly, it is declared by statute 1 W. M.
•stat. I. c. I. that this convention was really the two
houses of parliament, notwithstanding the want of writs
or other defects of form. So that, notwithstanding
these two capital exceptions, which were justifiable on¬
ly on a principle of necessity (and each of which, by
the way, induced a revolution in the government), the
rule laid down is in general certain, that the king only
g can convoke a parliament.
The king is And this, by the ancient statutes of the realm, he is
obliged to bound to do every year, or oftener if need be. Not
convoke tjiat j)e or ever waSj obliged by these statutes to
parliament ^ ^ parliament every year j but only to permit
a parliament to sit annually for the redress^ of griev¬
ances, and dispatch of business, if need be. These last
words are so loose and vague, that such of our monarchs
as were inclined to govern without parliaments, neglect¬
ed the convoking them, sometimes for a very consider¬
able period, under pretence that there was not need of
them. But, to remedy this, by the statute 16 Car. II.
c. I. it is enacted, that the sitting and holding of parlia¬
ments shall not be intermitted above three years at the
most. And by the statute 1 W. and M. st. 2. c. 2. it
is declared to be one of the rights of the people, that for
redress of all grievances, and for the amending, strength¬
ening, and preserving, the laws, parliaments ought to be
held frequently. And this indefinite frequency is again
reduced to a certainty by statute 6 W. & M. c. 2. which
enacts, as the statute of Charles II. has done before, that
a new parliament shall be called within three yeais af-
9 ter the determination of the former.
The king, II. The constituent parts of^ a parliament are, the
lords spiri- king’s majesty, sitting there in his royal political capaci-
tual and ^ an(j tb'e tbree estates of the realm $ the lords spiritual,
aiuPcom- the lords temporal (who sit together with the king in
mons,make one house), and the commons, who sit by themselves in
the parlia- another. And the king and these three estates to¬
gether form the greater corporation or body politic of
the kingdom, of which the king is said to be caput,
principium, et finis. For upon their coming together
the king meets them, either in person or by representa¬
tion ; without which there can be no beginning of a par¬
liament j and he also has alone the power of dissolving
them.
It is highly necessary for preserving the balance of
the constitution, that the executive power should be a
3
]
PAR
as often as
circum¬
stances re¬
quire.
menu
branch, though not the whole, of the legislature. The Parliament,
total union of them, we have seen, would be productive
of tyranny : the total disjunction of them for the present,
would in the end produce the same effects, by causing pi.iety an^
that union against which it seems to provide. '1 he le-necessity of
gislature would soon become tyrannical, by making con-the king’s
tinual encroachments, and gradually assuming to itself of
the rights of the executive power. Thus the long par-the Iegisla_
liament of Charles I. while it acted in a constitutional turc
manner, with the royal concurrence, redressed many
heavy grievances and established many salutary laws.
But when the two houses assumed the power of legisla¬
tion, in exclusion of the royal authority, they soon after
assumed likewise the reins of administration j and, in
consequence of these united powers, overturned both
church and state, and established a worse oppression than
any they pretended to remedy. To hinder therefore an
such encroachments, the king is himself a part of the par¬
liament •, and as this is the reason of his being so, very
properly therefore the share of legislation which the con¬
stitution has placed in the crown, consists in the power
of rejecting, rather than resolving *, this being sufficient
to answer the end proposed. For we may apply to the
royal negative, in this instance, what Cicero observes of
the negative of the Roman tribunes, that the crown has
not any power of doing wrong, but merely of prevent¬
ing wrong from being done. 1 he crown cannot begin
of itself any alterations in the present established law ;
but it may approve or disapprove of the alterations sug¬
gested and consented to by the two houses. The legi¬
slature therefore cannot abridge the executive power of
any rights which it now has by law, without its own
consent; since the law must perpetually stand as it now
does, unless all the powers will agree to alter it. And
herein indeed consists the true excellence of the British
government, that all the parts of it form a mutual check
upon each other. In the legislature, the people are a
check upon the nobility, and the nobility a check upon
the people, by the mutual privilege of rejecting what
the other has resolved ; while the king is a check upon
both, which preserves the executive power from en¬
croachments. And this very executive power is again
checked and kept within due bounds by the two houses,
through the privilege they have of inquiring into, im¬
peaching, and punishing the conduct (not indeed of the
king, which would destroy his constitutional independ¬
ence j but which is more beneficial to the public) of his
evil and pernicious counsellors. Thus every branch of
our civil polity supports and is supported, regulates and
is regulated, by the rest: for the two houses naturally
drawing in two directions of opposite interest, and the
prerogative in another still different from them both,
they mutually keep each other from exceeding their
proper limits*; while the whole is prevented from sepa¬
ration, and artificially connected together by the mixed
nature of the crown, which is a part of the legislative,
and the sole executive magistrate. Like three distinct
powers in mechanics, they jointly impel the machine of
government in a direction different from what either,
acting by itself, would have done ; but at the same
time in a direction partaking of each, and formed out
of all; a direction which constitutes the true line of the
liberty and happiness of the community.
Having already considered these constituent parts of
the
PAR [785
Parliament, tlie sovereign power, qr parliament, each in a separate
' v view, under the articles King, Lords, and Commons,
11 to which the reader is referred, we proceed,
The power m. To examine the laws and customs relating to
parliament, united together and considered as one ag¬
gregate body. The power and jurisdiction of parlia¬
ments, says Sir Edward Coke, is so transcendent and
absolute, that it cannot be confined either for causes
or persons within any bounds. And of this high court
he adds, it may be truly said, Si antiquitatem species, est
vetvstissimaj si dignitatem, est fiomratissimc; sijurisdic-
tio/iem, est capacissima. It hath sovereign and uncontroul-
able authority in making, confirming,enlarging,restrain¬
ing, abrogating, repealing,reviving, andexpoundinglaws,
concerning matters of all possible denominations, eccle¬
siastical or temporal, civil, military, maritime, or crimi¬
nal : this being the place where that absolute despotic
power, which must in all governments reside somewhere,
is intrusted by the constitution of these kingdoms. All
mischiefs and grievances, operations and remedies, that
transcend the ordinary course of the laws, are within the
reach of this extraordinary tribunal. It can regulate or
new-model the succession to the crown •, as was dene in
the reigns of Henry VIII. and William HI. It can al¬
ter the established religion of the land; as was done in a
variety of instances in the reigns of King Henry VIII.
and his three children. It can change and create afresh
even the constitution of the kingdom and of parliaments
themselves; as was done by the act of Union, and the se¬
veral statutes for triennial and septennial elections. It
can, in short, do every thing that is not naturally im¬
possible ; and therefore some have not scrupled to call
its power, by a figure rather too bold, the omnipotence of
parliament. True it is, that what the parliament doth,
no authority upon earth can undo. So that it is a matter
most essential to the liberties of this kingdom, that such
members be delegated to this important trust as are most
eminent for their probity, their fortitude, and their
knowledge ; for it was a known apophthegm of the
great lord treasurer Burleigh, “ That England could
never be ruined but by a parliament;” and, as Sir Mat¬
thew Hale observes, this being the highest and greatest
court, over which none other can have jurisdiction in
the kingdom, if by any means a misgovemment should
anyway fall upon it, the subjects of this kingdom are left
without all manner of remedy. To the same purpose,
the President Montesquieu, though we trust too hastily,
presages, that as Rome, Sparta, and Carthage, have
lost their liberty and perished ; so the constitution of
England will in time lose its liberty, will perish : it will
perish whenever the legislative power shall become more
12 corrupt than the executive.
Mr Locke’s It must be owned, that Mr Locke, and other theo-
opinion re- retiCal writers, have held, that “ there remains still in¬
specting herent in the people a supreme power to remove or al-
is power. ^ t|ie legislature, when they find the legislature act
contrary to the trust reposed in them : for when such
trust is abused, it is thereby forfeited, and devolves
to those who gave it.” But however just this conclu¬
sion may be in theory, we cannot adopt it, or argue
from it, under any dispensation of government at pre¬
sent actually existing. For this devolution of power,
to the people at large, includes in it a dissolution of
the whole form of government established by that peo¬
ple ; reduces ail the members to their original state of
Vol. XV. Part II. *
] PAR
equality; and by annihilating the sovereign power, re-Parliainenf.
peals all positive laws whatsover before enacted. No ——v—*—'
human laws will therefore suppose a case, which at
once must destroy all law, and compel men to build
afresh upon a new foundation ; nor will they make pro¬
vision for so desperate an event, as must render all
legal provisions ineffectual. So long therefore as the
English constitution lasts, we may venture to affirm,
that the power of parliament is absolute and without
controul.
In order to prevent the mischiefs that might arise,
by placing this extensive authority in hands that are
either incapable or else improper to manage it, it is
provided by the custom and law of parliament, that The quail-
no one shall sit or vote in either house, unless he be hcations of
21 years of age. This is also expressly declared by mcm s‘
statute 7 & 8 W. III. c. 25. : with regard to the house
of commons, doubts have arisen, from some contra¬
dictory adjudications, whether or not a minor was in¬
capacitated from sitting in that house. It is also en¬
acted by statute 7 Jac. I. c. 6. that no member be
permitted to enter the house of commons till he hath
taken the oath of allegiance before the lord steward or
his deputy : and by 30 Car. II. st. 2. and 1 Geo. I.
c. 13. that no member shall vote or sit in either house,
till he hath, in the presence of the house, taken the
oaths of allegiance, supremacy, and abjuration, and
subscribed and repeated the declaration against tran-
substantiation, and invocation of saints, and the sacri¬
fice of the mass. Aliens, unless naturalized, were like¬
wise by the law of parliament incapable to serve there¬
in : and now it is enacted, by statute 12& 13 M • III.
c. 2. that no alien, even though he be naturalized, shall
be capable of being a member of either house of parlia¬
ment. And there are not only these standing incapaci¬
ties ; but if any person is made a peer by the king, or
elected to serve in the house of commons by the people,
yet may the respective houses, upon complaint of any
crime in such person, and proof thereof, adjudge him
disabled and incapable to sit as a member: and this by
the law and custom of parliament. 14
For as every court of justice hath laws and customs The eu-
for its direction, some the civil and canon, some the^* ^
common law, others their own peculiar laws and cus-’ arc
toms ; so the high court of parliament hath also its not sane-
own peculiar law, called the lex et consuetude parlia- tioned by
menti; a law which Sir Edward Coke observes is ab
omnibus qcerenda, a multis ignorata, d paucis cognita.
It will not therefore be expected that we should enter
into the examination of this law with any degree of
minuteness; since, as the same learned author assures us,
it is much better to be learned out of the rolls of parlia¬
ment and other records, and by precedents and conti¬
nual experience, than can be expressed by any one man.
It will be sufficient to observe, that the whole of the law
and custom of parliament has its original from this one
maxim, “ That whatever matter arises concerning either
house of parliament, ought to be examined, discussed,
and adjudged in that house to which it relates, and not
elsewhere.” Hence, for instance, the lords will not suf¬
fer the commons to interfere in the settling the election
of a peer in Scotland ; the commons will not allow the
lords to judge of the election of a burgess ; nor will ei¬
ther house permit the subordinate courts of law to
examine the merits of either case. But the maxims
5 G ' upon
PAR [ ?86 ] PAR
Parliament, upon which they proceed, together with the method of
  v—- > proceeding, rest entirely in the breast of the parliament
itself; and are not defined and ascertained by any par-
ticular stated laws.
Its exten- The privileges of parliament are likewise very large
sive privi- antl indefinite •, and therefore, when in 31st Hen. VI.
leges. tjie j-jQygg 0f lor{ls propounded a question to the judges
concerning them, the chief justice, Sir John Fortescue,
in the name of his brethren, declared, “ That they
ought not to make answer to that question \ for it hath
not been used aforetime, that the justices should in any
wise determine the privileges of the high court of parlia¬
ment \ for it is so high and mighty in its nature, that it
may make law *, and that which is law, it may make no
law ’, and the determination and knowledge of that pri¬
vilege belong to the lords of parliament, and not to the
justices.” Privileges of parliament was principally estab¬
lished, in order to protect its members not only from
being molested by their fellow-subjects, but also more
especially from being oppressed by the power of the
crown. If therefore all the privileges of parliament were
once to be set down and ascertained, and no privilege to
be allowed but what was so defined and determined, it
were easy for the executive power to devise some new
case, not within the line of privilege, and under pretence
thereof to harass any refractory member, and violate the
freedom of parliament. The dignity and independence
of the two houses are therefore in great measure preser¬
ved by keeping their privileges indefinite. Some, how¬
ever, of the more notorious privileges of the members of
either house are, privileges of speech, of person, of their
domestics, and of their lands and goods. As to the first,
privilege of speech, it is declared by the statute 1 W.
and M. st. 2. c. 2. as one of the liberties of the people,
w That the freedom of speech, and debates, and pro¬
ceedings in parliament, ought net to be impeached or
questioned in any court or place out of parliament.”
And this freedom of speech is particularly demanded of
the king in person, by the speaker of the house of com¬
mons, at the opening of every new parliament. So like¬
wise are the other privileges, of person, servants, lands,
and goods *, which are immunities as ancient as Edward
the Confessor: in whose laws we find this precept, ad
sy undos venientibus, sive summoniti sint, sive per se quid
agendum habuerint, sit summa pax ; and so too in the
old Gothic constitutions, Extenditur here pax et securitas
ad quatuordecim dies, convocato regni senatu. This in¬
cluded formerly not only privilege from illegal violence,
but also from legal arrests and seizures by process from
the courts of law. ' And still to assault by violence a
member of either house, or his menial servants, is a high
contempt of parliament, and there punished with the ut¬
most severity. It has likewise peculiar penalties annex¬
ed to it in the courts of law by the statutes 5 Hen. IV.
c. 6. and i i Hen. VI. c. 11. Neither can any member
of either house be arrested and taken into custody with-
I<5 out a breach of the privilege of parliament.
Some pri- But all other privileges which derogate from the
▼ileges abo- common law are now at an end, save only as to the
lished. freedom of the member’s person j which in a peer (by
the privilege of peerage) is forever sacred and invio¬
lable; and in a commoner (by the privilege of parlia¬
ment) for forty days after every prorogation, and forty
days before the next appointed meeting *, which is now
in effect as long as* the parliament subsists, it seldom
being prorogued for more than 80 days at a time. Parliament.
As to all other privileges which obstruct the ordinary —v——'
course of justice, they were restrained by the statutes
12 W. III. c. 3. 2 and 3 Ann. c. 18. and 11 Geo. II.
c. 24. and are now totally abolished by statute 10 G.
III. c. 50.; which enacts, that any suit may at any
time be brought against any peer or member of parlia¬
ment, their servants, or any other person entitled to pri¬
vilege of parliament; which shall not be impeached or
delayed by pretence of any such privilege, except that
the person of a member of the house of commons shall
not thereby be subjected to any arrest or imprisonment.
Likewise, for the benefit of commerce, it is provided by
statute 4 Geo. III. c. 33. that any trader, having privi¬
lege of parliament, may be served with legal process for
any just debt (to the amount of look) : and unless he
makes satisfaction within two months, it shall be deem¬
ed an act of bankruptcy ; and that commissions of bank¬
ruptcy may be issued against such privileged traders in
like manner as against any other. 17
The only way by which courts of justice could an-Members
ciently take cognizance of privilege of parliament was^
by writ of privilege, in the nature of a supersedeas, to parliai^ent
deliver the party out of custody when arrested in a civil must be in-
suit. For when a letter was written by the speaker to formed of
the judges, to stay proceedings against a privileged per-
son, they rejected it as contrary to their oath of office. g4c ^ ’
But since the statute 12 Will. III. c. 3. which enacts,
that no privileged person shall be subject to arrest or im¬
prisonment, it hath been held, that such arrest is irregu¬
lar ab initio, and that the party may be discharged up¬
on motion. It is to be observed, that there is no pre¬
cedent of any such writ of privilege, but only in civil
suits ; and that the statute of 1 Jac. I. c. 13. and that of
King William (which remedy some inconveniences ari¬
sing from privilege of parliament), speak only of civil
actions. And therefore the claim of privilege hath
been usually guarded with an exception as to the case of
indictable crimes ; or, as it hath been frequently expres¬
sed, of treason, felony, and breach (or surety) of the
peace. Whereby it seems to have been understood, that
no privilege was allowable to the members, their fami¬
lies, or servants, in any crime, whatsoever: for all crimes
are treated by the law as being contra pacem domini re-
gis. And instances have not been wanting, wherein
privileged persons have been convicted of misdemeanors,
and committed, or prosecuted to outlawry, even in the
middle of a session ; which proceeding has afterwards re¬
ceived the sanction and approbation of parliament. To
which may be added, that a few years ago, the case of
writing and publishing seditious libels was resolved by
both houses not to be entitled to privilege ; and that the
reasons upon which that case proceeded, extended equal¬
ly to every indictable offence. So that the chief, if not
the only, privilege of parliament in such cases, seems
to be the right of receiving immediate information of
the imprisonment or detention of any member, with the
reason for which he is detained : a practice that is daily
used upon the slightest military accusations, preparatory
to a trial by a court-martial ; and which is recognised
by the several temporary statutes for suspending the ha¬
beas corpus act: whereby it is provided, that no mem¬
ber of either house shall be detained, till the matter of
which he stands suspected be first communicated to the
house of which he is a member, and the consent of the
said
PAR [ 787
Parliament, said house obtained for his commitment or detaining.
v'— 1 But yet the usage has uniformly been, ever since the Re¬
volution, that the communication has been subsequent
to the arrest.
These are the general heads of the laws and customs
relating to parliament, considered as one aggregate bo¬
dy. The laws and customs relating to each branch in
particular being explained under the articles already re¬
ferred to, viz. King, Lords, and Commons, we should
proceed, IV. To the method of making laws 5 which is
much the same in both houses. But for this, too, we
have to refer the reader to the article Bill •, and shall
jg only observe in this place, that for despatch of business,
Of the lord each house of parliament has its speaker. The speaker
chancellor 0f the house of lords, whose office it is to preside there,
and speaker amj manage the formality of business, is the lord chan-
ofcom1,OU"ecellor> or ^ecPer °f king’s great seal, or any other
mons. appointed by the king’s commission: and if none be so
appointed, the house of lords (it is said) may elect.—
The speaker of the house of commons is chosen by the
house ; but must be approved by the king. And here¬
in the usage of the two houses differs, that the speaker
of the house of commons cannot give his opinion or ar¬
gue any question in the house ; but the speaker of the
house of lords, if a lord of parliament, may. In each
house the act of the majority binds the whole and this
majority is declared by votes openly and publicly given ;
not, as at Venice, and many other senatorial assemblies,
privately, or by ballot. This latter method may be
serviceable, to prevent intrigues and unconstitutional
combinations j but it is impossible to be practised with
us, at least in the bouse of commons, where every mem¬
ber’s conduct is subject to the future censure of his con¬
stituents, and therefore should be openly submitted to
T their inspection.
Of the9ad- V. There remains only, in the last place, to add a
journment word or two concerning the manner in which parliament
of parlia- niay lje adjourned, prorogued, or dissolved.
went. a(ij0lirnment is no more than a continuance of the
session from one day to another j as the word itself sig¬
nifies •, and this is done by the authority of each house
separately every day 5 and sometimes for a fortnight or
a month together, as at Christmas or Easter, or upon
other particular occasions. But the adjournment of one
house is no adjournment of the other. It hath also been
usual, when his majesty hath signified his pleasure, that
both or either of the houses should adjourn themselves to
a certain day, to obey the king’s pleasure so signified,
and to adjourn accordingly.—Otherwise, besides the in¬
decorum of a refusal, a prorogation would assuredly fol¬
low ; which would often be very inconvenient to both
public and private business. For prorogation puts an
end to the session j and then such bills as are only be¬
gun, and not perfected, must be resumed de novo (if at
all) in a subsequent session $ whereas, after an adjourn¬
ment, all things continue in the same state as at the
time of the adjournment made, and may be proceeded
20 on without any fresh commencement.
Ofproro- A prorogation is the continuance of the parliament
gallon of from one session to another ; as an adjournment is a con-
parliament. t;nuat;on 0f the session from day to day. This is done
by the royal authority, expressed either by the lord chan
■'ll • 1 ■  nr-Viv commission fron
]
PAR
a prorogation of the house of lords or commons, but of par^ameBt
the parliament. The session is never understood to be —y '
at an end until a prorogation 5 though, unless some act
be passed, or some judgment given in parliament, it is
in truth no session at all. And formerly the usage was,
for the king to give the royal assent to all such bills as
he approved at the end of every session, and then to pro¬
rogue the parliament, though sometimes only for a dav
or two ; after which all business then depending in the
houses was to be begun again. Which custom obtained
so strongly, that it once became a question, Whether
giving the royal assent to a single bill did not of course
put an end to the session ? And though it was then re¬
solved in the negative, yet the notion was so deeply
rooted, that the statute I Car. I. c. 7. was passed to de¬
clare, that the king’s assent to that and some other acts
should not put an end to the session ; and even so late as
the reign of Charles II. we find a proviso frequently
tacked to a bill, that his majesty’s assent thereto should
not determine the session of parliament. But it now
seems to be allowed, that a prorogation must be express¬
ly made, in order to determine the session. And if at
the time of an actual rebellion, or imminent danger of
invasion, the parliament shall be separated by adjourn¬
ment or prorogation, the king is empowered to call them
together by proclamation, with 14 days notice of the
time appointed for their reassembling. 21
A dissolution is the civil death of the parliament j and Parliament
this may be effected three ways : I. By the king’s will, <^°lvetl
expressed either in person or by representation. For as king’s will,
cellor in his majesty’s presence, or by commission from
the crown, or frequently by proclamation Both houses
are necessarily prorogued at the same time ; it not being
the king has the sole right of convening the parliament,
so also it is a branch of the royal prerogative, that he
may (whenever he pleases) prorogue the parliament for
a time, or put a final period to its existence. If nothing
had a right to prorogue or dissolve a parliament but it¬
self, it might happen to become perpetual. And this
would be extremely dangerous if at any time it should
attempt to encroach upon the executive power, as was
fatally experienced by ihe unfortunate King Charles I. ;
who, having unadvisedly passed an. act to continue the
parliament then in being till such time as it should please
to dissolve itself, at last fell a sacrifice to that inordinate
power which he himself had consented to give them.
It is therefore extremely necessary that the crown
should be empowered to regulate the duration of these
assemblies, under the limitations which the English con¬
stitution has prescribed : so that, on the one hand, they
may frequently and regularly come together for the
despatch of business and redress of grievances 5 and may
not, on the other, even with the consent of the crown,
be continued to an inconvenient or unconstitutional
length. . 32
2. A parliament may be dissolved by the demise of or in con-
the-crown. This dissolution formerly happened imme-sequence of
• diately upon the death of the reigning sovereign : for hehls cat ’
being considered in law as the head of the parliament,
(caput, principium, et jinis), that failing, the whole bo¬
dy was held to be extinct. But the calling a new par¬
liament immediately on the inauguration of the successor
being found inconvenient, and dangers being apprehend¬
ed from having no parliament in being in case of a dis¬
puted succession, it was enacted by the statutes 7 and 8
Wm. III. c. 15. and 6 Ann. c. 7. that the parliament
in being shall continue for six months after the death of
any king or queen, unless sooner prorogued or dissol
5 G 2 red
PAR [ 788 ]
Parliament. Ved by the successor *, that if the parliament be, at the speaker only.
PAR
If what he say? be answered by ano- Parliament.
*3
or through
length of
time.
time of the king’s death, separated, by adjournment or
prorogation, it shall notwithstanding assemble immedi¬
ately : and that if no parliament is then in being, the
members of the last parliament shall assemble and be
again a parliament.
2. Lastly, A parliament may be dissolved or expire by
length of time. For if either the legislative body were
perpetual, or might last for the life of the prince who
convened them as formerly, and were so to be supplied,
by occasionally filling the vacancies with new represen¬
tatives ; in these cases, if it were once corrupted, the
evil would be past all remedy; but when different bo¬
dies succeed each other, if the people see cause to disap¬
prove of the present, they may rectify its faults in the
next. A legislative assembly also, which is sure to be
separated again, (whereby its members will themselves
become private men, and subject to the full extent ot
the laws which they have enacted for others), will think
themselves bound in interest as well as duty, to make
only such laws as are good. The utmost extent of time
that the same parliament was allowed to sit, by the sta¬
tute 6 W. and M. c. 3. was three years: after the expi¬
ration of which, reckoning from the return ot the first
summons, the parliament was to have no longer conti¬
nuance. But by the statute I Geo. I. stat. 2. c. 38^
(in order, professedly, to prevent the great and conti¬
nued expences of frequent elections, and the violent
heats and animosities consequent thereupon, and for the
peace and security of the government then just recover¬
ing from the late rebellion), this term was prolonged to
seven years; and, what alone is an instance ot the vast
authority of parliament, the very same house that was
chosen for three years, enacted its own continuance tor
So that, as our constitution now stands, the par-
24
General
forms ob¬
served in
the house
of peers.
seven.
25
Jh the
house of
Commons.
liament must expire, or die a natural death, at the end
of every seventh year, if not sooner dissolved by the royal
prerogative.
We shall conclude this article with an account of some
general forms not taken notice of under any of the above
heads. # , 1 • .
In the house of lords, the princes of the blood sit by
themselves on the sides of the throne , at the wall, on
the king’s right hand, the two archbishops sit by them¬
selves on a form, Below them, the bishops ot London,
Durham, and Winchester, and all the other bishops, sit
according to the priority of their consecration. On the
king’s left hand the lord treasurer, lord president, and
lord .privy seal, sit upon forms above all dukes, except
the royal blood *, then the dukes, marquises, and earls,
according to their creation. Across the room are wool
sacks, continued from an ancient custom 5 and the chan¬
cellor, or keeper, being of course the speaker of the
bouse of lords, sits on the first wool sack before the
throne, with the great seal or mace lying by him j be¬
low these are forms for the viscounts and barons. On
the other wool sacks are seated the judges, masters in
chancery, and king’s council, who are only to give their
advice in points of law ; but they all stand up till the
king gives them leave to sit.
The commons sit promiscuously; only the speaker
has a chair at the upper end of the house, and the clerk
and his assistant sit at a table near him.
When a member of the house of commons speaks,
he stands up uncovered, and directs his speech to the/
2
ther, he is not allowed to reply the same day, unless —y——>
personal reflections have been cast upon him : but
when the commons, in order to have a greater freedom
of debate, have resolved themselves into a committee of
the whole house, every member may speak to a question
as often as he thinks necessary. In the house of lords
they vote, beginning at the puisne or lowest baron, and
so up orderly to the highest, every one answering Con¬
tent or Not content. In the house of commons they vote
by yeas and nays ; and if it be dubious which are the
greater number, the house divides. If the question be
about bringing any thing into the house, the yeas go
out, but if it be about any thing the house already has,
the nays go out. In all divisions the speaker appoints
four tellers, two of each opinion. In a committee of the
whose house, they divide by changing sides, the yeas
taking the right and the nays the left of the chair j and
then there are but two tellers. If a bill pass one house,
and the other demur to it, a conference is demanded in
the painted chamber, where certain members are depu¬
ted from each house j and here the lords sit covered, and
the commons stand bare, and debate the case. It they
disagree, the affair is null: but if they agree, this, with
the other bills that have passed both houses, is brought
down to the king in the house of lords, who comes thi¬
ther clothed in his royal robes $ before him the clerk ot
the parliament reads the title of each bill, and as he
reads, the clerk 'of the crown pronounces the royal as-
sent or dissent. If it be a public bill, the royal assent is Manner oi
given in these words, Le roy le vent, “ The king will
have it so j” if private, Soil fait comme il est desire, assentyor
“ Let the request be complied with 5” if the king retu-dissent to
ses the bill, the answer is, Le roy s'1 avis era, “ The king bilk,
will think of it}” and if it be a money bill, the answer
is, Le roy remercie ses loyau.v sujets, accepte leur bene¬
volence, et avssi le vent; “ The king thanks his loyal
subjects, accepts their benevolence, and therefore grants
his consent.”
High Court of Parliament, is the supreme court
in the kingdom, not only for the making, but also for
the execution of laws } by the trial of great and enor¬
mous offenders, whether lords or commoners, in the me¬
thod of parliamentary impeachment. As for acts of
parliament to attaint particular persons of treason or fe¬
lony, or to inflict pains and penalties, beyond or contra¬
ry to the common law, to serve a special purpose, we
speak not of them } being to all intents and purposes
new laws, made/>ro re nata, and by no means an exe¬
cution of such as are already in being. But an impeach¬
ment before the lords by the commons of Great Britain,
in parliament, is a prosecution of the already known and
established law, and has been frequently put in practice}
being a presentment to the most high and supreme court
of criminal jurisdiction by the most solemn grand inquest
of the whole kingdom. A commoner cannot, however,
be impeached before the lords for any capital ofience,
but only for high misdemeanors ; a peer may be im¬
peached for any crime. And they usually (in case of
an impeachment of a peer for treason) address the crown
to appoint a lord high steward, for the greater dignity
and regularity of their proceedings} which high steward
was formerly elected by the peers themselves, though he
was generally commissioned by the king} but it hath of
late years been strenuously maintained, that the appoint¬
ment
par E 789 ] PAR
Parliament.ment of a high steward in such cases is not indispensably
necessary, but that the house may proceed without one.
The articles of impeachment are a kind of bills of in¬
dictment, found by the house of commons, and after¬
wards tried by the lords j who are in cases of misde¬
meanors considered not only as their own peers, but as
the peers of the whole nation. This is a custom derived
to us from the constitution of the ancient Germans $
who in their great councils sometimes tried capital ac¬
cusations relating to the public: Licet apud concilium
accusare quoquc, et discrimen capitis intcndere. And it
has a peculiar propriety in the English constitution j
which has much improved upon the ancient model im¬
ported hither from the continent. For though in gene¬
ral the union of the legislative and judicial powers ought
to be most carefully avoided, yet it may happen that a
subject, intrusted with the administration of public af¬
fairs, may infringe the rights of the people, and be
guilty of such crimes as the ordinary magistrate either
dares not or cannot punish. Of these the representatives
of the people, or house of commons, cannot properly
judge 5 because their constituents are the parties injured,
and can therefore only impeach. But before what court
shall this impeachment be tried ? Not before the ordina¬
ry tribunals, which would naturally be swayed by the
authority of so powerful an accuser. Reason therefore
will suggest, that this branch of the legislature, which
represents the people, must bring its charge before the
other branch, which consists of the nobility, who have
neither the same interests, nor the same passions, as po¬
pular assemblies. This is a vast superiority which the
constitution of this island enjoys over those of the Gre¬
cian or Roman republics •, where the people were at the
same time both judges and accusers. It is proper that
the nobility should judge, to ensure justice to the accu¬
sed ; as it is proper that the people should accuse, to en¬
sure justice to the commonwealth. And therefore, a-
mong other extraordinary circumstances attending the
authority of this court, there is one of a very singular
nature, which was insisted on by the house of commons
in the case of the earl of Danby in the reign of Chas. II.
and is now enacted by statute 12 and 13 W. III. c. 2.
that no pardon under the great seal shall be pleadable
to an impeachment by the commons of Great Britain
in parliament.
Such is the nature of a British parliament, and in
theory at least we should presume it were nearly per¬
fect •, but some of our fellow countrymen, more zealous
perhaps than wise, see prodigious faults in it, such indeed
as they think must inevitably prove fatal. The conse¬
quence of this persuasion, has been a loud and incessant
call for parliamentary reform. That abuses ought to
be reformed, is certain •, and that few institutions are
so perfect as not to need amendment, is a fact equally
indisputable. We shall even suppose that there are ma¬
ny abuses in our parliament which would require to be
amended \ but, granting all this, and something more
if it were necessary, we would recommend in the mean
time to the serious consideration of those who callthem-
selves the Friends of the People, whose sincerity in their
professions it would be unpolite to question, the ex¬
ample of France, and that they would allow it to be a
warning to Britain. France wanted reform indeed, and
that which was first proposed had the countenance of the
coolest and the best of men j but the consequences have
been dreadful; and if ever a free and stable government parliament,
take place in it, which we sincerely wish may be soon, Parma,
it will have been purchased at an immense price, by 1 v ' "
enormities which will disgrace it whilst the remem¬
brance of them lasts.
The former Parliaments of France were sovereign
courts established by the king, finally to determine all
disputes between particular persons, and to pronounce
on appeals from sentences given by inferior judges.—
There were ten of these parliaments in France, of which
that of Paris was the chief, its privileges and jurisdiction
being of the greatest extent. It consisted of eight cham¬
bers : the grand chamber, where causes of audience were
pleaded j the chamber of written law ; the chamber of
counsel j the Tournelle criminelle, for judging criminal
allairs j the Tournelle civile, in aid of the grand cham¬
ber ; and three chambers of inquests, where processes
were adjudged in writing: besides these, there were also
the chamber of vacations, and those of requests. In
1771 the king thought fit to branch the parliament of
Paris into six different parliaments, under the denomina¬
tion of superior courts, each parliament having similar
jurisdiction. Under their second race of kings, this par¬
liament, like that of England, was the king’s council j
it gave audience to ambassadors, and consulted of the af¬
fairs of war and government. The king, like ours, at
that time presided in them, without being at all master
of their resolutions. But in after times their authority
w'as abridged ; as the kings reserved the decision of the
grand affairs of the public to their own councils; leav¬
ing none but private ones to the parliaments. The par¬
liament of Paris also enjoyed the privileges of verifying
and registei’ing the king’s arrets or edicts, without which
those edicts were of little or no value.
Parliament of Sweden, consists of four estates,
with the king at their head. These estates are, 1. The
nobility and representatives of the gentry; with whom
the colonels, lieutenant colonels, majors, and captains of
every regiment, sit and vote. 2. The clergy ; one of
which body is elected from every rural deanery of ten
parishes ; who, with the bishops and superintendents,
amount to about 200. 3. The burghers, elected by the
magistrates and council of every corporation as their re¬
presentatives, of whom there are four for Stockholm,
and two for every other town, amounting in the whole
to about 150. 4. The peasants, chosen by the peasants
out of every district; who choose one of their own rank,
and not a gentleman, to represent them : these amount
to about 250.
All these generally meet at Stockholm : and after the
state affairs have been represented to them from the
throne, they separate, and sit in four several chambers
or houses, in each of which affairs are carried on by ma¬
jority of votes; and every chamber has a negative in <
the passing any law.
PARMA, an ancient, rich, populous, and handsome
town of Italy, capital of the duchy of the same name,
with a citadel, a bishop’s see, and an university. The
number of inhabitants is about 36,000. It has a mag¬
nificent cathedral, and the largest opera house in Europe,
which has seats for 8000 people; but as it required a
vast number of candles, which occasioned great ex¬
pence, they have contrived another which has room for
2000 spectators. The dome and the church of St John
are painted by the famous Corregio, who was a native
PAR [ 79° ] p A R
Parma of this place. The citadel, which is very near the city,
(| is built in the same taste as that at Antwerp. In 1734
Parmigi- there was a bloody battle fought here-, and in 1741, by
!ino- the treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle, the duchies of Parma,
v Placentia, and Guastalla, were given to Don Philip,
brother to Don Carlos above mentioned. In 1814 these
duchies were bestowed upon Maria Louisa late empress
of France, with the right of succession to her son Na¬
poleon Charles. It is 30 miles south-east of Cremona,
and 60 south east of Milan. E. Long. 10. 51. N. Lat.
44. 50.
Parma, the duchy of, a province of Italy, bounded
on the north by the Po } on the north-east by the Man¬
tuan 5 on the east by the duchy of Modena j on the
south by Tuscany and on the wxst by the duchy of
Placentia. The air is very wholesome, on wdiich account
the inhabitants live to a great age. The soil is very fer¬
tile in corn, wine, oil, and hemp j the pastures feed a
great number of cattle, and the cheese is in very high
esteem. Here are considerable mines of copperand silver.
PARMESAN CHEESE, a sort of cheese much esteem¬
ed among the Italians 5 so named from the duchy of
Parma where it is made, and whence it is conveyed to
various parts of Europe.
The excellent pasture grounds of this country are
w atered by the Po; and the cows from whose milk this
cheese is made yield a great quantity of it. Of this
cheese there are threj sorts j the fromaggio di forma,
about two palms in diameter, and seven or eight inches
thick j and the fromaggia di ribiole and di ribohni,
which are not so large. This cheese is of a saffron co¬
lour j and the best is kept three or four years. See
Cheese.
PARMIGIANO, a celebrated painter, whose true
name was Francesco Mazzuoli j but he received the
former from the city of Parma, where he was born, in
1504. He was brought up under his two uncles, and
was an eminent painter when but 16 years of age. He
was famous all over Italy at 19 5 and at 23 performed
such wonders, that when the general of the emperor
Charles V. took Rome by storm, some of the common
soldiers having, in sacking the town, broke into his
apartments, found him intent upon his work, and were
instantly so struck with the beauty of his pieces, that in¬
stead of involving him in the plunder and destruction in
which they were then employed, they resolved to pro¬
tect him from all manner of violence 5 which they ac¬
tually performed. His works are distinguished by the
beauty of the colouring, the invention, and drawing.
His figures are spirited and graceful, particularly with
respect to the choice of attitude, and in their dresses.
He also excelled in music, in which he much de¬
lighted.
In lai’ge compositions Parmigiano did not always
reach a high degree of excellence ', but in his holy fa¬
milies, and other similar subjects, the gracefulness of his
heads, and the elegance of his attitudes, are peculiarly
delightful. For the celebrity of his name he seems to
be chiefly indebted to his numerous drawings and etch¬
ings; for his life being short, and a great part of it con¬
sumed in the idle study of alchemy, in pursuit of the phi¬
losopher’s stone, and in the seducing avocations of music
and gambling, there was but little time left for applica¬
tion to the laborious part of his business. His paintings
in oil are few in number, and held in high esteem, as
i Y> 4
are also his drawings and etchings ; good impressions rarmi- i-
of these last being very rarely to be found. He was the ano
first that practised the art of etching in Italy ; and pro- > 1'
bably he did not at first know, that it had been for ! ain»ssus.
some years practised in Germany. When he set out for
Rome, he was advised to take some of his pictures with
him, as a means of getting himself introduced into the
acquaintance of the nobility and artists in that celebra¬
ted citv. One of them is mentioned by his biographers
as a masterpiece. It was his own portrait painted upon
a piece of wood of a convex form, in imitation of a con¬
vex mirror. The surface is said to have been so won¬
derfully executed, that it had the appearance of real
glass, and the bead, as well as every part of the furni¬
ture of the chamber in which he was supposed to sit,
was so artfully managed, that the whole formed a very
complete piece of deception. At Rome he was employ¬
ed by Pope Clement VII. who was highly pleased with
his performances, and rewarded him liberally. A Cir¬
cumcision which he painted for him was particularly
esteemed as a capital wox-k. In it Parmigiano was suc¬
cessful in introducing a variety of lights, without de¬
stroying the general harmony. When Charles V. came
to Bologna to be crowned emperor of the Romans, Par¬
migiano failed not to be present at that singular ceremo¬
ny ; and so accurately marked the countenance of the
emperor, that at his return home, he was enabled from
memory to make out a surprising likeness. In the same
piece he introduced the figure of Fame placing a crown
of laurel on the head of the emperor, whilst a young
Hercules presented him w-ith a ^lobe of the world. Be¬
fore it was quite finished, the painter and his piece were
introduced to Charles by the Pope, but to little pur¬
pose ; for the emperor left Bologna a few days after,
without ordering him any recompense for his labour. In
the church of Madona della Stercato at Parma are still
to be seen several of the works oi this artist; among
which one of Sibyls, and two others of Moses, and of
Adam and Eve, are much admired. So also is a Dead
Christ, with the Virgin in sorrow, in the church of the
Dominicans at Cremona. In the Houghton collection
of pictures, now in possession of the empress of Russia,
is one of his best pictures, representing Christ laid in
the sepulchre, for which he is said to have been knight¬
ed by the duke of Parma. His principal works are at
Parma, where he died poor in 154°*
PARNASSIA, grass of Parnassus ; a genus of plants
belonging to the pentandria class. See Botany In¬
dex.
PARNASSUS (Strabo, Pindar, Virgil), a mountain
of Phocis, near Delphi, and the mounts Citbrerpn and
Helicon, with two tops (Ovid, Lucan) ; the one call¬
ed Cirrha, sacred to Apollo; and the other Nisa, sa¬
cred to Bacchus, (Juvenal). It was covered with bay
trees (Virgil) ; and originally called Larnassus, from
Deucalion’s larnax or ark, thither conveyed by the
flood, (Stephanus, Scholiast on Apollonius) ; after the
flood, Parnassus; from Har Nahas, changing the h in¬
to p, the hill of divination or augury (Peucerus) ; the
oracle of Delphi standing at its foot.
Chandler *, who visited it, thus describes it:—“ Par- * Travels
nassus was the western boundary of Phocis, and stretch-ln Gnecr
ing northward from about Delphi toward the Oetoean
mountains, separated the western Locri from those who
possessed the sea coast before Euboea. It was a place of
refuge
PAR
refuge to the Delphians in times of danger. In the de¬
luge, which happened under Deucalion, the natives were
saved on it by following the cry of wolves. On the in¬
vasion by Xerxes, some transported their families over
to Achaia, but many concealed them in the mountain,
and in Corycium, a grotto of the Nymphs. All Par¬
nassus was renowned for sanctity, but Corycium was the
most noted among the hallowed caves and places. ‘ On
the way to the summit of Parnassus, says Pausanias, as
much as 60 stadia beyond Delphi, is a brazen image j
and from thence the ascent to Corycium is easier for a
man on foot, and for mules and horses. Of all the caves
in which I have been, this appeared to me the best
worth seeing. On the coasts, and by the sea side, are
more than can be numbered; but some are very famous
both in Greece and in other countries. The Corycian
cave exceeds in magnitude those I have mentioned, and
for the most part may be passed through without a light.
It is sufficiently high : and has water, some springing
up, and yet more from the roof, which petrifies j so that
the bottom of the whole cave is covered with sparry ici¬
cles. The inhabitants of Parnassus esteem it sacred to
the Corycian Nymphs, and particularly to Pan.—from
the cave to reach the summits of the mountain is diffi¬
cult even to a man on foot. The summits are above the
clouds, and the women called Thyades madden on them
in the rites of Bacchus and Apollo.’ Their frantic or¬
gies were performed yearly. Wheler and his company
ascended Parnassus from Delphi, some on horses, by a
track between the stadium and the clefts of the moun¬
tain. Stairs were cut in the rock, with a strait channel,
perhaps a water duct.—In a long hour, after many tra¬
verses, they gained the top, and entering a plain turned
to the right, towards the summits of Castalia, which are
divided by deep precipices. From this eminence they
had a fine prospect of the gulf of Corinth, and of the
coast j Mount Cirphis appearing beneath them as a
plain, bounded on the east by the bay of Asprospitia,
and on the west by that of Salona. A few shepherds
had huts there. They returned to the way which they
had quitted, and crossed a hill covered with pines and
snow. On their left was a lake, and beyond it a peak,
exceedingly high, white with snow. They travelled to
the foot of it through a valley, four or five miles in
compass j and rested by a plentiful fountain called Dro-
xonigo, the stream boiling up a foot in diameter, and
nearly as much above the surface of the ground. It
runs into the lake, which is about a quarter of a mile
distant to the south-east. They did not discover Cory¬
cium, or proceed farther on, but keeping the lake on
their right, came attain to the brink of the mountain,
and descended by a deep and dangerous track to Raco-
vi, a village four or five miles eastward from Delphi.
It was the opinion of Wheler, that no mountain in
Greece was higher than Parnassus } that it was not in¬
ferior to Mount Cenis among the Alpsj and that, i! de¬
tached, it would be seen at a greater distance than even
Mount Athos. The summits are perpetually increasing,
every new fall of snow adding to the perennial heap,
while the sun has power only to thaw the superficies.
Castalis, Pleistus, and innumerable springs are fed, some
invisibly, from the lakes and reservoirs, which, without
these drains and subterraneous vents, would swell, espe
cially after heavy rains and the melting of snow, so as
to fill the valleys, and run over the tops of the rocks
PAR
down upon Delphi, spreading wide an inundation, si- Parnassus
milar, as has been surmised, to the Deucalionian de- j)
luge.” Parody.
PARNELL, Dr Thomas, a very ingenious divine v '
and poet in the early part of the 18th century. He was
archdeacon of Clogher, and the intimate friend of Mr.
Pope •, who published his works, with an elegant copy
of recommendatory verses prefixed. He died in 1718,
aged 39.
Johnson t says, “ The life of Dr Parnell is a taskf Lives 0/
which I should very willingly decline, since it has been*Ae Poets.
lately written by Goldsmith, a man of such variety of
powers, and such facility of performance, that he always
seemed to do best that which he was doing j a man who
had the art of being minute without tediousness, and ge¬
neral without confusion 5 whose language was copious
without exuberance, exact without constraint, and easy
without Aveakness.
“ What such an author has told, who would tell a-
gain ? I have made an extract from his larger narrative;
and shall have this gratification from my attempt, that
it gives me an opportunity of paying due tribute to the
memory of a departed genius.
‘To yacg yegxs in S'emvlaw.’
“ The general character of Parnell is not great ex¬
tent of comprehension, or fertility of mind. Of the lit¬
tle that appears still less is his own. His praise must be
derived from the easy sweetness of his diction : in his
verses there is more happiness than pains; he is spright¬
ly without effort, and always delights though he never
ravishes ; every thing is proper, yet every thing seems
casual. If there is some appearance of elaboration in
the Hermit, the narrative, as it is less airy, is less plea¬
sing. Of his other compositions, it is impossible to say
whether they are the productions of Nature so excellent
as not to want the help of Art, or of Art so refined as
to resemble Nature.”
PARODICAL DEGREES, in an equation, a term
sometimes used to denote the several regular terms in a
quadratic, cubic, biquadratic, &c. equation, when the
indices of the powers ascend or descend orderly in an
arithmetical progression. Thus, is
a cubic equation where no term is wanting, but having
all its parodic degrees ; the indices of the terms regu¬
larly descending thus, 3, 2, I, o.
PARODY, a popular maxim, adage, or proverb.
Parody, is also a poetical pleasantry, consisting in
applying the verses written on one subject, by way of
ridicule, to another ; or in turning a serious work into
a burlesque, by affecting to observe as near as possible
the same rhimes, words, and cadences.
The parody was first set on foot by the Greeks; from
whom we borrow the name. It comes near to what
some of our late writers call travesty. Others have
more accurately distinguished between a parody and bur¬
lesque ; and they observe, that the change of a single
word may parody a verse;- or of a single letter a word.
Thus, in the last case, Cato exposed the inconstant dis¬
position of Marcus Fulvius Nobilior, by changing No-
bilior into Mobilior. Another kind of parody consists
in the mere application of some known verse, or part of
a verse of a writer, without making any change in it,
with a view to expose it. A fourth instance is that of
writing verses in the taste and style of authors little a«p-
0 proved,.
[ 791 ]
PAR [ 792 ] PAR
Parody proved. The rules of parody regard the choice ol a sub-
11 ject, and the manner of treating it. The subject should
Paros, fog a known and celebrated work : as to the manner, it
’'" should be by an exact imitation, and an intermixture
of good-natured pleasantry.
PAROLE, in a military sense, the promise made
by a prisoner of war, when he has leave to go any¬
where, of returning at a time appointed, if not ex¬
changed.
Parole, means also a word given out every day in
orders by the commanding officer, both in camp and
garrison, in order to know friends from enemies.
PARONOMASIA, in Rhetoric, a pun; or a figure
whereby words nearly alike in sound, but of very differ¬
ent meanings, are affectedly or designedly used. See
vOratorv, N° 76.
PARONYCHIA, the Whitlow, in Surgery, is an
abscess at the end of the fingers. According as it is si¬
tuated more or less deep, it is differently denominated,
and divided into species. See Surgery Index.
PAROS, in Ancient Geography, an island of the 7E-
gean sea, one of the Cyclades, with a strong cognomi-
nal town, 38 miles distant from Delos (Pliny, Nepos).
Anciently called Pactye and Mima (Pliny) ; also De-
metrias, TLacynthus, Hyria, Hylcessa, and Cabarnis (Ni-
canor). The country of Archilochus the iambic poet
(Strabo). An island famous for its white marble (\ ir-
gil, Horace, Ovid), called lychnites, because dug with
lamps (Pliny). The name of Cabarnis is borrowed, ac¬
cording to Stephanus, from one Cabarnus, who first in¬
formed Ceres of the rape of her daughter Pi'oserpine ;
or, according to Hesychius, from the Cabarni, the
priests of Ceres being so called by the inhabitants of this
island. The name of Minoa is borrowed from Minos
king of Crete, who subdued this, as he did most of the
other islands of the iEgean sea. It was called Paros,
which name it retains to this day, from Paros the son of
Parrhasius, or as Stephanus will have it, of Jason the
Argonaut. Paros, according to Pliny’s computation,
is distant from Naxos seven miles and a half, and 28
from Delos. Some modern travellers suppose that it
is 80, others only 50 miles in compass. Pliny says it
is half as large as Naxos, that is, between 36 and 37
miles in compass. It was a rich and powerful island,
being termed the most wealthy and happy of the Cy¬
clades, and by Cornelius Nepos an island elated with its
riches. The cityof Paros, the metropolis, is styled by
Stephanus a potent city, and one of the largest in the
Archipelago : the present city of Paros, now Parichia,
is supposed to have been built upon its ruins, the coun¬
try abounding with valuable monuments of antiquity.
The very walls of the present city are built with co¬
lumns, architraves, pedestals, mingled with pieces of
ancient marble of a surprising magnitude, which were
once employed in more noble edifices. Paros was indeed Paros
formerly famous for its marble, which was of an extra-  v—■
ordinary whiteness, and in such request among the an¬
cients that the best statuaries used no other (a). The
island is provided with several capacious and safe har¬
bours, and was anciently much resorted to by traders.
It was, according to Thucydides, originally peopled by
the Phoenicians, who were the first masters of the sea.
Afterwards the Carians settled here, as wre are told by
Thucydides and Diodorus. But these two authors dif¬
fer as to the time when the Carians came first into the
island ; for Thucydides tells us, that the Carians were
driven out by the Cretans under the conduct of Minos;
and Diodorus writes, that the Carians did not settle here
till after the Trojan war, when they found the Cretans
in possession of the island. Stephanus thinks that the
Cretans, mixed with some Arcadians, were the only
people that ever possessed this island. Minos himself, if
we believe Pliny, resided some time in the island of Pa¬
ros, and received here the melancholy news of the death
of his son Androgeus, who was killed in Attica after
he had distinguished himself at the public games. We
find the inhabitants of this island chosen from among all
the Greeks by the Milesians to compose the differences
which had for two generations rent that unhappy state
into parties and factions. They acquitted themselves
with great prudence, and reformed the government.
They assisted Darius in his expedition against Greece
with a considerable squadron ; but after the victory ob¬
tained by Miltiades at Marathon, they were reduced to
great straits by that general. However, after blocking
up the city for 26 days, he was obliged to quit the en¬
terprise, and return to Athens with disgrace. Upon his
departure, the Parians were informed that Timo, a
priestess of the national gods, and then his prisoner, had
advised him to perform some secret ceremony in the
temple of Ceres, near the city ; assuring him that he
would thereby gain the place. Upon this information
they sent deputies to consult the oracle of Delphi, whe¬
ther they should punish her with death, for endeavour¬
ing to betray the city to the enemy, and discovering the
sacred mysteries to Miltiades. The Pythian answered
that Timo was not the adviser ; but that the gods, hav¬
ing resolved to destroy Miltiades, had only made her
the instrument of his death. After the battle of Sala-
mis, Themistocles subjected Paros and most of the other
neighbouring islands to Athens, exacting large sums
from them by way of punishment for having favoured
the Persians. It appears from the famous monument of
Adulas, which Cosmos of Egypt has described with
great exactness, that Paros and the other Cyclades were
once subject to the Ptolemies of Egypt. However, Pa¬
ros fell again under the power of the Athenians, who
continued masters of it till they were driven out by Mi-
thridates
(a) Sutherland says, “ that while its marble quarries continued to be worked, Paros was one of the most flou¬
rishing of the Cyclades ; but on the decline of the eastern empire they were entirely neglected, and are now con¬
verted into caves, in which the shepherds shelter their flocks. We have been in several of these subterraneous
folds, which put me much in mind of Homer’s description of Polyphemus. TheeOmmon w'alls are almost entirely
composed of marble ; and in examining a very small part of one, we found several pieces of cornice and basso re¬
lievo. Several fine blocks of marble (fragments of columns) are lying close to the water’s edge ; and seem to
have been brought there by travellers, who for want of a proper purchase to get them on board, have not been
able to carry them further.”
faro*
t!
Parr.
PAR t 793
thrlclates the Great. But that prince being obliged to
yield to Sylla, to Lucullus, and to Pompey, this and
the other islands of the Archipelago submitted to the
Komans, who reduced them to a province with Lydia,
Phrygia, and Caria.
Mr Sutherland, who lately visited Paros, says, that
11 the water in it is excellent; and as that which we got
at Messina has been complained of, as being too hard
to make proper pease soup for the people, all the casks
are ordered to be emptied and refilled. The Russians
made this place their grand arsenal; their powder ma¬
gazines, and several other buildings, are still standing;
and the island is considerably indebted to them for im¬
proving the convenience for water, and for the trade
which the cash they expended introduced among the
inhabitants.”
PAROTID* .S, or Parotids, are glands situated
on each side of the head. See Anatomy Index.
PAROXYSM, in Medicine, the severe fit of a dis¬
ease, under which it grows higher or exasperated ; as
of the gout, &c.
PARR, Catharine, queen of England, was the el¬
dest daughter of Sir Thomas PaiT of Kendal. She was
first married to John Nevil, Lord Latymer ; after whose
death, by her marriage with Henry VIII. she was raised
to the throne. The royal nuptials were solemnized at
Hampton Court on the 12th of July 1543. Being reli¬
giously disposed, she xvas, in the early part of her life, a
zealous observer of the Romish rites and ceremonies ;
but in the dawning of the Reformation, she became as
zealous a promoter of the Lutheran doctrine; yet with
such prudence and circumspection as her perilous situa¬
tion required. Nevertheless, we are told, that she was
in great danger of falling a sacrifice to the Popish fac¬
tion, the chief of whom was Bishop Gardiner : he drew
up articles against her, and prevailed on the king to sign
a warrant to remove her to the Tower. This warrant
however, accidentally dropped, and immediately
]
PAR
was
conveyed to her majesty. What her apprehensions
must have been on this occasion may be easily imagined.
She knew the monarch, and she could not help recol¬
lecting the fate of his foianer queens. A sudden illness
was the natural consequence. The news of her indis¬
position brought the king to her apartment. He was
lavish in expressions of affection, and sent her a physi¬
cian. His majesty being soon after also somewhat indis¬
posed, she prudently returned the visit; with which the
king seemed pleased, and began to talk with her on re¬
ligious subjects, proposing certain questions, concerning
which he wanted her opinion. She answered, that such
profound speculations were not suited to her sex; that
it belonged to the husband to choose principles for his
W’ife; the wife’s duty was, in all cases, to adopt im¬
plicitly the sentiments of her husband ; and as to her¬
self, it was doubly her duty, being blessed with a
husband who was qualified, by his judgment and learn¬
ing, not only to choose principles for his onto family,
but for the most wise and knowing of every nation.
Not so, by St Mary,” replied the king; “ you are
now become a doctor, Kate, and better fitted to give
than receive instruction.” She meekly replied, that
she was sensible how little she was entitled to these
praises; that though she usually declined not any con¬
versation, however sublime, when proposed by his ma-
Vol. XV, Pan II. +
jesty, she well knew that her conceptions could serve
to no other purpose than to give him a little momentary
amusement; that she found the conversation a little apt
to languish when not revived by some opposition, and
she had ventured sometimes to feign a contrariety of
sentiments, in order to give him the pleasure of refuting
her; and that she also proposed, by this innocent arti¬
fice, to engage him into topics whence she had observed,
by frequent experience, that she reaped profit and in¬
struction. “ And is it so, sweetheart replied the king;
u then we are perfect friends again.” He embraced ber
with great affection, and sent her away with assurances
of his protection and kindness.
Ihe time being now come when she was to be sent
to the Tower, the king, walking in the garden, sent
for the queen, and met ber with great good humour;
when lo the chancellor, with forty of the guards, ap¬
proached. He fell upon his knees, and spoke softly
with the king, who called him knave, arrant knave,
beast, fool, and commanded him instantly to depart.
Henry then returned to the queen, who ventured to
intercede for the chancellor: “ Ah, poor soul,” said
the king, “thou little knowest bow evil he deserveth
this grace at thy bands. Of my word, Sweetheart,
he hath been toward thee an arrant knave; and so let
him go.” The king died in January 1547, just three
years and a half after his marriage with this second
Catherine; who in a short time was again espoused to
Sir Thomas Seymour lord-admiral of England ; and in
September 1548 she died in childbed. The historians
of this period generally insinuate that she was poisoned
by her husband, to make way for his marriage with the
lady Elizabeth.
That Catherine Parr was beautiful is beyond a
doubt: that she was pious and learned is evident from
her writings ; and that her prudence and sagacity were
not inferior to her other accomplishments, may he
concluded from her holding up the passion of a capri¬
cious tyrant as a shield against her enemies; and that
at the latter end of his days, when his passions were
enfeebled by age, and his peevish austerity increased
by disease. She wrote, 1. Queen Catherine Parr’s la¬
mentation of a sinner, bewailing the ignorance of her
blind life; Lond. 8vo. 1548, 1563. 2. Prayers or me¬
ditations, wherein the mynd is stirred patiently to suffre
all afflictions here, to set at nought the vaine prosperitee
of this worlde, and always to long for the everlastynge
felicitee. Collected out of holy workes, by the most
virtuous and gracious princesse Katherine, Queen of
Englande, France, and Irelande. Printed by John
Wayland, 1545, 4to,—1561, i2mo. 3. Other Medita¬
tions, Prayers, Letters, &c. unpublished.
Parr, Thomas, or Old Parr, a remarkable Eng¬
lishman, who lived in the reigns of ten kings and
queens ; married a second wife when he was 120, and
had a child by her. He was the son of John Parr, a
husbandman of Winnington, in the parish of Alderbury,
in the county of Salop, where he was born in the year
1483. Though he lived to the vast age of upwards
of 152 years, yet the tenor of his life admitted hut of
little variety; nor can the detail of it be considered of
importance, further than what will arise from the gra¬
tification of that curiosity which naturally inquires after
the mode of living which could lengthen life to such
5 H extreme
Parr.
PAR [ 794 ] PAR
Parr, extreme old age. Following tlie profession of his fa-
—  ' ther, he laboured hard, and lived on coarse fare. Tay¬
lor the water poet says of him :
Good wholesome labour was his exercise,
Down with the lamb, and with the lark would rise;
In mire and toiling sweat he spent the day,
And to his team he whistled time away :
The cock his night-clock, and till day was done,
H is watch and chief sun-dial was the sun.
He was of old Pythagoras’ opinion,
That green cheese was most wholesome with an onion;
Coarse messin bread, and for his daily swig,
Milk, butter milk, and water, whey, and whig:
Sometimes metheglin, and by fortune happy,
He sometimes sipp’d a cup of ale most nappy,
Cyder or perry, when he did repair
T’ a Whitsun ale, wTake, wedding, or a fair,
Or when in Christmas time he was a guest
At his good landlord’s house among the rest:
El se he had little leisure time to waste,
Or at the alehouse huff cap ale to taste.
Nor did he ever hunt a tavern fox j
Ne’er knew a coach, tobacco, or the .
H is phvsic was good butter, which the soil
Of Salop yields, more sweet than Candy oil ;
And garlic he esteem’d above the rate
Of Venice treacle or best mithridate.
He entertain’d no gout, no ache he felt,
The air was good and temperate where he dwelt j
While mavisses and sweet-tongued nightingales
Did chant him roundelays and madrigals.
Thus living within bounds of Nature’s laws,
Of his long lasting life may be some cause.
And the same writer describes him in the following two
lines:
From head to heel, his body had all over
A quick set, thick set, natural hairy cover.
The manner of his being conducted to London is
also noticed in the following terms: “ The right hon¬
ourable Thomas earl of Arundel and Surrey, earl mar¬
shal of England, on being lately in Shropshire to visit
some lands and manors which his lordship holds in that
county, or for some other occasions of importance
which caused his lordship to be there, the report of this
aged man was signified to his honour, who hearing of
so remarkable a piece of antiquity, his lordship was
pleased to see him *, and in his innate, noble, and
Christian piety, he took him into his charitable tuition
and protection, commanding that a litter and two
horses (for the more easy carriage of a man so feeble
and worn with age) to be provided for him-, also, that
a daughter of his, named Lucy, should likewise at¬
tend him, and have a horse for her own riding with
him : and to cheer up the old man, and make him
merry, there was an antique-faced fellow, with a high
and mighty no-beard, that had also a horse for his
carriage. These were all to be brought out of the
country to London by easy journeys, the charge being Parr,
allowed by his lordship ; likewise one of his lordship’s
own servants, named Bryan Kelly, to ride on horse¬
back with them, and to attend and defray all manner
of reckonings and expcnces. All which w'as done ac¬
cordingly as follows :—
“ Winnington is a parish of Alderbury, near a place
called the Welch Pool, eight miles from Shrewsbury:
from whence he was carried to Wem, a town of the
earl’s aforesaid ; and the next day to Shiffnall, a manor-
house of his lordship’s, where they likewise stayed one
night: from Shiffnall they came to Wolverhampton,
and the next day to Birmingham, and from thence to
Coventry. Although Master Kelly had much to do
to keep the people off, that pressed upon him in all
places where he came, yet at Coventry he was most
oppressed, for they came in such multitudes to see the
old man, that those that defended him were almost
quite tired and spent, and the aged man in danger of
being stifled ; and, in a word, the rabble were so un¬
ruly, that Bryan was in doubt he should bring his
charge no farther 5 so greedy are the vulgar to hearken
to or gaze after novelties. The trouble being over,
the next dav they passed to Daintree, to Stony Strat¬
ford, to Badburne, and so to London 5 where he was
well entertained and accommodated with all things,
having all the aforesaid attendance at the sole charge
and cost of his lordship.” When brought before the
king, his majesty, with more acuteness than good
manners, said to him, “ You have lived longer than
other men, what have you done more than other men ?”
He answered, “ I did penance when I was a hundred
years old.” This journey, however, proved fatal to
him j owing to the alteration in his diet, to the change
of the air, and his general mode of life, he lived but a
very short time, dying the 5th of November 1635 (a)j
and was buried in Westminster Abbey. After his
death, his body was opened ; and an account w 8 5 drawn
up by the celebrated Dr Harvey, part of which we shall
lay before our readers.
“ Thomas Parr was a poor country man of Shrop¬
shire, whence he was brought up to London by the
right honourable Thomas earl of Arundel and Surrey;
and died after he had outlived nine princes, in the tenth
year of the tenth of them, at the age of 152 years and
nine months.
“ He had a large breast, lungs not fungous, but
sticking to his ribs, and distended with blood 5 a livid¬
ness in his face, as he had a difficulty of breathing a
little before his death, and a long lasting warmth in
his armpits and breast after it $ which sign, together
with others, were so evident in his body, as they use
to be on those that die by suffocation. His heart was
great, thick, fibrous, and fat. The blood in the heart
blackish and diluted. The cartilages of the sternum
not more bony than in others, but flexile and soft.
His viscera were sound and strong, especially the sto¬
mach 5 and it was observed of him, that he used to
eat often by night and day, though contented with
old
1.
(a) The author of a book entitled Lrmg Livers, 8vo. 1722, which Oldys in his MS. notes on Fuller ascribes
to one Robert Samber, against all evidence says, p. 89. that Parr died sixteen years after he had been presented
to the king, 24th of November 1651.
Parr
II
Parrel.
PAR [ 79S
old cheese, milk, coarse bread, small beer, and whey 5
and, which is more remarkable, that he ate at midnight
! a little before he died. His kidneys were covered with
fat, and pretty sound ; only on the interior surface of
them were found some aqueous or serous abscesses, where¬
of one was near the bigness of a hen egg, with a yellow¬
ish water in it, having made a roundish cavity, impressed
on that kidney ; whence some thought it came that a
little before his death a suppression of urine had befal¬
len him 5 though others were of opinion, that his
urine was suppressed upon the regurgitation of all the
serosity into his lungs. !Not the least appearance there
was of any stony matter either in the kidneys or blad¬
der. His bowels were also sound, a little whitish with¬
out. His spleen very little, hardly equalling the big¬
ness of one kidney. In short, all his inward parts ap¬
peared so healthy, that if he bad not changed his diet
and air, he might perhaps have lived a good while
longer. 'Ihe cause of bis death was imputed chiefly
to the change of food and air 5 forasmuch as coming
out of a clear, thin, and free air, he came into the
thick air of London j and after a constant plain and
homely country diet, he was taken into a splendid
family, where-he fed high and drank plentifully of the
best Avines, whereupon the natural functions of the parts
of his body were overcharged, his lungs obstructed,
and the habit of the whole body quite disordered j upon
which there could not but ensue a dissolution. His
brain Avas sound, entire, and firm ; and though he bad
mot the use of his eyes, nor much of his memory, several
years before he died, yet be had his hearing and appre¬
hension very well j and was able, even to the 130th
year of his age, to do any husbandman’s Avork, even
thrashing of corn.
The following summary of his life is copied from
Oldys’s MS. notes on Fuller’s Worthies: Old Parr Avas
born 1483-, lived at home until 1500, aet. 17, Avhen
he Avent out to service. 1518, ret. 35, returned home
from his master. 1522, aet. 39, spent four years on the
remainder of his father’s lease. 1543, set. 60, ended
the first lease he renewed of Mr Lewis Porter. 1363,
ret. 80, married Jane, daughter of John Tavlor, a
maiden } by whom he had a son and a daughter, ivho
both died very young. 1564, act. 81, ended the se¬
cond lease Avhich he renewed of Mr John Porter.
1583, set. 102, ended the third lease he had renewed
of Mr Hugh Porter. 1588, ret. 105, did penance in
Alderbury church, for lying with Katharine Milton,
and getting her with child. 1595, at. x 12, he buried
his wife Janej after they had livred 32 years together.
1605, ret. 122, having lived 10 years a Avidower, he
married Jane, ividoiv of Anthony Adda, daughter of
John Lloyd of Gilsells, in Montgomeryshire, who sur-
vive 1 him. 1635, ret. 152, he died; after they had
lived together 30 years, and after 50 years possession
of his last lease. See LONGEVITY.
PARRA, a genus of birds belonging to the order of
grallce. See Ornithology Index.
PARRELS, in a ship, are frames made of trucks,
ribs, and ropes, which having both their ends fastened
to the yards, are so contrived as to go round about
the masts, that the yards by their means may go up
nnd doAvn upon the mast. These also, Avith the breast
sropes, fasten the yards to the masts.
PARRET, or Pebred river, has its rise in the
]
PAR
southern part of Somersetshire in England, and being parret(
joined by several other small rivers, the Evel ; and Parrhasius.
about four miles from this junction, it is joined by the
Tone or I hone, a pretty large river, rising among the
hills in the Avestern parts of this county. About tivo
miles below the junction, it passes by the town of
BridgeAvater, and falls into the Bristol channel in
Bridgeuuiter bay.
PARRHASIUS, a famous ancient painter of Ephe¬
sus, or, as some say, ol Athens : he flourished about the
time of Socrates, according to Xenophon, who hath in¬
troduced him into a dialogue discoursing with that phi¬
losopher. He Avas one of the best painters in his time.
Pliny says, that it ivas he avIio first gai’e symmetry and
just proportions in that art; that he ivas likeAvise the
first Avho kneAV hoxv to express the truth and life of cha¬
racters, and the different airs of the face ; that he dis¬
covered a beautiful disposition of the hair, and heighten¬
ed the grace of the visage. It is alloAved even by the
masters in the art, that he far outshone them iii the
glory ol succeeding in the outlines, in which consists
the grand secret ol painting. But it is also remarked
by Pliny, that Parrhasius became insupportable Avith
pride ; and ivas so very vain as to give himself the most
flattering epithets; such as, the tenderest, the softest,
the grandest, the most delicate, and the perfecter of his
art. He boasted that he ivas sprung from Apollo, and
that he was born to paint the gods ; that he had actual¬
ly drawn Hercules touch by touch, that hero having
olten appeared to him in dreams. When the plurality
of voices ivas against him at Samos in favour of Timan-
thes, in the opinion of a picture of Ajax provoked
against the Greeks, for adjudging to Ulysses the arms of
Achilles, he ansivered a person who condoled him on
his check, “ For my part I don’t trouble myself at the
sentence; but I am sorry that the son of Telamon hath
received a greater outrage than that which was former¬
ly put upon him so unjustly.” iElian relates this story,
and tells us that Parrhasius affected to ivear a crown of
gold upon his head, and to carry in his hand a batoon,
studded ivith nails of the same metal. He worked at
his art ivith pleasantry, often indeed singing. He wTas
very licentious and loose in his pictures ; and he is
said, by way of amusement, to have represented the
most infamous objects. His Atalantis, with her spouse
Meleager, was of this kind. This piece ivas afterwards
devised as a legacy to the emperor Tiberius, upon con¬
dition that, if he was displeased ivith the subject, he
should receive a million sesterces instead of it. The em¬
peror, covetous as he was, not only preferred the picture
to that sum, but even placed it in his most favourite
apartment. It is also said, that, though Parrhasius
was excelled by Timanthes, yet he excelled Zeuxis.
Among his pictures is a celebrated one of Theseus; and
another representing Meleager, Hercules, and Perseus,
in a group together; as also iEneas, with Castor and
Poliux, in a third.
Parrhasius, Janus, a famous grammarian in Italy,
who was born jit Cosenza in the kingdom of Naples,
1470. He ivas intended for the lawr, the profession of
his ancestors; but he refused it, and cultivated classical -
learning. His real name ivas Johannes Paulus Par.sius;
but according to the order of the grammarians ol the
age, he took instead of it Parrhasius. He taught at
Milan with much reputation, being admired for a grace-
5 H 2 ful
P A E [ 796 ] PAR
I’anliasius ful delivery, in which he chiefly excelled other profes-
[| sors.—Tt was this charm in his voice, which brought a
Panicide concourse of people to his lectures ; and among
v others he had the pleasure to see General Trimoles, who
was then threescore years old. He went to Home
when Alexander VI. was pope ; and was like to be in¬
volved in the misfortunes of Bernardini Cajetan and
Silius Savello, with whom he had some correspondence 5
but he escaped the danger, by the information of Tho¬
mas Phoedrus, professor of rhetoric, and canon ot St
John Lateran, whose advice he followed in retiring from
Rome. Soon after, he was appointed public professor
of rhetoric at Milan ; but the liberty he took to censure
the teachers there as arrant blockheads, provoked them
in return to asperse his morals. They said he had a cri¬
minal converse with his scholars : which being a crime
extremely abhorred by the Milanese, our professor was
obliged to leave Milan. He went to Vicenza, where he
obtained a larger salary $ and he held this professorship
till the states of the Venetians W'ere laid waste by the
troops of the League : upon which he went to his na¬
tive country, having made his escape through the army
of the enemy. He was at Cosenza, when his old
friend Phoedrus persuaded Julius to send for him to
Rome *, and though that design proved abortive by the
death of the pope, yet, by the recommendation of John
Lascaris, he was called thither under his successor Leo
X. Leo was before favourably inclined to him ; and
on his arrival at Rome, appointed him professor of po¬
lite literature. He had been now some time married to
a daughter of Demetrius Chalcondylas; and he took
with him to Rome, Basil Chalcondylas, his wife’s bro¬
ther, and brother of Demetrius Chalcondylas, professor
of the Greek tongue at Milan. He did not long enjoy
this office conferred upon him by the pope ", for, worn
out by his studies and labours, he became so afflicted with
the gout, that for some years he had no part of his body
free, except his tongue : having almost lost the use of
both his legs and both his arms. He laboured besides
under so great a degree of poverty, as put him out of
all hopes of being ever in a better situation } so that he
left Rome, and returned into Calabria, his native coun¬
try, where he was tormented a long while with a fever,
and at last died in the greatest misery. He left his li¬
brary to his friend Seripandus, brother to Cardinal Je¬
rome Seripandus, who built him a tomb in the convent
of the Austin friars at Naples There are several books
ascribed to him 5 and in the dedication of one of them,
his character is drawn to great advantage by Henry
Stephens.
PARRHESTA. See Oratory, N° 88.
PARRICIDE., the murder of one’s parents or chil¬
dren. By the Roman law, it was punished in a much
severer manner than any other kind of homicide. Af¬
ter being scourged, the delinquents were sewed up in a
leathern sack, with a live dog, a cock, a viper, and an
ape, and so cast into the sea. Solon, it is true, in his
laws, made none against parricide ; apprehending it im¬
possible that one should be guilty of so unnatural a bar¬
barity. And the Persians, according to Herodotus, en¬
tertained the same notion, when they adjudged all per¬
sons who killed their reputed parents to be bastards.
And upon some such reason as this must we account for
the omission of an exemplary punishment for this crime
in our English laws j which treat it no otherwise than
3
as simple murder, unless the child was also the servant Panicide
of the parent. _ II
For though the breach of natural relation is unob- , rarson- t
served, yet tke breach of civil or ecclesiastical connexions,
when coupled with murder, denominates it a new of¬
fence ; no less than a species of treason, called parva
proditio, or petit treason; which, however, is nothing
else but an aggravated degree of murder j although,
on account of the violation of private allegiance, it
is stigmatized as an inferior species of treason. And
thus, in the ancient Gothic constitution, we find
the breach both of natural and civil relations ranked
in the same class with crimes against the state and sove¬
reign.
PARROT. See Psittacus, Ornithology I/i-
dcss.
PARSHORE, a town of England in Worcestershire,
seven miles from Worcester, and 102 from London, si¬
tuated on the north side of the Avon, near its junction
with the river Bow, being a considerable thoroughfare
in the lower road from Worcester to London. A reli¬
gious house was founded here in 604, a small part of
which now remains, and is used as the parish church of
Holy Cross, the whole of which contained above 10
acres. The abbey church was 250 feet long, and 120
broad. The parish of Parshore is of great extent, and
hath within its limits many manors and chapelries. At
present it has two parishes, Holy Cross and St Andrew,
In Holy Cross church are several very antique monu¬
ments. Its chief manufacture is stockings. It contained
2179 inhabitants in 1811.
PARSLEY. See Apium, Botany Index.
PARSNEP. See Pastinaca, Botany Index.
PARSON and Vicar. A parson, persona ecclesiec,
is one that hath full possession of all the rights of a pa¬
rochial church. He is called parson, persona, because
by his person the church, which is an invisible body, is
represented ; and he is in himself a body corporate, in
order to protect and defend the rights of the church Btackst.
(which he personates) by a perpetual succession. He is Tomnie/it.
sometimes called the rector or governor of the church j
but the appellation of parson (however it may be de¬
preciated by familiar, clownish, and indiscriminate use)
is the most legal, most beneficial, and most honourable
title that a parish priest can enjoy •, because such a one
(Sir Edward Coke observes), and he only, is said viceni
sen personam ecclesice gerere. A parson has, during his
life, the freehold in himself of the parsonage house, the
glebe, the tithes, and other dues. But these are
sometimes appropriatedy that is to say, the benefice
is perpetually annexed to some spiritual corporation,
either sole or aggregate, being the patron of the li¬
ving 5 whom the law esteems equally capable of provi¬
ding for the service of the church as any single pn\ate
clergyman*. _ * See dp-
The appropriating corporations, or religious houses,propria-
were wont to depute one of their own body to perform*ion‘
divine service, and administer the sacraments, in those
parLhes of which the society was thus the parson. This
officiating minister was in reality no more than a curate,
deputy, or vicegerent of the appropriator, and therefore
called vicarias, or “ vicar.” His stipend was at the
discretion of the appropriator, who was however, bound
of common right to fmvl somebody, qui illi dc temporah-
bus, episcopo de spiritualibus, debeat respondcre. But
P A K
t 797 1
this was done in so scandalous a manner, and the parish-
1 es suffered so much by the neglect of the appropriators,
that the legislature was forced to interpose : and accord¬
ingly it is enacted, by statute 15 Rich. II. c. 6; that in
all appropriations of churches the diocesan bishop shall
or lain (in proportion to (he value of the church) a com¬
petent sum to he distributed among the poor parishioners
annually; and that the vicarage shall be sufficiently en¬
dowed. It seems the parish were frequently sufferers*
not only by the want of divine service, but also by with¬
holding those alms for which, among other purposes, the
payment of tithes was originally imposed : and therefore
in this act a pension is directed to be distributed among
the poor parochians, as well as a sufficient stipend to the
vicar. But he, being liable to be removed at the plea¬
sure of the appropriator, was not likely to insist too ri¬
gidly on the legal sufficiency of the stipend ; and there¬
fore, by statute 4 Hen. IV. c. 12. it is ordained, that
the vicar shall be a secular person, not a member of any
religious house ; that he shall be vicar perpetual, not
removeable at the caprice of the monastery ; and that
he should be canonically instituted and inuticted, and be
sufficiently endowed, at the discretion of the ordinary ;
for these three express purposes, to do divine service, to
inform the people, and to keep hospitality. Ihe en¬
dowments, in consequence of these statutes, have usually
been by a portion of the glebe, or land belonging to the
parsonage, and a particular share of the tithes, which
the appropriators found it most troublesome to collect,
and which are therefore generally called petty or small
tithes; the greater, or predial tithes, being still reserved
to their own use. But one and the same rule was not
observed in the endowment of all vicarages. Hence
some are more liberally, and some more scantily, endow¬
ed : and hence the tithes of many things, as wood in
particular, are in some parishes rectorial, and in some
vicarial tithes.
The distinction therefore of a parson and vicar is
this : The parson has for the most part the whole right
to all the ecclesiastical dues in his parish ; but a vicar
has generally an appropriator over him, entitled to the
best part of the profits, to whom he is in effect perpetual
curate, with a standing salary. Though in some places
the vicarage has been considerably augmented by a large
share of the great tithes ; which augmentations were
greatlv assisted by the statute 27 Car. II. c. 8. enacted
in favour of poor vicars and curates, which rendered
such temporary augmentations (when made by the ap-
propriators^ perpetual.
The method of becoming a parson or vicar is much
the same. To both there are four requisites necessary;
holy orders, presentation, institution, and induction.
The method of conferring the holy orders of deacon
and priest, according to the liturgy and canons, is fo¬
reign to the present purpose; any farther than as they
are necessary requisites to make a complete paiaon or vi¬
car. By common law, a deacon, of any age, might be
instituted and inducted to a parsonage or vicarage ; but
it was ordained, by statute 13 Eliz.. c. 12. that no per¬
son under twenty-three years of age, and in deacon s
orders, should be presented to any benefice with cure;
and if he were not ordained priest within one year af¬
ter his induction, he should be ipso facto deprived : and
now, by statute 13 and 14 Car. II. c. 4. no person is ca¬
pable to be admitted to any benefice, unless he hath
PAR
been first ordained a priest; and then he is, in the lan- Pa rson.
guagr of the law, a clerk in orders. But if he obtains y—
orders, or a license to preach, by money or corrupt prac¬
tices, (which seems to he the true, though not the
common, notion of simony), the person giving such or¬
ders forfeits 40I. and the person receiving, 10I. and is
incapable of any ecclesiastical preferment for seven
years after.
Any clerk may be presented to a parsonage or vi¬
carage; that is, the patron, to whom the advowson of
the church belongs, may offer his clerk to the bishop of
the diocese to be instituted. But when he is presented,
the bishop may refuse him upon many accounts. As, 1.
If the patron is excommunicated, and remains in con¬
tempt 40 days 5 or, 2. If the clerk he unfit: which un¬
fitness is of several kinds. First, With regard to his
person; as if he be a bastard, an outlaw, an excommu¬
nicate, an alien, under age, or the like. Next, With
regard to his faith or morals : as for any particular he¬
resy, or vice that is malum in se ; but if the bishop al¬
leges only in generals, as that he is schistnaticus invetc-
ratus, or objects a fault that is malum prohibitum mere¬
ly, as haunting taverns, playing at unlawful games, or
the like, it is not good cause of refusal. Or, lastly,
The clerk may be unfit to discharge the pastoral office
for want of learning. In any of which cases, the biv
shop may refuse the clerk. In case the refusal is for
heresy, schism, inability of learning, or other matter
of ecclesiastical cognizance, there the bishop must
give notice to the patron of such his cause of refusal,
who being usually a layman, is not supposed to have
knowledge of it; else he cannot present by lapse ; but
if the cause be temporal, there he is not bound to give
notice.
If an action at law be brought by the patron against
the bishop for refusing his clerk, the bishop must assign
tire cause. If the cause he of a temporal nature, and
the fact admitted (as, for instance, outlawry), the judges
of the king’s courts must determine its validity, or
whether it be sufficient cause of refusal: hut if the fact
be denied, it must be determined by a jury. If the
cause be of a spiritual nature, (as heresy, particularly al¬
leged) the fact, if denied, shall also be determined by a
iury : and if the fact be admitted or found, the court,
upon consultation and advice of learned divines, shall
decide its sufficiency. If the cause be want of learning,
the bishop need not specify in what points the clerk is
deficient, but only allege that he is deficient; for the sta¬
tute 9 Edw. II. st. 1. c. 13. is express, that the exami¬
nation of the fitness of a person presented to a benefice
belongs to the ecclesiastical judge. But because it
would be nugatory in this case to demand the reason of
refusal from the ordinary, if the patron were bound to
abide by bis determination, who has already pronounced
his clerk unfit; therefore if the bishop return the clerk
to be minus sufficiens in hteratura, the court shall write
to the metropolitan to re-examine him, and certify his
qualifications ; which certificate of the archbishop li
final. _ . - .
If the bishop hath no objections, but admits the pa-5
tron’s presentation, the clerk so admitted is next to be
instituted by him; which is a kind of investiture ot the
spiritual part of the benefice ; for by institution, the care
of the souls of the parish is committed to the charge ot
the clerk. When a vicar is instituted, he (besides toe
PAR [ 798 ] PAR
Parsott. usual Forms) takes, if required by the bishop, an oath
■"-'v" of perpetual residence j for the maxim ot law is, that
vicarius non ha bet vicarium : and as the non-residence
of the appropriates was the cause of the perpetual esta¬
blishment of vicarages, the law judges it very improper
for them to defeat the end of their constitution, and by
absence to create the very mischief which they were
appointed to remedy ; especially as, if any profits are to
arise fro n putting in a curate and living at a distance
from the parish, the appropriator, who is the real parson,
has undoubtedly the elder title to them. When the or¬
dinary is also the patron, and confers the living, the pre¬
sentation and institution are one and the same act, and
are called a collation to a benefice. By institution or col¬
lation the church is full, so that there can he no fresh
presentation till another vacancy, at least in the case of
a common patron ; but the church is not full against the
king till induction : nay, even if a clerk is instituted
-upon the king’s presentation, the crown may revoke it
before induction and present another clerk. Upon in¬
stitution also the clerk may enter on the parsonage house
-and glebe, and take the tithes: hut he cannot grant or
let them, or bring an action for them, till induction.
See Induction.
For the rights of a parson or vicar, in his tithes and
ecclesiastical dues, see Tithes. As to his duties, they
■are so numerous, that it is impracticable to recite them
here with any tolerable conciseness or accuracy ; but the
reader who has occasion may consult Bishop Gibson's
Codex, Johnson's Clergyman's Vade Mecuin, and Burn's
Ecclesiastical Latv. We shall therefore only just men¬
tion the article of residence, upon the supposition of
which the law doth style every parochial minister an in¬
cumbent. By statute 21 Henry VIII. c. 13. persons
willingly absenting themselves from their benefices, for
one month together, or two months in the year, incur
a penalty of 5I. to the king, and 5I. to any person that
will sue for the same; except chaplains to the king, or
others therein mentioned, during their attendance in the
household of such as retain them ; and also except all
heads of houses, magistrates, and professors in the uni¬
versities, and all students under forty years of age resi¬
ding there, bona fide, for study. Legal residence is not
only in the parish, hut also in the parsonage house; for
it hath been resolved, that the statute intended resi¬
dence, not only for serving the cure and for hospitality,
hut also for maintaining the house, that the successor
also may keep hospitality there.
We have seen that there is hut one way whereby one
may become a parson or vicar: there are many ways by
which one may cease to be so. 1. By death. 2. By
cession, in taking another benefice ; for by statute 21
Hen. VIII. c. 13. if any one having a benefice of 81.
per annum, or upwards, in the king’s hooks, (according
to the present valuation), accepts any other, the first
shall be adjudged void, unless he obtains a dispensation ;
which no one is entitled to have but the chaplains of
the king and others therein mentioned, the brethren
and sons of lords and knights, and doctors and bachelors
of divinity and law, admitted by the universities of this
realm And a vacance thus made for want of a dispen¬
sation, is called cession. 3. By consecration; for, as was
mentioned before, when a clerk is promoted to a hishop-
ric, all ius other preferments are void the instant that he
is consecrated. But there is a method, by the favour
I
of the crown, of holding such livings in convnendam. Parsoa
Commenda, or ecclesia commcndata, is a living commend- il
ed by the crown to the care of a clerk, to hold till a , Pa,terr<
proper pastor is provided tor it. This may he temporary
for one, two, or three years, or perpetual, being a kind
of dispensation to avoid the vacancy of the living, and
is called a commenda retinere. There is also a commen¬
da recipere, which is to take a benefice de novo, in the
bishop’s own gift, or the gift of some other patron con¬
senting to the same ; and this is the same to him as in¬
stitution and induction are to another clerk. 4, By re¬
signation. But this is of no avail till accepted by the
ordinary, into whose hands the resignation must he
made. 5. By deprivation, either by canonical censures,
or in pursuance of divers penal statutes, which declare
the benefice void, for some nonfeasance or neglect, or
else some malefeasance or crime : as for simony ; for
maintaining any doctrine in derogation of the king’s
supremacy, or of the thirty-nine articles, or of the book
of common prayer; for neglecting after institution to
read the liturgy and articles in the church, or make the
declarations against Popery, or to take the abjuration
oath ; for using any other farm of prayer than the liturgy
of the church of England ; or for absenting himself 60
days in one year from a benefice belonging to a Popish
patron, to which the clerk was presented by either of
the universities : in all which, and similar cases, the be¬
nefice is ipso facto void, without any formal sentence of
deprivation.
PA B SON AG E, a rectory, or parish church, endew’-
ed with a glebe, house, lands, tithes, &c. for the main¬
tenance of a minister, with cure of souls within such
parish. See Parson.
PART, a portion of some whole, considered as divi¬
ded or divisible.
Logical Bart, is a division for which we are indebt¬
ed to the schoolmen. It refers to some universal as
its whole $ in which sense the species are parts of a
genus, and individuals or singulars are parts of the
species.
Physical Part, is that which, though it enter the
composition of a wdiole, may yet be considered apart,
and under its own distinct idea; in which sense, a con¬
tinuum is said to consist of parts. Physical parts, again,
are of two kinds, homogeneous and heterogeneous j the
first are those of the same denomination with some other j
the second of a diflerent one : See Homogeneous, See.
Parts, again, are distinguished into subjective, essential,
and integrant. The schoolmen were also the authors of
this division.
Aliquot Part, is a quantity which, being repeated
any number of times, becomes equal to an integer.
Thus 6 is an aliquot paid of 24, and 5 an aliquot part
of 30, &c.
Aliquant Part, is a quantity, which, being repeated
any number of times, becomes always either greater or
less than the whole. Thus 5 is an aliquant part of 17,
and 9 an aliquant part of 10, &c.
The aliquant part is resolvable into aliquot parts.
Thus 15, an aliquant part of 20, is resolvable into 10,
a half, and 5 a fourth part of the same.
Parts of Speech, in Grammar, are all the sorts of
words which can enter the composition of a discourse.
See Gramm \r.
PARTERRE, in Gardening, a level division of
ground,
1
u
Partevw.
PAR r 799 ]
ground, 'winch for the most part faces the south, or best it really is.
1 front ol a house, and is generally furnished with ever¬
greens, flowers, &c. There are two kinds of these, the
plain ones and the parterres of embroidery.
Plain parterres are most valuable in England, be¬
cause of the firmness of the English turf, which is su¬
perior to that of any other part of the world 5 and the
parterres of embroidery are cut into shell and scroll
work, with alleys between them. An oblong, or long
square, is accounted the most proper figure for a par¬
terre ; and a parterre should indeed be always twice as
long as it is broad, because, according to the known
laws of perspective, a long square always sinks to a
square j and an exact square always appears less than
PAH
As to the breadth of parterre, it is to be
proportionable to the front of the house $ but less than
IOO feet in breadth is too little.
There should be on each side the parterre a terrace
walk raised for a view, and the flat of the parterre be¬
tween the terraces should never be more than 300 feet,
at the utmost, in breadth ; and about 140 feet in width,
with twice and a half that in length, is esteemed a very
good si/.e and proportion.
PARTHENLUM, a genus of plants, belonging to
the monoecia class, and in the natural method rank¬
ing under the 49th order, Coinpositcz, See Box an 4
Index,
Parterre,
Partlieni-
ujn.
END OF THE FIFTEENTH VOLUME.
•DIRECTIONS for placing the PE ATE S of Vol. XV,
Part I.
Plate CCCLXX. to face - - page 38
CCCLXXI,*—CCCLXXIV. - - < 164
CCCLXXV,—»CCCLXXXIX. - - 288
Part II, *
.CCCXC, - - - - - 410
CCCXCI. - - - - - 453
CCCXCIE—CCCCII, - - - 562
CCCCIII. - - - - 718
CCCCIV, -- - - - 740
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